Why do kids always think that you have never been a kid? Why do they imagine that I can't figure out what they are thinking? (Okay, sometimes I really can't; but still!).
All of my kids play musical instruments. Addie plays the violin, Jake plays the trumpet, and Tom and Lizzie play the piano. The older two labor under unfair history. Let me back up.
Back in the days that we did home school, Addie and Jake took piano lessons. They were 7 and 6. Oops, I need to back up more.
Both Honey and I have musical backgrounds. My parents required their kids to learn a muscial instrument (two, actually; three all told). They had played, and they felt that we would benefit if we learned. We started with piano and something else, gradually dropped the piano and took the something else and, in junior high, changed it to still another instrument. We took lessons, we had to practice, we played in bands, we had family concerts.
Honey's family isn't musical at all. The only thing they play is the stereo. When Honey was in middle school, he started playing the sax. He'd practice in the afternoon and his older brother would complain that it was too loud while he was napping. Honey was told to be considerate and knock it off (that would never have flown in my house growing up. The whiner would have been told to suck it up. Actual practice happened so rarely that my parents would never have banned it). In defense, he changed to the electric guitar. If there is no amp, there is no volume.
Fast forward a bunch of years: I remember my instrument days with fondness. When I hear songs we played, I am magically transported to those years; I remember those friends, I remember those crushes, I remember weighing significantly less than I do now. It's magical. And. I never play. I have an oboe that is collecting dust, and a piano that I use to torture Tom and Liz. Honey plays almost daily. It is his default setting. When he isn't required to do something else, he is playing. He has a musical harem: guitars (electric and acoustic), bass, banjos, mandolin, and dobro. His heritage is playing for fun, mine is playing with discipline.
Now, back to younger Addie and Jake. They are doing piano. They hate it because I make them practice and take lessons and repeat bits that they don't play correctly. Every day is a trial, for them and for me, as we stride onto the battle field and choose our weapons. Everyday is a trial for Honey, as he has to listen to the battle. When it finally became clear that I was the only one who cared, we dropped it. Well, the music. I kept hold of a pretty good bundle of righteous resentment.
Forward some more: homeschool is over and Addie is in 5th Grade. She comes home and begs to be able to play the violin. Honey is all for it, and the seething pools of resentment that have been silent erupt in me. If there is going to be music, then there will be no whining about: practicing, lessons, band participation, etc etc. Terms accepted and agreed. Ditto when Jake entered fifth grade the next year and begged to play the trumpet.
At last, we arrive to now. Addie still loves her violin. She plays with joy and diligence, all is well.
Jake, on the other hand. He knows an easy A when he sees one (he thinks). So even though he doesn't want to practice, even though he doesn't want to listen to his teacher (who is teaching him so much more than just the trumpet, if Jake only had ears to hear), he refuses to quit because he doesn't want to yield that easy A.
I'm not dumb. I've been in band. I've been resentful about it. I'm not my parents. I won't compel it if it isn't wanted. But he has to tell me. I've asked: "aren't you tired? do you want to continue?" and his lips speak "yes" and then play "not so much."
And it all came to a head tonight. I got home from choir practice, and he should have practiced his trumpet, and hadn't. When I called him on it, I snapped.
"Jake, it's time to tell the truth. Tell me, to my face, that you want to stay in band because it's an easy A."
(Eyes shifting side to side) "Kind of."
"See? I've been thirteen! So: two choices: tell me, to my face, and I'll call the school and get your schedule changed. Or, suck it up one more year, follow my rules, and quit at the end of the school year. Cuz, son, I gotta tell ya, my job is to make sure that 'easy A' isn't worth the work!"
As of this moment (until the next time) we have come to an agreement that includes continuing until the end of the school year. I think I'd better get it in writing, though, with consequences for contract violation included.
Second thing: Tuesday September 8 is National Obama Day in the elementary schools. There will be a broadcast to the elementary schools from the white house; teachers have a packet prepared for them from the NEA, all about what teachers can do before and after the speech. These things include asking the kids what they can do to fulfill what Obama has asked of them. (Pretty vague language, addmittedly). Check it out: top of the page at www.ed.gov.
I'm keeping my kids home from school. It isn't anti-liberal (or not solely so); I'd have done the same if President Bush or President McCain had tried such a stunt. Thought you should know; the school claims that they are sending home a note about it, but that's all they are saying, and I haven't seen it yet.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Jake's New Thing
I was raised in a football family. My dad watched the Dallas Cowboys. I remember him and my brothers watching, hooting, and cheering. The thrill, I must say, passed me by. When I was a rebellious teenager, my most defiant act was to root for the Pittsburg Steelers, avowed enemy of the Cowboys.
Honey was raised in a sports home. Not as passionate, perhaps, but still, sports were followed. But Honey never really got into it. He's a musician. (We like to say that we really lucked out: I found the one man on the planet who didn't care about sports, and he found the one woman who wasn't into shopping.)
The Soccer Mom phenomena passed right by this family. Jake did a short season of T-Ball, once. Addie and Tom each did one season of soccer. Each of these things was community: you pay $40 to the city Rec center, and your kid gets a t shirt with a business logo, a participation "trophy," and a brief concept that this game usually has some rules, but we aren't worried about those right now.
So imagine my surprise when Jake announces that his all-time favorite sports team is the Denver Broncos; that his favorite athlete is Champ Bailey; and that is fondest ambition is to be a wide receiver for the Broncos. He was watching a football game on television (probably the first one ever to be watched in this house), and he was telling me about plays, and downs, fumbles and other such things. I felt betrayed when Honey came in, watched for a moment, and said, "Watch, now they'll argle gargle google goo" and when the team did, Honey and Jake cheered and high-fived. (Apparently, it's an XY chromosomal link thing. Not caring isn't the same as not knowing. Who knew?)
Now Jake is signed up for football. It comes with pads, helmet, uniform, coaches, games, practices, rules, tackles and the whole sweaty nine yards. It cost $200 to sign him up, and that was just the beginning of the shake down. (Remind me to someday complain about the "touchdown bucket.") Jake's season started today, with an exhibition game against Bingham.
Jake is a second stringer. At Bingham, he'd probably be a first stringer, but our team is absolutely loaded with Polynesians, and Jake probably weighs less than the team's single girl athlete. Apparently, though, it's all paid off. He came home from his first game completely jazzed: the Kearns Bantams won 27-13, Jake had 6 plays, and his coach said that he's learned faster and better than any other first year they've seen (most of his team has been playing for 4 years).
I can't say I ever pictured myself as the mother of an athlete, but the smile on Jakes face makes the flies buzzing around the corpse of the family wallet all worth while!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Talking to myself: the new semester
I write so rarely, this is like talking to myself. I don't know if anyone looks anymore, which makes it hard to want to write, which means people don't look. . . it isn't a cycle as vicious as familial abuse, certainly, but it does cycle just as much.
A new semester has begun: new classes and new things to learn. This semester is adult care -commonly called medical-surgery or med-surg- and I'll be spending two days each week for the next 15 weeks at the hospital. I'll be on different surgical floors, and spend time in the ICU, the ER, and PCU (the step down between ICU and home) and even one day in surgery.
Did you know that while the majority of nurses go to work in the hospital, it's (only) just over 50%? There are so many choices available! I could be a certified nurse midwife and deliver babies (my original ambition); I could be a family practice nurse, and have a clinic with patients; I could be a prison nurse (although I likely won't); I could do research and have little to do with patients at all.
More than just a nurse, I feel like I want to make changes. There is a professional hostility between certified nurse midwives and direct entry midwives (who commonly attend home births). Part of it is a territorial dispute, part of it is an educational snobbery, and I think part of it is based on envy: CNMs have really high malpractice insurance (although I can't imagine that DEMs have it too much better). But it bugs me, because in school the big theme repeated endlessly is the role of the nurse: patient advocate.
Another place that fascinates me is community nursing. People go on medical missions to foreign countries and feel righteous and holy (and certainly they are doing good work). Why not a medical mission to urban areas in the US? "There are free clinics here already."
So if there is already some mechanism in place to provide medical care to people who live on the fringes of society, why is there this mad rush to socialize medicine? Where are the flaws and gaps? Why are the free clinics not doing the job? What obstacles do they have? What are the limitations?
I'm not poised to become a bleeding heart liberal; I am excited about the power of the individual to make a difference. I hope that I can make a difference for the better, where ever I finally land professionally.
A new semester has begun: new classes and new things to learn. This semester is adult care -commonly called medical-surgery or med-surg- and I'll be spending two days each week for the next 15 weeks at the hospital. I'll be on different surgical floors, and spend time in the ICU, the ER, and PCU (the step down between ICU and home) and even one day in surgery.
Did you know that while the majority of nurses go to work in the hospital, it's (only) just over 50%? There are so many choices available! I could be a certified nurse midwife and deliver babies (my original ambition); I could be a family practice nurse, and have a clinic with patients; I could be a prison nurse (although I likely won't); I could do research and have little to do with patients at all.
