Columbus Day is one of my favorite holidays now. The kids still have to go to school, but Man gets to stay home. Somehow, it just seems like more of a vacation that way.
I woke up at my usual time (about 3 snoozes after my alarm goes off) to take the kids to school and then cleaned the house and ran to the grocery store before some friends came over for games and snacks. I'm always surprised at how much food Soldiers can put away. Four bags of chips, a double batch of brownies, and two gallons of Kool-Aid all disappeared over just a couple of hours, not to mention a dinner of chipotle-style burritos.
We played Munchkin and The Great Dalmuti. We seriously need to get a Great Dalmuti hat, preferably one with fake fruit and many ribbons, or perhaps a turban made of tinsel. Yellow tinsel. Another of our favorite party games is Wise and Otherwise.
I have two requests from you, my dear readers.
1) What are your favorite party games? It doesn't have to be a board game.
2) What foods do you long for on Thanksgiving Day? (this should be easy for the Canadians, as Canadian Thanksgiving is still weighing on the belly at this point.)
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Have you ever...
Imagine this:
You're sitting on your bed, preparing to put your shoes on. Both of your socks are on, one leg is crossed in preparation to receive a shoe, so you bend down, pick up your shoe, straighten up, and realize you've got the wrong shoe. You decide whether to cross your other leg and just use the shoe you have or bend down and get the other shoe, and finally both shoes are placed.
When suddenly you realize you don't have your pants on.
Please say I'm not the only one who has done this.
You're sitting on your bed, preparing to put your shoes on. Both of your socks are on, one leg is crossed in preparation to receive a shoe, so you bend down, pick up your shoe, straighten up, and realize you've got the wrong shoe. You decide whether to cross your other leg and just use the shoe you have or bend down and get the other shoe, and finally both shoes are placed.
When suddenly you realize you don't have your pants on.
Please say I'm not the only one who has done this.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Brownies. Is there anything they can't do?
Today I decided to take Man some lunch on post. He isn't allowed to brown bag it (in more words than that, but that's what it comes down to) so the two little girls and I headed up there to spend a few minutes with him in the chow hall.
This morning I was quite torn about what I should take. Should I save my sanity and keep it simple? Should I just whip up some dinner for tomorrow night and take him a nice meal? Should I grab him some Burger King? The whole point was to save money and get some quality time, so Option A looked the most attractive.
But then I started to think about the flour and cocoa powder I got yesterday. About an hour before I headed up to post, I started some brownie mix. Ambitious much? Not me.
I halved the recipe and was just opening the box of cocoa powder when Pebbles decided to come over and help. The flour, sugar, baking powder and salt were all in by this point but I thought, cool -- I like the idea of raising little chefs who will some day take over my kitchen and cook me dinner every night. Come, little spawn, and I will teach you. Mwahaha.
Unfortunately, her vision of the brownies and mine did not see eye to eye and I caught her after three shakes of onion powder went into my heaping pile of future-delectable-ness. I took a moment to size up my as yet uncompleted mix, wondering if there was enough of everything else to hide the onion powder. My lips pursed, Pebbles watched me with amusement, Freida started to climb my leg, the clock ticked, and I decided to just go for it.
The mix got stirred up and I was just about to start cracking eggs when I realized that I had no vanilla. Oh, well, simple lunch it is, and a quick trip to the store for vanilla afterward.
This evening I made up a batch of brownies. No onion was detectable in the batter so I figured I was safe.
After they were done cooking, I took one mouth watering bite, savoring the rich texture and dark flavor, only to find that I halved everything in the recipe but the salt.
It seems that Pebbles and I did have a similar vision: we both considered this to be more of a savory dish. I look forward to many a semi-flop and many a swooning success with my sweet chefette by my side. At least we have sense of humor.
Man swears he could taste something wrong with the brownies above and beyond too much salt.
So, do I make the other half of the mix sans salt, stir it in, and hope the onion drowns further? Or should I just sack the whole thing and start over? Money is tight, folks, and cocoa powder is not cheap.
I'd never been in an Air Force dining hall before today. It looks like a Denny's except you go get your food from a cafeteria line and there are about three restaurant's worth of seating in several large rooms. I had a vision of long, low, unfinished wood tables and benches in a dimly-lit dining fly. Man informed me that that was the basic training version. It was odd to be in a room full of uniforms that are all about the same color (except the Marines, but I didn't see any there) and there I was, in a bright teal shirt and khaki's. The kids and I stood out, to say the least.
