I am leaving today for the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators annual conference in New York City and I have just ruined nine, count 'em, nine, sheets of business cards trying to get them to print properly. It looks fine on a regular sheet, all nice and lined up when I hold it up to the light with a sheet of business cards. So why, WHY, when I put the actual business card sheet in does it print a half-inch higher? Huh? This is the ultimate in frustration.
They will print properly on the WRONG side of the business card, the kind that is not designed to hold ink. But on the proper side, somehow the printer senses the first horizontal perforation and starts printing there, rather than half an inch below where it supposed to print. It thinks it's smarter than me.
I need the damned business cards.
Update: It worked all right on David's printer. There were still some quirks, but they were manageable. Shame on me for not thinking of that before I wasted 11 sheets on mine. I got 22 useable cards out of that whole package.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
An unforgiveable gap in my children's poetry knowledge
A few minutes ago, Madison was reading some book or another while in the bath. She called out to me, "Mom, what are lime rix?"
"Lime rix? Spell it, please."
"L-I-M-E-R-I-C-K-S."
Can you believe I have never taught my children what a limerick is? How could that be? It is true. But I couldn't believe that she had never come across one. I thought we must have discussed it. So I told her one. Actually, I didn't tell her one, exactly. What I said was:
She gave me her patented Madisonian you-have-taken-leave-of-your-senses look. So I told her this one:
What are your favorites? It would be fun to torture her with more.
"Lime rix? Spell it, please."
"L-I-M-E-R-I-C-K-S."
Can you believe I have never taught my children what a limerick is? How could that be? It is true. But I couldn't believe that she had never come across one. I thought we must have discussed it. So I told her one. Actually, I didn't tell her one, exactly. What I said was:
Duh DUH-duh duh DUH-duh duh DUH,
Duh DUH-duh duh DUH-duh duh DUH.
Duh DUH-duh duh DUH-duh,
Duh DUH-duh duh DUH-duh,
Duh DUH-duh duh DUH-duh duh DUH!
She gave me her patented Madisonian you-have-taken-leave-of-your-senses look. So I told her this one:
The tutor who tooted the flute
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor,
Is it harder to toot,
Or to tuter two tooters to toot?
What are your favorites? It would be fun to torture her with more.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I live for afternoons like this
I've been listening to an audio rendition of Gordon Wood's book Revolutionary Characters lately. Wood is an extremely clear writer, who, fairly economically, gives us a wonderful comprehensive introduction to the characters of America's founding.
I put it on here in the kitchen while I've been cleaning and cooking this afternoon. About 40 minutes ago, Madison wandered in with her sewing kit. "Okay if I sit here and listen and sew?" she asked.
(Are you kidding? I LIVE for this, child!)
"Sure. Enjoy."
We've been hearing all about Thomas Paine. Next is Aaron Burr. Madison says she doesn't understand a lot of what is being said, and she's not asking any questions, but she's still content to sit and listen to an explanation of the ideas of America's founding.
This has always been my vision of how life/school/intellectual & personal growth should be (not the lack of questions, of course, but the interest and harmony). I would love to think that this is just the beginning for her.
I'm pretty much done with what I was going to do here in the kitchen, and was going to go work on some accounting stuff downstairs. But Madison is so happy sitting here, and sewing, and listening, that I can't bring myself to break the rhythm.
Think I'll make a pumpkin pie.
I put it on here in the kitchen while I've been cleaning and cooking this afternoon. About 40 minutes ago, Madison wandered in with her sewing kit. "Okay if I sit here and listen and sew?" she asked.
(Are you kidding? I LIVE for this, child!)
"Sure. Enjoy."
We've been hearing all about Thomas Paine. Next is Aaron Burr. Madison says she doesn't understand a lot of what is being said, and she's not asking any questions, but she's still content to sit and listen to an explanation of the ideas of America's founding.
This has always been my vision of how life/school/intellectual & personal growth should be (not the lack of questions, of course, but the interest and harmony). I would love to think that this is just the beginning for her.
