Radioactive

"On the Banks of the Wabash" strikes a chord that's quickly unstruck when thoughts shift to the White River in Indiana, the waterway that winds through the state and through Indianapolis. 

There may be songs about the White River, but I don't know any. Aside from being a catch basin for combined sewers, it was also victim several years ago to a chemical spill from an automotive plant. State officials at the time won a great battle to clean it up and the river is probably in better condition now than it has been for 100 years. Literally.

But when Lisa Tabor and I biked across the bridge and saw two young boys frolicking in the waters while their family watched happily from the river banks, we both gasped. On the way back, they were still there. the boys still splashing about.

"Those boys are going to be radioactive," Lisa whispered. I don't know if she knew she said it out loud but when I laughed, she continued. "It's only going to be them and Keith Richards left at the end of the world."

If we were better people, we might have stopped, trudged down the hill and informed the parents, but we didn't. Firstly, we're not that good a caliber of people. Secondly, the parents might already know about the river. And thirdly, the boys are probably going to be just fine. And if they light up rooms in the future, well, we can hope they get super spidey powers and use it for good instead of evil.

Speaking of spidey powers, Jeff took Alison to PopCon, a sort of ComicCon but smaller. At the same convention center facility, there was a high school graduation, a political dinner, a gamers' convention and a gathering of some religious order. A few of the gamers and the ComicCon folks got mixed up and tried to register with the religious folk -- watching that get sorted out might have  been worth the $30 entry fee.

Alison had little interest in anything but the PopCon people who'd come in costume. She'd wanted to listen to a panel discussion of an actor who'd played one version of Dr. Who but got tired out early.   She made up for it by meeting a couple of guys who were dressed up like one of her favorite doctors.

Friday she'd dumped me for dinner with a friend from Young Actors Theater. Jeff was at bourbon & baseballing it with his friends. I was invited to dinner, but stayed home tending my eye gorp, which, happily has been decimated by my medicated eye drops. 

Being deserted by your family might seem like a bad thing. But on occasion, it's kind of a gift. 

By Sunday I was so rested up that I helped Jeff take down an ill-placed redbud tree in the back yard. We're going to put a shed back there, and Jeff has always been unhappy that I placed it under the power line. I'd planned on trimming it so it wasn't a problem, but of course I didn't. While we have piles of scraps to haul away, we're one big step closer to the shed I've been harping about for a few years now.

I'd planned to help only a little bit because I'd made plans with Lisa to come plot a course of summer schedules with our friend Breanna -- the third part of the Day Nursery Triumverate -- aka Ali, Jenna and Bre. Alex came along later to make it the fearsome foursome, but for the first couple of years, the three girls were peas in their own little pod. We try to get them together still, but they're in three different schools and we all work, so it's hard. 

We're better about it in the summer. This summer, we're testing whether Ali and Bre can be trusted to be on their own. It was their job to scout the way, by bike, up the Monon to the Jordan YMCA pool. 

We figure, with rules, they can safely bike from our house to the pool and back. Alison, unfortunately, is as directionally gifted as her Aunt La and will often turn left rather than right when heading out to the Jordan. Left takes you downtown. 

You'd think after 13 years of either being hauled or riding the trail she'd have better bearings. So we did a test run with the girls in the lead. She did OK, but I'll still have maps strewn the house and taped to her bike when school breaks next week.

So that's how Lisa and I came to be on the Monon bridge over the soon-to-be radiocative boys. I really hope this works out because Ali and Bre have a friendship that doesn't require daily contact. No matter how long it's been, they launch right back into the days they were rolling around and swapping rattles.

Which was great to watch right up until the time they decided Bre shouldn't have to go home so they biked ahead, hid the bikes and then hid themselves in the house. Had I not seen Alison in the house as I came around looking, I totally could have freaked out, thinking they'd gotten themselves stolen in the three minutes it took us to catch up with them.

Damn kids. I didn't like this trick when they were 4, and it hasn't grown on me. However, as they head into their teen years, I do kind of like it that they can just be little girls playing hide-n-seek.

