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February 25, 2005
Southern Exposure
Southern Exposure
Fredericksburg: Something old, something new - and one enormous meat sandwich
By Hetty Lipscomb
Friday, February 25, 2005; Page WE29
When I lived in Richmond, I regularly visited my boyfriend in Washington. And because I'm a neurotic driver with an intense fear of Interstate 95, I always took the train. At the journey's halfway point, the train stopped in Fredericksburg -- the skyline was unmistakable, with church steeples standing tall in the distance and Nader's Grocery in the foreground. From the window, I could look down the narrow streets and admire the rows of 18th-century clapboard homes. My favorite was (and remains) a soft gray house with slate-colored shutters and a dormer on top. Even though I was just passing through, I always wanted to get off the train and explore.
Now that I've married that boyfriend and moved to the Washington area, I periodically need a dose of small-town life. A day trip to Fredericksburg is ideal, and in keeping with my initial curiosity about the place, I take the train. The trip from Union Station takes a little over an hour and makes the adventure more like traveling back in time. As the train approaches town, the conductor calls out in his old-fashioned way, "Fredericksburg! Fredericksburg! Ladies and gentlemen, if Fredericksburg is your destination, now is a good time to check around your seat for your personal belongings." From the downtown station you can walk through the city's historic district, have a leisurely lunch, visit a Colonial house or Civil War site, browse bookshops and specialty stores, then have a drink and a snack before catching the train back home.
Downtown Fredericksburg sits on the Rappahannock, a deceptively syrupy river lined with low-slung trees, scruffy warehouses and the occasional restaurant-with-a-deck that's boarded up for the winter. The river was the source of the town's initial prosperity, serving as an inland trading port for tobacco as early as 1728. Docks along the bank established the city's grid of downtown streets. Well-off families, such as the Lewises and Washingtons, were attracted to the area. George Washington grew up at Ferry Farm across the Rappahannock and came to town for school; later he bought his mother a house near Fredericksburg's elegant Kenmore Plantation, home of his sister, Betty Lewis. During the Civil War, Fredericksburg had the misfortune of being located between the Confederate capital in Richmond and Washington, D.C. It was the site of four major battles, including the Battle of Fredericksburg in 1862, during which Union forces, led by Ambrose E. Burnside, invaded the town; eventually they were forced back by Robert E. Lee's troops.
Later in the 19th century, railroad development throughout the South led to the construction of new lines and stations. The town's geographic significance during the Civil War was echoed in 1910 when the Richmond, Fredericksburg & Potomac Railroad built the downtown depot, a handsome, sturdy brick building on Lafayette Boulevard. Although the train stops there, Fredericksburg no longer has a functioning train station -- the building has been converted to an upscale restaurant that serves southern-style cooking. Principally the stop serves as the terminal for the Virginia Railway Express, a commuter line that shuttles professionals to and from the metro Washington area, a development that bespeaks yet another phase in the town's history. While benefiting from its proximity to the nation's capital, Fredericksburg determinedly remains a small town, rejecting any notion that it is an extension of Northern Virginia.
The railway cuts through Fredericksburg's downtown, and as soon as you leave the station -- boom -- you're there. Immediately on the right is Caroline Street, a sort of main drag with lots of shops and restaurants. Before plunging in, however, I decided to stop at the Fredericksburg Visitors Center (706 Caroline St.; 800-678-4748). The center offers an informative orientation video, and wall displays practically burst with brochures on local historic sites, restaurants and antique shops. Friendly staff members are on hand to answer questions, drawing on their encyclopedic knowledge of the town. I asked Fran Jessee about the church with the tallest steeple I regularly admired from the train. "That's probably St. George's," she beamed. "George Washington attended church there -- and there are Tiffany windows." Whipping out a free map, Jessee pinpointed St. George's Episcopal Church (905 Princess Anne St.; 540-373-4133) with a red pen, and I set out.
