Where's the Big Puppy?

By Guest Blogger Scout Barr

Guest Author: Scout Barr

I'll be filling in today for the Big Mommy.  That's what I call Juliet.  I offered to write a piece for her blog, and she said it would be okay, as long as there were a few photos and no typos.  If you think it's easy to type when they haven't clipped my toenails in months, think again.

I'm worried.  I know Big Mommy has a lot of readers, so I'm hoping someone can help me.

The Big Puppy is missing.  At first, I thought he'd be right back.  After a few days, I thought maybe it was one of those longer trips he sometimes takes.  Then it became clear that he was not coming home.  Big Puppy has never been gone this long.  And Bear and I are starting to worry.  Without the Big Puppy, things are going to be pretty dull around here.  Here's what he looks like.

Big Puppy

In our pack, there's Bear, the other canine*, and Big Daddy and Big Mommy.  They take care of us.  They sometimes leave, but they always come back.  Ever since I was born, they have been here.  Back then, there was Little Mommy too. To show my love for her, I sleep on her bed and chew up her stuffed animals.  When Little Mommy comes for a visit, she can tell how much I love her.  Little Mommy takes Bear and me for really long walks, sometimes up to the mountain.  And the Other Daddy who doesn't really love us, but is nice to us and will take care of us when he visits.    

 Big Mommy,  Big Daddy in the back
Little Mommy, Other Daddy and Big Puppy Seated in the Front

And there was Big Puppy.  Big Puppy was one of us.  Big Puppy walked us every day, and fed us sometimes.  Big Puppy took us outside no matter what the weather was, and played rough with us.  Big Puppy stopped whatever he was doing to show us love, and he and I grew up together.  I slept next to him at night.  Big Puppy has gotten bigger and bigger, but he always makes time for us.  

Bear Barr

But Big Puppy has been gone for a long time.  After a few nights of waiting by the door and sleeping in Big Puppy's room, I realized he wasn't coming home. I started sleeping in Big Mommy and Daddy's room, where it's cooler.  Bear still sleeps outside Big Puppy's door, like he's still waiting.

Other Daddy and Little Mommy have come to visit, but still no Big Puppy.  Sometimes Big Mommy takes us  outside and she tries to play with us the rough way, but it's really not the same.  A few times she even threw the frisbee and the football for us.  (Lame.)  Bear and I humored her for a few minutes but then we just came in and let her give us a cookie and plopped by the front door and waited for someone more fun to come along.  

So if any of you have seen Big Puppy, please tell him it's time to come home now.  It's just not the same without him.  

*There are other pets in this house too, but until the Cat and the Turtle start being even remotely fun, they do not get a mention.

Someday We'll Look Back on This and it Will All Seem Funny

I live in New Jersey.  I was born here.  I spent a good couple of years putting it down and waiting to get out.  And many more years calling it home again. 


So what's up with New Jersey?


Thanks to TV, the rest of the United States, (and probably a good part of the television viewing world) thinks that we speak with some kind of less-than-articulate accent, that we have big hair, and crave the material things in life.  I've never even watched two of those popular New Jersey shows, but I know the stereotype.  Ironically enough, when my family and I were at the Jersey shore two summers ago, we saw the iconic stars of that famous shore show.  But I think somehow I better not post their pictures in my blog.  


New Jersey used to feel like a an annex to New York.  When I was growing up, I didn't get that NJ had its own shtick.  All we had then was Bruce Springsteen, and we had so much of him, I lost interest.  (I know, that is blasphemy, and I've come around to appreciate him a bit more.)  


I've lived in Boston, North Carolina, Portland Oregon and San Francisco.  I even lived in Israel for part of my Junior year in college.  All of these places had their own personality.  They were all great places to live.  But I was always a visitor.  New Jersey was my home.  My parents were here, and for much of their lives, so were my grandparents. As much as I might like to put this state down, this happened to be my state.


What's up with New Jersey?  Here's what works for me...

This is a dolphin swimming by.  Really.