Our short week started with what I hope to be is the first of many years of "fancy brunch" with Aunt La. May was so hectic that we extended Ali's birthday celebration and took what we could when we could. Monday while Team Tokash recovered from the race, Lyn and I took Ali and Jenna out.  Ali wore her new jewelry gifted by Aunt La and Jenna wore her fancy dress and we had a lovely time at Petit Chou.

I hope we are still doing that when the girls can have champagne cocktails. And that they'll want to have them with us. I think I'll keep the convertible just in case I need to bribe them. And yes, I'll let them drive if that's what it takes. 

A pretty good year so far...

I give myself a pass on the diet and exercise plan for most of the month of May. While I join the nation in saluting the troops, past and present, it seems like there's no end to non-service related celebrations. There's high school and college graduations -- congrats to Annie, Kaitlyn, Aleksey and all the other grads. 

We also had Alison's birthday, which stretched throughout the month due to interruptions with her play practices and performances, which meant lots of nights out for her parental units.

And then, of course, for those of us in Indianapolis, there's that race and the Pacers are still sort of in the play-offs.

So June might see me hitting the zero-point soup pretty hard, but I'm OK with that.

The Friday before Memorial Day is Derby Day at work, which is a lot of fun but not a diet day. It also coincided with Book Club for me that night, so a day of excess finished with even more. 

While I was off with my friends, Jeff and Alison saw Godzilla. The movie must not have been as great as book club because I've talked a lot about my night but I've heard little about the Asian monster.

Jeff did say that Alison held his hand while they did a little post-movie mall ratting and told him that she was having a great night. He'll carry that high for a while, I suspect.

Saturday started with Angie's List garden planting for me and then a marathon session at Carribbean Cove. The indoor water park has been the venue for many a birthday gathering. Chlorine and children's squeals and screams are heavy in the air there, and I really didn't think it would hold the girls' attention long. 

"We'll stay as long as you want to," I made the mistake of saying. Jeff took the first tour while I gardened and did yard and house work. We switched off and he took care of Saturday chores.

Nearly seven hours after they first dipped toes into the water, I finally lured them out of the water with talk of Flying Cupcake. Jeff fixed burgers and brats and they decamped to the basement. It seemed like an OK thing to accept the neighbor's offer of a beer across the street and a few minutes of the Pacers-Heat game. 

Unfortunately, one of the parents came by while Jeff and I were off-site. If I got the story right, the dad walked in to the house and was talked into taking another drive around the neighborhood before the daughter had to go. I didn't notice him until that second pass so I hot-footed it across the street, thinking the second girl wouldn't be lingering much longer. I never made it back to the neighbor's.

Personally, I think leaving 13-year-olds unattended while you are just across the street isn't a terrible parenting moment. Yes, I'm preparing my defense in case that family was aghast. It was a dad pick up so I think I'm probably OK. 

We'd planned to head over to Amy and Tom Tokash's annual race party after we were down to just Jenna and Ali. Turns out, we'd have arrived to a played out bash, so it was good we stayed home.

We spent Sunday at Lynn Sinex's lake house with Team Vielee. It was great weather and drinks and food and company. 

On one pass tubing, Jenna claims she hit a wave just right and was flung 8 feet into the air. Another fine parenting moment. But she liked it. She wanted to do it again. Really. 

I might have Jeff on the cusp of being ready to seriously think about the possibility of having our own little get-away. Anyone who helps me get him over the hump will have an automatic invite down.

We dragged ourselves home smelling like trout and cordite from a short fireworks display. 

I showered and I made Jeff shower too, but the girls dropped into bed like stinky stones. As they weren't sleeping with me, I didn't care. And they were too worn out to care much. They were pretty stinky, though. 

Our last non-sleepover girl had left around 11 Saturday night. Knowing they had a day of lake water ahead of them, I thought they'd be OK not to shower off the Carribbean Cove chlorine fest. To say they were ripe by Sunday night would be a kindness.

They showered for a long time this morning before our fancy brunch out with Aunt La, which I could see becoming an annual tradition. It was a great end to a fabulous weekend. 

The other day Alison said 13 was shaping up to be a pretty good year for her. I'm going to have to agree. Cross your fingers that it stays this way.

