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Remember how I said in an earlier entry that I wouldn't go to D.C. for a book on Stephen Decatur? Well, I did. I drove to the nearest Metro stop and had to parallel-park because that was the only space open. I don't have much experience in parallel parking, so I had to wriggle around a lot to get in, but I managed to do it without any disasters. I took the Metro to D.C., got off at the Farragut North stop (which is near my dad's office) and walked to Decatur House. I had a set of printed directions from their website, part of which turned out to be wrong, so I ended up wandering around for a while before realizing what the mistake was and finally getting to the museum. At least I got the getting lost bit out of the way before Tuesday, when I have to go in for my interview.
I got a biography of Stephen Decatur from the gift shop. I found that they also had 19th-century style walking sticks. On a whim I tried to unscrew the top from one of them and, lo and behold, the knob actually came out. Inside the cane was a little compartment with a stoppered glass vial. Apparently gentlemen of the 19th century would keep liquor or laudanum or something in those vials, since both were used for medicinal purposes back in the day. Well, the vials might have been a novelty in those particular canes, but then again, it makes sense that such things would have been fairly common. I'm not sure.
As for the book, it's not a bad read. I'm half done with it by now.
On that same day Martina (our au pair, for Benjamin) got out the PlayStation 2 so Benjamin could play. He let me play Kingdom Hearts, but spent the whole time telling me what to do even if I didn't ask him. I should have just left, since I didn't find the game extremely engaging anyway. Later that night, at a point in the game where the characters were having a conversation depicted in text boxes, Benjamin read them aloud. I told him to stop it because I could read for myself. He obviously knew I was annoyed, but he kept it up. I threatened to hit him if he didn't stop. He continued, so I hit him. He threw a tantrum, turned off the PlayStation, and took out the memory card. Then he made some smug and self-righteous comments in his usual way, so I worked him over a little. Well, that's an exaggeration, he won't have any injuries or bruises from it. That prompted him to take away the cord that hooked the PS2 to the TV. He said that when Mom and Dad got home he would reconsider letting me play the PS2 again. I stopped trying to beat him up after a while because it just made things worse.
This morning he played the PS2 before leaving for Hebrew school, and left the cord in. But he hid the DDR disk and the memory card, so I couldn't do my exercise there. I'll have to do it in my room later, on the carpet, unless Mom and Dad tell him to let me use the DDR, which I don't think they will. The ironic thing is, if they hear about this, they may confiscate the PS2 again so that Benjamin can't play it. I'm not going to tell them about it - it's likely that Benjamin will, and so land himself in trouble. Since I have my own computer in my room, I don't really mind that much. Also, before this whole incident I let Benjamin borrow some of my computer game CDs, like Diablo 2. I took my CDs back after the argument, so he can't use them until he lightens up.
I know this was partly my fault - I shouldn't have smacked him - but for the record, he deliberately provoked me and should have known better than to keep up the annoying behavior and make a big tantrum. If he loses the PS2 for a while he'll probably blame me, and since he is a spoiled twelve-year-old I won't be able to convince him otherwise no matter what rational arguments I make. Oh well.
Today (Sunday the 23rd) Mom and Dad are coming home from their 25th anniversary trip to Bermuda. On my way back from D.C. yesterday I got the ingredients for a German chocolate cake. Unfortunately when I tried to bake it this morning I screwed up somewhere - I don't think I baked it long enough, or let it cool long enough, so it fell apart. Or maybe that was due to my use of the wrong kind of vegetable oil: it was the only real vegetable oil we had, but it was seasoned, so the cake is not only in ruins, but it smells odd and doesn't taste that good either. It's not exactly inedible, but it won't do.
When Daniel came downstairs I showed him the mess. He asked me how I'd managed to do that to the cake. I said it was probably sheer incompetence. He was going to the nearby shopping center to get a card and balloons anyway, so I went with him and bought an ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins for seventeen dollars, about three times the cost of the ingredients for my homemade disaster cake. I haven't thrown the cake out because I want Mom and Dad to see it - at least it will be good for comic relief. Or something like that.