This morning I was quite torn about what I should take. Should I save my sanity and keep it simple? Should I just whip up some dinner for tomorrow night and take him a nice meal? Should I grab him some Burger King? The whole point was to save money and get some quality time, so Option A looked the most attractive.
But then I started to think about the flour and cocoa powder I got yesterday. About an hour before I headed up to post, I started some brownie mix. Ambitious much? Not me.
I halved the recipe and was just opening the box of cocoa powder when Pebbles decided to come over and help. The flour, sugar, baking powder and salt were all in by this point but I thought, cool -- I like the idea of raising little chefs who will some day take over my kitchen and cook me dinner every night. Come, little spawn, and I will teach you. Mwahaha.
Unfortunately, her vision of the brownies and mine did not see eye to eye and I caught her after three shakes of onion powder went into my heaping pile of future-delectable-ness. I took a moment to size up my as yet uncompleted mix, wondering if there was enough of everything else to hide the onion powder. My lips pursed, Pebbles watched me with amusement, Freida started to climb my leg, the clock ticked, and I decided to just go for it.
The mix got stirred up and I was just about to start cracking eggs when I realized that I had no vanilla. Oh, well, simple lunch it is, and a quick trip to the store for vanilla afterward.
This evening I made up a batch of brownies. No onion was detectable in the batter so I figured I was safe.
After they were done cooking, I took one mouth watering bite, savoring the rich texture and dark flavor, only to find that I halved everything in the recipe but the salt.
It seems that Pebbles and I did have a similar vision: we both considered this to be more of a savory dish. I look forward to many a semi-flop and many a swooning success with my sweet chefette by my side. At least we have sense of humor.
Man swears he could taste something wrong with the brownies above and beyond too much salt.
So, do I make the other half of the mix sans salt, stir it in, and hope the onion drowns further? Or should I just sack the whole thing and start over? Money is tight, folks, and cocoa powder is not cheap.
I'd never been in an Air Force dining hall before today. It looks like a Denny's except you go get your food from a cafeteria line and there are about three restaurant's worth of seating in several large rooms. I had a vision of long, low, unfinished wood tables and benches in a dimly-lit dining fly. Man informed me that that was the basic training version. It was odd to be in a room full of uniforms that are all about the same color (except the Marines, but I didn't see any there) and there I was, in a bright teal shirt and khaki's. The kids and I stood out, to say the least.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Things I've done, thanks to Facebook
I have --
Been hit with more pillows in more shapes and sizes that I've dared ever imagine.
Been invited to charity events where people freely give away millions of dollars.
Been invited to be a ninja, pirate, vampire, and wolf.
Been informed that someone has purchased me.
Been nominated as the nicest person in the world.
Been compared to millions of people based on my parenting style, favorite dates, and various levels of normalcy.
Displayed a virtual bookshelf for everyone to peruse my reading habits.
Decorated an entire house including a dorm room, using many thousands of dollars.
Arranged the decoration of a garden, graveyard, aquarium, and a solar system.
Subject to someone's use of the force on me.
Been given pills, bling, plants, christmas presents, a heart-shaped balloon, a love smack, pets of all shapes, sizes, colors, and levels of tolerability, and more invites to social activities than I ever knew I was popular enough to receive. Too bad these things happen outside of my one hour driving radius. Because there is NOTHING within an hour of this city.
Been constantly updated on every friend's status because no minutae is too minute. I can always count on my brother to have entertaining statuses. No pressure, Romeo.
"R is watching the debate and is happy that the candidates weren't able to prepare for the questions."
"R is the pretty prince of parties. Sadly, this is only true in his head.R is going to the Renfest tomorrow. He gets to hang out with crazy people and steal their souls with his digital camera.R is trying to broker a deal with the voices in his head. It is not going well.
more animals
more animals
Been hit with more pillows in more shapes and sizes that I've dared ever imagine.
Been invited to charity events where people freely give away millions of dollars.
Been invited to be a ninja, pirate, vampire, and wolf.
Been informed that someone has purchased me.
Been nominated as the nicest person in the world.