I'm pretty much done with what I was going to do here in the kitchen, and was going to go work on some accounting stuff downstairs. But Madison is so happy sitting here, and sewing, and listening, that I can't bring myself to break the rhythm.
Think I'll make a pumpkin pie.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Balance and fixing broken stuff
There is a lesson here, some principle to be derived about the appropriate place that "fixing what is broken" should have in one's life, but I'm still not sure what the principle is.
By "fixing what is broken," I am not being metaphorical.
When something breaks -- a light bulb fizzles, a hinge comes off, the pipes burst, a gutter comes down in a snowstorm, your car starts emanating horrible screeching noises from the engine at random intervals -- there is (and by "there is," I mean, "I have") a real tendency to hope that it goes away on its own. Especially the car thing.
Why? Because, in our division-of-labor society where many things are fairly disposable and where schedules are terribly tight, you never know what is worth it to get fixed, or to let die when their impairment is getting in your way.
But then, there is the undeniable pleasure of fixing something that is broken. Especially when I fix, or get something fixed, right away, I take a real pride in feeling grown-up and capable. And, often, it is easy to do, and you feel like a dodo for not having investigated earlier.
Take yesterday. All week, the Subaru has been emitting the aforementioned horrible screeching sounds when the wheels have been moving, but never consistently; sometimes, when turning. Sometimes, whenbreaking (sorry, Freudian slip typo) braking. Sometimes, when accelerating. I was never convinced that I was in imminent danger, but boy was it getting on my nerves. So, I uncharacteristically decided to take action right away and get it fixed. Called the mechanic Tuesday, got in Wednesday morning.
One hour after I arrived, I was driving away in my happy car. The screeching problem had been the alternator belt; it just needed to be tightened.
But more to the point: Something else was fixed. In the summer, the phalange holding together the front and back parts of the exhaust system had rusted through and finally de-coupled during The Big Engine Blowout when we were downstate. As a consequence, we were sufficiently de-muffled that people on the street would turn and look at the car every time we accelerated. I learned that it would be $700 to get a new exhaust pipe system, and I was damned if I thought it worth $700 to fix a noise. So, I got used to feeling like the teenage guy who lived across the street when I was a kid, the guy who thought mufflers were uncool.
But then, yesterday, after the mechanic tightened the alternator belt, he turned his attention to that pipe. From the waiting room, I heard the unmistakable sound of metal being grindingly severed, and twenty minutes later, Rich came back in, smiling. "Patched it!" he said, triumphantly. He had welded a bit of spare pipe in, and voila.
My car is now whisper-quiet. Or, as whisper-quiet as a nine-year-old Subaru can be. No screeching, no vrooming. And all for $80. It had not been necessary to accept and endure the noise for the past five months. I feel a little silly for having done so.
There is a lesson here, a lesson that goes beyond the truistic, about why we should fix things that are broken even when it's slightly inconvenient and the benefits are not immediately obvious. I just have to figure out what it is. It has to do with the need to take a few simple additional steps, if possible, to figure out the full reality of the situation.
I'd love to hear feedback.
By "fixing what is broken," I am not being metaphorical.
When something breaks -- a light bulb fizzles, a hinge comes off, the pipes burst, a gutter comes down in a snowstorm, your car starts emanating horrible screeching noises from the engine at random intervals -- there is (and by "there is," I mean, "I have") a real tendency to hope that it goes away on its own. Especially the car thing.
Why? Because, in our division-of-labor society where many things are fairly disposable and where schedules are terribly tight, you never know what is worth it to get fixed, or to let die when their impairment is getting in your way.
But then, there is the undeniable pleasure of fixing something that is broken. Especially when I fix, or get something fixed, right away, I take a real pride in feeling grown-up and capable. And, often, it is easy to do, and you feel like a dodo for not having investigated earlier.
Take yesterday. All week, the Subaru has been emitting the aforementioned horrible screeching sounds when the wheels have been moving, but never consistently; sometimes, when turning. Sometimes, when
One hour after I arrived, I was driving away in my happy car. The screeching problem had been the alternator belt; it just needed to be tightened.