More than just a nurse, I feel like I want to make changes. There is a professional hostility between certified nurse midwives and direct entry midwives (who commonly attend home births). Part of it is a territorial dispute, part of it is an educational snobbery, and I think part of it is based on envy: CNMs have really high malpractice insurance (although I can't imagine that DEMs have it too much better). But it bugs me, because in school the big theme repeated endlessly is the role of the nurse: patient advocate.
Another place that fascinates me is community nursing. People go on medical missions to foreign countries and feel righteous and holy (and certainly they are doing good work). Why not a medical mission to urban areas in the US? "There are free clinics here already."
So if there is already some mechanism in place to provide medical care to people who live on the fringes of society, why is there this mad rush to socialize medicine? Where are the flaws and gaps? Why are the free clinics not doing the job? What obstacles do they have? What are the limitations?
I'm not poised to become a bleeding heart liberal; I am excited about the power of the individual to make a difference. I hope that I can make a difference for the better, where ever I finally land professionally.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I must be living right
Education does not come without sacrifice.
People at school will say to me "Don't your kids get underfoot? Don't they bug you when you try to study?"
And I can honestly say, No, they don't. Because Addie and Jake are glued to the computer (on line or video game hooked) and Tom is playing with the Wii. Liz goes to play with a friend, mostly. The hilarity begins when Liz comes home and wants a turn on the Wii.
"Moooo-oooom. I want a turn on the Wiiiiii." (I'm convinced it was a diabolical Japanese linguistic plot that made that word so easy to whine.)
"Did you tell Tom about it?" (and off Liz goes, giving me a 30 second respite).
"Moooo-ooom. He says he's in the middle of something and he can't quit."
(Sigh. Eye roll.) "Tell Tom I want to talk to him." I realize using a fellow child as a messenger is probably bad parenting, but it gives me about another 60 seconds of study time before Tom plods sullenly up the stairs to hear the same. stupid. lecture I gave him yesterday.
"Haven't you been doing this since you got home? Isn't it true that Liz hasn't done it at all today? Why should she wait while you finish this level/battle this bad guy/find this save station?"
The lecture and rebuttals go on, but it's depressing enough to have shared this much of it.
In the past, I have told my classmates that I am willing to let their little minds fry while I'm in school if it means I can study unmolested. It hasn't played that way, plus their little minds are frying.
So today I declared a freedom from electronics day. They've been bored, they've wished I could be swallowed by the earth, but 3 of them are at a park with friends, and the fourth is out front with a buddy. None of them are plugged into anything (and I'm spending valuable study time writing a blog).
Electronic freedom day is about to become a weekly event!
People at school will say to me "Don't your kids get underfoot? Don't they bug you when you try to study?"
And I can honestly say, No, they don't. Because Addie and Jake are glued to the computer (on line or video game hooked) and Tom is playing with the Wii. Liz goes to play with a friend, mostly. The hilarity begins when Liz comes home and wants a turn on the Wii.
"Moooo-oooom. I want a turn on the Wiiiiii." (I'm convinced it was a diabolical Japanese linguistic plot that made that word so easy to whine.)
"Did you tell Tom about it?" (and off Liz goes, giving me a 30 second respite).
"Moooo-ooom. He says he's in the middle of something and he can't quit."
(Sigh. Eye roll.) "Tell Tom I want to talk to him." I realize using a fellow child as a messenger is probably bad parenting, but it gives me about another 60 seconds of study time before Tom plods sullenly up the stairs to hear the same. stupid. lecture I gave him yesterday.
"Haven't you been doing this since you got home? Isn't it true that Liz hasn't done it at all today? Why should she wait while you finish this level/battle this bad guy/find this save station?"
The lecture and rebuttals go on, but it's depressing enough to have shared this much of it.
In the past, I have told my classmates that I am willing to let their little minds fry while I'm in school if it means I can study unmolested. It hasn't played that way, plus their little minds are frying.
So today I declared a freedom from electronics day. They've been bored, they've wished I could be swallowed by the earth, but 3 of them are at a park with friends, and the fourth is out front with a buddy. None of them are plugged into anything (and I'm spending valuable study time writing a blog).
Electronic freedom day is about to become a weekly event!
Saturday, June 20, 2009
A Beautiful Mother Moment
See this? Notice that the picture corners are peeling up? Notice that there are things scratched off and misspelled on both posters? And yet, if you look at this picture on the left, a dark arrow is pointing to a faintly circled A+. Why does such arguably shoddy work merit such a high grade? Because, unusually in elementary school, this project was done exclusively by the second grader to whom it was assigned. Liz came home and said "I have to do an Africa report." and I said "Okay."
Then I did nothing. It wasn't due for a while, I was sure (they always give parents generous deadlines). And then I never heard anything more about it.
The next opportunity I had to remember it was the day I went to her class to volunteer. There on the wall, for all to see, were these two posters. Liz had gone on line, printed pictures, and found information all on her own. She'd cut out pictures, glued them on the poster, and taken them to school, all without any kind of parental supervision.
I mentioned that to her teacher, and I think that was why she got the A+. Not because I told him, but because it was so obviously all her own work.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
List 7: Things I will be giving up
School starts. . .well, today, actually, even though classes don't technically begin until next week. I had orientation today, and it was packed full of things I still have to do.
First, some relevant mathematics:
(32-38 hours of class/week) x (3 hours of prep/hour of class) = No. Life.
I may be able to shave a little off the recommended study time, but given the hours that I'll be in class and clinicals, even if I do only 2 hours per hour of lecture, that doesn't leave a lot of free time.
So I hereby offer my sacrifices to academic excellece (or at least adequacy):
1. Television. I don't watch that much, but I will have to shave it down to the absolute minimum. That may mean I tape my two favorite shows, and watch them obsessively during the semester breaks.
2. Choir. Okay, so it was only 1 hour per week, but the practice is at 8 pm. That is the last hour of daylight on many days, and it is an hour when most of my kids are outside, or electronically entertained. It may be my only quiet hour of home study during the week.
3. Snacks. I'll be spending a significant amount of time on campus, or in a hospital, away from my refrigerator and pantry. If I also fail to take cash, and given the brutal sprawl of the campus and minimal student parking, I might actually lose weight.
4. Snooze. When the alarm goes off, I'll just have to get up. Every 9 minutes I can study without kids talking to me is worth 20 minutes with kids talking to me.
5. Leisure reading. This is a killer. I love to read. I love to roll the words in my mind, to laugh when it is witty and cry when it is sad. I love to ponder when it is thought provoking and snort when it is contemptible. I'll miss it. But it's only for 16 months, minus semester breaks.
There may be other sacrifices waiting in the wings, but right now they have the sense to keep their heads down while I still imagine this might be doable. If they were to make demands now, I'd probably come unglued. And Honey doesn't know quite enough anatomy to put all of the pieces back together.
First, some relevant mathematics:
(32-38 hours of class/week) x (3 hours of prep/hour of class) = No. Life.
I may be able to shave a little off the recommended study time, but given the hours that I'll be in class and clinicals, even if I do only 2 hours per hour of lecture, that doesn't leave a lot of free time.
So I hereby offer my sacrifices to academic excellece (or at least adequacy):
1. Television. I don't watch that much, but I will have to shave it down to the absolute minimum. That may mean I tape my two favorite shows, and watch them obsessively during the semester breaks.
2. Choir. Okay, so it was only 1 hour per week, but the practice is at 8 pm. That is the last hour of daylight on many days, and it is an hour when most of my kids are outside, or electronically entertained. It may be my only quiet hour of home study during the week.
3. Snacks. I'll be spending a significant amount of time on campus, or in a hospital, away from my refrigerator and pantry. If I also fail to take cash, and given the brutal sprawl of the campus and minimal student parking, I might actually lose weight.
4. Snooze. When the alarm goes off, I'll just have to get up. Every 9 minutes I can study without kids talking to me is worth 20 minutes with kids talking to me.
5. Leisure reading. This is a killer. I love to read. I love to roll the words in my mind, to laugh when it is witty and cry when it is sad. I love to ponder when it is thought provoking and snort when it is contemptible. I'll miss it. But it's only for 16 months, minus semester breaks.
There may be other sacrifices waiting in the wings, but right now they have the sense to keep their heads down while I still imagine this might be doable. If they were to make demands now, I'd probably come unglued. And Honey doesn't know quite enough anatomy to put all of the pieces back together.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
List #6: Covering all the Bases
When you go to the library, they will print out a list of everything that you have checked out for the day. This list is one belonging to someone else, left in a book that I later checked out. I am fascinated by the list's diversity!