Make Way for (not Ryan) Goslings! And wolves. And Maybe a Man Cub.

We got to have breakfast with Eric Yocum and Traci Wiseman, this morning. They're friends of Jeff's since law school. Back in the day we traveled together, spending more than a few nights in Mexico and New Year's Eves hung over at each other's houses. 

But then we had kids and apparently the four-hour distance grew bigger. We are terrible friends to them and haven't worked hard enough to see them as often as we should.

But they were in town for legal training so we met for breakfast at Cafe Patachou where I again caved to the amazing cinnamon toast. Jeff had some kind of broken yolk sandwich, so we both waddled out of there.

I'd meant to go to the gym but got sidetracked in the yard. The sun kept breaking out so I suggested a bike ride. I meant to have a bike ride. You know, a pleasant pedal on the Monon Trail where we'd get a little sweat on, but nothing crazy. We are, afterall, old. 

We'd established that at breakfast when Jeff wore a Rods and Cones tee-shirt he'd unearthed last week. (I thought I'd hidden his old concert shirts better than that.) He and Eric had spent many a law school night at the Patio listening to that and other bands, so it was a fun flash back.

Five hours later, I was regretting the cinnamon toast and had decided to pedal some of it off. We decided to take the less traveled Fall Creek Trail instead of our usual path, the Monon. I'd been on the other trail with Karin a few weeks ago and wanted to show it to Jeff.

As you might suspect, the trail is much like the Monon except it winds alongside Fall Creek, a nice enough creek that we don't often pay much attention to. We pedaled upstream, and early into the ride, I noted to Jeff how high the creek was. We pedaled on. I noted the current was kind of strong. 

"Wow. Look at that. The water is almost up against the trail."

Then, up ahead, we noticed the duck swimming. On the trail.

At first it was easy to coast through the small puddles where the creek had overrun the trail.. Later, it got deeper and longer and reminded me of Eric and Traci's story of trying to drive their SUV through deep water on vacation in Gulf Shores. They were doing fine until the hit the dip in the driveway and stalled out their vehicle.

I was midway through the longest puddle when I started praying there wasn't a dip. It did get deep enough to soak my sneakers, but the bike held up fine. The water cleaned of some of the mud we'd slid through. Or so I hope.

We ended up taking the trail to its end near Shadeland Avenue. There seemed to be another trail across Fall Creek Parkway, which was almost in our friends, the Beaches, back yard. 

That trail led to a nature preserve and then ended at a padocked gate somewhere west of civilization. We squeezed through an opening in the fence and looked at each other, hoping the other knew the way home. Fun as it was to ride through water, I think we were both more chllled than excited about working our way through the goose ponds again.

It wasn't so much that we were lost. It was that we weren't exactly sure of the best way home. We decided to just go west, and happily, we got our beariings in Jon Larramore and Janet McCabe's old neighborhood. We found our way to Allisonville Road and home, soaked, muddy and tired. But it was a good ride. And might have nullified some of the extra calories from our breakfast.

Tomorrow is Alison's last performance in Jungle Book.  Jenna and Amy saw the debut and Aunt La will be there for the finale.

Alison had a tremendous Friday night with our friend Cheryl Gonzalez and Team Jurkiewicz in the audience.  That night, she was still wearing her Mother Wolf face paint as she put the flowers Nick had given her in a vast.  She looked up and said, "You know, 13's been a pretty good year so far."  

I stopped myself from reminding her she was only 11 days in and instead, just wished with all I have that she can maintain that spirit.

While her 13 has plenty of days left in it, her play does not, and I think she'll be sad to see it all end.

So will our local gas stations and few Mass Avenue bars. 

Getting her to and fro for all the practices and performances has been a bit of challenge. We've releived the stress with more than our usual number of visits to some fancy downtown cocktail establishments while we waited out the actress.

More reason to get back on the bikes. But first, we'll have to dry out.

It's a jungle out there. Happy Mothers' Day!

If you are to fully understand how a 42-count box of lawn and leaf bags is a great Mother's Day gift, you'll have to understand that we are possibly not your normal American family.