Built in 1849, the Romanesque revival church has inset panels along its facade that create a subtle sense of movement. A clock in the church tower regularly sounds the hours. A small, crumbling graveyard dates to the 1700s, and many of the worn headstone inscriptions that can still be read are heartbreaking, such as "Catherine Rose/ daughter of JP and AMS Hart/ Aged 9 mos 4Dys." The sanctuary itself was quiet and calming with dark wood and white plaster walls. The center aisle floorboards squeaked when I walked. On either side are box pews with low swinging doors that seem to corral parishioners. When the church was first built, the pews were "sold" to families and rented each year afterward as a means to pay for building operations -- some still have engraved silver plates on their doors, indicating who used them. During the Battle of the Wilderness in 1864, St. George's was used as a makeshift hospital. I wondered if soldiers stretched out in these pews.
In contrast to the simplicity of the church's interior are several opulent Tiffany stained-glass windows. The most striking is dedicated to a local physician, Lawrence Ashton, and depicts a triumphant angel in a rich gold robe with iridescent wings. The folds of her garment seem almost touchable, formed out of the variegated shaded glass characteristic of Tiffany. The angel holds a gold staff with a palm, possibly representing the guardian angel of medical science, a suitable tribute to a doctor.
Although steeped in history, St. George's is an active, contemporary parish. Fliers posted in the vestibule announced a forum on homelessness as well as an intergenerational Lenten program titled "The Gospel According to 'The Simpsons.' " The St. George's clock tower struck 1. Clearly it was time for lunch.
While there are many great eateries along Caroline Street, I craved a comestible I call "the big meat sandwich" from Captain Sid's Seafood and Deli (2100 Princess Anne St.; 540-899-2288). A local introduced me to the shop a number of years ago, and my first sandwich there had enough beef on it to feed a family of six.
Captain Sid's looks like a building from the "Happy Days" set, with a roofline that jags up and down like a jack-o'-lantern's teeth. The inside has that hot, greasy french fry smell, and tables covered with plastic red-and-white checked tablecloths circle the room. The big meat sandwich is a (near) misnomer for the cheese steak sub for which Captain Sid's is famous. There are four variations, so connoisseurs can compare the subtleties of the Original (provolone, mayo, lettuce, tomato, onion), the Philly (add a slice of American to the Original), the All American (slap on a couple of pieces of bacon) and the Super Steak and Cheese (take away the bacon and the American cheese, add mushrooms and green peppers).
I was feeling only ordinary-lunch hungry, so I opted for the six-inch Original. There's also a 12-inch, but I don't want to even think about it. I was mopping my mouth with a napkin when I spied fellow sub devotee Marie King. She had just moved to Fredericksburg in September but was already a regular. A physical therapist, King made a conscientious food choice. "I had the chicken cheese steak sandwich -- makes me feel less guilty because I'm not eating red meat."
Feeling a bit more than guilty myself, I decided I'd head back downtown, but not without casting a wistful gaze across the Captain Sid's parking lot at a blue sign with white script reading " Carl's Creme Shakes Sundaes." Next to the sign for this Fredericksburg institution (2200 Princess Anne St.) and almost serving as an exclamation point, is a jaunty ice cream cone with a curving peak at the top. Carl's offers soft-serve custard in three flavors -- vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. The shop is closed from about mid-November until mid-February, making it all the more alluring the rest of the year.
Part of the appeal of Fredericksburg's historic downtown is that it is still a place where people live and work. Accordingly there are a few rough edges -- ivy slowly encroaches into the brick wall of an 18th-century house, and there are a couple of trashcans out back. Buildings are not polished and groomed as they are in Colonial Williamsburg. "Williamsburg is just reconstructed buildings," locals might sniff. "Ours are the real thing." Taking a walk through the historic district is like taking a seminar on Virginia architecture. Walk down Caroline Street to see Colonial wood frame houses that date to the 1750s. Head over to Princess Anne and admire the Flemish-bond brickwork of the Federalist-style City Courthouse (now the Fredericksburg Area Museum and Cultural Center, 907 Princess Anne St.; 540-371-3037). Continue down to the Presbyterian Church of Fredericksburg (810 Princess Anne St.; 540-373-7057), whose Classical revival facade, complete with Doric columns, looks back to antiquity. Cut over to Washington Avenue and admire Victorian houses with their asymmetrical plans, grand towers and elaborate woodwork on wide porches.
