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| Wednesday, July 29th, 2009 | | 2:49 pm |
The origins of a movie mystery
So I'm on the porch watching the boys in the paddling pool. It's another poor summer for us, with both of my summer courses getting cancelled for low enrollment, but even still, I'm from a family that's always thought, "Why buy a specific toy to play with when household objects have their own play value?" Case in point: one of my most memorable summer swimming experiences took place when my grandparents got a new chest freezer, and before the old one was carted away by the garbagemen, my grandpa removed the lid, filled the two compartments inside with water, and my brother, sister, and about a dozen neighborhood kids splashed around in a 6'x3'x3' space quite happily for an entire day. The boys had two different squirt bottles, but the one that functioned with a hollow drawing tube has lost that tube, and now only squirts if held upside-down. This is too much work, apparently, so they took to just filling the bottles and shaking water at each other. Connor opts for an overhead dump approach, since he's half again as tall as his brother. Griffin shakes three or four lashes at Connor--then throws the bottle at him. I watch this happen, and it suddenly occurs to me: I'm watching somebody make the same choice that's mystified me in movie context for decades. You know how someone fires a gun until the clip or revolver is empty, then throws the gun at the bad guys? By now, everyone in the theater just groans, if you see it at all anymore; endless ammo or reloads on the fly have been pretty much de rigeur since The Matrix. I've never understood how throwing the gun makes sense, or how anybody could be short-sighted enough to throw away the only weapon they have, in hopes of the possibility of inflicting, at best, a bruise. Well, apparently, they're thinking like three-year-olds. Mystery solved. | | Wednesday, July 8th, 2009 | | 6:06 pm |
An upside to Asperger's?
I've been trying to marshal my thoughts for this entry since this weekend, and although I'm sick as a dog with a summer cold today, I've decided to just brain-dump rather than wait for the muses (fickle bitches) to crystallize my observations into pure, poetic perfection. Lake Geneva's an unusual place on a summer weekend. What most people imagine are the white, upper-class families who own summer properties in the area. This image fails to account for the Chicagoland daytrippers and their families, who can't afford to stay up here for an extended vacation, but flock to the beaches and parks with their picnic lunches for a budget mini-vacation, or the growing Latino population of the entire SE WI area (some put it at close to 20 percent in some communities). Many of those daytrippers are South Asian or Eastern European, so when you add in the local diversity, you get a much more cosmopolitan people-scape than one might've expected from Chicago's historic "Millionaires' Playground." I took the kids to the park on Sunday, partly to let them run off some energy, partly to clear some air for Cam to get a little editing done. It was sunny and hot, and crowded with about a dozen large family groups grilling out at various stations around the place. From the bench where I tried to sit and relax (ha), long chunks of time passed in which I heard absolutely no English spoken at all, just a lively combination of Urdu, Russian, Spanish, Vietnamese, and other linguistic textures. As a student of languages, a world traveller, and a bleeding-heart liberal with aspirations for a global utopia, it made me happy in my heart. Now, Connor, with his difficulty reading social signals that comes with Asperger's Syndrome, views the playground as a place to play with someone other than his annoying younger brother, whether or not he knows them. Whether or not they invited him to play is similarly irrelevant, and I have to keep a close watch on him in these situations for a number of reasons. One, he can be a real pest--no social signals means no sensitivity to when he's worn out his welcome. Two, his idea of fun can be overly energetic, too rough, and frequently inappropriate in subject matter and personal boundaries. Like a kid with Tourrette's has words they come back to over and over, kids with Asperger's often fixate on certain subjects, both in terms of favorites (for us, it's all about the superheroes. If it's super, in our house, it's super) and preoccupations. Connor's been long a bit obsessive about romantic topics--kissing (and, by proxy, lipstick), marriage, etc. This is not related to his tendency to express his enthusiasm and affection physically with hugs; that's just the way our family is, but his issues lead him to take that to uncomfortable lengths. Most of his friends and family have learned to live with this, but strangers can be (rightly) uneasy on the receiving end of his energetic affections. So when I see him inserting himself into a playgroup or family at the playground, I make a point of introducing him and me to them early on, letting them know that if he starts being more trouble than fun, they should let both of us know right away; it's not their job to put up with my kid's behavior. And that's what I did when I saw him playing with a Pakistani family and their frisbee at the park Sunday. I'm not just jumping to conclusions here; I'm a pretty well educated observer of humanity. They were clearly South Asian, with the adult women in salwar kameezes (plural?) and relaxed hijab. I could see at least three mom/dad pairs in play, as well as a 20-something guy, an older teen girl, and a grandparent or two in the shade. And when one of the toddlers got stuck on the playground equipment, a plaintive "Mamaji!!!" rang