A clean bike is a happy bike

Last week it was the car, yesterday it was the bicycle. A clean drivetrain is a bike rider's best friend. No squeaks, no chain skips and smooth shifting. For weeks, Greta has been curious about the grimy, black toothbrushes in the garage. Today, she learned what Daddy already knows: They're perfect for reaching the gunk that accumulates on derailleur pulleys and between chain links.

Saturday in one image

Greta, where's your tongue?

Like anatomy students or coroners in training, Carey & Greta like to identify each other's body parts. Say "nose," the girl points to her nose. Say "Mommy's nose," and she sticks her finger up Mommy's nose. Say "eyes," and get ready to have yours poked out. Say "tongue" and she sticks hers out.

New camera

A few loyal readers (i.e., my Dad, my sister) have pointed out the exceptional clarity of our images from New Hampshire. That's partly because I'm an ace photographer, partly because Greta Corleen Merrill is extremely photogenic, and partly because of the nifty little contraption to the left. You're looking at the Sony Cyber-shot DSC-T10 in all its 7.2 megapixel glory. I'm a little bummed that they're apparently available in sexier colors, but we've found it great in terms of shutter speed, ease of use and portability. It's no larger than a credit card, and no thicker than the average male wallet. We picked it up in Manchester, N.H., this weekend. So expect to see a steady diet of amazing images as we have fun with our new toy.

Parting post from New Hampshire

There are stories left to tell, and I'm sure they will trickle out in this space in due time, but for now, here's a slideshow of our wonderful weekend in Portsmouth. Great friends, great food (maybe not the Thai noodles :-), and a host of new experiences for Greta Corleen. Here's the gang at our farewell lunch at The Stockpot.

How you like them apples?

Greta visited her first apple orchard yesterday, with about 10,000 of her closest New England friends. I've never seen anything like it. Overflow parking like we were at a U2 concert or something. People everywhere, 5 varieties of apples on the trees, $20/half bushel. Here's Greta contemplating her first pick:


And here she is doing the actual picking (an Empire, for the record):

Last but not least, enjoying the "fruit" of her labor:

A pug's life

She's only been here in Portsmouth, N.H., for a little more than a day, but Greta is already best friends with Riley & Miles, the pug pets of our friends Aaron & Amy.

She just woke up from her afternoon nap and we're prepping to go apple picking. It's gorgeous here... mercury topping 70 degrees and probably one week away from peak foliage. We're literally trapped in a Normal Rockwell painting.

Here's another nice shot Carey took of Greta in their sunroom, shadows splashed across her cherubic face.

The only image that can make the New York Yankees' postseason failure seem trivial

Fall Festival

The CDC hosted an autumn celebration today, complete with pumpkin painting, dancing, orange-frosted cupcakes, and a guest appearance by Private Pickle (yes, a giant dill pickle in uniform that frightened half the population of the CDC). There were other fun activities, which Greta was not the least bit interested in (like face painting and hat making). So we enjoyed putting glitter paint on a pumpkin just her size, dancing with her friend Kaylani, and sharing a cupcake. It was a nice afternoon, despite the nasty weather.

A Merrill tradition

I don't do it nearly as often as my grandfather used to in his prime, but I take pride in washing our vehicles now and then. I played hooky today from work with a sore throat and runny nose, but by the time Greta got home from daycare, I was feeling better. Good enough to wash the CRV for the first time. Greta loves all things water and a bucket of suds is no exception. I appreciated the help and told her we could wash a car every day while Mommy is in the United Arab Emirates this winter. We'll just keep a hair dryer by the door to warm up afterwards.

Her future's so bright...

Carey's been holding out on us. She promised to post some photos of Sunday's muddy afternoon playtime. Leave it to the husband to fulfill her word. Here's Greta the Sandbox Diva.

And here she is making like the meerkats we saw at the zoo. (Meerkat Manor on Animal Planet, easily the best thing on TV that doesn't involve the New York Yankees.)