For a closer look at a Colonial building, visit the Mary Washington House (1200 Charles St.; 540-373-1569). Staff guide Len Malinowski conducts a tour in the persona of James Mercer, the Scottish expatriate attorney to the Washington family. According to Malinowski, the father of our country was seriously into household renovation. He bought the property on Charles Street for his mother in 1772. But before she could move in, Washington did what so many homeowners do today, expanding "a cottage into a commodious residence." He added several rooms to the right of the building, including a parlor with elaborate wood moldings and a mantle carved by artisans from Mount Vernon. Meanwhile, he had the upstairs roof raised so the bedrooms could accommodate his 6-foot-2 frame -- evidently the original loft was so low that he could not stand up in it.
Although Mary Washington lived in the house from 1772 until her death in 1789, visitors are apt to hear more about George -- his leadership in the Continental Army, his presidency, his service to the country. "Who is responsible," Malinowski intoned, "for his sense of duty, honor and responsibility?" Who indeed. The information presented about Mary Washington is speculative, perhaps because there's not much to go on. Although she was literate, she was an uncertain writer and infrequent correspondent; few documents and even fewer artifacts survive. While the house is furnished with period pieces, an effort has been made to have an object that belonged to her in each room to illustrate some aspect of her life -- such as the Canton teapot in the parlor, which she may have used to entertain such luminaries as George Mason, Thomas Jefferson and the Marquis de Lafayette.
There is an occasional reference to servants on the tour but no discussion of who they were or how they lived. There were six slaves in Mary Washington's house, four men and two women. A copy of her will exhibited upstairs identifies these individuals as she dispensed with her property: "I give and devise to my granddaughter, Betty Carter, my negro woman, little Bet, and her future increase." While reading such a statement may make you blanch, it evokes a vivid picture of the reality of those who were enslaved here.
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Down the street from the Mary Washington House is a more tangible record of the existence of slaves in Fredericksburg -- an auction block at Charles and William streets. A large, cylindrical gray stone stands upright with a deep, curved cut on its side. Below is a brass plaque on the sidewalk saying simply, "Fredericksburg's Principal Auction Site in Pre-Civil War Days for Slaves and Property." The stone serves as a silent witness to a painful aspect of the town's -- and the nation's -- history.
Heading west on William Street, fiber artists of all ilks will be delighted to find the Knitters Cottage (807 William St.; 540-361-7875). While it is a yarn shop, it also seems to serve as a social center; when you enter, you immediately see a rocking chair next to a fireplace. Other chairs are positioned near bright, wide windows, inviting customers to sit and knit. It was uncharacteristically quiet on the day I visited. "Usually the place is hopping," exclaimed Karlene Browder, a shop associate and avid knitter. "It would have shown you how much everyone likes to knit in Fredericksburg!" interjected shop owner Nancy Benedict. No need, their stock was testament enough.
Each room houses yarns for specific knitting projects. Benedict and Browder were sitting in the "scarf room," which has a dazzling array of novelty yarns for accessories. A popular type is eyelash -- a thin yarn with tufts of thread hanging off in searing colors such as hot pink or orange that made me think of Animal from "The Muppet Show." The "wool room" stocks soft, thick yarns for winter sweaters, including skeins of a luscious gray cashmere that I just stroked and sighed over. New yarns for spring were coming in that looked like cascades of shimmering ribbon in teal, green, coral and cream.
The "baby room" is awash in pastels. White floor-to-ceiling storage units hold thin, fine yarns for sweaters, caps and blankets. A number of examples were on display -- little sweaters in pink or white, just right for Easter Sunday services; lacy receiving blankets that you would never dare use; sturdier-looking cardigans for outdoor play. One of the Cottage's staff members, Suzy Ritenour, specializes in babywear and offers workshops on site.
Customers who have gotten into trouble with a knitting project are welcome to come to the shop for help. A wide white table in the scarf room serves as a "triage area" where staff can spread out your sweater and figure out just what went wrong. If your project needs more than a quick fix, you can sign up for one of the knitting workshops offered Tuesday through Saturday. People can learn knitting basics, how to interpret a pattern or get help starting a new project. A corkboard displayed on a prominent wall shows photos of workshop participants triumphantly holding up complicated sweaters or brave first-attempt scarves.