Games to Play with Toddlers
Kid's Book to Welcome a new baby
Games to play with two year olds
Sing a song activity and idea book
Sunday fun activities and ideas
Little hands fingerplays and actions
CTR A gospel games
Family Home Evening games galore (3 separate volumes)
Family home evening favorites
Sacred Path of Reiki: healing as a spiritual discipline
Ronald Reagan: fate, freedom and the making of history
His Excellency: George Washington
Liberal Fascism: the secret history of the American left, from Moussolini to the politics of meaning
General George Washington: a military life
In the footsteps of Churchill
The Mormon way of doing buiness: leadership and success through faith and family
American Fascists: the Christian Right and the war on America
I wonder if this is person is a homeschooler?
Games to Play with Toddlers
Kid's Book to Welcome a new baby
Games to play with two year olds
Sing a song activity and idea book
Sunday fun activities and ideas
Little hands fingerplays and actions
CTR A gospel games
Family Home Evening games galore (3 separate volumes)
Family home evening favorites
Sacred Path of Reiki: healing as a spiritual discipline
Ronald Reagan: fate, freedom and the making of history
His Excellency: George Washington
Liberal Fascism: the secret history of the American left, from Moussolini to the politics of meaning
General George Washington: a military life
In the footsteps of Churchill
The Mormon way of doing buiness: leadership and success through faith and family
American Fascists: the Christian Right and the war on America
I wonder if this is person is a homeschooler?
Monday, April 20, 2009
Let the stress fest begin
I've ordered all of my textbooks for the first semester on-line. Seemed brilliant; I saved anywhere from $100 to $150 dollars over just buying used at the U bookstore. Today, the first 3 arrived. One of them weighs about 6 pounds, all by itself. So:
I've always mentally sneered at those people who dragged their air-line luggage style backpacks around campus in the past. I have 3 classes on campus, on Thursdays and Fridays. All three classes, both days. Of the other two, one is on line, and the other is clinicals. Those three that meet twice a week comprise 6 of the total 9 textbooks I've had to purchase. I may well become one of those I've sneered at.
Also, ordering on line is cool to save money. Not so cool is watching the time til class starts tick down, and still be waiting for confirmation that the order that you placed 2 weeks ago is being processed. (According to the relevant web site, my books are "on order.") Maybe there is a reason that the books were so cheap.
Next time, I'll spend a little more and go with one of the other sites that has gotten me my books already.
I've always mentally sneered at those people who dragged their air-line luggage style backpacks around campus in the past. I have 3 classes on campus, on Thursdays and Fridays. All three classes, both days. Of the other two, one is on line, and the other is clinicals. Those three that meet twice a week comprise 6 of the total 9 textbooks I've had to purchase. I may well become one of those I've sneered at.
Also, ordering on line is cool to save money. Not so cool is watching the time til class starts tick down, and still be waiting for confirmation that the order that you placed 2 weeks ago is being processed. (According to the relevant web site, my books are "on order.") Maybe there is a reason that the books were so cheap.
Next time, I'll spend a little more and go with one of the other sites that has gotten me my books already.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
List #5, and an addition to List #4
PS to List #4: Things I have worked on to justify my Dr Who obsession:
Sarah's Easter Dress.
List #5: On Today's Agenda
1. Ironing at Mom's
2. Drop off Tom and Lizzie at the Tey's
3. U of U: text book, parking sticker, student id (I'd better take alot of quarters for the meter!)
4. (Wish I could attend the Tea Party taking place down town)
5. Visit with Grandma
6. PIck up Addie, Jake, and assorted musicians from school
7. drop Addie and assorted musicians off at Symphony practice.
8. Contemplate what it means to be described, in part, in the newest Homeland Security memo on "right wing extremists" and the danger they present to the country.
Sarah's Easter Dress.
List #5: On Today's Agenda
1. Ironing at Mom's
2. Drop off Tom and Lizzie at the Tey's
3. U of U: text book, parking sticker, student id (I'd better take alot of quarters for the meter!)
4. (Wish I could attend the Tea Party taking place down town)
5. Visit with Grandma
6. PIck up Addie, Jake, and assorted musicians from school
7. drop Addie and assorted musicians off at Symphony practice.
8. Contemplate what it means to be described, in part, in the newest Homeland Security memo on "right wing extremists" and the danger they present to the country.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
List #4: Things I have done to justify my Dr. Who obsession
1. Ben's Star Wars quilt (pictures to come later)
2. Sam's Denver Broncos quilt (pics later)
3. Sarah's Spring sweater, hand spun and hand knit (pics later)
4. tons and tons of family history research: record condensing and ordinance confirmation.
If I could find a way to watch Dr. Who and walk around, I might actually get some exercise!
2. Sam's Denver Broncos quilt (pics later)
3. Sarah's Spring sweater, hand spun and hand knit (pics later)
4. tons and tons of family history research: record condensing and ordinance confirmation.
If I could find a way to watch Dr. Who and walk around, I might actually get some exercise!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
List #3: Things We've Decided to Put in Our Garden
Pumpkins (what they charge for those at halloween is nearly criminal, when you have four kids who want to do jack o lanterns for the holidays).
Tomatoes
Peppers (green and chili)
Raspberries (we spend a fortune on these at the grocery store)
Leeks
Maybe some peas or beans on a trellis, depending on how much space there is left over.
Tomatoes
Peppers (green and chili)
Raspberries (we spend a fortune on these at the grocery store)
Leeks
Maybe some peas or beans on a trellis, depending on how much space there is left over.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
List #2: Addie is amazing
Reasons I am amazed by my teenager:
1. She practices her violin for at least 1 hour per day, and also paid her own money to rent a cello and expand her repertoire.
2. She is getting straight A's at school. I didn't do that from 6th grade until my second time at college!
3. She's decided she wants to graduate a year early, and is checking out summer classes.
4. In addition to summer classes, she wants to do Granite Junior Youth Symphony; that will be two hours a day, M-Th, starting at 7 am.
5. She's just decided she wants to run for student body officer: Lieutenant Governor (which is her school's version of Vice President)
6. Like me, she wants to be an author. Unlike me, she actually writes. Copiously.
7. She's diligent in her Young Women Personal Progress goals. She's set major goals for herself, spiritually.
Wow. I can't believe I've been trusted with this amazing person.
1. She practices her violin for at least 1 hour per day, and also paid her own money to rent a cello and expand her repertoire.
2. She is getting straight A's at school. I didn't do that from 6th grade until my second time at college!
3. She's decided she wants to graduate a year early, and is checking out summer classes.
4. In addition to summer classes, she wants to do Granite Junior Youth Symphony; that will be two hours a day, M-Th, starting at 7 am.
5. She's just decided she wants to run for student body officer: Lieutenant Governor (which is her school's version of Vice President)
6. Like me, she wants to be an author. Unlike me, she actually writes. Copiously.
7. She's diligent in her Young Women Personal Progress goals. She's set major goals for herself, spiritually.
Wow. I can't believe I've been trusted with this amazing person.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Stealing Shamelessly: List #1: Shows I love to Watch
I have things I want to write about, but they involve photography, and so they shall be added as part of a theme: lists. (I confess, I'm stealing this idea from a friend; she did lists for a month).
So, withour further ado, my first list: Shows I love to watch (in no particular order)
1. Robin Hood (BBC's most recent series)
Filmed in Hungary, with no particular attention given to accuracy in language or dress, this show is wonderful. We laugh, we cheer, watch it together. It's possible that part of the enjoyment comes from the family celebration. Lizzie doesn't care for it much, but the rest of us gather together in the living room, pop corn, and hush each other, laughing and watching and having a great time.
2. Doctor Who (again, the recent BBC incarnation)
I came to this one reluctantly. The men of my family growing up were into the older series, but I only had a memory of a man with curly hair, a big nose, and the worlds longest scarf (which I have knit twice, now). It didn't inspire interest or confidence. A friend recommended this series to me and after a few episodes, I was hooked. I can't say exactly what I like about it; but then I couldn't tell you anything that I don't like about it. I didn't like that they switched the Doctor until I got used to the 10th regeneration. I don't feel like I'll like the end of Rose, but maybe the next travelling companion will be good, too.
Again, part of the joy of this one is being able to share it with my family. Only Honey doesn't enjoy it (the first episode wasn't to his taste, and I haven't been able to bribe him to watch another yet). The rest will watch and enjoy.
3. Chuck.
I love the humor, I love the techy (techie? technological?) stuff, and I think the Buy More is perfect. Honey likes that stuff best; he did work in an electronics store for a few years, and that may be why he likes it so well.
There are a few shows that I loved in the past, which are fading, a bit.
4. Bones
I enjoy the medical and experimental stuff, but the actual "Bones" character reminds me of an idiot savant. She's brilliant medically and professionally, but don't cut her loose on an unsuspecting public. She has no manners, social ability, or common politeness.
5. Pushing Daisies
I'd like this one more, except the show was cancelled. It's hard to have an enduring love affair with a dead person (which is ironic, considering the show's premise).