Today is, in fact, Mother's Day. The day many families celebrate the matriarchs in their midst with breakfast in bed, fancy brunches, dinners, flowers, gifts and at least 12 hours of richly deserved R&R.

At my house, Jeff is playing basketball and Alison is finishing up her birthday thank you notes and getting ready for her stage debut at Young Actors Theater production of Jungle Book. It's at 2 p.m. downtown. So you have time to get there. Two more shows will occur Friday night and next Sunday. She's Mother Wolf in the adaptation. 

I am recuperating from a weekend that started with a great visit from Debbie & Steve, Annie & Justin and Leigh, who were in town for Annie's graduation from Butler University's pharmacy program. We'll miss her party on Sunday, so carving out time ahead of the festivities was huge for me. 

We're immensely proud of Annie. She's crazy smart and beautiful with a goofy streak that makes you like her despite her size 2 figure and athletic abilities. We'd planned to go to the Indians game but rain threatened so we ended up at our house watching the Pacers and playinng Big Bang Theory trivia.

At one point during the game, someone (I think it was Debbie) cursed about something and immediately looked at Ali and apologized.

"It's OK," Ali said, delighted. "I'm 13 now. I get to stay in the room!"

She then smoked us all at BBTT. She softened the blow by making bracelets for all the ladies with her Rainbow Loom. 

Saturday started early with a Mexican breakfast for the graduate followed up with a couple of hours helping prep the Angie's List garden for planting next weekend. 

Ali went along. She's been helpful in past years but we had record turn out this year. Alison's plan to work on homework ended up with her napping in the spring sunshine while the rest of us weeded and filled beds with fresh compost.  

While we'd been downtown, Jeff was doing the recyling and grocery shopping. Driving back home,  Alison woke up enough to say she was glad we don't have a "normal" family.  I asked her to expand on that.

"Well, you know, in most families, the mom cooks all the time and you hardly ever do. Dad does most of our cooking and I do most of our baking."

I cleared my throat. "I don't seem to be coming out too well in this scenario. Let me help you out a bit. Do you mean that while Dad cooks a lot and you do some baking, Mom also cooks sometimes, does most of the cleaning and almost all of the yardwork?"

She thought about that. "Well, I mean that we each do the kinds of things we like. One person doesn't have to do all the work. We all kind of pitch in where we like it best."

She catches on fast.

The AL garden work morphed into three more hours of my own yard work while Alison tackled her chores.  Our yard looks really good maybe three times a year -- covered in snow, in full summer when the black-eyed Susans and the day lilies are in bloom, and in the spring when the flox is in full bloom. The color distracts you from the mossy spots and sparse grass. I'll get to that one day.

Yesterday, I was lucky to escape the yardwork with my life. For the second  (possibly the third) time in my landscaping career, I cut through the fully power electrical cord that had poweried up my leaf blower. Times prior involved shearing it with the electric clippers. If you've never been showered in electrical sparks, you're missing a show. My sister Debbie can relate. She was actually struck by lightning once. Sure, hers wasn't self-inflicted, but I like to know we share more than a blood bond.

My most recent brush with electrocution had it roots in my own laziness. Jeff bought a bright yellow electrical cord to replace the last one I'd cut, thinking its color would keep me grounded and shock-free. But it's really long. I have a shorter green cord. Unfortunately, it was nestled in the ornamental (green) grass that needed shearing. It was there because I'd planned to blow out the clippings with the leaf blower once I'd evened them up. It seemed like a good plan at the time.

And by my standards, the spark wasn't much, and I didn't even get knocked down this time. So I guess it wasn't that big of a deal. The severed cord might argue that point.

To recover, we took Ali and her friend and fellow actor, Will, on a short bike ride with Brics ice cream in the middle. After Alison went off to a babysitting gig down the street, Jeff and I indulged in champagne and snacks far too early in the evening to take full advantage of the night. It did, however, give Jeff time to go shopping.

Before he left me on Mother's Day morning (with my full blessing) Jeff made me coffee, brought the paper, offered to bring fruit, and then he and Ali showered me with gifts.