But more to the point: Something else was fixed. In the summer, the phalange holding together the front and back parts of the exhaust system had rusted through and finally de-coupled during The Big Engine Blowout when we were downstate. As a consequence, we were sufficiently de-muffled that people on the street would turn and look at the car every time we accelerated. I learned that it would be $700 to get a new exhaust pipe system, and I was damned if I thought it worth $700 to fix a noise. So, I got used to feeling like the teenage guy who lived across the street when I was a kid, the guy who thought mufflers were uncool.
But then, yesterday, after the mechanic tightened the alternator belt, he turned his attention to that pipe. From the waiting room, I heard the unmistakable sound of metal being grindingly severed, and twenty minutes later, Rich came back in, smiling. "Patched it!" he said, triumphantly. He had welded a bit of spare pipe in, and voila.
My car is now whisper-quiet. Or, as whisper-quiet as a nine-year-old Subaru can be. No screeching, no vrooming. And all for $80. It had not been necessary to accept and endure the noise for the past five months. I feel a little silly for having done so.
There is a lesson here, a lesson that goes beyond the truistic, about why we should fix things that are broken even when it's slightly inconvenient and the benefits are not immediately obvious. I just have to figure out what it is. It has to do with the need to take a few simple additional steps, if possible, to figure out the full reality of the situation.
I'd love to hear feedback.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inauguration at lunch
The girls and I were at a restaurant today; it was a TVs-all-over kind of place, and every set had the inauguration on. I've never seen a restaurant like that be so quiet.
We were seated during Obama's speech. We didn't pay that much attention; they weren't that interested in the content, and I didn't want to hear or dwell on how much government intervention was in the works, how much more I was going to have to pay to fix the auto industry or the health care industry or whatever industry.
But, people near us were talking about the "first black guy to be president," and as I figured the girls were going to hear about this sooner or later, I decided to use the occasion casually to introduce the idea. We don't think of people in terms of race, David and I don't use "race words" to designate groups of people, because it has become anachronistic and, rather than being useful, it gets in the way of actual meaningful ideas about who individuals are. And so, the girls do not see people in terms of their physical characteristics; they really don't notice what people look like at all, unless they're thinking of how well someone's skin and hair color blends with what they have on (like when we're watching What Not To Wear). They certainly don't think of themselves as "white" -- when they find out that some people think this is meaningful, they're going to be surprised.
So, they're naive, and properly so, I think, when it comes to this issue. But I figured I'd rather be the one to float the idea than someone else, who wouldn't know their context. So, while we were munching away, I said,
"You know, some people are making a fuss because Obama is the first U.S. President to have dark skin."
"Why?" said Madison, mildly interested.
"Well, people like 'firsts.' I guess it's the same kind of fuss that people will make when the first woman becomes President."
"Well, even I might make a fuss about that," said Madison.
"Why?" I asked.
"Hmm. I don't know," she said.
And that was that. The exact right level of discussion, I think.
We were seated during Obama's speech. We didn't pay that much attention; they weren't that interested in the content, and I didn't want to hear or dwell on how much government intervention was in the works, how much more I was going to have to pay to fix the auto industry or the health care industry or whatever industry.
But, people near us were talking about the "first black guy to be president," and as I figured the girls were going to hear about this sooner or later, I decided to use the occasion casually to introduce the idea. We don't think of people in terms of race, David and I don't use "race words" to designate groups of people, because it has become anachronistic and, rather than being useful, it gets in the way of actual meaningful ideas about who individuals are. And so, the girls do not see people in terms of their physical characteristics; they really don't notice what people look like at all, unless they're thinking of how well someone's skin and hair color blends with what they have on (like when we're watching What Not To Wear). They certainly don't think of themselves as "white" -- when they find out that some people think this is meaningful, they're going to be surprised.
So, they're naive, and properly so, I think, when it comes to this issue. But I figured I'd rather be the one to float the idea than someone else, who wouldn't know their context. So, while we were munching away, I said,
"You know, some people are making a fuss because Obama is the first U.S. President to have dark skin."
"Why?" said Madison, mildly interested.
"Well, people like 'firsts.' I guess it's the same kind of fuss that people will make when the first woman becomes President."