Heading back toward the river on William Street, I passed the Fredericksburg City and Confederate Cemetery (William Street and Washington Avenue; 540-373-6122). The main entrance is at Washington Avenue and Amelia Street, a tripartite arched gate that's casually left open for visitors. The park officially closes at dusk. As they do for most people, old cemeteries hold a macabre fascination for me, and this one is full of Poe-like delights such as tall obelisks, drooping pine trees and the occasional weeping angel. Cast-iron fences designate family plots with familiar Virginia names such as Herndon and Woodbridge. The focus of the cemetery, however, is the section honoring the Confederate dead, overseen by a life-size statue of a soldier standing at ease, his rifle at his side. Surrounding him, like soldiers in formation, are lines and lines of slender stone markers with rapidly deteriorating names: "J. Christfield VA," "F Martin SC," "W Parson GA," "JC Whately ALA," "WA Feeney COL MISS." According to the brass plaque at the park entrance, the Ladies Memorial Association tends to the graves of the Confederate dead from the area's four battles; some 3,553 men from 14 states were reinterred at the site -- many had originally been buried at the battlefields -- in 1870. Today, the cemetery serves not only as a memorial to the Civil War soldiers, but to those who mourned and channeled their grief to purposeful ends.
Another historic site is Goolrick's Pharmacy (901 Caroline St.; 540-373-9878). I spoke with pharmacist Steve May, owner of the small, independent apothecary, about why customers remained loyal to his shop despite the prevalence of chain drug stores. "It's the nostalgia of it," he freely admits. "This pharmacy has been here since 1867. I'm the third owner." May also feels a certain familiarity with his customers. "Most of my clients are older, live in the area," he says. He remembers, say, whether Mrs. Smith takes high blood pressure medication or that Mr. Jones can't tolerate penicillin. Goolrick's pharmacy also delivers, a service that is almost unheard of today and a true godsend if you're stuck in bed with the flu.
Goolrick's main attraction, however, is another entity from the past: the drug store soda fountain. Stools line up along a plastic laminate counter, and small, round tables serve as back-up seating. The menu is definitely a blast from the past in terms of prices: grilled cheese, $2.50; Coke 75 cents; tuna salad sandwich, $3; fried egg (til 10:30) 90 cents; toast 85 cents.
I met Bethany Brooks, one of the "Goolrick's Girls," who works the counter as a waitress and short-order cook, and asked her about the fountain's most popular item. "Probably milkshakes, but today it's grilled cheese -- it's cold outside."
Goolrick's has one the most distinctive signs on Caroline Street. Long with white letters on a green background, it hangs off the side of the building with a signature Rx at the bottom. At night it lights up in neon glory. Little signs on poles extend perpendicular from buildings dotting Caroline Street, a possible holdover from when Virginia was a colony of England. The goods and services offered are a bit different, however. "Mark Kenneth Torgeson, MsT Massage Therapy." "The Bruised Reed, Christian Counseling." One pair of signs suggests a family affair -- on the left, "Jeffrey D. Carter, Attorney at Law," with the scales of justice beneath; on the right, "Carter Family Hairstyling," adorned with a large red pair of scissors, a salon operated by Carter's brother Francis. That both Carters work in the same building perhaps indicates that an enterprising client could settle her estate while getting highlights.
On Amelia Street, a sign on a low, brick building advertised the Wounded Bookshop (109 Amelia St.; 540-373-1311). With a name like that, I had to go in. I assumed it was a secondhand bookstore, but I was only partly right. The Wounded Bookshop is also a gallery, reading room and meeting place organized by the Fredericksburg Athenaeum. Since it's a fundraising enterprise, the staff are all volunteers, and the books and furnishings are donated. The overriding mission, according to executive director Paul Lewis, is to promote the arts in Fredericksburg.