So, withour further ado, my first list: Shows I love to watch (in no particular order)
1. Robin Hood (BBC's most recent series)
Filmed in Hungary, with no particular attention given to accuracy in language or dress, this show is wonderful. We laugh, we cheer, watch it together. It's possible that part of the enjoyment comes from the family celebration. Lizzie doesn't care for it much, but the rest of us gather together in the living room, pop corn, and hush each other, laughing and watching and having a great time.
2. Doctor Who (again, the recent BBC incarnation)
I came to this one reluctantly. The men of my family growing up were into the older series, but I only had a memory of a man with curly hair, a big nose, and the worlds longest scarf (which I have knit twice, now). It didn't inspire interest or confidence. A friend recommended this series to me and after a few episodes, I was hooked. I can't say exactly what I like about it; but then I couldn't tell you anything that I don't like about it. I didn't like that they switched the Doctor until I got used to the 10th regeneration. I don't feel like I'll like the end of Rose, but maybe the next travelling companion will be good, too.
Again, part of the joy of this one is being able to share it with my family. Only Honey doesn't enjoy it (the first episode wasn't to his taste, and I haven't been able to bribe him to watch another yet). The rest will watch and enjoy.
3. Chuck.
I love the humor, I love the techy (techie? technological?) stuff, and I think the Buy More is perfect. Honey likes that stuff best; he did work in an electronics store for a few years, and that may be why he likes it so well.
There are a few shows that I loved in the past, which are fading, a bit.
4. Bones
I enjoy the medical and experimental stuff, but the actual "Bones" character reminds me of an idiot savant. She's brilliant medically and professionally, but don't cut her loose on an unsuspecting public. She has no manners, social ability, or common politeness.
5. Pushing Daisies
I'd like this one more, except the show was cancelled. It's hard to have an enduring love affair with a dead person (which is ironic, considering the show's premise).
Saturday, April 4, 2009
I laughed like crazy when I heard it
Today's blog is courtesy of Jake. Honey asked if anyone had a joke at dinner, and here is what Jake came up with.
A boat crashes on an island. Two men volunteer to go looking for food. As they wander, they are captured by natives who turn out to be cannibals.
As they are sitting in a large pot, waiting for the water to heat, one man is sobbing, the other is grinning.
The grinning man says, "What's the matter?"
"I'm going to miss my family, I'll never see my home again, and I'm being turned into dinner! What have you got to be so happy about?"
The reply: "I've peed in their soup!"
Maybe it isn't the world's funniest joke, but today, it hit my funny bone just right.
A boat crashes on an island. Two men volunteer to go looking for food. As they wander, they are captured by natives who turn out to be cannibals.
As they are sitting in a large pot, waiting for the water to heat, one man is sobbing, the other is grinning.
The grinning man says, "What's the matter?"
"I'm going to miss my family, I'll never see my home again, and I'm being turned into dinner! What have you got to be so happy about?"
The reply: "I've peed in their soup!"
Maybe it isn't the world's funniest joke, but today, it hit my funny bone just right.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Is this educational?
I had mandatory transfer student orientation at the U today. Here are some things that I learned:
1: It is way too hot in the Union Building at the U.
2: When the academic advisor came and began talking to the transfer nursing students about things I already knew, and in fact had already done (if it was the game of Monopoly, he was explaining "go" and I've already been around the board twice, collecting property), I excused myself. 10 minutes later, as I sat off to the side eating my sandwich, they started talking about clinicals, which is the stuff I really wanted to know.
3: (Completely off topic) I have a functionally accurate gay-dar.
4: Being accepted into the College of Nursing is apparently not the same as having declared Nursing as a major. This makes it difficult (okay, impossible) to register for the classes I need for Summer semester.
5: My inner teenager still checks out guys on campus.
6: If you lock your keys in your car at the U, they will come and help you get them out for free. The guys that do it are from Campus Security. They are a separate entity from the Parking Police.
7: It is okay to call the Parking Police the "Parking Gestapo." I have it on authority from the security guy who opened my car for me that they are that bad.
8: Sitting at a table, reading, facing a huge window and snow covered campus, is officially one of the coolest things I will do today.
Will I get credit towards graduation for these things I've learned?
1: It is way too hot in the Union Building at the U.
2: When the academic advisor came and began talking to the transfer nursing students about things I already knew, and in fact had already done (if it was the game of Monopoly, he was explaining "go" and I've already been around the board twice, collecting property), I excused myself. 10 minutes later, as I sat off to the side eating my sandwich, they started talking about clinicals, which is the stuff I really wanted to know.
3: (Completely off topic) I have a functionally accurate gay-dar.
4: Being accepted into the College of Nursing is apparently not the same as having declared Nursing as a major. This makes it difficult (okay, impossible) to register for the classes I need for Summer semester.
5: My inner teenager still checks out guys on campus.
6: If you lock your keys in your car at the U, they will come and help you get them out for free. The guys that do it are from Campus Security. They are a separate entity from the Parking Police.
7: It is okay to call the Parking Police the "Parking Gestapo." I have it on authority from the security guy who opened my car for me that they are that bad.
8: Sitting at a table, reading, facing a huge window and snow covered campus, is officially one of the coolest things I will do today.
Will I get credit towards graduation for these things I've learned?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
I just gotta say
I'm not a fan of our government. I am a bipartisan politician hater. I long for a symbol as clear as a box of tea to dump into a harbor to register my discontent. Failing that, I offer these words, originally offered before there even was a United States of America:
"If ye love wealth greater than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest for freedom, go home and leave us in peace. We seek not your council nor your arms. Crouch down and lick the hand that feeds you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen."
Samuel Adams
We have the leaders that we have -in both parties- because people want to be taken care of. They'd rather have an illusory security net than seek their own best level of ability. In doing so, they drag their country men down with them, as they seek, sustain and elect men and women who relish only power.
It was a nice country while it lasted. I don't know whether to hope that those who prayed for it and worked for it are punished by the socialist nightmare that we are rapidly becoming, or to hope that some one (not a government official) will find happiness in it.
I've just recently finished reading "Animal Farm." It is intended to mirror the atrocities and ironies of the Russian Communist revolution - they threw off one set of shackles only to accept the same again from a new master. Some hate the book; I loved it, likely because it tallies so well with my negative opinion of people's ability to endure liberty.
"If ye love wealth greater than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest for freedom, go home and leave us in peace. We seek not your council nor your arms. Crouch down and lick the hand that feeds you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen."
Samuel Adams
We have the leaders that we have -in both parties- because people want to be taken care of. They'd rather have an illusory security net than seek their own best level of ability. In doing so, they drag their country men down with them, as they seek, sustain and elect men and women who relish only power.
It was a nice country while it lasted. I don't know whether to hope that those who prayed for it and worked for it are punished by the socialist nightmare that we are rapidly becoming, or to hope that some one (not a government official) will find happiness in it.
I've just recently finished reading "Animal Farm." It is intended to mirror the atrocities and ironies of the Russian Communist revolution - they threw off one set of shackles only to accept the same again from a new master. Some hate the book; I loved it, likely because it tallies so well with my negative opinion of people's ability to endure liberty.
Monday, March 23, 2009
How Sweet It Is
I don't have very long; we are going to have family home evening tonight with another family. I just have enough time to say that I am typing this extremely short blog on our brand new lap top computer.
I must admit, I have been wanting one for a while, but it seemed like such a frivolous thing. Now that I am definitely in nursing school, and since Sweetie is ward clerk, responsible for the minutes of every meeting he attends, a lap top has just risen -meteorically- to the top of the list "Things we don't have to try as hard to justify buying."
On a completely different note, but still just as sweet, I found out that school starts a month later than I thought it did. This will give me more time to pray for education funding, and to get my house in order before I'm too busy to notice or care.
I must admit, I have been wanting one for a while, but it seemed like such a frivolous thing. Now that I am definitely in nursing school, and since Sweetie is ward clerk, responsible for the minutes of every meeting he attends, a lap top has just risen -meteorically- to the top of the list "Things we don't have to try as hard to justify buying."
On a completely different note, but still just as sweet, I found out that school starts a month later than I thought it did. This will give me more time to pray for education funding, and to get my house in order before I'm too busy to notice or care.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Why is it?
Why is it that kids who need love the most are the hardest to love?
Why is it that the time I decide I don't want to answer the phone is the time that I should?
Why is it that we delay doing things that we know we should do, even though we know that doing them later isn't going to be any more convenient, plus we pack around "lazy" guilt?
Why is it that the day I most need a nap is also the day I am guaranteed not to be able to get one?
Why is it that I have a cell phone for emergencies, but when I actually have an emergency, I either 1) don't have the cell or 2) it isn't charged?
Why is it that whining about these things never even makes me feel better?
Why is it that the time I decide I don't want to answer the phone is the time that I should?