"Well, even I might make a fuss about that," said Madison.
"Why?" I asked.
"Hmm. I don't know," she said.
And that was that. The exact right level of discussion, I think.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Another accurate observation
Madison, who is a bit less graceful than your average child, was looking forward to a lazy day.
"You know what I like about Sundays when we have nothing scheduled?"
"What?"
"I can sit around all day and read."
"That makes sense. I like those days too."
"Yes, well with me it's especially nice because there's so much less of a chance of getting hurt."
Hard to argue with that.
"You know what I like about Sundays when we have nothing scheduled?"
"What?"
"I can sit around all day and read."
"That makes sense. I like those days too."
"Yes, well with me it's especially nice because there's so much less of a chance of getting hurt."
Hard to argue with that.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Update on Disney on Ice
David said it best:
The content level: Imagine taking notes on the Cliff's Notes version of a Disney Movie.
Speaking of which: Does anyone know why Mulan joined the Chinese Army to save her family honor?
Anyway, the girls liked it. So it was worthwhile on that dimension. And, we do Stuff. As a matter of principle. (Especially when they're free tickets that I get for being a member of The Media.)
"Just exactly as pointless as you thought it might be."
The content level: Imagine taking notes on the Cliff's Notes version of a Disney Movie.
Speaking of which: Does anyone know why Mulan joined the Chinese Army to save her family honor?
Anyway, the girls liked it. So it was worthwhile on that dimension. And, we do Stuff. As a matter of principle. (Especially when they're free tickets that I get for being a member of The Media.)
It's six degrees! SIX!
It's dreadfully cold, and will actually get colder as the day progresses. It's snowing outside (of course), little hard icy flakes. That's why it's time for...
SNUGGLE SCHOOL!
Wherein the three of us get into my bed, turn on the electric mattress pad, and do school there.
Now I'm almost regretting that I accepted the media tickets for the first night of Disney on Ice tonight. Disney on Ice? Hell, Rochester on Ice!
Disney on Ice is not exactly my thing, but isn't it a law that you have to bring your kids to at least one Disney-type event during their childhood?
SNUGGLE SCHOOL!
Wherein the three of us get into my bed, turn on the electric mattress pad, and do school there.
Now I'm almost regretting that I accepted the media tickets for the first night of Disney on Ice tonight. Disney on Ice? Hell, Rochester on Ice!
Disney on Ice is not exactly my thing, but isn't it a law that you have to bring your kids to at least one Disney-type event during their childhood?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Gross? Funny? I'm not sure
I have a new dentist.
He seemed fine, he seemed competent, he seemed personable.
He filled three cavities for me this morning, so my whole mouth is still numb. The girls are at a homeschool activity from 9:30-2:00. I'm talking awfully funny, so the fact that they are doing their thing now instead of talking to me is bad from their perspective, good from mine.
The problem: I'm back at home, and I just found a wadded-up roll of gauze in my upper left quadrant, between my gum and my lip.
I do not know whether to hold it against the dentist.
(No, I don't mean literally.)
Do I?
He seemed fine, he seemed competent, he seemed personable.
He filled three cavities for me this morning, so my whole mouth is still numb. The girls are at a homeschool activity from 9:30-2:00. I'm talking awfully funny, so the fact that they are doing their thing now instead of talking to me is bad from their perspective, good from mine.
The problem: I'm back at home, and I just found a wadded-up roll of gauze in my upper left quadrant, between my gum and my lip.
I do not know whether to hold it against the dentist.
(No, I don't mean literally.)
Do I?
Monday, January 12, 2009
Young Novelist's Workbook
Madison is relishing, positively reveling in, a workbook that helps kids write novels, called the Young Novelist's Workbook, from the "National Novel Writing Month" folks who encourage us all to write a novel during the month of November.
There are a lot of fill-in-the-blank exercises about characters and plot, as well as theory about what makes for a good novel. The e-book (PDF file) is free, a little over 100 pages. I printed out the first dozen pages for Madison to use during the "15 Minutes of Writing" we now do every day, and she loved it so much she did it for half an hour and asked me to print out another dozen pages. The PDF file is here.