In a history-conscious town, a 200-year-old warehouse seems like an ideal setting for a bookstore, with its hand-hewn ceiling beams and exposed brick walls. The furnishings are a little roughhewn as well, but comfortable, like the orange- and yellow-flowered sofa from someone's den and the orange velour armchair rescued from a yard sale. Tables painted with game boards invite you to participate. An informal "help yourself" coffee bar is in the back. The atmosphere is comfortably reassuring, making you feel at home rather than on display, as you might in a polished cafe. The books encourage lingering as well. The offerings are substantial -- no airport mysteries or grocery-store romances here. They are organized by genre and author, more or less. In novels, there's an antiquarian edition of Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina." The poetry selections include "The Poems and Prose of Christina Rossetti." For history, all three volumes of Douglas Southall Freeman's "Lee's Lieutenants" are available. There are also a number of rare books displayed in a glass case, such as a 1928 edition of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Gold Bug" with an art deco graphic on the cover.
"We have good books here," Lewis says. "Occasionally someone will come in here and pick up [one] and say, 'This book changed my life!' That's what we want here."
I asked him about the shop's unusual name. "We're actually the Fredericksburg Athenaeum -- that's a mouthful," he says. "We decided we wanted to give the space a fun name." During a camping trip with several Athenaeum members, one remarked that, "when he borrows a book, the book ends up wounded" (the cracked spine, the creased pages, the coffee ring on the cover). "We thought that would make a great name, but I was careful with the sign -- "The Wounded Bookshop," not "Wounded Books."
Feeling a little wounded myself after an afternoon of walking, I went to Claiborne's (200 Lafayette Blvd.; 540-371-7080) to check out its conversion of the old RF&P train station before catching my train back home. The dark wood, glowing table lamps and roaring fire in the dining room created a warm atmosphere. Someone offered to take my coat. While the place was clearly set up for dinner, I figured the restaurant's staff are probably used to the odd traveler ambling in for a drink and a snack while waiting for the train.
"We do get quite a few," says Brandon Witt, the highly efficient bartender. "Also, we're the last stop for the VRE, and people will come in for a drink at the end of the day." At happy hour, the lounge offers homemade barbecue potato chips; I consumed a shameful number of these while contemplating other appetizer options. (Appropriately, Claiborne's emphasizes "low-country southern cuisine.") Witt recommended the shrimp and grits or something called the Louisiana Green Tomato Tower, a vegetarian option invented by one of the restaurant's chefs. For those who want dinner, Claiborne's is known for its steaks, but it also has nostalgic-sounding entrees like smoked pork chops and crunchy catfish along with "southern comfort" sides such as creamed spinach, sweet potato casserole and cornbread. Why bother with an entree?
I paid up and sat outside on the west platform waiting for the 6:56 regional train. It was chilly, but not unpleasantly so. Below, a group of lanky teenage guys in plaid flannel shirts were using the empty corridors and smooth ramps that had once been used to move cartloads of goods as a skateboard park. The sound was rhythmic, like the train itself -- flip-turn-ride, flip-turn-ride. A garbled announcement came over the intercom saying that my train was running late, but that was fine. Truth to tell, I didn't want to leave.
Posted by krystal at 1:15 PM | Comments (1)
phone call while the kids are at home and I am at work
Jake: mom...do we have any extra money around here?
Me: no. why?
Jake: to buy pizza.
Me: no Jake, there's no money for pizza...make a grilled cheese or someth..
Jake: then how will I pay for this pizza we ordered?
Me: bye foolio.
Posted by krystal at 11:28 AM | Comments (2)
February 24, 2005
self portrait day
Posted by krystal at 8:59 AM | Comments (4)
February 23, 2005
itching to call
Jake's home all swollen up like a balloon...he's allergic to something and his eyes are even swollen almost all the way shut. I was hoping his rash and swelling would be gone by this morning but he's still sick. He's taking benedryl but so far no relief. I had to come to work today but Dan set up "jake cam" for me so i can check on him.
The problem is, all he's doing is sleeping. I keep watching and all I see is his comatose body there on the couch. So far I've called twice just to have a lil action on the web cam. I make him get up close too, so I can see his puffiness and then I let him go. I think he's on to my little game. He suggested I come home and just stare at him in person. What fun is that?
Kids are here for our entertainment.
