It ain't all pizzas and cream

Day 272: Public vs Private Space

There's been some discussion over on Cecily's blog about one of those sociological issues I find fascinating: public vs private space. Specifically, what are the parameters of polite and appropriate behavior when dining out with your children? And how do those parameters meet the test when conflict arises with other diners?

I'll give you my 2¢, you give me yours.

1. What, when, where?

When we had Tori, we pledged not to let parenthood curb our love for travel. Of course, when infants become toddlers, the issue becomes more challenging. So, when and where is it appropriate to dine out with a toddler? Let's exclude the obvious: establishments that are primarily bars and that do not serve kid-friendly food are out.  Late nights (unless we're stranded) are out. Filthy dives are out. That leaves dawn to sunset, at clean places that serve kid-friendly food. Now there are some places that are kid-unfriendly, even tho they seem to have the kind of food kids love (pizza, chicken fingers, etc.). You can tell these places by the fact that they have one or no high chairs or booster seats. Even tho Tori no longer uses either, it's a good way for me to gauge whether a restaurant is ready or willing to handle kids.

2. Sharing the space.

We have some basic rules for Tori when we're out in public: no running away, your butt stays in the chair (if we're dining), use your quiet voice, no throwing things, and don't tilt cups with straws. Basic common-sense stuff. And she's pretty good about following most of the rules most of the time. And yes, Tori gets noticed, 90% of the time with a smile. But there have been a few times, and only on our recent trip south, that strangers have felt the need to either hush Tori directly or to approach Cecily with parenting advice.

One was at a sidewalk café in Asheville, where a woman at the next table said, "All right, enough!" to Tori as we entered the seating area. Tori at the time was just talking. I, luckily didn't hear it, or there would have been hell to pay. As in: "Look lady, just because you resemble a toad, do I ask you to wear a bag over your head so you don't scare my kid?"   But surely some of you will ask: Doesn't this woman have the right to eat in peace? No. She doesn't. And I'll tell you why. We are at a SIDEWALK café, i.e., public space. When I'm at a sidewalk café, I fully expect to experience traffic noise, bus fumes, winos, panhandlers, skateboarders, curious dogs, bees, and families with children. In fact, there was a handful of very loud drunks talking just a few feet away. Funny our friend didn't have the stones to get up and tell them to hush, but was brave enough to bully a 3-year-old.  If I don't want to experience outdoor things, I should dine indoors. And at this particular place, there were plenty of seats indoors. 

3. The kid haters

I know there are "childfree" sites out there...some simply to offer support and a sense of community to those who choose not to have kids, and others to provide a forum for venomous kid-hatred. I read a comment this morning from a reader who approved of smacking other people's children in public. I'll say this as nicely as I can...If you harm my kid, I'll break your arms. 

OK, I'm sure I've provoked at least a few opinions. Let's hear 'em.

Day 271: Getting my mojo back: Easy to say, hard to do

Back home but not back in the groove. Trying to organize my work schedule has been one challenge. Sadly had to turn down an assignment because I have three with the same deadline and no wiggle room in which to stagger them. And I have my surgery coming up on the 8th, which is starting to give me the jitters. Got a big chunk of work (due Thursday) accomplished this morning, which at the very least gave me a feeling of accomplishment.

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Side note: Decided to leave Starbucks today because of the following [excerpted] conversation...

Bonehead1: Was down the hospital the other day and they tried to put me away.

Bonehead2: Dude. No way.

Bonehead1: Yeh, the doc said, 'you gotta get away from that girl and her kids and her ex, they're making you crazy and they're gonna make you sick.'

Bonehead2: I hate that $&#ing hospital. Who's your doctor, some kind of Lefty?

Bonehead1: Not a real Lefty but...he's a Bernstein.

Bonehead2: They're good doctors tho.

[Two teenage girls walk in, one dressed in a bright green skirt with leggings]

Bonehead1: [Laughs]

Bonehead2: I'd hit that tho.

Bonehead1: Me too, bro.

* * *

The trifecta: Right-wing, misogynist anti-Semites in under 30 seconds. We've got to move.

Day 270: Somebody gimme a bucket.

We're back...tired, bleary, and grateful. Work backed up, house a mess, bills past due. And of course, rain.

Tomorrow's task... start bailing.

Day 269: If this car ran on tears...

...I'd drive it straight to your heart.

If our day had been a country song, that would have been the chorus. We departed Asheville with just enough in our bank account to cover gas, meals, and one night's hotel stay. As a bonus, we even were assured of a discount on our previous stay because of the rash of technical malfunctions. But I'm a little to cynical  to accept anything at face value. So I called my bank's automated line...only to learn that the hotel had double-dipped, i.e., they'd put a hold on a large security deposit when we checked in, and then took ANOTHER dip for the room rate. So, in effect, they put a hold on $1000 for a $277 hotel bill. All of which left us with a grand total of...drum roll please... $38. And that $38 had to cover gas, food, and a night's hotel fee. I'll spare you the math. Thirty-eight bucks won't even cover the gas between Asheville and Philly.