Babies who brunch

Saturday at Jay's house... eggs, farm-raised sausage, strawberries and bananas on the menu. All at Jay's kids-sized kitchen table (hint, hint Dad -- Greta needs one -- with art :-)

Spontaneous Sunday

We were out the door just before 8:00. Rob had to run to the news bureau for 15 minutes of work, so we tried a bagel shop in Georgetown which we will never, ever eat at again. Rob and I are both shocked that it is in business in such a hoity toity neighborhood and urge DC'ers to cross Key Bridge and head up Wilson Blvd for the best bagels in the area at Brooklyn Bagels. In addition to being remembered for how horrible (and hairy) the Georgetown Bagelry and Pizzeria bagels were, however, it will also mark the location where Greta had her first taste of chocolate milk (all of the white milk in their fridge had expired...That should have been our first clue to not eat there...). She liked the flavor but not the thicker texture. Despite the disappointing breakfast, we enjoyed the ease of Sunday parking and watched a film crew set up a shot for the next Bruce Willis "Die Hard" movie.

While Rob updated the NN web page, Greta and I chased squirrels around the bureau and picked up pretty autumn leaves. It was turning into such a nice Sunday that suddenly our grocery shopping plan seemed incredibly lame. So we made a slight detour and headed to the National Zoo!

Of course, we were totally unprepared for such an excursion and had left Greta's stroller on the front steps. To avoid renting a stroller for $8.00, we signed up for a one-year, Friends of the National Zoo, membership. Which let us rent the stroller for $3.00, scored Greta a little panda bear and animal crackers, and means we will now get monthly magazines with lots of Zoo news. There are other perks (like free parking), but the neatest thing is since we are now members, I think we will visit more often.

Greta's favorite exhibit was the Shrew, which obeyed her beckoning and came right up to her.






























She also enjoyed the giraffe and overhead orangutans. Rob was fond of the hippo, and I loved the pandas as much today as I did more than 25 years ago. Click to watch our slideshow.

Post-zoo and nap, Greta and I braved the Sunday commissary crowd. I have finally wise up when it comes to having my groceries bagged. I have all of the fridge/freezer items bagged in plastic, and all the cupboard/bathroom stuff in paper. That way, when I get home and only have one free hand for groceries, and Greta only has patience for one trip from the car, I load up an arm with items that must be put away, and return after her bedtime for everything else. Hmmm... perhaps I need to submit that "Mom tip" to Parenting magazine...

While Rob attended the Redskins game with Dudley, Greta and I played in the mud puddles and very wet sandbox at the playground. Will post pictures of that adventure tomorrow. Now it is WAY past bedtime!

Where's the fish?

Greta had a mini-tantrum last night because one of her stuffed aquariam friends was not in the fish bowl.


Thank goodness Mommy remembered that Greta had taken the fish upstairs the night before for a bath, thus realigning the planets and making everything right in Greta's world.

Greta's first photo

She snapped this a couple days ago after work while we were horsing around post-bath and pre-bed. We set the digital camera up so it was showing its image through the LCD screen, and then we berated her until she pushed the button. It happened to be pointed towards me at the time, so I'm the lucky subject. Genius, huh?

Bath time = play time

We've moved Greta back into the guest bathroom, after failing to solve the mystery of our leaking bathtub. It hasn't drained into the living room ceiling since July. Two plumbers have looked at it and neither wants to knock down a wall or ceiling if they can't recreate the leak. So Greta gets her tub back until the next flood. And her hair rinsing hat as well. What a smile. If that's not worth the sepia treatment, what is?

Miscellany

Greta dances on command now. We sing: "Dancing, dancing, dancing all around..." And she twirls and twirls and twirls.

She also plays an abbreviated version of "Ring around the Rosie," in which you join hands with her, start to move in a circle, and she immediately, "falls down!"

She's enjoying the occassional trip on my shoulders as well, which pleases me. I have fond memories of riding on my father's shoulders as a kid.

The weekend's over: AHHHHHHHH!!!

Carey snapped this shot on Saturday as Greta was wrapping up her lunch of fruit and cottage cheese. I was running out to get a haircut, so when Carey said, "Daddy's going to get his haircut," Greta promptly put both of her cottage cheesey hands in her hair.

Friends, it's nice to have 'em

Taken with my Motorola "smart" phone. Kinda cool. Mercedes Jane Bengs and Greta Corleen Merrill on a tire swing in Vienna, Va.