Why is it that we delay doing things that we know we should do, even though we know that doing them later isn't going to be any more convenient, plus we pack around "lazy" guilt?
Why is it that the day I most need a nap is also the day I am guaranteed not to be able to get one?
Why is it that I have a cell phone for emergencies, but when I actually have an emergency, I either 1) don't have the cell or 2) it isn't charged?
Why is it that whining about these things never even makes me feel better?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I made it
I just found out this morning:
I was accepted into the nursing program at the U of U!
Let the chaos begin!!
Excuse me, please; I have to go take a drug test.
I was accepted into the nursing program at the U of U!
Let the chaos begin!!
Excuse me, please; I have to go take a drug test.
Monday, March 16, 2009
What's a Mother to do?
Jake loves earning money. Jake loves spending money. Jake is money motivated. Jake has purchased for himself, on-line, two prized possessions: a Denver Broncos Champ Bailey jersey, and an MP3.
He came to me before breakfast to ask if I had seen the jersey. (Of course not; I don't wear it, and I don't wash it.) I recommended that he look behind the lower of the two bunk beds; he likes to sleep shirtless, and if he took it off, it could have slid down two layers. Glory be to my brain, lo and behold, there it was. (No, he didn't say thanks.)
On to the MP3. It was the joy of his life; it had a large screen, you could detatch the earbuds and share, because it had a mini speaker. I could listen to talk radio in the car, and he could plug in to his own musical world (which sounds amazingly like the hard rock world of the 80's, actually). He loved it.
He came to me after breakfast this morning to show me a cracked LED screen. It no longer works. It cost him $50 to order on-line, and I think he's had it for 3 months. He's heart broken, in an extremely manly kind of way.
There are two mothers in my mind. There is My Mother, which longs to come out with the "It's a bummer when we don't take care of things, isn't it?" lecture, and there is the Me Mother, which wants to wave a magic wand and restore his MP3 to functional condition, objectionable Scorpion music and all.
The irony is that it was just last night that we read Job 1 for family scripture study. In one hour, Job loses all of his sheep, camels, and oxen (in excess of 11,000 animals) and his 10 children. His reaction was to rend his clothing, and say "Naked came I into the world, and naked will I go out. The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." But as I was driving him to the bus stop this morning, I just couldn't bring myself to remind him of Job. He's 12, which means he is also the world's most brillian person (all current evidence to the contrary not to be considered as relevant, of course). There is only so much sullen resentment a woman can take.
I'll try and talk to him after school, when maybe his world won't be quite so many ashes.
He came to me before breakfast to ask if I had seen the jersey. (Of course not; I don't wear it, and I don't wash it.) I recommended that he look behind the lower of the two bunk beds; he likes to sleep shirtless, and if he took it off, it could have slid down two layers. Glory be to my brain, lo and behold, there it was. (No, he didn't say thanks.)
On to the MP3. It was the joy of his life; it had a large screen, you could detatch the earbuds and share, because it had a mini speaker. I could listen to talk radio in the car, and he could plug in to his own musical world (which sounds amazingly like the hard rock world of the 80's, actually). He loved it.
He came to me after breakfast this morning to show me a cracked LED screen. It no longer works. It cost him $50 to order on-line, and I think he's had it for 3 months. He's heart broken, in an extremely manly kind of way.
There are two mothers in my mind. There is My Mother, which longs to come out with the "It's a bummer when we don't take care of things, isn't it?" lecture, and there is the Me Mother, which wants to wave a magic wand and restore his MP3 to functional condition, objectionable Scorpion music and all.
The irony is that it was just last night that we read Job 1 for family scripture study. In one hour, Job loses all of his sheep, camels, and oxen (in excess of 11,000 animals) and his 10 children. His reaction was to rend his clothing, and say "Naked came I into the world, and naked will I go out. The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." But as I was driving him to the bus stop this morning, I just couldn't bring myself to remind him of Job. He's 12, which means he is also the world's most brillian person (all current evidence to the contrary not to be considered as relevant, of course). There is only so much sullen resentment a woman can take.
I'll try and talk to him after school, when maybe his world won't be quite so many ashes.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
There's more than one way to skin a cat
Here is the blouse that Addie got for her White Top, Black Bottom, Look Nice orchestra uniform. I made the blouse myself. So there, obnoxious pattern designer.
On a complete tangent, isn't Addie pretty? I can say that because it is the product of genetic chance; I had nothing to do with it.
On a complete tangent, isn't Addie pretty? I can say that because it is the product of genetic chance; I had nothing to do with it.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Reasons I am glad to be unemployed
5. I like the idea that I can go back to bed and catch up on any sleep I lost last night (even though I don't actually do it. The idea itself is good enough).
4. Making sure that Lizzie goes out the door to school with clean clothes and brushed hair; she looks like someone at home loves her.
3. I could have gone to the library yesterday (my day off) but I went today instead, just because I was originally supposed to work today.
2. Don't tell Honey, but I watched 2 1/4 episodes of "Chuck" on line today, while I sewed the back-up blouse for Addie.
and the Number 1 reason I'm glad to be unemployed:
I went to pick up my pay check from Murray Care today, and the door was only opened a crack before that old folk's home smell came rushing out to grab my nose and make it cry for mercy. But since I was only there for 3 minutes, I didn't come home smelling that way myself.
Sweet. (With respectful apologies to any who are unhappy to be unemployed, currently)
4. Making sure that Lizzie goes out the door to school with clean clothes and brushed hair; she looks like someone at home loves her.
3. I could have gone to the library yesterday (my day off) but I went today instead, just because I was originally supposed to work today.
2. Don't tell Honey, but I watched 2 1/4 episodes of "Chuck" on line today, while I sewed the back-up blouse for Addie.
and the Number 1 reason I'm glad to be unemployed:
I went to pick up my pay check from Murray Care today, and the door was only opened a crack before that old folk's home smell came rushing out to grab my nose and make it cry for mercy. But since I was only there for 3 minutes, I didn't come home smelling that way myself.
Sweet. (With respectful apologies to any who are unhappy to be unemployed, currently)
Monday, March 9, 2009
It's a plot.
Addie plays violin in the school district junior high symphony orchestra. They have a simple uniform: white top, black bottom, look nice. Until recently, she has been content to wear a short sleeved white t-shirt (which she thought was a little low-cut) over a long sleeved white t-shirt that had a pastel snowflake on the front.
Now she's discovered boys, and one of them sits across from her in the orchestra. She decided it was time to upgrade her top. We went to the fabric store, where she chose the pattern she wanted, and even paid for the fabric herself. Granted, it was on sale at 40% off, but it was still $16. (She wanted me to make the blouse because she is working on goals for home making, and wanted to cut out the material - in case you wonder why we don't just buy a blouse.)
Now she's discovered boys, and one of them sits across from her in the orchestra. She decided it was time to upgrade her top. We went to the fabric store, where she chose the pattern she wanted, and even paid for the fabric herself. Granted, it was on sale at 40% off, but it was still $16. (She wanted me to make the blouse because she is working on goals for home making, and wanted to cut out the material - in case you wonder why we don't just buy a blouse.)
This is the pattern she picked. It can be either a short, short dress, or a tunic. Notice the smooth, flat collar, and the absolute lack of gathers going from the sleeve to the collar.
This is the picture from the pattern instruction. Notice the arrows, pointing to where the collar bits should go. The flat edge should line up with the back, and the front edge should stick out, so that there is overlap for a purely decorative button.
This is the picture from the pattern instruction. Notice the arrows, pointing to where the collar bits should go. The flat edge should line up with the back, and the front edge should stick out, so that there is overlap for a purely decorative button.Again, there are no gathers indicated, either in picture or print instructions.
This is the collar piece, with the pattern bits laid on top, to show that I cut them out to the proper size.
And here is the collar, pinned to the blouse.
Notice that the back doesn't line up, and the front doesn't stick out.
Remember, I can't gather all that extra fabric up: the collar join is smooth and flat.
I took this monstrosity, my pattern pieces, and directions to the fabric store where all this had been purchased. There, I was assured that if I simply notched the inner curve of that collar, all would be well. "Each notch will add 1/4 of an inch. You'll be amazed how well it will work."
And I would have been. But it didn't. First of all, no amount of notches will put 7 inches into what is 12 inches of fabric. There is no space-time continuum solution to this problem. So now I'm desperate. I've purchased new fabric and a different pattern. I'll take this crime against innocent homemakers to my genius mother, and see if she can create a pattern piece that will fit the neck of the blouse as it is actually cut to be.
I think that this kind of deceptive direction, along with the price of fabric and patterns, and the determined kink in my back, is all intended to keep me shopping at Wal-Mart, instead of doing it myself.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
In case I don't see ya. . .
Today was my last day at the Murray Care Center. For that alone, it was a great day. However, I have learned once again to be careful what I say out loud.
I said to another aid at breakfast, "I don't care if my whole hall has diarrhea, it'll be a good day because it's the last day." Well, no one had diarhhea, but one woman made things interesting.