The shower included a card from Alison thanking me for the many stories she'll have to tell her therapist later in life, a beautiful card from Jeff and the aforementioned trash bags. (Proof of yesterday's work in the yard is encaged in a series of kitchen trash bags becauseI was out of yard bags.)

What I've failed to tell you is that Jeff had already purchased tickets to see my anti-hero Eric Church in Louisville later in the year. They're my real Mother's Day gift and I wouldn't trade brunch or dinner or champagne for them. The yard bags were just a hilarious addition.

I'm pretty sure Eric Churc will give me an electrifying show. I'm hoping that one does knock me down.

Thirteen

Four days before her 13th birthday, Alison came running into my bedroom, flung herself on the bed, chest heaving, tears falling.

Yes, it was the Captain.

She had been minding her own business, passing through the kitchen when he captured her in that unteachable, indescribably wonderful hug only fathers can give. He made the mistake of giving in to our mutual dismay/delight at her progression into young adulthood. 

"Oh I miss the days when you were my little tiny girl and I had the right answer to every question you had," he said. "I used to know what to say no matter what had happened."

She's a sentimental little thing, unwilling to totally let go of her stuffed animal friends but hoping to become a regular shopper at Victoria's Secret. She's still not entirely sure she wants to know what that boy-girl thing is all about, but she's curious. And no child has ever loved a father more than she loves Jeff. Even when he's in full captain mode, dressing her down for not having better table manners, cleaning her room or finishing her chores.

She was crying not because he'd done anything wrong but because she didn't want him to feel bad that she was growing up.

Thirteen!  That age you want to reach so bad you can't stand it and then in the middle wondering if you're going to live through it. Or if you want to.

The actual anniversary of Alison's arrival on this Earth is tomorrow, but it will be a challenge to have much time to celebrate as a family. She goes to school at 7:30 a.m.and is usually there until 5:30 p.m. or whenever I can leave work to spring her from AfterCare. With the play performance coming up, practice is stepped up, and she has to be downtown at 5:30 until 7. Jeff's a traditionalist, so we'll open gifts Monday morning and then hope to have a little time before bed.

She'll have her friends over later in the month for a delayed party. She's OK with the delay. She's excited about the play and doesn't mind. Plus, we'll get Jenna for a couple of days so that's a gift in and of itself. (Thanks Ginny! I really mean that.)

Ali has been anxious for the past few weeks to make her own birthday cupcakes for her class celebration on her actual birthday. Once an important co-producer in these events, I have been relegated to sous chef, hod carrier, dish washer. 

"I think I want to do this myself," she said, hesitantly, as she informed me of my demotion.

"But it's your birthday. You shouldn't have to do all the work," I protested.

She shrugged. "Nah. I have this idea I want to try."

This "idea" has taken more than a little advance planning. It's an amalgamation of idea's she's seen in her baking cook book library, YouTube decorating videos and Cake Boss. She's been making as many of the decorations as she can in advance. Before she started assembling the parts to the decoration, she worked out her design on paper. There's a map and a code. Seriously.

"These are turning out to be $30 cupcakes," Jeff said the other day as he returned with one ingredient. Besides the made-from-scratch cupcakes and icing, this project will involve Teddy Graham bears, Laffy Taffy (two-flavors warmed and rubbed together then formed into beach towels), mini-chocolate chips (coconuts) mini marshmallows (palm fronds when snipped and rolled in green-colored coarse sugar) Sugar wafers (pounded into sand) Hostess donuts (floats and life preservers) and possibly a shark formed out of Twinkie.

She had three hours of play practice and movie time with Nick yesterday and another three hours of play practice today, with a surprise visit to Aunt La for a special advance birthday delivery.So I had her make the cupcakes Friday night, reserving most of her free Sunday time for decorating. 

When we were plotting out our time, I'd mentioned Aunt La and a midday Sunday visit. She fretted that she had so much work to do and might not have time.  I said it might involve a birthday gift.

"Wait a minute. Aunt La? Aunt La of the "you can't open a gift unless it's smack on the day? That Aunt La?" she asked, grinning.

"Yup."

"OK then. I think we can make time," she said. "I just love Aunt La."

