In real life, they are so big

Here is a little child sitting in the gondola of a Ferris wheel, nervously crushing fistfuls of cotton candy into nuggets as they wait for the ride to start. She and her mother are in number 16.

Her mother says that she may need to hold hands so she doesn’t get too scared. It’s not a trick, like something Grandfather Bear would say to give courage to Little Bear. The mother is some form of scared all the time. Most of the time, the mother’s fear gets crushed down into manageable handfuls. But not always.

She has found herself in charge of her youngest child on the final fun trip of the final week of vacation. The oldest kids are too busy to go on a day trip; the tweens band up and run off together, being cool; the dad is bonding with big sister who desperately needs to be treated like a little kid for once. So it’s the mother and her youngest, navigating the world of the amusement park alone together. It was a long ride to get there, and now there are long lines for everything.

There are rides that are out of the question. Some of them drag you up to ludicrous heights, turn you upside down, shake you very hard, drop you, shove you backwards, put you in the dark. Why would you pay someone to do this to you, when it happens to you anyway on some random Tuesday, just in the course of ordinary living?

But the rides with no lines are all the same: Around and around and around. It’s hard to know what to do. So the mother and kid alternate: Rides that are too boring, and rides that are too scary.

Here are all the moms, draped along the fence, watching their baffled little toddlers swoop up and down, up and down inside metal dragons that beep and flash and whine. “WHEE! WHEE! WHEE!” shout the moms, grinning.

Here’s a little cluster of blonde cousins rushing and tumbling into the serpentine line barrier at the double decker carousel. One child wants desperately to ride the only giraffe, but there are many other people in line. “Whyn’t we just duck under the fence?” a woman rasps.

“We all have to wait our turn,” her sister answers mildly.

“Aunty will make sure you git that giraffe,” the first woman insists. “You’ve ben such a pretty girl all day. Aunty will make sure you git that giraffe. Pretty girl.”

The mother, shriveling a bit inside as she imagines meeting these pretty girls in fifteen years, is relieved to hear that her own daughter wants to ride the panda, instead.

She finds a horse next to the panda, and surprises herself by heavily climbing up on it. Her legs are the right length for the stirrups, so maybe it’s a normal thing to do. The horse’s tail looks like a real tail, and someone has taken so many pains painting scenes from Venice on the ceiling and brushing in little yellow and pink bouquets in between the mirrors.

A chubby hispanic man gives his shell-shaped bench a spin, and it twirls, and he beams like a baby. It is a beautiful carousel. There has never been such a beautiful carousel. It’s two stories high, and everyone on it is smiling. But the ride is very short.

Here are a set of tiny twins, dressed to the nines in identical new sneakers, athletic shorts, and patriotic tank tops, strapped carefully into a blinking helicopter. All the other kids are yanking on the bar, jerking and swooping and clanking up and down, but the boys are staring solemnly ahead and moving smoothly on their appointed rounds, around and around.

“Pull on the bar! Pull it toward your belly! Make it go up! Don’t you wanna fly?” the operator screams. They do not. Their father comes to collect them when the ride is over. God willing, he will understand that they did what seemed right to them. They are extremely small and the world is very big…Read the rest of my latest for The Catholic Weekly

 

What’s for supper? Vol. 95: Life in the fast lane!

Oh, hello! I didn’t see you there. My name is Simcha Fisher, and you may remember me as that lady who used to blog occasionally, a long time ago. This week, more urgent things came up than I could shake a stick at, and so blogging here just had to go shake a stick at itself. Sorry! Back in the saddle we go. Right after I set up this rock tumbler it seemed important to buy and set up. What is the matter with me.

SATURDAY
Papa Gino’s

On Saturday, we went to the fabulous, thrilling amusement park/water park and stayed for ten hours! We had such a good time, I took almost no pictures! This is the first time we’ve gone to a place like this all together. The kids went on the upside-down roller coaster and everything. I confined myself to rides that were only a little terrifying, like the log flume. My absolute favorite: DaVinci’s Dream, which is like a giant rotating mushroom with swings on long chains, so when it comes up to speed and starts to tilt, you float through the night like a, like a, night air manta ray. It does something mystical to my brain pan.

Seeing the little girls on the carousel, on the other hand, makes my heart explode.

Boy, did they have a good time.

For dinner, we dragged ourselves into a Papa Gino’s right before they closed and devoured some pizzas on the way home.

Very hot pizza. I’ll say it again: Papa Gino’s pizza is better than you have any reason to expect. They are a Pepsi, not a Coke establishment, though. Forewarned is forearmed.

Anyway, if you’re in NH, I heartily recommend Canobie Lake Park. It’s reasonably priced, you can come and go so you can eat lunch outside the park, and there is a huge variety of rides, and everything was very clean and orderly. The layout was very smart, so you never get stuck in dead patches with nothing to do. They had live music (nice music! Not horrible music!) and little shows and attractions everywhere, and weren’t constantly haranguing you to pay for extra stuff; and there were fireworks over the lake at the end of the night. There are tons of benches and shade trees throughout the park, and the whole thing is just as pleasant as can be.

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SUNDAY
Blueberry chicken salad

Probably the last one of the summer. I roasted some chicken breasts with oil, salt, and pepper, and cut it into chunks. Served on top of mixed greens with feta cheese, blueberries, red onion, toasted pecans, and dijon vinaigrette (recipe here).

I chopped the greens up small so as to make it taste fancier, but it just kind of pre-wilted everything. Oops.

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MONDAY
Scrambled eggs, sausages, oven roasted home fries

Three dozen eggs, fifty sausages, and about six pounds of potatoes, if you’re interested. The Amazing Elongated 13-year-old Boy still made himself a few sandwiches after supper, as usual. He actually makes two sandwiches, one for each hand, and somehow eats them both at the same time. I’ve seen it happen and I still can’t believe it.

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TUESDAY
Honey sesame chicken, rice rolls

I had high hopes for this slow cooker recipe from Damn Delicious, but it was damn disappointing. The flavor was kind of harsh, and it turned out drippy. I also made the mistake of serving it with crunchy rice rolls from Aldi, too, instead of on a bed of rice. Everyone was a pretty good sport, but lots of people were making sandwiches.

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WEDNESDAY
English muffin pizzas

I have no memory of Wednesday. It’s like there has to be one day out of each week that just gets sucked down a memory hole, as a propitiation to Hectic and Frantic, the twin gods of late August.

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THURSDAY
Pork ribs, french fries, peas

Some cousins magically appeared, so I ran out for more pork ribs and french fries, and then somehow burned all the pork and undercooked the fries. The peas were a hit, though. By which I mean they hit each other with peas.

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FRIDAY
Quesadillas, corn chips, beans and rice

Or maybe not, because one of the cousins just threw up! And our really quite new washing machine, for which we bought a warranty and an extended warranty, has been broken for almost two weeks. They are apparently now mining for the ore with which to fashion a new lid lock, which we told them it needed over a week ago and which we can expect to arrive sometime next week. But don’t worry, they will partially reimburse us for laundromat expenses! If we can produce receipts. You know, the receipt you get when you put a bunch of quarters into a washing machine. And we’re going to Rhode Island for a family reunion tomorrow, and I cleverly left all the carseats out in the driveway, and it poured rain last night. SO MAKE YOUR OWN QUESADILLAS.