She's a dementia patient, and she has her distinct issues. She is the reason that they had to remove the candy vending machine from the employee section. (She had taken something from her brief, and deposited it in the drop, and that's as specific as I care to get.) On upside there, it may have cured my addiction to vending machine candy. I can't look a vending machine in the face now.
Same patient, with adjusted medication, three weeks later. She's in a wheel chair with a lap belt because she wanders. This is supposed to be a restraint. She's not tied to a bed, you understand. She's just not supposed to be able to stand up. So how does this woman manage to reach into her brief, grab a handful of . . . stuff. . . and fling it on the carpet?
I cleaned up the environment, and then took her to the restroom to finish cleaning her up. The whole time I'm wiping her down, she's cursing at me, and asking me what the I'm doing. So the third time I tell her "I'm cleaning off the poop!" she says, "I know that! You must be stupid." It's funny how being called an idiot looses its sting when the person calling you names functions at the level of a chimpanzee.
This woman's name? Jane. Not the barking Jane, a completely different Jane. Is it the name?
So, I was all set to breeze out of there and shake the dust from my feet when I went to say goodbye to some of my favorite residents. I did okay until I got to Swede, an older gentleman (obviously). When ever I asked him if I could get him anything, he'd always say "Jim Beam and t-bone steak." The day I threatened to bring him a steak, he stopped asking for it. He gave me a hug and told me he loved me. I got all choked up, and made an undignified, sniffly exit. I guess it wasn't such a bad experience after all.
Good afternoon, good evening and good night.
I said to another aid at breakfast, "I don't care if my whole hall has diarrhea, it'll be a good day because it's the last day." Well, no one had diarhhea, but one woman made things interesting.
She's a dementia patient, and she has her distinct issues. She is the reason that they had to remove the candy vending machine from the employee section. (She had taken something from her brief, and deposited it in the drop, and that's as specific as I care to get.) On upside there, it may have cured my addiction to vending machine candy. I can't look a vending machine in the face now.
Same patient, with adjusted medication, three weeks later. She's in a wheel chair with a lap belt because she wanders. This is supposed to be a restraint. She's not tied to a bed, you understand. She's just not supposed to be able to stand up. So how does this woman manage to reach into her brief, grab a handful of . . . stuff. . . and fling it on the carpet?
I cleaned up the environment, and then took her to the restroom to finish cleaning her up. The whole time I'm wiping her down, she's cursing at me, and asking me what the
This woman's name? Jane. Not the barking Jane, a completely different Jane. Is it the name?
So, I was all set to breeze out of there and shake the dust from my feet when I went to say goodbye to some of my favorite residents. I did okay until I got to Swede, an older gentleman (obviously). When ever I asked him if I could get him anything, he'd always say "Jim Beam and t-bone steak." The day I threatened to bring him a steak, he stopped asking for it. He gave me a hug and told me he loved me. I got all choked up, and made an undignified, sniffly exit. I guess it wasn't such a bad experience after all.
Good afternoon, good evening and good night.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Guess Who His Hero Is
Yesterday was Tom's birthday. Today was the birthday party.
Let me begin by saying, I don't like doing birthday parties - I don't like cleaning the house, just to have it mobbed. I don't like trying to find the perfect time slot. I don't like trying to plan for the perfect length of party (though I'd rather be too short than too long). I don't like trying to come up with thematically appropriate games.
But I started doing parties for my first child, and it doesn't seem fair to quit now that I have four and they have seen the pattern established. The only good thing that I have learned is to not allow more than 4 guests. (My 4 kids + 4 guests = 8, the number of novelty items in any party pack!)
All that said, today's theme was Indiana Jones training camp. I'd planned for three outdoor games: perfect; only the kitchen needs to be clean, right? And then there was snow on the ground when I woke up this morning. Yesterday, spring; today, winter. What does Indy do inside? Eat strange foods, teach classes, sleep and kiss girls. Fortunately the perverted weather demon that ordered snow for this morning also called for a warming trend, and the games were able to go on.
We dodged fast moving rocks, had whip target practice, did strength training, and practiced running hunched over, clutching something (in this case, their shins). Kudos to me, it also passed off 4 different things for Tom's Bear Cub Scout award.
We had cake and ice cream, everyone got plastic snakes and Mutt swords (I found them online for .89! A serious sale, because they used to be $5.99. I guess I have shopping estrogen, after all!) and it was over and done in 90 minutes. The only snag? Tom was supposed to choose 4 friends to invite, and he managed to mention to two other young men (not originally invited) that there was going to be a party. I didn't feel right telling them "Sorry; we can't exceed maximum occupancy;" so there were 10 kids instead of 8, and Addie and Jake had to yield their goodies. (I'm sorry to say, it serves them right, too. They were the hardest to deal with at the party. How old are they, anyway?)
This, by the way, is the cake. Decorating the cake is both my favorite and least favorite part of any celebration. I love coming up with something cool and creative; I hate that I always leave it until the hour before the party, making me feel rushed an stupid. I came up with this idea just this morning: Indy, surrounded by snakes. Apparently, I do work best under pressure!Saturday, February 21, 2009
I'm the Guy
Tom and Liz are taking piano lessons from a lady at church. Not content with teaching them piano (and she's doing a fabulous job!), she's also introducing me to new movies.
One of them is "Strictly Ballroom." It was directed by the same man who did "Moulin Rouge" (Baz Luhrmann) and was released in 1992. It's Australian, and can't quite decide if it wants to be a drama, a comedy, or a mocumentary on ballroom dance competition, but which ever it is, my daughter Addie and I have fallen in love with it.
So imagine Addie's joy when she found out her school offers Ball room dance as a class in the 9th grade! Extra cool, it would count as both an art and phys ed class for her graduation credits!
Now we both want to do ball room dancing lessons. The biggest obstacle is that the men in our lives (Honey and brother Jake) are flat not interested in doing it. We are taking lessons from another lady at church, and I might say, we are cute. We dance a mean fox trot and swing, and will soon begin the cha cha and the waltz.
Even though Addie is taller than I am, I am the guy. We figure, if she gets the class she wants, she'll be the one dancing the girl's part, so she might as well get used to it. If we could just get other people to come and take lessons with us, so that we could get used to moving through crowds, it would be perfect!
See you on the dance floor!
One of them is "Strictly Ballroom." It was directed by the same man who did "Moulin Rouge" (Baz Luhrmann) and was released in 1992. It's Australian, and can't quite decide if it wants to be a drama, a comedy, or a mocumentary on ballroom dance competition, but which ever it is, my daughter Addie and I have fallen in love with it.
So imagine Addie's joy when she found out her school offers Ball room dance as a class in the 9th grade! Extra cool, it would count as both an art and phys ed class for her graduation credits!
Now we both want to do ball room dancing lessons. The biggest obstacle is that the men in our lives (Honey and brother Jake) are flat not interested in doing it. We are taking lessons from another lady at church, and I might say, we are cute. We dance a mean fox trot and swing, and will soon begin the cha cha and the waltz.
Even though Addie is taller than I am, I am the guy. We figure, if she gets the class she wants, she'll be the one dancing the girl's part, so she might as well get used to it. If we could just get other people to come and take lessons with us, so that we could get used to moving through crowds, it would be perfect!
See you on the dance floor!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
43 Days and Counting
I haven't eaten chocolate for 43 days.
This is an unheard of accomplishment. Before that, it was a mere 24 hours. It doesn't really count though, because it was Fast Sunday, and I wasn't eating anything. (Actually, there was a week in 1995 where I didn't eat chocolate, but I was in the hospital, on IV feeding, and they weren't even letting me suck ice chips. It doesn't count if you aren't given the choice).
I am astonished at the power of a spiritual fast. When I am fasting for religious reasons, I can go 24 hours with out eating. I once fasted for 24 hours, two days in a row (with a one hour break in the middle to frantically gulp water and -yes- chug chocolate). But I did it, because it was spiritually motivated. If I'm not fasting, I can't get from one meal to the next without some kind of snack to tide me over.
My niece gave me the idea of a long term fast. She and her sister were fasting for another sister in the mission field: no refined sugar for 18 months.
That sounded a bit extreme to me, but it captured my imagination, and I decided I would try the same thing. (I'm fasting for my school application though; this fast should end some time in April.) And for me to give up chocolate would be as big as refined sugars would be for them. I didn't think I could do it.
Here it is, 43 days later, and I haven't had any chocolate. Not a chip, not a nibble, not a lick.
Are you reeling yet? No? Let me add: there is abundant chocolate available. I make homemade cookies for my kids lunches every week: triple chocolate, oatmeal chocolate chip, simple chocolate chip cookies. There's been ice cream. My kids have had chocolate frosties from Wendy's. And the cruelest test of all: my mother has been teaching Addie and Jake how to bake. Every week they come home with a new brownie, or a new cookie; last week, it was chocolate cheese pie. (I think my mom hates me.)