With 40+ cupcakes, she created a beach scene with palm trees, water, sand, a shark and floating or sunbathing little bears on tie-dyed beach towels wearing bikinis and possibly sipping fruity drinks. Other than the cupcake paper, they're entirely edible. (She's learned a lot from food TV...)

Because she's got chores, too, and a busy day, I tried to organize a bit for her this morning. She was highly appreciative, but then said, "You know, Mom. You can just go about your normal day now if you want."

Sigh.

I've stepped in to clean up a bit, but she's got this. Because, you know. She's 13!

I took some solace in eating the cut out parts of the Hostess donuts but that only made me head back to the gym for a real work out where I took my bag of guilt and my Book Club book. Just carrying that thing is a work out. It's about 27,543 pages and it's about the hospital in New Orleans where so many disaster plans fell through and some patients were euthanized rather than be left to suffer.

I was about a third of the way through and had to skip to the end to be sure what I wanted to happen happened. I'll go back to the middle. It's really compelling. It's "Five Days at Memorial" and I'm in awe of the author, Sheri Fink, who's done incredible work in reconstructing the really complex situation.

I can't wait for Book Club to hear what Julie has to say from her hospital perspective, and the others for  their always intelligent insights. I predict we'll need a lot of wine because there's a ton there. Great pick, Niki!

So we'll use the time she's at play practice to wrap her gifts to make the morning manageable. Anything to get a little quality time to celebrate this awful-wonderful milestone.

How did she get to be 13?! I know no one asked me. Before she was born, I worried that we wouldn't like each other, that I didn't know what I was doing, that I didn't deserve her and that somehow I would royally screw this up.  

So far every year has been better than the one before. Veteran parents tell me that's part of the trap -- the first few years are so great it's enough to get you through the terrible teens. And just when you think you'll really kill them, they leave for college, only to return the charming, lovely people you wanted them to be.

I know it's possible that she'll have a period of hating me just because I'm the mom. We haven't hit that yet. I'm still usually the person she runs to when her world gets rocky.

I'm open to suggestions on how to keep it that way. And I'll pay top dollar for a guarantee. :)

Sent from my iPad

Don't you want to be my neighbor?

I know I talked a bit last week about how I like my neighborhood.  Here's more, plus a fun (IMO) kicker about something fun I did at work:

Jeff had an all-day poker party so it was just Alison and me who went to help out at the annual Canterbury Park clean-up. She had her acting class in the afternoon so we went early, thinking we'd have to leave before it was over.

Alison tackled weeds in the playground while Katie and Rob Vrable and I worked on the north entrance. Brad Beach was roto-tilling around the trees and came over to lengthen the bed for us -- work smarter, not harder, right?

As I was explaining we had to leave early because Alison had Young Actors Theater later, a jogger came up the path, "We did that for two years. Loved it!" she called out as she trotted up the path to the Monon Trail.

Later, as I was toiling away, shovel in hand, I hear my name. "Hey, I thought that was you. I saw your hair shining in the sun a quarter mile off."

My friend Mike Potter was out training for the Mini-marathon. He doesn't live near me but was using the trail for his work-out.

Alison, meanwhile, had struck up a friendship with my friend Kathy Davis' daughter, Rory. They live a street away. Alison was chatting up her babysitting service. Rory was asking when they might get to have a play date. 

Other neighbors came in and out during the morning, ready to help get the park ready for the good weather.  We chatted about whether Adam and Trisha Brand would come out to show off little Veda. 

I don't know all of the people who came in and out. Some were there to work, others to play, but it wa just a great atmospher It was like all the good things small town are thought to offer -- quick smiles and "hey there neighbor!" kind of atmosphere.  We might all be high from the great weather, but Iike to think it's just the way of Canterbury.

While Alison and Hannah Ogden sharpened their acting skills, Karin and I took a long bike ride along the newly expanded Fall Creek Parkway. As we went north, we noticed a section was closed and were pondering what to do when another cyclist called out to us that he knew the detour and would be our scout.

Turned out he was a partner in a development firm that's building up the downtown and whom Karin had been hoping to meet to see if there were partnership opportunities with the downtown YMCA. He was looking for ways to incent his tenants and the talk of a fully equipped gym came up. 