My belly hurts...
Sometime back in December, all four of us went through a bad stomach virus, bam, bam, bam, bam, all in a row.
It seems that neither David nor Ella has gotten back up to par since then.
Almost every day, several times each day, I get a mournful "My belly hurts..." from Ella. We usually give her some yogurt or bread and it goes away. And, she just simply finds that she can't eat as much at one sitting. Then, the belly hurts, but in a different way.
And the thing is, it's worse, much worse, if she doesn't want to do something. That's the stickler for me.
She purports to be very nervous that she is going to throw up, at these times. When this first started, a few days after the illness had subsided, I took it totally seriously. But then, we started to realize that there was little danger of her actually vomiting, and that she feels worse if she's hungry or very full.
I would think that it's just Ella being over-proprioceptive.
But then, David reports that he's still not totally up to snuff, digestive-system-wise, ever since that bug hit us all.
So, I can't tell if there is physiological basis for this all. And, I wouldn't really know what to do about it if there WAS some physiological basis. So, I'm not QUITE brushing all of this off, but for now it seems there is nothing to do about it. Except keep a lot of yogurt and applesauce on hand.
It seems that neither David nor Ella has gotten back up to par since then.
Almost every day, several times each day, I get a mournful "My belly hurts..." from Ella. We usually give her some yogurt or bread and it goes away. And, she just simply finds that she can't eat as much at one sitting. Then, the belly hurts, but in a different way.
And the thing is, it's worse, much worse, if she doesn't want to do something. That's the stickler for me.
She purports to be very nervous that she is going to throw up, at these times. When this first started, a few days after the illness had subsided, I took it totally seriously. But then, we started to realize that there was little danger of her actually vomiting, and that she feels worse if she's hungry or very full.
I would think that it's just Ella being over-proprioceptive.
But then, David reports that he's still not totally up to snuff, digestive-system-wise, ever since that bug hit us all.
So, I can't tell if there is physiological basis for this all. And, I wouldn't really know what to do about it if there WAS some physiological basis. So, I'm not QUITE brushing all of this off, but for now it seems there is nothing to do about it. Except keep a lot of yogurt and applesauce on hand.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Memorize the Greek alphabet in less than 10 minutes
Thanks to Melissa Wiley, I discovered this link from Steve Demme, the Math-U-See guy, teaching how to memorize the Greek alphabet in less than 10 minutes:
It works! Well, that is to say, it worked for me in one sitting, and it will probably take five or six times with the girls all told for them to have it down pat. Really, you grownups out there, check it out.
I don't know why it actually means something for me now to know the Greek alphabet, but it does. It's a nice little gap that was filled in, and rather pleasurably, too.
It works! Well, that is to say, it worked for me in one sitting, and it will probably take five or six times with the girls all told for them to have it down pat. Really, you grownups out there, check it out.
I don't know why it actually means something for me now to know the Greek alphabet, but it does. It's a nice little gap that was filled in, and rather pleasurably, too.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Working together on poetry
New notebooks with great photos on the front were all it took to spur a poetry morning here.
They are working together, helping each other.
As Madison said, "Ella is my Poetry A-sister."
They are working together, helping each other.
As Madison said, "Ella is my Poetry A-sister."
A first -- but maybe I should check the laws in my state
Today, for the first time, Ella stayed home alone.
It was only 10 minutes; I just needed to pick up Madison from Science Club about a mile and a half away. Ella wanted to do it, so we did.
We got her a list of relevant phone numbers, including 911 and my cell phone. We made sure she knew that she shouldn't open the door to anyone. She has a level head on her shoulders, and was confident about it being no problem.
While I was gone, Ella actually finished her reading and did her karate practice.
I came back to a smiling nearly-8-year-old.
Madison was impressed and amazed by turns, all the way home. She said that she's too nervous to try it, still. But I'm betting that this changes soon now that she has the proof that Ella did it and was fine.
I don't even know what the state law is about when you can leave children home alone, and for how long. Or even if there is a state law.
It was only 10 minutes; I just needed to pick up Madison from Science Club about a mile and a half away. Ella wanted to do it, so we did.