out. Anyway, Connor invited himself into the frisbee game which had started up among one of the dads, the 20-something guy, and a boy about Connor's age; a little girl no more than a year old or so was the field hazard, wandering in and out of people's legs without a care in the world. They later brought out a kite, letting him have a pass at running with the string, and generally playing really wonderfully with him. Griff was playing with his match in age, a little boy whose sharing skills were not quite as advanced as Griff's are, but they invented a cute little rescue game, where one would be "stranded" on the slide, and the other, at the top, would help "pull them up to safety." I made myself known early on, and only intervened a couple of times: to make sure he wasn't hogging the kite, to advise him on frisbee technique which would keep the toy from winging anyone in the head, and to remind him to keep his cool when "monkey in the middle" got a little intense for him (he tends to take prolonged stays in the middle somewhat personally...okay, a LOT personally). Every time I asked the dad if they needed a break from him, he smiled and shook his head, insisting he was behaving well and they were enjoying him. At the end of our time there (close to when I could see they were ready to sit and eat), I reminded him to thank them for letting him play with them and their stuff for so long; he did, and they were as gracious as ever. Now, what I'm describing is pretty typical of the way I was raised; when we'd travel for weeks at a stretch, first in my grandparents' station wagon, later in my family's motor home, my brother, sister and I got tired of each other's company pretty darn quickly. So whomever we found to play with at whatever campground we landed in that night was more interesting from the word "Hi." We grew up first in Milwaukee, a town that prides itself on ethnic (if not always racial) diversity, then in Whitewater, a little college town with a number of programs that attracted foreign students, especially from Africa and Asia. My high school was only 500 students, and of the students of color (probably about 50, at a guess), only 2 were actually African-American; the other black students were actually children of African faculty members. I learned about the special needs of black people's hair and skin when a South African Episcopal bishop and his family moved in across the street from us and had to take showers at our house, because we had softened water and the parsonage didn't. I had a year-long interracial relationship, and didn't realize it was one until four years later. None of this is meant to be self-congratulatory. I'm just making the point that I'm the kind of parent who's pleased that 2/3 of Connor's best friends from school are racially different than him and none of them seem to notice much or care. And here's where the Asperger's thing comes in. Asperger's Syndrome is partially defined by an inability to pick up on social signals, both emotional and even just attention-getters (like following other people's gazes to find out what's so interesting). So, while we deal with the hurdles of teaching why empathy is a good thing, and why some jokes are or aren't funny, and how to know when you're getting on someone's nerves or making them uncomfortable, we apparently DON'T have to do much to teach Connor to treat everyone equally or that appearances can't tell us much about the worth of another person or even that just because all the other folks around seem a bit standoffish toward someone doesn't mean there's anything wrong with them. And, whether they know it (or like it) or not, everyone gets hugs. Probably more than they wanted. I told Connor later that I was proud of him for playing so nicely with that family, and treating them with the same affection and respect (or lack thereof) he gives everyone. I tried to explain that, because of their skin color or the way their moms were dressed, some people might have assumed that they were people to stay away from. I got blank stares for my trouble, and he suffered the extra-long hug I forced on him. He didn't get why I was making a big deal out of it, I could tell. And that's how I learned my first upside to Asperger's Syndrome. | | Friday, April 27th, 2007 | | 3:45 pm |
Here lies the witch next door
From an ACLU newsletter: "Veterans Win Right to Post Religious Symbol on Headstones In response to separate lawsuits filed by the ACLU and Americans United for Separation of Church and State, the Department of Veterans Affairs agreed to allow family members to include a Wiccan symbol on the headstones of deceased veterans. The ACLU has long argued that veterans and their families should be free to choose religious symbols on military headstones -- whether Crosses, Stars of David, Pentacles, or other symbols -- and that the government should not be permitted to restrict such religious expression in federal cemeteries. The ACLU lawsuit was filed on behalf of two churches and three individuals, including the mother of a soldier who was killed in action in Iraq in 2004. The National Cemetery Administration had previously approved 38 emblems of belief for veterans, encompassing a wide variety of religions, as well as symbols for atheists and secular humanists. Yet the agency had refused since the mid-1990s to act on requests by Wiccan families and clergy to approve use of the Pentacle. Under the terms of the settlement, the Department of Veterans Affairs will add the Pentacle to its list of approved emblems of belief, and will provide Pentacle-engraved headstones and markers to the individual families who brought the ACLU and Americans United lawsuits." | | Tuesday, October 4th, 2005 | | 10:22 pm |
The dead walk the earth...