Plus, we'd promised Tori a visit to this little zoo in a place called Natural Bridge, Virginia. And now we couldn't afford to go...and even if we got the money straightened out, the zoo would close for the night before we arrived. Explaining all this to a 3-year-old gets you one thing: a river of tears. Stupid us, what were we thinking?

Long story short: we called the bank, we called the hotel, we pleaded, we cajoled, and finally, at a roadside McDonald's in Blountville (pronounced BLUNT-veal), Tennessee, we fell into despair. The baby was hungry and I had just enough in coins to get her a meal. Cecily continued to plead with the bank and hotel until being overtaken by fits of uncontrolled sobbing.  The bottom line: The hotel said they'd released the hold (which they had), but the bank said it would be 24 hours for it to clear. And that there was "nothing that could be done." Which left us with a few choices...

1. Try to find a pawn shop that was open on a Sunday and hock one of our cameras.

2. Panhandle gas money at a rest stop.

3. Get a friend to wire us gas money to the nearest WalMart.

4. Return to Asheville and stay the night with my high school pal Tom (who was kind enough to extend the offer). 

Options 3 and 4 were on the table, but Cec was still valiantly trying. "How can I tell my 3-year -old daughter," she asked a bank manager, "that she can't eat dinner tonight and has to sleep in the car, when we know we have money in the bank?" That seemed to work. The manager said they'd un-hold the funds if they got a fax from the hotel confirming our payment. The hotel agreed, and voila, we were saved from becoming a Dorothea Lange dustbowl portrait.

Added bonus: we made it to Natural Bridge, Virginia with 45 minutes until the zoo closed, and the desk manager was a real cool guy who let us in anyway, AND let us stay late while the staff fed the animals and cleaned up. Tori had a BLAST. 

So, what did I learn from all this:

1. NEVER travel on a Sunday.

2. NEVER put a hotel reservation on your ATM card.

3. If you're silly enough to do both of those things, remember that the hotel will have to fax the bank (on hotel letterhead) before your funds can be released.

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Many thanks to those who responded to Cecily's forlorn Tweets with offers of aid. You all rock. And thanks to Tom for offering to open his home to a guy he hasn't seen in 30 years. You're one of the good guys.

Day 268: This article lacks references

Cecily and her co-speakers rocked the keynote at the Type-A Mom conference.

Interesting and spirited discussion on "mommybloggers" as community vs marketing demographic. One thing is clear: the business community is still looking for ways to "build relationships" with this enthusiastic and influential group of fiercely intelligent women but doesn't always know the best way to approach them.

But hey, I'm like John Cusack in Say Anything..."I don't want to buy anything, sell anything, or process anything." So a lot of the marketing stuff just goes by me.

There was also some discussion of blogging vs journalism--the main distinction being that journalists endeavor to distance themselves from their subject for the sake of impartiality, while bloggers tend to immerse themselves in their subject. Bloggers, I would term "editorialists," which I think fits without being demeaning.  I would also include in that category a lot of the "i-reporting" that news websites include as video features. It's not reporting, it's editorializing. When I discuss some sociopolitical trend, I'm not ferreting out experts from all sides of the issue in an attempt to present a comprehensive and unbiased report. I'm standing on an e-soapbox and delivering an e-rant. As they often caution on Wikipedia: this article lacks references. Such, for the most part, is blogging.

* * *

On a personal note... today marks the 30th anniversary of my father's death. Strangely, I spent a good deal of the day with a high school pal whom I haven't seen since 1980. He gave me a great tour of Asheville, despite the often furious rain, and we had a chance to catch-up in person (we've been talking online awhile).

Asheville is well worth the visit. It is at once a small city, a college town, a railroad town, a home to eclectic architectural styles (and those devoted to their preservation), and site of a thriving artists' community. Also, some of the best street musicians I've heard anywhere north of New Orleans. And good eats. Thanks again, Tom!

* * *

Tomorrow we hit the road again. Hopefully under sunny skies.

Day 267: Still on the road

Day 2 at Type-A Mom conference with Cec and Tori. Cecily's rockin' the panels and Tori's having a blast in daycare. Gotta say though, the hotel here has me baffled. While the staff has been polite, speedy, and accommodating, I get the feeling they recently won the joint in a poker game and don’t really understand what it takes to maintain it.

 - When we arrived, the toilet was broken. Which I learned the hard way (after the fact). Maintenance was swift to respond, but the entire ball cock assembly (yes, that’s what it’s called) needed replacement. I have to wonder, when was this “villa” (yes, they call the separate cottages "villas") last occupied?