I've not eaten one bite.
Want to know how I can tell this is entirely a spiritual experiene? I haven't lost one. single. pound. Apparently, I've increased my refined sugar intake to compensate.
Sigh. I wonder what I can fast for that would be worth giving up refined sugar, and if I would increase my fried food intake to compensate?
This is an unheard of accomplishment. Before that, it was a mere 24 hours. It doesn't really count though, because it was Fast Sunday, and I wasn't eating anything. (Actually, there was a week in 1995 where I didn't eat chocolate, but I was in the hospital, on IV feeding, and they weren't even letting me suck ice chips. It doesn't count if you aren't given the choice).
I am astonished at the power of a spiritual fast. When I am fasting for religious reasons, I can go 24 hours with out eating. I once fasted for 24 hours, two days in a row (with a one hour break in the middle to frantically gulp water and -yes- chug chocolate). But I did it, because it was spiritually motivated. If I'm not fasting, I can't get from one meal to the next without some kind of snack to tide me over.
My niece gave me the idea of a long term fast. She and her sister were fasting for another sister in the mission field: no refined sugar for 18 months.
That sounded a bit extreme to me, but it captured my imagination, and I decided I would try the same thing. (I'm fasting for my school application though; this fast should end some time in April.) And for me to give up chocolate would be as big as refined sugars would be for them. I didn't think I could do it.
Here it is, 43 days later, and I haven't had any chocolate. Not a chip, not a nibble, not a lick.
Are you reeling yet? No? Let me add: there is abundant chocolate available. I make homemade cookies for my kids lunches every week: triple chocolate, oatmeal chocolate chip, simple chocolate chip cookies. There's been ice cream. My kids have had chocolate frosties from Wendy's. And the cruelest test of all: my mother has been teaching Addie and Jake how to bake. Every week they come home with a new brownie, or a new cookie; last week, it was chocolate cheese pie. (I think my mom hates me.)
I've not eaten one bite.
Want to know how I can tell this is entirely a spiritual experiene? I haven't lost one. single. pound. Apparently, I've increased my refined sugar intake to compensate.
Sigh. I wonder what I can fast for that would be worth giving up refined sugar, and if I would increase my fried food intake to compensate?
Monday, February 16, 2009
A Glimpse of my Weekend
I worked Saturday. I didn't realize it was Valentine's Day when I put myself on the schedule. I was up and out the door by 5:30. Working on Valentine's Day doesn't have to be a disaster, necessarily. The things that made it a disaster really could have happened any day of the week.
First off, for those who don't already know, I am a CNA -which means that I get to do all of the really dirty work that nurses used to do, with out anything like the pay. I work at a senior long term care center. This is where the elderly go when their families either can't care for them any more, or they require round the clock nursing care. Many of them have regressed to toddler states of mind (and body). Most days, it doesn't really bother me. What can get on your nerves is personalities.
There is one woman, I'll call her Jane, who can be a challenge. Not because she is unpredictable, but because she is so VERY predictable. When I got to work at 6:00 am, she was already up and dressed for the day. She's mostly blind and largely deaf. She barks. I don't mean that she thinks she's a dog; I mean that she issues short, crisp, repetetive demands. She's like that yappy dog the neighbors leave outside because they can't bear to have it inside.
If she's up, it must be time to eat. She has a predictable array of yips and yaps: "Take me to my table! Get me hot chocolate! Where's my bib? Where's my orange juice?" These are repeated at regular, short intervals. If a figure passes in her range of semi-vision, she'll cut loose with a barrage of barks. If you try to explain to her that meal time is not for an hour, the bibs aren't ready yet, the orange juice isn't out, she'll acknowledge what you say, settle down for a moment or two, and then repeat her demands. When the meal is over, she insists on being taken to her room and laid down.
In between meals, she has three activities: sleep (oh, blissful, quiet, speech-free sleep), going to the bathroom, and asking when the next meal is. I don't mind telling her how long it is to the next meal; I'm perfectly capable of saying "Not for two more hours, Jane; yes, I'll come get you. Anytime, Jane." It's the trips to the toilet that are wearing on patience and sanity.
Firstly, she rarely accomplishes much. Secondly, she's always certain that she has accomplished great, solid things (if you get my drift). Thirdly, if you answer her request for confirmation honestly, she calls you a liar and insists that, indeed, she has made a contribution worthy of note. This is a predictable course of events. It will happen at least twice in an 8 hour shift.
But when it happens at the same time that three other people have actual toilet needs, a family member is calling for a head to be put on the chopping block (not mine, you understand; just someone's), it's the end of shift, and my replacement isn't showing up 20 minutes into their shift, I get a little short.
"Yes, Jane, I've never seen one so big!" Again, she's mostly deaf. So in a small, echoing bathroom, I'm nearly shouting this; partly to be heard, and partly out of pique. It was not my shining moment.
On the lighter side: at about 11:30, a large vase of roses, a teddy bear, and a balloon bouquet was delivered for one of the aids, from his significant other. As another aid commented: "We have 15 women working here right now, and the only person getting flowers delivered on Valentine's Day is the gay guy!"
(so you don't think poorly of my Honey, we had celebrated with dinner and a movie the night before, because I'd be too tired to do anything after my shift at work, and I got my flowers that night -before I could tell him about the fellow at work!)
First off, for those who don't already know, I am a CNA -which means that I get to do all of the really dirty work that nurses used to do, with out anything like the pay. I work at a senior long term care center. This is where the elderly go when their families either can't care for them any more, or they require round the clock nursing care. Many of them have regressed to toddler states of mind (and body). Most days, it doesn't really bother me. What can get on your nerves is personalities.
There is one woman, I'll call her Jane, who can be a challenge. Not because she is unpredictable, but because she is so VERY predictable. When I got to work at 6:00 am, she was already up and dressed for the day. She's mostly blind and largely deaf. She barks. I don't mean that she thinks she's a dog; I mean that she issues short, crisp, repetetive demands. She's like that yappy dog the neighbors leave outside because they can't bear to have it inside.
If she's up, it must be time to eat. She has a predictable array of yips and yaps: "Take me to my table! Get me hot chocolate! Where's my bib? Where's my orange juice?" These are repeated at regular, short intervals. If a figure passes in her range of semi-vision, she'll cut loose with a barrage of barks. If you try to explain to her that meal time is not for an hour, the bibs aren't ready yet, the orange juice isn't out, she'll acknowledge what you say, settle down for a moment or two, and then repeat her demands. When the meal is over, she insists on being taken to her room and laid down.
In between meals, she has three activities: sleep (oh, blissful, quiet, speech-free sleep), going to the bathroom, and asking when the next meal is. I don't mind telling her how long it is to the next meal; I'm perfectly capable of saying "Not for two more hours, Jane; yes, I'll come get you. Anytime, Jane." It's the trips to the toilet that are wearing on patience and sanity.
Firstly, she rarely accomplishes much. Secondly, she's always certain that she has accomplished great, solid things (if you get my drift). Thirdly, if you answer her request for confirmation honestly, she calls you a liar and insists that, indeed, she has made a contribution worthy of note. This is a predictable course of events. It will happen at least twice in an 8 hour shift.
But when it happens at the same time that three other people have actual toilet needs, a family member is calling for a head to be put on the chopping block (not mine, you understand; just someone's), it's the end of shift, and my replacement isn't showing up 20 minutes into their shift, I get a little short.
"Yes, Jane, I've never seen one so big!" Again, she's mostly deaf. So in a small, echoing bathroom, I'm nearly shouting this; partly to be heard, and partly out of pique. It was not my shining moment.
On the lighter side: at about 11:30, a large vase of roses, a teddy bear, and a balloon bouquet was delivered for one of the aids, from his significant other. As another aid commented: "We have 15 women working here right now, and the only person getting flowers delivered on Valentine's Day is the gay guy!"
(so you don't think poorly of my Honey, we had celebrated with dinner and a movie the night before, because I'd be too tired to do anything after my shift at work, and I got my flowers that night -before I could tell him about the fellow at work!)
Friday, February 6, 2009
Players Revealed
I was going to wait for more votes on the last blog to finish the story, but apparently people have other demands on their time. (Did that sound whiny?)
Addie is player B. She was unaware that the violin had been hung on the stand, and was further unaware that the stand was behind her when she backed up.
Honey and my initial response to her confession (kudos to her for bringing it up first, by the way), was typified by 10 years of insurance employment: determine proportional negligence. No doubt, Addie should have been more aware of her environment; but player A hung her violin from a junior high music stand by its scroll, for the love of Pete!
So here was my prepared speech for PA's parents:
"This is the sequence of events as Addie explained them to me. Is this what you understand from your daughter? ("Yes;" or "No," followed by an appeal to the witnesses) To tell you the truth, if the situation were reversed, I'd be chewing my daughter out for being so careless with her instrument. I wouldn't be calling you at all. I would feel my daughter's poor judgment more than outweighed someone else's clumsiness. Therefore, we will pay no more than 40%."