It was a gorgeous ride. Karin and I have had a hard time getting together lately so it was great on all fronts.

After I picked Ali up, I ran back to the park to transplant some flowers from my yard to fill in our newly expanded space. Jenna had just arrived and the girls had zero need of me. 

On the way back, Beth Jansen from down the street, was driving by and stopped to chat. I'd cleared some mud and leaves from my street, which tees into hers, and she was appreciative. It wasn't an altogether altruistic move. Good drainage is important to all of us who have basements and I have a low spot in my backyard I'm trying to get level with the rest of my yard. The two wheelbarrow-load of dirt is getting me closer to goal.

I had the girls jump up and down on it to help tamp it down. They declared it the best chore they'd ever been assigned.

While I was gone transplanting, the girls had decided they'd make cupcakes to sell along the Monon. I'm happy nurture their entreprenurial spirit but I'd really rather tackle their cleaning skilz. To say they are not proficient cleaners is like saying Bruce from jaws had a slight eating disorder.

The Brands and Baby Veda were out (!) when we went back to set up their cupcake stand. So I went to see them as the girls put their sign and display up.  Veda needed a diaper change but they were planning to go over to sample a cupcake after they addressed that.

Despite the neighborly support, the girls didn't have record sales. 

"The first lady who bought cupcake took one bite and spit it out. But the nice lady ate hers and put the wrapper in the trash down there," they reported. 

Alison and Jenna's friendship is such that the spitter didn't dampen their spirits. And truth be told, they might have been a bit too liberal with the sweet icing on top of their whole-wheat flour and Truvia cupcakes.

Sales were slow enough that they resorted to making videos of Alison going down the hill backwards in her wagon, spilling over on more than on occasion. Jeff and I went to retrieve them at 8 p.m. to find they'd packed up the wagon and were playing in the sand volleyball court as happy as the first time they'd discovered it as toddlers. 

They're back there this morning, sans cupcakes, hoping to make more exciting videos. I hope they've not seen that terrible Jack-Ass show. Now that I think about it, I might have to spy on them to be sure they're not going to break any limbs. I set them off with an admonition to keep the screaming to a minimum, but then we agreed: it's a park. There are supposed to squeals and screams and laughter.

So anyway, it's just been a nice weekend, and I was reminded how lucky I am to have nice, friendly neighbors. And it's clear that mine isn't the only 'hood with friendly, happy people.

As for my work story, you know I'm a country music fan and Blake Shelton led me to become a fan of The Voice. This season, there's a contender who has a connection to Angie's List, and I was finally able to connect with him on the phone. This is the result:

http://www.angieslist.com/articles/take-your-shot-wife-tells-singing-sensation-josh-kaufman.htm

I've gotten some fun responses via Twitter from people in far flung places who also appreciate the stylings of Josh Kaufman. One is a woman who teaches public speaking in Virginia who's also a fan of the show and wants to Skype with Team Usher for her class. I'm hoping to connect them. 

Possibly the most fun response, though, was from a stylist at my hair salon, which happened to be the venue for my phone conversation with Josh. She had a bit of a contact high from being in the building when Josh Kaufman had been on the phone. As I checked out, she came by to ask how it had gone and I whipped out my notebook and reported to her and others around the desk. It was hilarious. 

And not an uncommon reaction. You heard it here: Josh Kaufman is going to be a star. 

If you're in the WTHR-Channel 13 viewing area you can catch Angie's List shout-out to Kaufman on Andrea Morehead's report Monday afternoon/evening. 

As for me, I'm heading to the park. Cross your fingers that the girls have all their parts in the right working order. And possibly watch for them on JackAss. 

Of local crime and country cousins

Back about 20 years ago when I informed my family back in southwestern – translation: rural – Indiana that I was going to move to Indianapolis, they looked at me aghast.

 “Why would you go to the city? It’s dangerous there. What are you thinking?!”

My Uncle Larry was getting ready to drive up to supply me with a fire arm because he thought I was living in a rough part of town. Aunt Shirley talked him off the ledge and he was relieved to find out I wasn't in the ghetto but they all worried.