1. Great Beaches.  Okay, my favorite is and always has been Seaside.  With the honky tonk of the boardwalk of Seaside Heights and the spectacular waves, beaches and (usually) clean ocean of Seaside Park... this is where my family has gone for years.  Everyone has their favorite spot on the Jersey Shore. This year, we saw dolphins swim right past us.  And I have still never had better pizza  than that on the boardwalk at Seaside Heights.  (Not even in Italy.)
2. Great Schools.   I know that NJ cares about education... and although not every single town has outstanding schools, this was definitely a plus when we decided to move back here from San Francisco.
3. Proximity to New York.  Yup.  Like most people I know, my husband and I don't go into NY nearly as often as one would think, and don't take advantage of nearly enough of the cultural options.  But we COULD if we wanted to!  Mostly we go to NY for rock concerts and work related things.  And then we complain about the traffic.  But, it's still there when we want it!
4. Distance from New York.  And here's the perfection of where we live.  In our idyllic little town in Bergen County, you can almost pretend you are back in a simpler time.  Neighbors know one another and stop to chat.  Our worst traffic nightmare here is when school lets out and the crossing guard holds up the cars to let the kids cross. 
5. Happy Kids.   As much as I wanted to get out, my kids seem to have been very happy growing up here.  They loved this little town, and the freedom it afforded them to go out on their own as they got older.  They loved the shore too, and being very close to their NJ grandparents. (Their other grandparents are in Maine, and this was always a very easy drive we made 3 times a year.)
6. Prices.  This is not worth moving here, but our gas prices are lower than the surrounding states, and you never have to pump it yourself.  Also, no tax on clothing.
7. Cory Booker.   Mayor of Newark.  Maybe Governor of NJ someday.  I just wanted to mention him because I think he's all that. 
8. Tomatoes and Corn.  The best when they are in season.  Peaches too.

A few things that could be better?

1. We could do better with our environmental policies and regulations.  In my perfect little town we cannot drink the water because of high levels of arsenic.  Hmm.  
2. The Blue Laws.  Yes, we still have them.  No shopping in Bergen County on Sunday.  Don't get me started.
3. Same Sex Marriage... not here, not yet.  A same sex couple can get married in Iowa, but not in NJ?  WHAT?   DC,  New York, Massachusetts... come on now NJ, it's our turn.

Am I missing anything? 

Yes, Jon Bon Jovi.  Sorry.  I simply have nothing to say about him.  Except this.  Why does he pretend to be a cowboy? 

Sometimes a Great Notion

    I could have named today's blog entry "Good-Night Irene" but so many people have used that... I couldn't bear to, despite the fact that it fits perfectly and that I am a fan of Leadbelly's (Huddie Ledbetter's) music. Check out the original by clicking this link: Goodnight Irene.  It's been covered by lots of great people included that great Beach Man himself, Mr. Brian Wilson... but I digress.

  

   So, after all the preparation, how did our little house in suburbia handle the first hurricane since Pretty Boy Floyd came to town in 1999?  Well, for one thing, we did not live in this house back in 1999, but apparently the house didn't do so well back then.  We were very lucky this time around.  The lake overflowed but did not flow into the pool. 

We did get a bit of water into the basement, mostly seeping in from the garage, but thanks to the hard work of putting everything in plastic and up off the floor, nothing was ruined.  We did not lose electricity, clean drinking water, or, God forbid, the Internet.

While I was standing on my front steps, I did see a tree fall right before my eyes.  Its roots must have been so soaked that they just up and dislodged themselves from the ground and it cracked and fell with a soft thud right in the front yard.  

Now, far be it from me to make any kind of sexist remark, but about 25 seconds after that tree was down, there were at least 4 grown men standing around it salivating and bragging about their chainsaws.  After about three hours of good honest work that had us feeling like a small time, East Coast version of the Stampers, we called it a day... leaving the tree looking more like this...

I say "we" because I did my part, dragging branches to the street, piling wood into nice neat stacks, and of course taking pictures.  By 5:30, muddy, scraped up and hungry, I came in, and besides it was cocktail time. 

After checking in with family and friends...and reading peoples' updates on Facebook and Twitter, I knew we fared well this time around.  

And It Surely Looks Like Rain

It's Saturday afternoon, August 27, 2011.  The Hurricane Irene is on her way.  It's all people are talking, tweeting, facebooking and blogging about.  Even me.


We are all "battening down the hatches" or however you spell that, and preparing for this storm of the half- century.  If it's as big as they predict, there's a good chance that we will probably have a flooded basement and lose power.  I don't live near the ocean, but if you have read my earlier blogs, I do live on a small lake which becomes a mighty, well, lake that overflows when we have these types of weather situations. 


Here's how we've prepared so far: 


1.  Eldest child has escaped to his own apartment in Boston, also in the danger zone, but a rental and not his problem.  He's carefree and probably just making sure his laptop, Droid and flashlights are at the ready.  I hope that I've taught him well and he has a stocked fridge and liquor cabinet.


2.  Middle child has also escaped to visit friend in Ann Arbor... she'll enjoy the hurricane from the comfort of the midwest which is scheduled for no weather at all this weekend.


3.  Youngest son did his obligatory 1/2  hour of helping move stuff around the garage and is hanging with his friends before being stuck in the house with his parents.  I believe he's a little put off by the threat of no electricity and having to play Grateful Dead-opoly with Mom and Dad for two days by candle light.