Posted by krystal at 11:30 AM | Comments (4)
February 22, 2005
Mind fodder
Today I found myself searching for TV shows to watch. Currently I only watch Survivor on a regular basis and I was thinking of how it'd be cool to rot my brain a little more. I also figured if I can get addicted to a few more tv shows, I might be able to stay up past 8pm. I've become such a sack that I fall asleep as soon as I hit the couch and that's getting earlier and earlier.
So I was talking to my coworker, Diane, today and she suggested Lost. In between projects today I've been reading the synopsis of each episode I've missed. (I've missed a mere 16 so far..ugh). The show sounds awesome and I plan on watching tomorrow night. I bet I can keep up if I can just stay awake.
***
The boys are now sick. Dan's recovering a little at a time and Kendallpops and I are hiding out trying to dodge their germs. My boss is still sick, which proves that this crud has staying power. I am continually doing the "stay away" dance with all germ infested parties. (except Dan...I can't resist kissing him as much as possible).
***
I'm almost done reading Digital Fortress by Dan Brown. It's a fast read and very entertaining. I love geek talk and this is chock full of it. I *should* be reading The Know It All for our book club but uh...I haven't yet. I'll get to it.
***
We did lots of entirely entertaining things this weekend even though people were sick and work had to be done.
We had Carls Ice Cream, Pizza Hut, went bowling, ate out twice on Sunday and then again on Monday we ate out and we saw Because of Winn Dixie. We all loved the movie and I think we might have each gained 5 lbs this weekend.
The work side of things wasn't as productive but Dan did paint some of his house (there's still lots more to do) and we got the preliminary work done on listing it. So we crammed lots into our long weekend and by last night we all sort of retreated to separate corners and entertained ourselves...it was nice.
Posted by krystal at 1:57 PM | Comments (4)
February 16, 2005
uh oh
Dear Jeebus,
Dan's sick, my boss is sick, the chick who sits by me is sick. I think the world is sick. I do not want it.
xoxo
Krystal
ps. If you had anything to do with my boss giving me that raise and bonus, thx.
Posted by krystal at 7:10 PM | Comments (3)
noise canceling
Last weekend we moved more of Dan's things to my house and he gave me some noise canceling headphones. I'm so happy now because at work I get to listen to Howard Stern and the sports junkies as loudly as I want. How could I dare miss this...right now there's a 75 year old porn star chick on the radio. She said she "didn't do it for lust". That's reassuring.
Posted by krystal at 8:25 AM
February 12, 2005
...and we thought Janet Jackson was bad.
Posted by krystal at 6:36 AM | Comments (2)
February 10, 2005
Holy hives, batman.
Yesterday Jake broke out in hives. After his most recent report card, my somewhat uneducated guess would be that it's just stupidity oozing out. Either way, I left work to go home w/him. Dan brought him home and stayed. The little kids got home and we were all lazy zombies for the rest of the day. It rocked, we even had apple pie for dinner.
After a very stressful night at Kendall's first gymnastics class, I've decided to enroll her at paragon rather than with her old coach. Kendall was a miserable mess after being IGNORED at her class. The child is patient and kind but she is never to be ignored. I really hope Paragon pays proper attention so we don't have to go through that again.
Trevor went to sleep at 5 last night, sleeping off a foul mood and doing us all a huge favor. I know it's tough being 11 but sometimes it's harder to be around Mr. moodypants. On the bright side, he woke up in a charming mood and didn't fuss about a thing after that.
Dan informs me that Trev and Kendall aren't speaking and will only communicate to each other via him. That's going to be fun when Dan's not around....aaaaaah peace and quiet!
I finished reading Interpreter of Maladies and anxiously await my turn for The Know It All. I've started reading it but decided to wait a bit. I have an afghan to knit and I'd rather finish that first.
(god I sound dowdy)
I'm not though. (dowdy, I mean). In fact, Friday Dan and I are going to have sushi with Tree. See...that's cosmopolitanish. We're going out, like people do.
Posted by krystal at 9:31 AM | Comments (4)
February 9, 2005
Little desk
This desk has to go. I posted it on fredtalk but if anyone of you guys wants it, just say the word. First come first serve. We're overflowing our house with furniture. More freebies to come. yay!