By that I mean me, not some Shaun of the Dead/Halloweeny ref. And, in case you haven't been officially informed yet, I'm walking for two now (if you can do such a thing). I'm also eating for two again, for about a week or two now, which is a vast improvement over the stretch of 12-14 days (it's a little murky how long it actually went on) in mid-ish September. Different pattern of sickness than with the Mouse -- instead of four months of 18-20 hrs/day, it was about two weeks non-stop, no break, nothing stayed put. Went to the ER three times in one week because of dehydration and because I was blowing through all the medicine they could give me. The stuff at the hospital was like liquid gold -- it costs so much it's tracked like a controlled substance. A script would cost $18.00 a tablet WITH our co-pay, $200 for 12, and insurance only covers 15 in a 30-day period, so it's actually more cost-effective to go to the ER. How retarded is that? By the third visit, the Sunday after the first Sunday trip, I was in serious ketosis; babies absorb calories from sugar, and ketones are bad, no matter what Dr. Atkins has convinced people. And then, the following Wednesday, the storm cleared. I mean, I'm still sick every once in a while, and I'm still uncomfortably nauseated unless I take something every 6-8 hours, but as of now, I'm going whole days (I think probably 2 or 3 in a row now) without throwing up. It's beyond bizarre, and the hormonal peak is past. So...weird. I'll see the midwife on the 10th, and I've got to get pain under control better; the muscle spasms and weakness caused a flare-up, and the usual regime isn't covering it. But otherwise, things seem good for now. Due date's mid-April. | | Thursday, June 30th, 2005 | | 6:24 pm |
| | Saturday, June 25th, 2005 | | 2:12 pm |
| | 1:44 pm |
Safety alert for parents
If you're a parent of a girl who's about to enter school, or is already attending school, especially if she rides the bus, PLEASE take the time to read this article. It recounts the rising trend of sexual assaults on school bus rides to and from school. It's in the Washington Post, which gives it a certain level of credibility, if not objectivity. The real concern which is left unstated by the writer is the simple fact that, if it's happening on school buses, where else is it happening that we're not hearing about? And the article specifically says that, because of "No Child Left Behind," schools are afraid of being designated as "unsafe," so they are deliberately not reporting incidents of sexual assault so they don't lose their funding. Frankly, as a survivor, I wish I could tell them precisely how much more important these girls' futures are than their funding. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/06/13/AR2005061301642.html | | Monday, June 20th, 2005 | | 6:05 pm |
I broke it!
| My Purity Report - Compared to Others | | Category | | - Lower - - Low - | --- Average --- | - High - - Higher - |
| | Sexual: | | | Homosexual: | | | Nerdiness: | | | Healthiness: | | | Financial: | | | Criminal: | | | Drug Use: | | | Grossness: | | | Report By NerdTests.com. Click Here to get your purity scores! |
Or I broke the people who read the results, I dunno which more. It always kinda cracks me up. The drug use one, of course, reflects the definition of "recreational drug use," not the stuff I take on a regular basis for the FMS which might drop a lesser person in his tracks and cause him to see dancing elephants. | | Thursday, June 16th, 2005 | | 1:00 am |
Try, try again...
...and when that fails, escalate. Yes, there was a message on the answerphone at home when we finally got there after stops at the party store for ridiculously patriotic party goods that I would've been voted Least Likely To Ever Buy in high school, saying that Melissa had talked to her "higher-ups" and they'd said there wasn't really anything they could do for him. However, she added in that intern-helpful tone of voice, there was a line of merchandise coming out in the near future, so maybe if he was still a fan for his 4th birthday, we could buy him something... Like they're gonna really be targeting the 4T market with stuff. So, tomorrow, I call back and, with customary sweetness and light, I ask to talk to someone who is not her. | | Wednesday, June 15th, 2005 | | 3:28 pm |
Hoping against hope...
So I just talked to Melissa at The Daily Show, and told her the whole gory story about how the boy's been obsessed with the Jon Stewart bday party since January, and luuuvs him, and the show and the book and everything ever to do with The Daily Show, and she was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe, but managed to say that she wasn't sure what they could do, but that she would call me back. Which is something at least. With all the other crap in the universe lately, making a third-birthday-wish come true, whether he'll remember it or not (though the way his mind's a steel trap for everything else in his very short past history, it's likely he will), pulling this off would at least make me feel remotely empowered to do something good for someone. And a million billion thanks to Omphaloskepsis for finding the ticket line phone number, which actually had a real-person operator assistance option at the end of it, as well as a long space to leave messages! | | Sunday, March 27th, 2005 | | 4:00 pm |
The Harlequin
You scored 34% Cardinal, 43% Monk, 44% Lady, and 35% Knight! |
| You are a mystery, a jack-of-all-trades. You have the king's ear, but also listen to murmurings of the common folk. You believe in the value of force and also literature. Truly you are the puzzlement of the age. |
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My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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You scored higher than 56% on Cardinal |
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You scored higher than 38% on Monk |
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You scored higher than 25% on Lady |
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You scored higher than 22% on Knight |
| | | Thursday, November 4th, 2004 | | 4:24 pm |
For all the women who've ever been scared by the baby aisle...