Greta's first gallery showing

Write it down, Dad. Greta became a real artist this week, just a couple weeks past 17 months old. Here is the display case at the Ft. Myer Child Development Center:

The two multimedia works on the left and right of the case's corner post are hers. She's obviously working on some sort of series, like Vermeer's portraits of Dutch women. On the left, a closer look at what Greta has called "Tape on... Tape off." Note the precise lines, the symmetry on top and bottom, and the diagonal strip connecting the two, which most certainly represents her belief in the interconnectedness of humanity.

The second piece, below, is a study in contrasts, underscoring the entropy that governs us all. The slashing, bold lines suggest the disorder she witnesses daily at daycare. It too is called "Tape on... Tape off," but I don't think we should criticize her for lack of originality. The flourish of unevenly cut tape on the right of this piece is truly profound.

Let's Make a Mess!

After work today, Greta and I spent a half hour at the playground, where she enjoyed pouring sand from a bucket onto a table, scooping it into her hands, and then letting it fall onto my lap. She was very deliberate in spreading the sand all over the table, and all over me. Not that I minded. She isn't a "sand thrower" and I clean up easy enough.

But she didn't stop there! (Something tells me she's picked up a bad habit from someone at daycare). Tonight's feast was ravioli, cheese, and a banana. Despite repeated, stern, "We don't throw food" comments, at least five ravioli were flung beyond the reaches of her splat mat, accompanied by a diabolical laugh.

Her antics continued post dinner. She went for anything in a container and dumped it out: the train set, legos, shape sorter pieces, and the contents of her picnic backpack. I swore she would have to pick up her toys, but by the time we finished playing with them, it was past bath and bedtime!

Here she is enjoying her mess. Now she is fast asleep, and it is time for Mommy to clean up.

Super busy Sunday!

Woke up at 7, had cereal at home, then went for a bike ride down to the river to feed the duck, duck, ducks! After the bike ride, we walked around the new development behind our house (north, north, north Old Town). Greta enjoyed this spider web, which she thought would also impress her friend Klaus.

Daddy went to his soccer game sans the girls at 11:45. Gorgeous artificial turf outdoor field at a hoity toity high school in the district. We lost 1-0. When I got home, the ladies were out grocery shopping, so I had 20 minutes of football watching over lunch. Can't believe Peter's Giants pulled one out of their ---.

We twittered away the afternoon chasing Greta around the house and preparing to entertain our friends and relative. Aunt Kathy and Jenny Bengs came over, with her two kids and their dog Chelsea. Today was the last day our community pool was open, so they closed it to people at 5 p.m. and let the dogs take over. Greta had a super time watching them leap for tennis balls and shake, shake, shake on the water's edge. Made me want a dog, or at least to drown one of our two cats.

The best photo of the day though is clear. When we left the pool, Sadie Bengs, who is 3, said she wanted to walk Greta home. Most of the day Greta was Mommy's girl, clinging to her like a baby possum. But with the sun setting and her first real pool season behind her, she boldly stepped forward to take Sadie's proffered hand.

Satisfying Saturday

Naturally, after sleeping relatively late (7:30) on Thursday and Friday, Greta woke up at 6:15 today. We were all up by 7 and out the door for breakfast soon after. We've decided Key Elementary School in Arlington has the area's best playground, so we spent about 30 minutes there after our cinnamon raisin bagel. Carey took this nice shot looking down the tunnel slide:

We also caught her in action on the standard slide, which she conquers now without assistance:

When we got home, Mommy thought Greta would enjoy planting mums in the front garden, but her ADHD kicked in, so I whisked her away for a bike ride. She was asleep soon after we turned the corner. We did a 1-hour loop down to the water and then back out to the airport. She snored through it all. After lunch, Carey broke out her latest investment in the Crayola Crayon Co., something called window markers. As you can see from the photos, Greta wasn't convinced that they should be used only on glass. But they wash off easy, and take note, Dad, how pleased she looks with her own artwork.

Daydreaming with Jinx

Greta's love for Jinx -- who she now calls "Mrow, mrow" -- grows daily. She follows him around the house, bends over and makes kissing noises around him, and gently pats him while saying, "Nice, nice." Carey was actually told yesterday that she's starting to pat kids at daycare, too, preferring not to differentiate between animal species. Problem is, the kids sometimes think she's slapping them, so that's a habit we need to nip in the bud.