**update** Susan wants the desk. I'm thrilled that it'll be living with someone really nice.
Posted by krystal at 8:11 AM
February 2, 2005
So I don't get arrested by the karma police
I figure I should say some nice things to equal out my bitching, otherwise when something even worse happens, I'll know it's because I wasn't grateful.
This morning at wawa I spotted a dime on heads over in the grass near the parking lot. I left it there. Then I went inside and spent $4.02 and didn't have .02 so the man behind me gave me the .02. When I got to my car I picked up the dime and gave it to him.
Today Kendall starts gymnastics again. She's really good at it and we'd lost touch with her old coach when he quit working for the Spotsy rec dept. I was elated when he called to say he's now working at slapshotz.
These 2 joggers (at 5fuckingoclock am) said "morning!" to me as I hauled the trash barrels back to the house from the curb. I saw them running towards me and it scared the bejeezus out of me since people are NOT out at that time unless they're me or up to no good. Their greeting saved me from a heart attack.
Trevor gets his yellow belt at tae kwon do tonight.
I'm having sushi for lunch.
there, that should do it.
Posted by krystal at 8:05 AM | Comments (3)
Today's entry is brought to you by the word "fuck"
I start out almost everyday in a good mood. I'm a morning person and I enjoy getting up, making my coffee, piddling around the house and getting ready for work. I enjoy getting out of work and going home fairly early and for the most part I enjoy everything right up til after dinner. At that point I crash and burn. The problem with this is that my entire family seems to be woundthefuckup by that time. Two out of three of the last nights I've screamed at them and stormed off to bed. They're either fighting or yelling or throwing shit or just being assholes at a point when I'm d-o-n-e with my day. There's got to be some sort of happy balance but right now I have no idea what it is. I woke up this morning with the realization that I probably owe my children an apology because I told them last night "ALL I WANT IS SOME FUCKING HELP AROUND HERE BUT OBVIOUSLY THAT'S TOO MUCH TO ASK". Yep, I said "fucking", no, I SCREAMED "fucking" to my kids. I guess that crosses the line of good parenting and goes right into the realm of verbal abuse but right now I could give a rats ass. I'm not going to let them destroy the house that I'm paying for them to live in. I'm not going to clean up after them so I guess the answer is that they can either do their chores willingly or they can get screamed at and cursed at until they're 18 and can move out. BLAH.
Posted by krystal at 6:56 AM | Comments (5)
February 1, 2005
Singled out
Looks like Heidi and I are now famous. (only not?)http://fredericksburg.com/News/FLS/2005/022005/02012005/1650530
Ok now it looks like I need to go back a few days. Friday night I was pissy and tired as I tend to be on Friday nights but this time it was because I had to sit at my eye dr's office for an hour before he gave me a 5 minute eye exam and then I delt with the always inept eyeglasses chick. I told her she sucks, left and headed home to meet Dan so we could go see his folks off before they made their final trip to California.
Saturday was the Fredtalk book club's first meeting and I made a shitload of snack food and stuff. There were 9 people (I think?) there and I think the last folks left around 7:30. It was really fun and relaxed and I might be a nerd but I'm very anxious to get my new book for the next meeting.
Sunday was the ultimate in laziness. My brand of lazy means just means that I didn't go anywhere (cept the mall). I cleaned out the kitchen cabinets and made room for more of Dan's things. We watched The Clearing. It was a sundancy sort of movie with Robert Redford and Willem Defoe. I liked it well enough but it was sort of mundane. We ran a few errands on rt 3 and then while Dan took a (ultra long) nap I watched ConAir and Unfaithful on tv. The kids came home starving to death so we had breakfast for dinner. After that, it was time for the new week to begin.
Monday I worked out and cooked dinner for the kids. After reading for a long time in bed I found myself surrounded by my entire family combing each others hair. (it was a very weird thing but not the strangest thing in my house I assure you). Dan made cookies which lured me out of bed called to me from the kitchen.
So here I am, fat and full of cookies and completely happy.
Posted by krystal at 12:38 PM | Comments (3)