Been compared to millions of people based on my parenting style, favorite dates, and various levels of normalcy.
Displayed a virtual bookshelf for everyone to peruse my reading habits.
Decorated an entire house including a dorm room, using many thousands of dollars.
Arranged the decoration of a garden, graveyard, aquarium, and a solar system.
Subject to someone's use of the force on me.
Been given pills, bling, plants, christmas presents, a heart-shaped balloon, a love smack, pets of all shapes, sizes, colors, and levels of tolerability, and more invites to social activities than I ever knew I was popular enough to receive. Too bad these things happen outside of my one hour driving radius. Because there is NOTHING within an hour of this city.
Been constantly updated on every friend's status because no minutae is too minute. I can always count on my brother to have entertaining statuses. No pressure, Romeo.
"R is watching the debate and is happy that the candidates weren't able to prepare for the questions."
"R is the pretty prince of parties. Sadly, this is only true in his head.R is going to the Renfest tomorrow. He gets to hang out with crazy people and steal their souls with his digital camera.R is trying to broker a deal with the voices in his head. It is not going well.
more animals
more animals
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Who's playing the piano?
Whenever you hear a piano playing in real life, do you just have to see who's playing it? Do you just have to know who's making either that sublime melody or that dratted racket?
As a youth in the Midwest, it was very common for there to be several young piano players of varying levels of proficiency and interest at church. Male and female, child or adolescent, and without fail there would be one or two who would sneak off at a church dance to be alone with a piano for a while. I've done it myself. Whenever I played, little heads would sneak a peek into the room with the music. Some would stay and listen. Others would dash off if they saw me noticing them. It was a way to make friends, shed some of the anxiety of the teenage social scene, get some practice in on a good piano (my piano at home was free), and be alone in a half-lit room with dots on a page and the ol' ivories.
Unfortunately, I was somewhat middling on whether my piano playing was going to be melodious or malodorous. I remember specifically struggling with one particular hymn ("If You Could Hie to Kolob"), leaving the piano in disgust, only to hear someone bang it out with gusto and efficiency mere seconds later. Yes, you sure showed me.
I would play for Young Women's but often had to stop in the middle of a song after nervousness made me lose my place, and I would flee to the bathroom in shame. I would play for Mutual when the better piano players were unavailable or unwilling. The same flight would occur there.
At home, my piano (which I called the white elephant, given that it was an enormous upright that had been painted white) was very loud, didn't keep its tuning very well, and some of the keys would hit more than one string at the same time. It was a pain to dust, an eyesore, and someone once lifted the lid and put a cat in there just to see what would happen. Fur is what happened, folks, which piano strings don't like so well. My family didn't much like hearing me practice. And I don't blame them. It would have been better to have a keyboard and earphones but hey, the White Elephant was free.
I've played once or twice over the years when the Relief Society pianist was gone. Mostly I fly under the "does anyone here play the piano?" question with a grunt and averted eyes. I know just enough to say "yes, but not well. just barely. sure, if you want to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as the opening hymn." Haha. You go, Annie. Make those jokes-under-pressure that you're famous for. I've found that miso salad dressing tastes better with feet than ketchup. Less salt.
Nowadays, I play piano for the kids at church. This means that I have to practice. I told Man last night that I'm a phenomenon -- I get worse as I practice. And it's true. I can sit down and play fairly well for about five minutes and then totally butcher songs that I thought I was finally getting good at. He says that it "must be the way you're practicing." Uh-huh. He's probably right. But here's the deal: I don't WANT to be a really good piano player. I don't want to take time out of my day and practice. Here are some reasons:
1) It hurts my back. I have about 15 minutes before I hunch over with spasmed muscles and I have to stop.
2) I'm not committed enough to the piano to break all my old habits and build up newer, better ones. I play well enough for Family Home Evening and am therefore satisfied.
3) Going through my sheet music to find something to practice besides the same 8 songs needed for the Primary presentation in two weeks, I've come across songs from those teenage days in Young Women's that I ran from the room in tears over. That doesn't make me feel good. Those songs make me ill, playing them makes me want to cry, and I remember those horrible years in a startling clarity that makes me want to quit the calling immediately.