Greta's art therapy

The gals at daycare helped the kids cope with the fifth anniversary of 9/11 by giving them art supplies to express their grief. Greta created this masterpiece. Obviously, each of the 9 red dots represent about 333 people, which equates to the roughly 3,000 souls who lost their lives that day. The scribbles in the lower left denote the crazy flight plans of the hijacked planes. She did not sign her work, but she did clearly date it 9/11/06.

Developing at the Child Development Center

Here's Greta one minute after dropoff on Tuesday. I interpret the expression one of two ways: 1) Why are you taking a picture of me when you should be holding me? or 2) Here we go, again... when will these people stop trying to cheer me up?

Miss Nancy (not pictured, that's Miss Nouri, not sure of the spelling) reports, however, that Greta is very comfortable in the classroom now. She is calling other kids by name, particularly liking to say, "Kayisha" (again, not sure of the spelling). She reportedly dominates play in the afternoons, post-nap, talking to all the kids, checking out what they are doing but not grabbing their toys too often. In other words, we should be proud and keep writing our $580 monthly check (a pittance, I know, Sara).

Second breakfast

Greta usually tucks into some sort of foodstuff soon after waking... half a mini-bagel, a handful of Cheerios, a banana. That fuels her play for about an hour at home, then we drive to daycare (about 6 miles, 15 minutes) and aim to arrive before 8:30 so she can enjoy her SECOND breakfast. The plan worked perfectly today. Half a bagel and 4 oz. of milk at home, some cat and ball chasing, and daycare arrival at 8:15. Five other kids were already at the table, so I put Greta down and she dutifully walked over to the kid-sized sink and presented her hands for washing. Then she walked over to the counter where they keep the plastic bibs, grabbed a blue one, and led me to the breakfast table. The Queen's position at the end was undoubtedly kept open for her, so she climbed up and grabbed a fistful of English muffin with butter. Didn't crack a smile, of course, but at least she didn't have a tantrum. I left after blowing a kiss and I think I heard Greta say, "Whatever."

Better Late Than Never

Here is the link to our vacation last week. There are three albums: one from our time in Syracuse, and two from South Lake (one album has pictures from Grandpa Jerry's camera).

When the first slideshow ends (91 pictures!), the computer will automatically load the next album, and the next. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

As you will see from her many smiles, Greta had a very nice time. She laughed so much with her cousins and grandparents. We look forward to seeing everyone over the holidays!

My mini-me

We've told you how everybody thinks Greta is a boy. How we'll dress her up in the pinkest, frilliest dress and the cashier at checkout will ask, "How old is he?" Well, now I have visual proof.

I'm a few years older than Greta in this photo, at least (Mom, how old was I?), but the resemblance is uncanny. Here's hoping that as Greta ages she'll grow into girlhood and find a guy at least as pretty as me, I mean, her.

Mommy, mommy, mommy!

As my Mom & Dad and Carey's Mom already know, that has become Greta's all-purpose distress signal. She says it when she drops her bagel, she says it when Jinx paws at her for pulling her hair, and of course, she says it in the middle of the night when something wakes her up. At first, it was a nice break for me... after all, Daddy wouldn't do if Mommy was being summoned! But now I'm starting to feel a little unloved. This morning Carey left for work just before 7 and Greta watched her go. She sweetly said "bye-bye!" as Carey walked out the door, but then she lost it. 20 minutes of angry protesting ensued. I tried everything -- every soothing voice, every toy, every TV show, every gimmick I know from 16-months of parenting. Nothing worked. It was as if she just needed to get it out of her system.

Thankfully, by 7:30 it was over and we had 15 minutes of genuinely happy playtime before getting in the car to daycare. The good news? She was all cried out when we got there and sat down immediately for breakfast. No smiles for the daycare ladies who try so hard, but at least she didn't pitch a fit.

Summer vacation!

I'm too exhausted to provide much color commentary, but two images from the week sum it up for me. First, my daughter and I appreciating the solitude and peace we will only ever find at South Lake:


Second, there is no feeling on earth that compares with a kiss from your daughter: