Smokey Bones

We take time out of your regularly scheduled life to bring you some previously recorded episodes. Yep, thanks to potty training I feel like we're in the summer reruns period of the TV schedule. So while we put life on hold and try to get this task done, I'll be posting some things we've done earlier but I haven't had time to write about up until now.

Last weekend we went to one of the big festivals here in Columbus: The Jazz and Ribs Festival. Being a fan of jazz (thanks to being married to Andy, who loves to play jazz piano) and having recently discovered the joy of ribs (thanks to Nate Harris and his amazing Dr. Pepper soaked beauties), this seemed to be the perfect combination. We miss the blessed event last year because we were out of town and I couldn't pass up another chance. On Friday we picked up Andy from work and walked down to Riverfront Park, which was lined with vendors from all over the country selling ribs, each with its own special flavor. With so many choices, I let Andy decide.

The picture doesn't capture the impressiveness of this spectacle. This guy is up on a huge riser managing two gigantic BBQs bursting with ribs. Notice the elbow-length gloves he's wearing to combat the heat.

Where we finally ended up getting our food. I was a bit taken aback by how expensive the ribs were: Between $20 and $25 for a rack of ribs. They did sell bones for $1 each. Can someone tell me why you'd buy just one bone? Does it have meat on it or do you just suck on the bone?
Full rack, with coleslaw, cornbread, and delicious baked beans. Andy's slathering on extra sauce.
What would a Midwestern festival be without a booth that offers fried everything? The Ohio State Fair just started and I can't wait to go to see the array there of fried morsels. Will I try any? No. I am opposed to pretty much fried anything.
Ben loved the ribs and the beans. Can you see the sauce on his face? I'm afraid the beans might have had some wheat ingredients in them, but we pumped him full of Benadryl. That might have partly accounted for the huge fit he threw when we tried to leave and then the immediate crash in the car afterwards.
Love it! For those of you who are wondering why I recently discovered the joy of ribs, I'll explain. They always seemed really messy, expensive, and alot of work for not much food.

Overall, the food was good, but the entertainment so-so. I guess I was expecting more like Harry Connick, Jr.-type jazz, versus the random/loud/grating offerings that were at the festival. I'm glad I went, to say I've been, but I think a BBQ restaurant with live music would be just as fun. Anyone know of a good BBQ restaurant in Ohio?

It's Go Time

Literally. I've put off potty training Ben for as long as possible, but yesterday at our annual pediatrician visit, she told me that I have to bite the bullet and do it. Now. No excuses. He's over three years old and starts preschool in a month. If I'm really honest, I've been waiting for Ben to magically potty train himself. My dream is that he wakes up one morning and has it all figured out. I have a friend whose son really did that, so it's not out of the realm of possibility, right?

I've been very halfhearted up to this point because he won't sit on the pot. Inherent in the potty training deal is that the kid will agree to sit. If the kid doesn't sit, then it's basically just the parent banging their head against the wall. His other problem is that if we can get him to sit on the pot, he holds it until he's done sittting and then lets it fly as soon as he leaves the bathroom. This has happened every time I've tried. We have yet to have any actual pee in the pot. Sigh... This morning I was on the phone in the kitchen and Ben opened the fridge door. I was on the other side of the door and couldn't see anything, but heard what I thought was him getting a drink from the water dispenser. Alas, I turned around to find that he'd peed in the fridge instead. So for six tries of sitting on the toilet today, we've come up empty four times and had two wet pants on the ground afterwards. Double sigh........ I feel like I'm swimming in urine.

I promise, that's the only gory story you'll hear from me. No list of how many times he poops (or does BMs, for those of you who prefer a more sanitary euphemism). I personally hate that phrase. So we're armed with a load of Thomas underwear and tomorrow we're off to the library to check out lots of books and movies to entertain him while practicing, to the grocery store to buy lots of juice to get the juices flowing and for other goodies to "incentivize" (read - Bribe) him to go.

Send all your positive karma our way and I'd love to hear any and all pearls of potty training wisdom.

Sweet Nectar of Life

Hi, my name is Nollie and I'm addicted to Handel's ice cream. Last Saturday was one I've been looking forward to for a long time: Dollar Cone Day. We waited in line for 30 minutes, no joke, but it was worth the wait. If you live in Columbus (or anywhere in OH for that matter) and haven't been to Handel's, go now. I'm not kidding. Stand right up, walk out the door and drive down to Feder Road for your own little taste of heaven. Graeter's (another famous Midwest ice cream shop) doesn't even hold a candle to this, I promise. The things that set Handel's apart are their amazingly fresh ice cream and unbelievably authentic flavors. Chocolate cake batter is one of my new favorites. It seriously tastes like you're licking the spatula. Other favorites are Graham Central Station, Chocolate Peanut Butter Brownie, Chocolate Oreo, and Coffee Chocolate Chip (are you sensing a theme?). I could keep going, but I'll stop there. It also gives you a sense for how often we frequent Handel's. Once a week and often more is our M.O. during the summer. Thankfully, it's open year round and we've been known to freeze our tushies off in the frigid Ohio winter while savoring the delectable goodness.
But if you thinking, "She's just one person. How good could this stuff really be?" In the immortal words of LeVar Burton from Reading Rainbow, "You don't have to take my word for it." Yes, none other than National Geographic Traveler magazine voted Handel's the BEST ice cream in the world. Rated above Italian gelaterias and French ice cream parlors. I'm not kidding people, this is life-changing stuff. Come visit us in Columbus and I'll be more than happy to take you to taste for yourself. :)

Get Smart

Note to self: Don't leave 3-year-old alone downstairs while you are upstairs "just for a minute." You think I would have learned after the Cheeto incident. Apparently I need remedial parenting lessons because this afternoon I came back downstairs to find Ben sitting on our counter after pushing a chair over so he could climb up. He'd emptied half of our spice rack onto the counter (the majority of it mustard seed with others sprinkled on top) and told me, "Mom, my cars are dirty. They need a bath." He got two new Cars toys last week and has been obsessed with them ever since. He gives them daily baths in our sink, which is nice because it keeps him occupied for tens of minutes at a time, versus the usual 2-3 minute attention span.