I'm not going to quit the calling. I'm an adult now. I don't run from the room. I merely continue to torture all present with my ineptitude as I try, try, and try again to pick up the song where my shaking hands lost it. Just as I didn't give up The Spaghetti Factory because that's where I had a horrible date. Just as I'm willing to live in CO again some day despite spending some of the darkest, most depression-rent years of my life there. I face things now, address them, work through them, and then move on.
I'm hoping that this is a phase of my life where I'm being given the opportunity to face my spotty history with the piano and move on. Man plays the piano as well but does so by ear. Some of the songs he plays also bring up deeply moving memories: he played this one after we fought, he played that one after I came back from leaving him, he played this one right before he left for basic training, he composed this one and dedicated it to our oldest daughter, this is the one he most closely associates with his deceased father. Music is so meaningful to both of us that we can barely play some songs for each other or anyone else. Love Is Spoken Here is one that we will forever associate with a friend's son who was killed as a very young child who looked achingly like our little blond boy, with glasses and a love of yellow trucks. Man and I sang it at his funeral. Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing is a personal favorite of Man's grandfather and thus one that we keep special.
Isn't it silly how one small calling at church can bring up so many things that need to be worked through, categorized, and either discarded or put away to be kept sacred. Emotional spring cleaning.
I think I'm going to go do some cleaning I can understand a bit better and really clean my van this time. It's starting to look like someone lives in it.
As a youth in the Midwest, it was very common for there to be several young piano players of varying levels of proficiency and interest at church. Male and female, child or adolescent, and without fail there would be one or two who would sneak off at a church dance to be alone with a piano for a while. I've done it myself. Whenever I played, little heads would sneak a peek into the room with the music. Some would stay and listen. Others would dash off if they saw me noticing them. It was a way to make friends, shed some of the anxiety of the teenage social scene, get some practice in on a good piano (my piano at home was free), and be alone in a half-lit room with dots on a page and the ol' ivories.
Unfortunately, I was somewhat middling on whether my piano playing was going to be melodious or malodorous. I remember specifically struggling with one particular hymn ("If You Could Hie to Kolob"), leaving the piano in disgust, only to hear someone bang it out with gusto and efficiency mere seconds later. Yes, you sure showed me.
I would play for Young Women's but often had to stop in the middle of a song after nervousness made me lose my place, and I would flee to the bathroom in shame. I would play for Mutual when the better piano players were unavailable or unwilling. The same flight would occur there.
At home, my piano (which I called the white elephant, given that it was an enormous upright that had been painted white) was very loud, didn't keep its tuning very well, and some of the keys would hit more than one string at the same time. It was a pain to dust, an eyesore, and someone once lifted the lid and put a cat in there just to see what would happen. Fur is what happened, folks, which piano strings don't like so well. My family didn't much like hearing me practice. And I don't blame them. It would have been better to have a keyboard and earphones but hey, the White Elephant was free.
I've played once or twice over the years when the Relief Society pianist was gone. Mostly I fly under the "does anyone here play the piano?" question with a grunt and averted eyes. I know just enough to say "yes, but not well. just barely. sure, if you want to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as the opening hymn." Haha. You go, Annie. Make those jokes-under-pressure that you're famous for. I've found that miso salad dressing tastes better with feet than ketchup. Less salt.
Nowadays, I play piano for the kids at church. This means that I have to practice. I told Man last night that I'm a phenomenon -- I get worse as I practice. And it's true. I can sit down and play fairly well for about five minutes and then totally butcher songs that I thought I was finally getting good at. He says that it "must be the way you're practicing." Uh-huh. He's probably right. But here's the deal: I don't WANT to be a really good piano player. I don't want to take time out of my day and practice. Here are some reasons:
1) It hurts my back. I have about 15 minutes before I hunch over with spasmed muscles and I have to stop.
2) I'm not committed enough to the piano to break all my old habits and build up newer, better ones. I play well enough for Family Home Evening and am therefore satisfied.
3) Going through my sheet music to find something to practice besides the same 8 songs needed for the Primary presentation in two weeks, I've come across songs from those teenage days in Young Women's that I ran from the room in tears over. That doesn't make me feel good. Those songs make me ill, playing them makes me want to cry, and I remember those horrible years in a startling clarity that makes me want to quit the calling immediately.
I'm not going to quit the calling. I'm an adult now. I don't run from the room. I merely continue to torture all present with my ineptitude as I try, try, and try again to pick up the song where my shaking hands lost it. Just as I didn't give up The Spaghetti Factory because that's where I had a horrible date. Just as I'm willing to live in CO again some day despite spending some of the darkest, most depression-rent years of my life there. I face things now, address them, work through them, and then move on.
I'm hoping that this is a phase of my life where I'm being given the opportunity to face my spotty history with the piano and move on. Man plays the piano as well but does so by ear. Some of the songs he plays also bring up deeply moving memories: he played this one after we fought, he played that one after I came back from leaving him, he played this one right before he left for basic training, he composed this one and dedicated it to our oldest daughter, this is the one he most closely associates with his deceased father. Music is so meaningful to both of us that we can barely play some songs for each other or anyone else. Love Is Spoken Here is one that we will forever associate with a friend's son who was killed as a very young child who looked achingly like our little blond boy, with glasses and a love of yellow trucks. Man and I sang it at his funeral. Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing is a personal favorite of Man's grandfather and thus one that we keep special.
Isn't it silly how one small calling at church can bring up so many things that need to be worked through, categorized, and either discarded or put away to be kept sacred. Emotional spring cleaning.
I think I'm going to go do some cleaning I can understand a bit better and really clean my van this time. It's starting to look like someone lives in it.
Goodness. Oh. My.
First of all, my baby sister recently turned 18. It just blows my mind, especially since, when I moved out of my parents house, she was still a kid. Now she's a legal adult and applying for college. Go, Echo!! You can do it!
Next, the first big mess of the day. I set the water to boil and then went to check on something. I came back to the smell of burning chocolate Malt-o-Meal. Pebbles had taken breakfast into her own hands.
I stood there, shaking for a moment, before barking a choked "bed!" at the two year old who brought this to pass.
Then I turned around to see what Bean had done with the last 10 mins of her life: (edited to add: I just realized how awful the preceding sentence sounds. No, it wasn't the last 10 mins of her life but the most recent 10 mins of her life. Gosh. How morbid was that.)
Which wasn't so bad, except that she does this about 10 times a day. Time to email the land lord and ask if we can baby proof.
But how can I stay mad at this face?
I can't.
I can't stay mad at this face either, even after she took her haircut even further. Her bangs are so short now that parts of the hair in front look buzzed.
Next, the first big mess of the day. I set the water to boil and then went to check on something. I came back to the smell of burning chocolate Malt-o-Meal. Pebbles had taken breakfast into her own hands.
I stood there, shaking for a moment, before barking a choked "bed!" at the two year old who brought this to pass.Then I turned around to see what Bean had done with the last 10 mins of her life: (edited to add: I just realized how awful the preceding sentence sounds. No, it wasn't the last 10 mins of her life but the most recent 10 mins of her life. Gosh. How morbid was that.)
Which wasn't so bad, except that she does this about 10 times a day. Time to email the land lord and ask if we can baby proof.But how can I stay mad at this face?
I can't.
I can't stay mad at this face either, even after she took her haircut even further. Her bangs are so short now that parts of the hair in front look buzzed.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Just random
1. I have new respect for ladies who can play the piano for primary or any other sort of chorister and make it look easy. I've been practicing songs and trying all the little tricks for figuring out how to make the music flow along with the metronome that I've picked up over the years but... -sigh- It is nice to have primary music filling the house now, and the kids love to sing along with it. That's been nice.
2. General conference was awesome. Talks that touched me the most: Elder Bednar Saturday afternoon, Elder Uchtdorf Sat morning, Elder Wirthlin Sat afternoon (fantastic talk), Pres Eyring Sun morning... oh, wow. I'm just going to download all the sessions and listen to them while I clean my van tomorrow. It's been a really great weekend. Loved Faith in Every Footstep Sunday afternoon. MoTab hasn't been as irritating lately. I've never been a fan but they're not bad nowadays.
3. I weaned Freida (who we call Bean sometimes) because she bit me hard enough to drip blood the other day, and that's the LAST TIME that will ever happen. The only bummer is that the formula gives her a diaper rash, so we're concentrating on solids to keep her little body full without too much of the fake milk. It's been nice to wear some clothes I got in anticipation of this day, including a very comfy kaftan.