4.  Garage is cleaned out, garbage cans moved in.  The guy actually did arrive and put in a larger drain and pipes to drain the water out of our driveway so hopefully the flooding we usually get will not be so bad.  We do have a few holes in our roof (see "Phase One") so a leak could be in our future.  We have frozen bags of water and are filling up a few coolers of water, just in  case.  We have a full fridge, and of course, a full liquor cabinet.  Also, the great Mayor Corey Booker (Newark) suggests filling up your cars with gas and getting cash today, so that's done too.


Tom Petty said "The Waiting is the Hardest Part."  I think it's the cleaning.  If I could just sit on the couch with a nice cold drink and wait, I mean really, how hard could that possibly be?  But I need to get back to it and get everything off the basement floor and away from the windows.  


Before I go... I changed the set up of this blog so you can post your comments.  (I think.  Try it and let me know.)

And a prize goes to the person who can name this object I found while cleaning the basement!








Stay safe, and enjoy the ride!

Who'll Stop the Rain

Picture a Nicholas Sparks movie adaptation of one of his novels.  (You can't?  Ask your sister / mother / girlfriend/ gay friend.) 


The four kids (mentioned yesterday) are sitting blithely around the pool.  It's tomorrow, so it's sunny, and someone has cleaned the pool.  They are joking and laughing, and having snack and drinks out there (in plastic cups, of course).  Scene cuts to worried Mom (me) inside on the computer, tracking Hurricane Irene. 

Next scene cuts to very uptight father at work.  He's looking at the bank statement online and wildly clicking things to see if he can make money appear where it needs to be.  Viewers are perplexed.


Cut to May of this summer.  No, make that May of six years ago. Yes, that's how they do it in the movies.


The parents look pretty much the same, but the kids of course are six years younger. We come to take a final look at the house we are about to buy.  After at least 5 years of  taking our tiny house on and off the market, debating whether to stay in our  little town in Northern NJ, comparing the value of a decent sized house with a decent sized yard, we have finally sold our place and settled on what basically amounts to a brick raised ranch.  On what is arguably the nicest piece of property in the entire town.  (Did I use arguably correctly here? Read on and let me know what you think.)  As I have said, the house is really just a shoebox, only one room bigger than the one we've just sold, though each room is a little larger (except the master bathroom, which I may get to in another entry).  But then there's the yard.

And here's the funny thing.  We had pretty much decided we didn't care about the yard, as long as we had enough room in the house for our "stuff."  That lasted right up until we saw the yard.  The first thing you notice is that the front door is facing a huge front yard, but is set up away from the street.  It's hard to describe and also harder to find.  Kids on Halloween have a very tough time (guess you could say it's our trick if they want to get their treat). 

The next thing you see is that there's a beautiful pool, shaped like a chipotle pepper.  Of course, we didn't realize it at first.  I mean, of course we knew there was a pool, and that it had a fun shape, but chipotle peppers didn't come into vogue til recently, and we had really not identified it as any specific type of pepper at the time.




 

Pool with people in it.

Kids canoeing on the lake.



But the piece de resistance is the fact that behind the house and the pool flows a small river, or creek, punctuated by two waterfalls. This little pocket of zen surrenity in the midst of suburbia is what our family has called home for six years.  We love our upper lake, our waterfalls, and lower lake.  We love our barely-used canoe and the fact that there are snapping turtles in the middle lake that sometimes need rescuing.  We love that the upper lake has an abundance of fish in it, and on spring and summer nights you can see them jumping out of the water to catch insects. 

We don't love that this summer, for some reason, this lake has begun to overflow into our pool.  Which brings us to this past May.

Pool with mud in it.

The tranquil lake overflowed into the lovely blue pool TWICE, causing thousands of dollars worth of work, mess, and damage to pool, property and flooding into the house.  The pool had to be drained both times and refilled, leaving it with a stained and cracked bottom.  We had a berm built to staunch the flow of the water, and it has been tested already (and will be tested again with the impending Irene and her winds and water).

And our movie cuts back to today.  And our unknowing, naive but happy young adults are enjoying the pool and hammock... not knowing the worry in their parents' hearts.  Will the berm hold up?  Will the redirected water find a different way into the pool or into the thrice-flooded house?  (Yes, the house.  This could be the sequel, or possibly a prequel to this cinematic thriller.)  And, if you've been playing along, you'll recall that we are still not sure if there is a hole in the roof where the tree fell on the house, as the roofing contractor has failed to show at each of our arranged appointments so far.  And while we are on the subject of the money pit we call our home, we are still waiting for a no-show plumber to dig a new drainage system to allow for the water to flow away from our home and into the lawn and lake.

So, maybe it's really not like a Nicholas Sparks' movie at all.  Perhaps it should be more aptly called "Little House in the Suburbs." 

Stay tuned to find out how we fare during Hurricane Irene...