- Then, the next day, the Internet connection failed. Again, the hotel responded quickly and sent someone over. He even provided a new router. Problem is, still no Internet service. Here we are, 24 hours later, and still no service. The provider says it is working on the problem from their end. Stay tuned.

- Then I try to use the in-room coffee-maker, and though the little red light goes on, the heating coil remains cold. Ten minutes later, still cold. Am waiting for a replacement unit now.

- There’s no light on the villa stairway, which is rather steep and completely unlit by ambient light. And as a final note, the kitchen light bulb is burned out, and looks like it has been for awhile.

- Updated to add: Now the cable TV doesn't work. Ugh.

- Updated to add: But the 'net is back! Guess you gotta give to get.

So I’m not sure what to make of the whole thing. I’ve never been confronted with impeccable customer service and epic mechanical failure simultaneously. I give the place an A+ for effort and attitude, a B+ for the villa and housekeeping, and an F for equipment maintenance.  

* * *

Did manage some train pix, however...

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PS - Apologies for the strange spacing & font. Cut & pasted from Word.

Day 266: A day late, a dollar short

Apologies for no post yesterday. The 'net went down in our "villa" in North Carolina. Apparently a networking problem at the provider. So I had to wait until today to use the hotel's main connection. Hopefully will be fixed by tonight.

So I'll just post a few pix from yesterday's trip to Chimney Rock... 

One thing about our visit...unsolicited parenting advice. We're getting a bit of it. Apparently, Tori is, by southern standards, quite unruly. But what I mind more than the rudeness is the expression on the faces of the assvice providers. I've seen it before, on my mother's face when I was a kid. Tight lipped, superior and cruel. What they say is, "Well you're just rewarding her for her bad behavior" ...but what they mean is... "why don't you hit that child?" They're hitters. I've seen the face too many times to mistake it for anything else. At Chimney Rock yesterday, I almost said to an assvice giver who suggested disciplining Tori as "just something to think about" that perhaps she should just think about the fact we're on a mountain top with a very low guard rail. Just sayin.'

Other than that, and a few technical failures at the hotel...we're good.

Day 265: The Road More Traveled

Another day on I-81. While faster than back roads, Interstates always look like this...

Hypnotically devoid of scenery. Yet if you lose focus for even a second, you and your family could end up toe-tagged. More coffee por favor. 

We stopped at a little town called Chilhowie for lunch. If anyone knows how this name is pronounced, let me know. I'm figuring that "Chill, Howie" is too obvious.  So I'm going with "Chillowy" (rhymes with "willowy"). But please, Virginians, enlighten me. In any case, they have a McD's with an enclosed play area, right next to a RR track. How could we resist? (Fear not, gallbladder, I only had the salad, sans dressing.)

While I hoped for a train, this guy pulls in driving a '67 Chevy Nova SS... sweet ride.

Finally made it to Asheville about 3pm. Tired but happy. Went into town for dinner and I grabbed a few photos. They have a lot of buskers. First time I ever saw one with a full drum kit tho.

Some very cool architecture too. From the old...

To the new...

Tori was a bit more stressed today. Was hard keeping her focused. Hopefully, staying in one place for the next 3 nights will chill her out (fingers crossed... mine, not hers).

Day 264: Road Trip

Well, we're on our way to the Type-A Mom conference in Asheville NC. Made it about halfway there before stopping in Staunton VA for the night. Tori's been a real trooper, and a good traveler, tho she unholstered a holler of "Are we there yet?"" almost as we approached our first Interstate on-ramp. "Oh honey, not yet."

One thing about the road, you see the damn'dest things. Before we even left our county, we saw this...

Apparently if you're a cat or dog seized by the local Animal Warden, you don't even rate a ride inside the van. That must be reserved for dignitaries. You'd think he'd at least have a bumper sticker: DON'T REAR-END THE KITTY. Wait, that didn't come out right.

Next up...rural PA, last resting place for a variety of classic transportation...

For fans of my diner photos, I found this sign, but sadly the diner itself was either abandoned or in the midst of remodeling, so no pie...

In Carlisle PA, I was approached by a young guy who asked me to take a photo of his family...I asked if he wanted me to email him a copy, but he said not to bother. I guess he's planning to get famous one tourist at a time. I love the look on the baby's face.

The rest of the day's drive was pretty uneventful. Tho we did get a nice sunset in central VA.

More from the road tomorrow...G'night.

Day 263: Hit the road, Jack

Hittin' the road tomorrow with Cecily & Tori, bound for the Type-A Mom conference in North Carolina. Making a 2-day drive of it to cut down on stress. Hope to have lots of cool images and stories from south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

Wifi willing, I'll be blogging from the road. Tho depending on tomorrow's stopover, I may be offline until Wednesday evening. We'll see.