4. Man has been referred to yet another orthopedic surgeon. He sees him in a couple of weeks, so keep your fingers crossed that this one will help. At the very least, we're hoping he'll be willing to take off a bone spur that we think is the real problem. If not, Man may claw it out himself. No, not really, the Army would have cow. Good news is that the results of a bone scan are negative for osteoarthritis. Yay!
5. Way to go, greater Kansas City Area for the announcement of your very own temple!!!! I did a "squeee!!" when I heard that and I'm thrilled to pieces for you.
6. Princess is in some sort of "good reader" club at school, consisting of four kids out of the 17 in her class who are cruising along in the reading department. It's interesting how the culture of comparing people based on their merits starts at such a young age. I know that it's good to offer some incentive for excelling at reading, but how do you do that without making an accomplishment exclusionary? Now they've got the "kids who are good at reading" vs "the kids who are average at reading" and now they're labeled. Now they know what level of talent they have. Now their expectations and the expectations of those who are working with them have been defined. PB's teacher works very hard with each child to help them along at their own pace. Each of these children has their own reading portfolio so Mrs. R can keep track of their strengths, weaknesses, and generally build each individual mind in the ways that it needs to succeed. But I still don't like the club, even if my kid is in it.
7. The Office. I'm an addict. Season 4 is pretty cool. It's isn't as side-splittingly funny but it's still darn engrossing and I'm starting to like Michael Scott more as a person, and Dwight is even more my hero. Dwight is an embodiment of all of the quirks that I, my siblings, and many of my friends in high school used to have (except for the gross assumption of authority. we were all intellect/knowledge snobs, but not authority snobs. and light sabers are still cool no matter how lame episodes 1-3 turned out to be. oh, and I've always disliked guns. I've never shot one, and never intend to.) Am I the only person in America who thinks that Jim is a bit of a jerk? I hope I don't lose friends for saying that.
8. It's raining. I love it.
9. I'm a knitting coward but I may just have to buckle down and get over it for the sake of this pattern at the top. Must. Have. Spidey. Blanky.
10. I have some ideas for making a scrap book for Princess, since that's the next project the Daisy's will be working on. I'm thinking of just using a small photo album and then getting index cards of the right size for her to customize. Any further ideas? I'm hoping to start pretty small on this so we can set the project up for success. Plenty of time for the classy, gorgeous stuff friend K has accomplished (friend K, I covet your scrap books. I don't know if I've ever told you that.) after we master the basics. Either index cards, or some size that's exceptionally easy to cut out of those square pieces of scrapbooking paper. I'll have to check WallyWorld and Michael's out tomorrow because darn it, I have a coupon that I really want to use. As dumb as that sounds.
Well, congrats on reading to the end. This got a lot longer than I thought it would but I've been waiting for Bean to fall asleep this whole time. Until my next infrequent update, be well and good, my fair readers.
2. General conference was awesome. Talks that touched me the most: Elder Bednar Saturday afternoon, Elder Uchtdorf Sat morning, Elder Wirthlin Sat afternoon (fantastic talk), Pres Eyring Sun morning... oh, wow. I'm just going to download all the sessions and listen to them while I clean my van tomorrow. It's been a really great weekend. Loved Faith in Every Footstep Sunday afternoon. MoTab hasn't been as irritating lately. I've never been a fan but they're not bad nowadays.
3. I weaned Freida (who we call Bean sometimes) because she bit me hard enough to drip blood the other day, and that's the LAST TIME that will ever happen. The only bummer is that the formula gives her a diaper rash, so we're concentrating on solids to keep her little body full without too much of the fake milk. It's been nice to wear some clothes I got in anticipation of this day, including a very comfy kaftan.
4. Man has been referred to yet another orthopedic surgeon. He sees him in a couple of weeks, so keep your fingers crossed that this one will help. At the very least, we're hoping he'll be willing to take off a bone spur that we think is the real problem. If not, Man may claw it out himself. No, not really, the Army would have cow. Good news is that the results of a bone scan are negative for osteoarthritis. Yay!
5. Way to go, greater Kansas City Area for the announcement of your very own temple!!!! I did a "squeee!!" when I heard that and I'm thrilled to pieces for you.