Daniel is now driving to the airport to pick up Mom and Dad. I have to put candles in the ice-cream cake and light them a few minutes before he gets home with them (he'll call me to tell me when). Hopefully we will have a laugh over my homemade disaster cake.
All in all, though, I don't feel that bad about everything. I'm still in a pretty good mood, although that may change, oh, two hours after Mom gets home and starts bothering me about everything.
Okay, now I'm not in a good mood anymore.
I got a biography of Stephen Decatur from the gift shop. I found that they also had 19th-century style walking sticks. On a whim I tried to unscrew the top from one of them and, lo and behold, the knob actually came out. Inside the cane was a little compartment with a stoppered glass vial. Apparently gentlemen of the 19th century would keep liquor or laudanum or something in those vials, since both were used for medicinal purposes back in the day. Well, the vials might have been a novelty in those particular canes, but then again, it makes sense that such things would have been fairly common. I'm not sure.
As for the book, it's not a bad read. I'm half done with it by now.
On that same day Martina (our au pair, for Benjamin) got out the PlayStation 2 so Benjamin could play. He let me play Kingdom Hearts, but spent the whole time telling me what to do even if I didn't ask him. I should have just left, since I didn't find the game extremely engaging anyway. Later that night, at a point in the game where the characters were having a conversation depicted in text boxes, Benjamin read them aloud. I told him to stop it because I could read for myself. He obviously knew I was annoyed, but he kept it up. I threatened to hit him if he didn't stop. He continued, so I hit him. He threw a tantrum, turned off the PlayStation, and took out the memory card. Then he made some smug and self-righteous comments in his usual way, so I worked him over a little. Well, that's an exaggeration, he won't have any injuries or bruises from it. That prompted him to take away the cord that hooked the PS2 to the TV. He said that when Mom and Dad got home he would reconsider letting me play the PS2 again. I stopped trying to beat him up after a while because it just made things worse.
This morning he played the PS2 before leaving for Hebrew school, and left the cord in. But he hid the DDR disk and the memory card, so I couldn't do my exercise there. I'll have to do it in my room later, on the carpet, unless Mom and Dad tell him to let me use the DDR, which I don't think they will. The ironic thing is, if they hear about this, they may confiscate the PS2 again so that Benjamin can't play it. I'm not going to tell them about it - it's likely that Benjamin will, and so land himself in trouble. Since I have my own computer in my room, I don't really mind that much. Also, before this whole incident I let Benjamin borrow some of my computer game CDs, like Diablo 2. I took my CDs back after the argument, so he can't use them until he lightens up.
I know this was partly my fault - I shouldn't have smacked him - but for the record, he deliberately provoked me and should have known better than to keep up the annoying behavior and make a big tantrum. If he loses the PS2 for a while he'll probably blame me, and since he is a spoiled twelve-year-old I won't be able to convince him otherwise no matter what rational arguments I make. Oh well.
Today (Sunday the 23rd) Mom and Dad are coming home from their 25th anniversary trip to Bermuda. On my way back from D.C. yesterday I got the ingredients for a German chocolate cake. Unfortunately when I tried to bake it this morning I screwed up somewhere - I don't think I baked it long enough, or let it cool long enough, so it fell apart. Or maybe that was due to my use of the wrong kind of vegetable oil: it was the only real vegetable oil we had, but it was seasoned, so the cake is not only in ruins, but it smells odd and doesn't taste that good either. It's not exactly inedible, but it won't do.
When Daniel came downstairs I showed him the mess. He asked me how I'd managed to do that to the cake. I said it was probably sheer incompetence. He was going to the nearby shopping center to get a card and balloons anyway, so I went with him and bought an ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins for seventeen dollars, about three times the cost of the ingredients for my homemade disaster cake. I haven't thrown the cake out because I want Mom and Dad to see it - at least it will be good for comic relief. Or something like that.
Daniel is now driving to the airport to pick up Mom and Dad. I have to put candles in the ice-cream cake and light them a few minutes before he gets home with them (he'll call me to tell me when). Hopefully we will have a laugh over my homemade disaster cake.
All in all, though, I don't feel that bad about everything. I'm still in a pretty good mood, although that may change, oh, two hours after Mom gets home and starts bothering me about everything.
Okay, now I'm not in a good mood anymore.