 

I didn't. Sure, for Indiana, the capitol city is big, but it's not the mean streets of New York or LA or well, anywhere.  It’s just a small town spread out across a bigger swath than what I was used to. 

It’s always felt safe to me. There’s a ton to do. There are new people to meet and things to try. Alison loves to visit what she calls “the country” but she can’t imagine living without so many take-out options and high-speed Internet. 

 

But it’s literally been a bloody awful time in Indianapolis the last several months. Shootings and assaults. It’s been terrible. Nothing that’s touched us personally but it’s unsettling. I love this city.  I want to stay here. So I’ve been pondering how could I – and ordinary people like me – make a difference and reclaim the Indy I met two decades ago.

 

Just this week: 

 

One of our neighbors came by to show off shoes he used to run the Boston Marathon. They’re commemorative and super cool and Mark came by with them because Jeff had agreed to watch the mail for him while he was out of town and apparently FedX them to Boston if need be. Mark was happy they arrived early and we're happy to keep watch over his house while he's out of town. He does the same for us. This winter we worked as a tandem to shovel snow from our driveways.

 

Later in the week, Alison walked over to another neighbor to ask if she could scavenge a fun treasure box from the trash he’d set out. No problem, he said to the kid who routinely drops over with sample from her latest baking experiments.

 

When we were walking the other day, we ran into a family with dogs, got to talking, and I asked if she was new to the neighborhood. She wasn’t. She’s one hood over, “But I remember your daughter because she gave us some baked treats one day when we were out walking.”

Friday evening we were strolling again and ran into neighbors one street up who we hadn't me even though they've been here for seven years and we've been here for 15. They have two little girls and as Jeff and I talked to our new friend Chris -- he's used to be in charge of golf courses and may help me with my lawn problems -- Ali played with the girls. It could turn into a babysitting gig.

And then, on the way to Shakamak State Park for our family Easter gathering, Ricky (the neighbor who was going to trash a perfectly cool box!) called to see if Ali could babysit while he and his wife went to the Pacer game. It cut short our Easter trip but it was well worth it according to Alison's savings account.

 

So maybe it’s as simple as that. Be friendly. Talk to your neighbors. Give ‘em a cupcake if you have one extra. 

I'm not so naive as to think a few walks around the yard and some neighborly chore swapping is going to stop criminals from breaking into homes, or to stop people from using drugs and then having such trouble with their supply and/or demand that it leads to violence.

But I do know this: we’re better together. And we're better when we know our neighbors. 

I'm getting out more. And just for insurance, I'm bringing baked goods on occasion.

In other news, back in the country, our annual Easter egg hunt took a turn. We had the Easter Olympics instead. My team -- picked at random -- came in second only because I was the only one who saw the rabbit ears move when Marie took her turn at the rubber ducky shooting range.  We also lost (badly) at blind peep sculpting and blind drawing. I think we were in the middle of the pack when it came to twister. 

We won at redneck curling, though -- street hockey sticks, duct tape rolls and chalk -- and we broke a world record at egg bobbing.

Alison made the mistake of attacking Jason and stealing his hat. I'm not exaggerating one bit when I say a collective gasp you could hear on Main Street went up when she snatched the hat. You don't mess with Jason, man. She somehow lost her shoe in the melee and she's still complaining about the big, bad man "who beats children with their own shoes!"

She may have learned a lesson there. We'll see next time she crosses his path.

It was great fun. 

Our other adventures included Ali and me pulling up moss from the back yard and the three of us raking up the front. We ended up with 10 enormous bags of yard waste and a football field of moss. Sadly, there's a ton more moss. I'm hoing the new shed we build this summer will cover most of the rest of it.

If I can't walk or move my arms tomorrow, I'm blaming the yard work. You'd think an Easter Olympian would be in better shape...

Alison wanted to have her own egg hunt at home like she always has done. I was happy to play the rabbit and hid about 75 eggs in and around the house. She needed help finding the one in the gas tank but there's no dissuading her when she thinks a prize is involved.  

I put a few silly notes in some of her eggs, along with coins and candy and new supplies for her Rainbow Loom. She's definitely growing up. But there's still plenty of little girl in there. Thank goodness.