6. Princess is in some sort of "good reader" club at school, consisting of four kids out of the 17 in her class who are cruising along in the reading department. It's interesting how the culture of comparing people based on their merits starts at such a young age. I know that it's good to offer some incentive for excelling at reading, but how do you do that without making an accomplishment exclusionary? Now they've got the "kids who are good at reading" vs "the kids who are average at reading" and now they're labeled. Now they know what level of talent they have. Now their expectations and the expectations of those who are working with them have been defined. PB's teacher works very hard with each child to help them along at their own pace. Each of these children has their own reading portfolio so Mrs. R can keep track of their strengths, weaknesses, and generally build each individual mind in the ways that it needs to succeed. But I still don't like the club, even if my kid is in it.
7. The Office. I'm an addict. Season 4 is pretty cool. It's isn't as side-splittingly funny but it's still darn engrossing and I'm starting to like Michael Scott more as a person, and Dwight is even more my hero. Dwight is an embodiment of all of the quirks that I, my siblings, and many of my friends in high school used to have (except for the gross assumption of authority. we were all intellect/knowledge snobs, but not authority snobs. and light sabers are still cool no matter how lame episodes 1-3 turned out to be. oh, and I've always disliked guns. I've never shot one, and never intend to.) Am I the only person in America who thinks that Jim is a bit of a jerk? I hope I don't lose friends for saying that.
8. It's raining. I love it.
9. I'm a knitting coward but I may just have to buckle down and get over it for the sake of this pattern at the top. Must. Have. Spidey. Blanky.
10. I have some ideas for making a scrap book for Princess, since that's the next project the Daisy's will be working on. I'm thinking of just using a small photo album and then getting index cards of the right size for her to customize. Any further ideas? I'm hoping to start pretty small on this so we can set the project up for success. Plenty of time for the classy, gorgeous stuff friend K has accomplished (friend K, I covet your scrap books. I don't know if I've ever told you that.) after we master the basics. Either index cards, or some size that's exceptionally easy to cut out of those square pieces of scrapbooking paper. I'll have to check WallyWorld and Michael's out tomorrow because darn it, I have a coupon that I really want to use. As dumb as that sounds.
Well, congrats on reading to the end. This got a lot longer than I thought it would but I've been waiting for Bean to fall asleep this whole time. Until my next infrequent update, be well and good, my fair readers.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Bailout
I took down the bailout post because the math was way off.
$700,000,000,000 divided by 200,000,000 people = $3500 per person, as opposed to the scenario which used a projected $85,000,000,000 which divides into $425 per person. Someone didn't use the right decimals and I didn't check this simple math before posting.
But, yes, if I had $425,000 I'd certainly put it to good use. Honest. :)
If each person were to get $425,000, it'd be a total of 85,000,000,000,000 or 85 trillion. Which is more like the numbers used for the national deficit nowadays.
$700,000,000,000 divided by 200,000,000 people = $3500 per person, as opposed to the scenario which used a projected $85,000,000,000 which divides into $425 per person. Someone didn't use the right decimals and I didn't check this simple math before posting.
But, yes, if I had $425,000 I'd certainly put it to good use. Honest. :)
If each person were to get $425,000, it'd be a total of 85,000,000,000,000 or 85 trillion. Which is more like the numbers used for the national deficit nowadays.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Soccer mom
A lot of people have called me a soccer mom in the past few years. I recall looking up the definition once and didn't think it applied to me. Last night, I began to reconsider.
From wikipedia:
Let's break it down.
1 - Middle class -- Yes, please. Military income is not extremely comfortable but it sure beats a student's income... I mean, outgo-and-never-see-again.
2 - Suburban -- Ok, folks, have you actually seen the movie "The Burbs"? Does that look like a happy place? Didn't think so. No 'burbs for me, thanks.
3 - spends a significant amount of her time transporting her school-age children to activities such as soccer practice and music lessons -- This one drew me up short. I take them to and from school, we take them to and from weekend activities to "go have some fun", and last night I took Princess to her first Daisy Girl Scout activity. I stayed with her that first time to scope the place out but the result of a 6pm meeting was a frantic dinner (thank goodness for slow cookers), frantic bedtime, and my dishes are still piled in the sink. The thought of each of the kids having something like this, perhaps overlapping as well, made me weak in the knees.
By the way, does anyone want to buy some nuts 'n' stuff? It's for a good cause.
