Project Wombat

Thursday, April 29, 2010

How much is the piano in the window?

When I was growing up in Russia, I used to have a piano. It was black, gorgeous and very old. I didn't realize how old at the time. I didn't really care. It was in my room as long as I could remember, and my parents told stories about getting it into our first-floor apartment through a window. It was never clear in the story where the piano came from or how they got it. I remember liking its legs, which were turned, curvy and heavy-looking, and I assumed all pianos looked like this. Some of my friends had plain-looking pianos at home and I just thought that they preferred the simple style of those.

When we left the country, the piano had to stay behind because of silly reasons like "it wouldn't fit on the plane overhead bin". The person who bought our apartment kindly told us that the piano wouldn't transfer to him - that he will keep it for us, but it will remain ours and if we ever want it we are welcome to have it. We all laughed at that because, really, there was no way we were going to see it again - but it was nice to think we still had some connection to our home.

I started to miss having a piano almost as soon as I no longer was required to play it, of course. And so, now being an adult, I decided to buy one. Naturally, I set out to find one like mine. I looked high and low, and all I could see were plain, modern-looking things that did not have the same romantic appeal as my old piano. It was all either plain-Jane or some horrid country-style lattice-front ugly orange thing. (You can tell, of course, that my primary drive in selecting a piano is not its, um, musical qualities. The musical qualities really take a back seat when you have no pitch or ear for music, such as yours truly). In confusion, I stopped looking.

But then.... I found The Antique Piano Shop. And in it, I found pictures of pianos that looked remarkably like mine.

 

And in the pictures, I discovered that to look like that, my piano had to be made IN THE LATE 1800s AND IS OFFICIALLY AN ANTIQUE. And, also, small detail, it retails (restored) for $15000.

Now, the only restoration done for my piano was when my dog chewed on its beautiful turned legs, "exposing the natural wood", so to speak, and significantly modernizing the look of the apparently antique piece. I guess you could argue that this restoration did not drive up the value. But anyway, $15000!!

When we left my piano in Russia, jokingly we said that it is much cheaper to just buy another piano in the US than to ever ship this piano from Russia. But, at $15000 price tag, in no longer seems that way, does it? I mean, people get missiles from Russia for like a few thousand grand!! I heard that on the news! If they can get missiles, can't I get my piano for less than $15000?! Exposed wood and all?

Anyone with a boat, an icepick and knowledge of great-circle routes, call me.  Alternatively, anyone with $15000 laying around, consider investing in a piece such as this one.  I will gladly keep it for you in my home at no extra charge.


Tuesday, March 30, 2010

So what's your favorite word?

Loading Wombat in the car a couple of days ago, it's the usual scene: he is wriggling and screaming and kicking as he resists being strapped into the seat, and I'm talking at him mindlessly while folding all his flailing limbs into the straps:

"Blah blah blah.... Now now come on now here we go let's go to daycare it's a short ride. Don't you want to go to daycare? Blah blah blah blah...."

And, at words "don't you want to go to daycare" my baby stops wriggling, stops screaming, stops flailing, looks straight at me and says, quite clearly, "No".

My 'load-you-into-the-car' talk before was always more of a soliloquy. So, I am more taken aback by his response than Hamlet would be if someone came up to him and, during his 'to be or not to be', said "I'd say: not to be". So, still in shock, I say to Wombat:

- No?

- No.

- You.... don't want to go to daycare?

- No.

- But....

- No.

- You.... don't want to see your friend Evan?

- No.

- Emma?

- No.

- Ronald?

- No!

- What about your teacher, miss Marilyn?

- No, no, NO!

At this point, Wombat is clearly frustrated. The look on his face says "Listen, lady, how many times do I need to tell you NO for you to get the idea that I mean No? Jeez. The people in this place!" But, still in shock, I continue:

- You don't want to see anybody in daycare?

- NO! No no no no!

- Hm. Well, I'm sure they want to see you though!

Wombat makes an incredulous "Naw" noise.

- Sure they do!

Wombat makes a skeptical-looking face.

- Yes! Every time we come in in the morning, they scream "Elijah!" and are so happy to see you and run to you and want to play with you!! They really want to see you! And you don't want to see them? That doesn't seem nice! They want to be your friends!

At this point Wombat becomes lost deep in thought and contemplates his social network all the way to daycare. He still looks thoughtful as we come in, and once he sees all his 'friends' (whose names above have been changed to protect the innocent), he sighs, pulls up a chair to his snack table and looks resolute to get through whatever social interactions he must.

I know, kid. I know. You don't see yourself as part of any group. I am the same. But both of us have to try. Just try. Make friends. You don't have to be part of a crowd. But you do need people by your side, and do get there you will need to make an effort. Pull up your chair to the table, share your snack and ask them how THEIR car ride to daycare went. Ask them if THEIR mother can understand what they say in fewer than 15 repetitions. I bet that will get you a lot of common ground with anybody. Give it a try.

A message from your friendly developmental psychologist

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Regret Minimization Framework?

Really, Jeff? I feel less geeky now. In any case, what Mr. Bezos is trying to say below is, I believe, true, and was much better stated by Mr. Twain:

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Faux Pas

This is, um, not subtle. I guess the French have decided that just dirty looks no longer work. In fairness, I must sigh and admit that this is the reason I don't set foot in Russian restaurants - it's like dining with 100 guys from this video. We are not all that bad, my French friends. Take courage. Some of us can sing better than that. :P



P.S. These guys are also "Russian Store Offical Stamp of Authenticity". In front of every authentic Russian store you visit, one of these gentlemen must be posted, with his shirt unbuttoned, his hairy chest out, a cellphone glued to his ear and Russian curses coming out of his mouth. Unless he's there, your food has not come from a Russian kitchen, ladies and gentlemen. The more you know.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

For the Finches

This reminds me of Pixar's For the Birds cartoon, except this is awesomer. :)

Every single line is true.

From The Gaping Void, via Change Everything.

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