Here is what I heard when PA's mother called:
"Hi, you Addie's mom? I A's mom. Addie and A play together ev'ry day, very nice. They friends, they tell you. They stay friends. A's violin neck broke, very bad. You pay half, kids stay friends. How you pay?" (insert oriental accent of choice.)
I'll spare you the broken explanation of a Summerhays repair estimate and the repeated appeals to friendship and demands for half. The estimated repair is $200. So here is what I actually said. "If this were my daughter's violin, I wouldn't call you for any money. She shouldn't have hung her violin from a music stand. But for my daughter's sake, we'll pay no more than $100." (estimates being what they are).
So we are paying for peace, not for justice.
Follow up question: how much, if any, of the repair should Addie be responsible for, or is this just filed under "Sometimes Life Sucks"?
Addie is player B. She was unaware that the violin had been hung on the stand, and was further unaware that the stand was behind her when she backed up.
Honey and my initial response to her confession (kudos to her for bringing it up first, by the way), was typified by 10 years of insurance employment: determine proportional negligence. No doubt, Addie should have been more aware of her environment; but player A hung her violin from a junior high music stand by its scroll, for the love of Pete!
So here was my prepared speech for PA's parents:
"This is the sequence of events as Addie explained them to me. Is this what you understand from your daughter? ("Yes;" or "No," followed by an appeal to the witnesses) To tell you the truth, if the situation were reversed, I'd be chewing my daughter out for being so careless with her instrument. I wouldn't be calling you at all. I would feel my daughter's poor judgment more than outweighed someone else's clumsiness. Therefore, we will pay no more than 40%."
Here is what I heard when PA's mother called:
"Hi, you Addie's mom? I A's mom. Addie and A play together ev'ry day, very nice. They friends, they tell you. They stay friends. A's violin neck broke, very bad. You pay half, kids stay friends. How you pay?" (insert oriental accent of choice.)
I'll spare you the broken explanation of a Summerhays repair estimate and the repeated appeals to friendship and demands for half. The estimated repair is $200. So here is what I actually said. "If this were my daughter's violin, I wouldn't call you for any money. She shouldn't have hung her violin from a music stand. But for my daughter's sake, we'll pay no more than $100." (estimates being what they are).
So we are paying for peace, not for justice.
Follow up question: how much, if any, of the repair should Addie be responsible for, or is this just filed under "Sometimes Life Sucks"?
You are called to Jury Duty
Violin Player A (hereafter referred to as PA), Violin Player B (hereafter referred to as PB), and witness Violin Players C and D (hereafter not referred to at all) were all sent to a practice room to rehearse for solo and ensemble.
PA decided to play the piano and hung her violin from the music stand by the scroll. PB, unaware of this, and positioned between the stand in question and the blackboard, backed into said music stand and knocked it over, breaking the neck on PB's violin.
Should PA's parents contact PB's parents to ask them to help with the repair bill? If so, what percentage should they ask?
Please don't hesitate to register your opinion. Heck, feel free to poll friends and associates.
PA decided to play the piano and hung her violin from the music stand by the scroll. PB, unaware of this, and positioned between the stand in question and the blackboard, backed into said music stand and knocked it over, breaking the neck on PB's violin.
Should PA's parents contact PB's parents to ask them to help with the repair bill? If so, what percentage should they ask?
Please don't hesitate to register your opinion. Heck, feel free to poll friends and associates.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Meet the Fam
This feels a little silly, actually. At this point, anyone who reads this already knows who we are. But I'm dreaming big, and I made people cough up different information than I usually put in the annual Christmas letter. So here we are.
Lyn
Addie
Jake
Lizzie
First of all, the last name is Milne, and it rhymes with kiln (that's right, like the blog name). It isn't Mill-knee, or Mill-en, or Mill-ine. It's one syllable. The stars of our show include:
Honey (alias to be supplied at a later date).
Age 42
Favorite hobby: playing the banjo
Favorite game: chess
When he grows up, he wants to : be a stage performer at Disneyland
His favorite food is : Mexican
His Big Crazy Wish is: to live in a country that actually adheres to the Constitution.
His favorite quote is : "Yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift; that is why it is called the present." (Kung Fu Panda)
Lyn
Age 37
Favorite Hobby: reading
Favorite Game: Ticket to Ride
When she grows up, she wants to be: an awesome nurse
Her favorite food is: Bajio Taquitos
Her Big Crazy Wish is: to be a published author
Her Favorite quote is: "Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam." (the Princess Bride)
Addie
Age: 14
Favorite Hobby: writing stories
Favorite game: http://www.howrse.com/
When she grows up, she wants to be: a Renaissance Woman
Her favorite food is: ice cream
Her Big Crazy Wish is: to be able to change into any animal
Her Favorite quote is: "It comes in pints? I'm getting one." (Fellowship of the Ring)
Jake
Age 12
Favorite hobby: football
Favorite Game: Madden '08
When he grows up, he wants to be: an NFL player
His favorite food is: Chocolate
His Big Crazy Wish is: a full-ride scholarship to BYU
His favorite quote is: "Do or do not. There is no try." (Empire Strikes Back)
Tom
Age 9 (almost10)
Favorite hobby: drawing
Favorite Game: Lego Indiana Jones
When he grows up, he wants to be: an artist
Favorite Food: Potato chips and cottage cheese
His Big Crazy Wish: to be a great wrestler and not break any bones.
His favorite quote: "Sticks and stones may breaketh my bones, which is why I runneth away!" (Shrek 3)
Lizzie
Age 8
Favorite hobby: playing with Addie
Favorite game: Nintendo Star Fox Assault
When she grows up, she wants to be a: grocery checker for Macey's
Favorite food: catsup
Her Big Crazy Wish: That Darth Vader were really alive.
Her favorite quote: "Ski-doosh!" (Kung Fu Panda)
So that's our family. You'll be learning more about us that anyone truly wants to know, I'm sure. That's why names have been changed to protect the innocent!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
I wonder what grade we'll get?
I hate school science fairs. Kids hate school science fairs. I wonder if teachers hate school science fairs?
The thing I hate the most is "helping" my kids come up with an original idea. Teachers have banned volcanoes, plants and water, the solar system, and teeth in soda experiments because they have seen them so often. So coming up with something new is a challenge, and my kids don't like my ideas. (Someday, I'll talk some one into doing an experiment on fluid intake vs output; they may have to pee into a container, but I'll bet no one has ever done it before!)
The other thing I hate is striking the proper balance between helping and taking over. It's supposed to be their experience, but when you go to the school displays, you can tell that there are some parents in serious competition. I don't like worrying about what kind of grade I'd get in 7th grade (or 2nd, or 4th) science.
All that said, here is Jake's experiment on diffusion (I'll introduce the fam more fully tomorrow; never waste good blogging material!). The idea and procedures were mine, but the work, the calculations, the poster board and the final report are his.
I hope we get a good grade!
The thing I hate the most is "helping" my kids come up with an original idea. Teachers have banned volcanoes, plants and water, the solar system, and teeth in soda experiments because they have seen them so often. So coming up with something new is a challenge, and my kids don't like my ideas. (Someday, I'll talk some one into doing an experiment on fluid intake vs output; they may have to pee into a container, but I'll bet no one has ever done it before!)
The other thing I hate is striking the proper balance between helping and taking over. It's supposed to be their experience, but when you go to the school displays, you can tell that there are some parents in serious competition. I don't like worrying about what kind of grade I'd get in 7th grade (or 2nd, or 4th) science.
All that said, here is Jake's experiment on diffusion (I'll introduce the fam more fully tomorrow; never waste good blogging material!). The idea and procedures were mine, but the work, the calculations, the poster board and the final report are his.
I hope we get a good grade!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Welcome to my home
I love blogs. I love reading what other people are up to. I love writing. I'd love to practice more of it. A blog seems like a low key, no pressure way to get after it.
I read one blog with great interest. The woman posted a picture of something she had done. Reaction included some negatives. She remarked later that she was amazed that people would say nasty things when it was so much easier to let it go. Why, she wondered, would someone enter your home, only to say what an ugly couch you had (metaphorically speaking). Some one else responded, "They didn't enter your home to see your couch; you hauled it out onto the front lawn for all the world to see."
That said, Hello, world; here is my couch.
I read one blog with great interest. The woman posted a picture of something she had done. Reaction included some negatives. She remarked later that she was amazed that people would say nasty things when it was so much easier to let it go. Why, she wondered, would someone enter your home, only to say what an ugly couch you had (metaphorically speaking). Some one else responded, "They didn't enter your home to see your couch; you hauled it out onto the front lawn for all the world to see."
That said, Hello, world; here is my couch.
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