Since everything was dry it wasn't too bad to clean up. I got a large part of it removed, but then managed to be a butterfingers and spill a mixture of milk, oil, and eggs (I was making muffins) onto the remainder of the spices I hadn't quite gotten to, which then took 20 minutes to scrub off. Another note to self: Sometimes multitasking doesn't pay off.

A Different Kind of Superhero

Have any of you seen the new Batman movie, "The Dark Knight"? As many of you know, Andy and I are movie buffs, but I've been deterred from this movie by some reviews and articles commenting on how violent and, well, dark the movie is. They all comment on how well Heath Ledger plays The Joker, but that at times it's too much.

It all started a few months ago when I saw a preview for "The Dark Knight." My impression was that it seemed more disturbing than the previous Batman. So last Friday I hastily opened to the movie review in The Wall Street Journal, eager to read the verdict of the paper's well-respected critic. His description was that, despite its PG-13 rating, this movie is "hyperviolent." The review in our local paper, The Columbus Dispatch alluded to the same thing. "It luxuriates in the allure of clever villainy with a maximum of violence accepted by the PG-13 rating (which the filmmakers managed to finesse by avoiding even the slightest profanity). This isn't a children's movie.." What struck me is that critics, often seen as a callous and jaded bunch, who see movies for a living and have clearly sat through their share of gory flicks, comment on the show's violence. To me, that says something.

The New York Times review didn't focus as much on the violence as the artistry of the movie, but another article in today's Wall Street Journal really caught my attention. Particularly this part: "All color, lyricism, and virtually any humor that doesn't partake of the macabre is gone from this Batman story. There isn't even a hint that this PG-13 film might be suitable for youngsters, as many parents of distraught preteens have discovered. The Joker's psychotic brutality -- he impales one character on a pencil and in a shocking scene blows one of the franchise's leading female characters to smithereens -- makes a mockery of the rating system."

Disclaimer: I am not anti-action movies. As a fan of the Bourne triology, the recent James Bond movie, "Batman Begins," and other such flicks, I enjoy seeing the good guy kick someone's trash as much as the next person. I'm just bothered by the fact that often gratuitious violence replaces good characterization, smart dialogue, and clever plotlines as a mode of entertainment. It's as if the movies' creators don't think we are capable of handling subtlety. Instead, we must be bludgeoned over the head in order to keep our attention. If it's too much for children, why isn't it too much for adults? Are we just presumed to be desensitized by much of our culture's disrespect for life?

With that said, I'm interested to hear your thoughts if you've seen the movie, or whether or not you're planning to and why.

Superman

When did my baby grow up? Over the past week I've been struck by how big he is. We often refer to Ben as "The Baby," since he's the only kid in the house, but he's clearly anything but. He looks older to me, thanks to the new haircut and he talks a mile a minute. I am constantly amazed at the minute details of life that he remembers (places we've been, things people did weeks ago) and by his fun personality.

Here are some pictures of our not-so-little boy.

While in Utah, my friend Mandy gave Ben a superhero cape. Yesterday put it on and "flew" around for much of the afternoon. If anyone is in need of a simple craft, this one is it. A little fabric, some velcro, and voila!
Two days ago Ben decided he was done with the plastic tee and asked if I would pitch the baseball to him. Much to my surprise, he can make contact and hit it quite far. We spent an hour outside with me as his pitching machine, Ben repeating, "Go!" time after time when he wanted me to toss him the ball.
A close-up of the Lightning McQueen rain boots he's worn nonstop since Saturday when the arrived in the mail, courtesy of Grandma Annette. It was very serendipitious because earlier that day he was over at a friend's house where they played with the most amazing Cars racetrace I've ever seen. He was inconsolable when I picked him up and didn't want to leave because he was having so much fun with the Cars toys. So there must have been some grandmotherly intuition going on when that afternoon the boots arrived in the mail.

We swam at the YMCA for Family Night a few weeks ago. Ben is modeling his dolphin goggles. He likes to jump off the side into our arms nonstop and even jumped in by himself into the 3 feet deep water, but cried afterwards because he wasn't expecting to be totally submerged.

Update

I know this is totally frivolous and that nobody really cares, but I ended up getting the jacket below, thanks to my sister/personal shopper, Bekka. A few nights ago, the phone rang at midnight and I thought someone had died. Why else would anyone call that late? It turns out Bekka was at her mall in Phoenix (9 p.m. her time) and spied said jacket. There were two left and she wanted to get the go-ahead to buy it for me (the other for her, of course). After some pictures sent via cellphone, we okayed the deal and it ended being a bonus that the jackets were in a pretty pinky salmon color instead of the khaki in the picture.

The best part, the jackets were originally $168, down to $19.99. A cool 90% off. Gotta love a good sale.