4 - White -- Most definitely. Except I'm getting a lot of freckles now. So, white with potentially cancerous and permanent brown blotches. -- You know... white sounds better. I'll stick with white
5 - Married -- Yep, and most happily.
6 - School aged children -- Yes, and I'm even considering putting Pebbles into early head start. She's so busy and that little mind is always trying to think of something to manipulate. She can count to 14, say her ABC's, and she's teaching herself kung fu. (but of course the little stinker wouldn't let me take a video of her kung fu, since revealing her skills would violate the kung fu code.)
7 - busy or overburdened -- I know that I bring a lot of it on myself. A personal flaw that I'm working to remedy. I told a friend the other day that I'm a perfectionist. She said she had no idea. I thought crap, I'm not doing it right. How could I be a better perfectionist? Wait!! NOOOO!!!!
8 - driving a minivan -- Um, ok, this is totally me. :sigh: I need to clean ol Hog'n'Bus out.
9 - putting the interests of her family, and most importantly her children, ahead of her own. -- You know, to a certain extent, this isn't as bad a thing as some people make it out to be. Helping Princess with homework is far more important than making sure I have nothing in Google Reader waiting for me. Having dinner on the table is more important than watching another episode of The Office. Besides that, throwing dinner in the slow cooker (my bestest dinner buddy of late) is ridiculously easy. I do put their interests ahead of mine, but not to the exclusion of mine. Balance is tricky but it really does make my life easier.
Am I a soccer mom? I guess I might be.
From wikipedia:
a middle-class suburban woman who spends a significant amount of her time transporting her school-age children to activities such as soccer practice and music lessons....
The phrase soccer mom generally refers to a white, married middle class woman who lives in the suburbs and has school age children.[3] She is sometimes portrayed in the media as busy or overburdened and driving a minivan.[3][4] She is also portrayed as putting the interests of her family, and most importantly her children, ahead of her own.
Let's break it down.
1 - Middle class -- Yes, please. Military income is not extremely comfortable but it sure beats a student's income... I mean, outgo-and-never-see-again.
2 - Suburban -- Ok, folks, have you actually seen the movie "The Burbs"? Does that look like a happy place? Didn't think so. No 'burbs for me, thanks.
3 - spends a significant amount of her time transporting her school-age children to activities such as soccer practice and music lessons -- This one drew me up short. I take them to and from school, we take them to and from weekend activities to "go have some fun", and last night I took Princess to her first Daisy Girl Scout activity. I stayed with her that first time to scope the place out but the result of a 6pm meeting was a frantic dinner (thank goodness for slow cookers), frantic bedtime, and my dishes are still piled in the sink. The thought of each of the kids having something like this, perhaps overlapping as well, made me weak in the knees.
By the way, does anyone want to buy some nuts 'n' stuff? It's for a good cause.
4 - White -- Most definitely. Except I'm getting a lot of freckles now. So, white with potentially cancerous and permanent brown blotches. -- You know... white sounds better. I'll stick with white
5 - Married -- Yep, and most happily.
6 - School aged children -- Yes, and I'm even considering putting Pebbles into early head start. She's so busy and that little mind is always trying to think of something to manipulate. She can count to 14, say her ABC's, and she's teaching herself kung fu. (but of course the little stinker wouldn't let me take a video of her kung fu, since revealing her skills would violate the kung fu code.)
7 - busy or overburdened -- I know that I bring a lot of it on myself. A personal flaw that I'm working to remedy. I told a friend the other day that I'm a perfectionist. She said she had no idea. I thought crap, I'm not doing it right. How could I be a better perfectionist? Wait!! NOOOO!!!!
8 - driving a minivan -- Um, ok, this is totally me. :sigh: I need to clean ol Hog'n'Bus out.
9 - putting the interests of her family, and most importantly her children, ahead of her own. -- You know, to a certain extent, this isn't as bad a thing as some people make it out to be. Helping Princess with homework is far more important than making sure I have nothing in Google Reader waiting for me. Having dinner on the table is more important than watching another episode of The Office. Besides that, throwing dinner in the slow cooker (my bestest dinner buddy of late) is ridiculously easy. I do put their interests ahead of mine, but not to the exclusion of mine. Balance is tricky but it really does make my life easier.
Am I a soccer mom? I guess I might be.
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