We got her a list of relevant phone numbers, including 911 and my cell phone. We made sure she knew that she shouldn't open the door to anyone. She has a level head on her shoulders, and was confident about it being no problem.
While I was gone, Ella actually finished her reading and did her karate practice.
I came back to a smiling nearly-8-year-old.
Madison was impressed and amazed by turns, all the way home. She said that she's too nervous to try it, still. But I'm betting that this changes soon now that she has the proof that Ella did it and was fine.
I don't even know what the state law is about when you can leave children home alone, and for how long. Or even if there is a state law.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Ten years ago exactly
Back up, first, to ten years ago YESTERDAY, December 31, 1998. I was at a client's site in Endicott, NY, training them to use Mail Order Manager. I was scheduled to fly home that evening.
And, I thought I might be pregnant.
I was with sympathetic ladies, so when I told them so, late that afternoon, they offered to drive me to the airport a little early so I could pick up a pregnancy test at CVS. Well, we needed to work right up to the last minute, but I decided I could just get one at Wegmans when I get home. Ironically, my flight out of Endicott was late; I could have gotten the test.
The Philadelphia airport didn't sell pregnancy tests, although of course I looked. And when I landed in Rochester at 10:15, I discovered that:
Wegmans had closed early for New Year's Eve.
Oh, Wegmans, the one and only time you've let me down.
So I had to spend the rest of the evening, at friends', keeping my secret. I found out that Wegmans re-opened at 7am on New Year's Day. So I crept out of bed at 6:45 without disturbing David, and was at the door of the Perinton Wegmans when it opened. I marched right over to the pregnancy tests, grabbed one, and went over to the one cashier who was just opening her station. I was the only person in the store.
The cashier looked at my item. Then looked at me. Then said, "So, do you want it to be yes, or no?"
(Can you imagine what I would have felt like if I wanted it to be no?)
Anyhow, I went home, took the test, and there she was, the cutest little Plus Sign you ever saw.
I went down to my office, wrote a letter to the baby, and then went and woke up David to give him a little New Year's surprise.
10 years ago today.
Madison loves this story.
Interestingly enough, I was at this same client's for the day on Tuesday, on our way down to visit our friends' in Pennsylvania, helping a new employee. Ten years ago minus one day exactly.
The folks at the Wedding Gown Preservation Company love this story, too. And it was a nice bonus that they got to meet the person who had been just a little clump of cells the last time I was there.
And, I thought I might be pregnant.
I was with sympathetic ladies, so when I told them so, late that afternoon, they offered to drive me to the airport a little early so I could pick up a pregnancy test at CVS. Well, we needed to work right up to the last minute, but I decided I could just get one at Wegmans when I get home. Ironically, my flight out of Endicott was late; I could have gotten the test.
The Philadelphia airport didn't sell pregnancy tests, although of course I looked. And when I landed in Rochester at 10:15, I discovered that:
Wegmans had closed early for New Year's Eve.
Oh, Wegmans, the one and only time you've let me down.
So I had to spend the rest of the evening, at friends', keeping my secret. I found out that Wegmans re-opened at 7am on New Year's Day. So I crept out of bed at 6:45 without disturbing David, and was at the door of the Perinton Wegmans when it opened. I marched right over to the pregnancy tests, grabbed one, and went over to the one cashier who was just opening her station. I was the only person in the store.
The cashier looked at my item. Then looked at me. Then said, "So, do you want it to be yes, or no?"
(Can you imagine what I would have felt like if I wanted it to be no?)
Anyhow, I went home, took the test, and there she was, the cutest little Plus Sign you ever saw.
I went down to my office, wrote a letter to the baby, and then went and woke up David to give him a little New Year's surprise.
10 years ago today.
Madison loves this story.
Interestingly enough, I was at this same client's for the day on Tuesday, on our way down to visit our friends' in Pennsylvania, helping a new employee. Ten years ago minus one day exactly.
The folks at the Wedding Gown Preservation Company love this story, too. And it was a nice bonus that they got to meet the person who had been just a little clump of cells the last time I was there.
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