...turns out that's nothing new under the sun. http://www.history.org/history/clothing/milliner/childbed.cfm"...baby linens could be purchased. They were also made in the home. Planning for infant clothing both in a well-to-do household and a poor family was considered essential for a young woman preparing for marriage. For years sets of these linens were made, loaned out, or handed down from one generation to the next...A book with the overwhelming title, Instructions for cutting out apparel for the Poor; Principally Intended for the Assistance of the Patronesses of Sunday Schools, And Other Charitable Institutions, But Useful in all Families Containing Patterns, Directions, and Calculations, whereby the most Inexperienced may readily buy the Materials, cut out and value each Article of Clothing of every size, without the least Difficulty, and with the greatest Exactness: With a Preface, Containing a Plan for Assisting the Parents of Poor Children belonging to Sunday Schools, to Clothe them; and other useful observations, was published in London in 1789." The book title alone would've had me backing out of the aisle. Just something to make modern mommies feel less alone in the struggle. | | Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004 | | 1:17 pm |
You broke it, you bought it.
I'm stunned, I'm depressed, I'm...I dunno what. Surprised, really. I'm always surprised by acts of overwhelming, blatant stupidity. Like when people walk into walls. It's that surprised laugh, like you can't believe they didn't see it right there in front of them. Except I'm not laughing. Only two things are keeping me remotely like my normal Pollyanna self today. First, Pennsylvania went blue, and I was part of that. I feel immensely proud for all the hard work that the volunteers in this state put in to make that happen. It was so exciting to see it happen, to be a part of it. I'm hopelessly addicted. Second, the realization struck me that what the yahoos voted for may have changed a lot of things -- how the world is going to write us off as a hopeless pack of psycho-moronic spoiled children, how the American judiciary system is in mortal danger, how the draft has gone from a scary story to reform wayward teenagers into a real and present danger for every kid I teach -- but it doesn't change who *I* am. I don't have to change a thing about myself, or what I believe, in reaction to this vote. I will continue to be the crackpot, bleeding-heart, commie pinko liberal Random used to call me in our friendly debates (those are all compliments to me, btw, so don't get offended on my behalf in any way -- the goal was to reach 'fascist swine' last in the argument). No matter who the dumb kids in my class voted for, when they get called up to go to Iraq or wherever's next on the Axis of Evil tour, I'll fight just as hard to keep them home as I would for my own kid. When some suburban heartland red-state person gets their rights trampled by the Patriot Act and its perversions of civil liberties, I'll stand up and say it's wrong just as loudly as I would for some Manhattan-drinking subway-riding blue-state voting democrat. And the next time the administration tries to explain away some colossal deception of the American public by saying that it was all part of a plan directed by "moral vision," I'll still know what real community values look like because I've seen them in leaders who get down in the trenches with the people, rather than hiding behind belligerence and billionaires and bombs. America may have a conservative president, but it is NOT a conservative country. I'm still a liberal, and there are millions of liberals out there. Which is a good thing, because when it comes down to it, liberals are the ones who stand up and get the important things done. | | Wednesday, October 27th, 2004 | | 12:34 pm |
| | Wednesday, October 20th, 2004 | | 12:06 pm |
Politics, pt. II
And for those who caught the news blip about Democratic voter registrations being shredded in Clark County, NV, right before it dropped off the radar again, the same people are being accused of similar practices (and new, inventive ones!) here in PA, and other states too, I'd wager. Like I said the night the NV story broke, "I'll bet you anything people are saying to themselves, 'Hey, those folks have an office in our town.' There are going be some doors busting in tonight. Hopefully with sheriffs and DAs, not just Democratic lawyers." http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/04294/398767.stm | | 11:58 am |
Politics, etc.
Went out canvassing for the first time last night, and it went pretty well. People are surprisingly neighbourly; one person came home to find the info I'd left for them, while I was still down the street on someone else's doorstep, and yelled down to me, "You working for Kerry? Don't worry, we're voting for him. Thanks for stopping by!" At another house, the voter on my list had moved, but the people there had just come from NY state, and wanted to know a bit more about the local races, and we commiserated about what it's like to move into a so-called "battleground" state -- more obnoxious ads per capita, etc. I think it helps restricting yourself to your neighbourhood, but even still, you can tell immediately why door-to-door remains the most effective means of getting out the vote. My mommy arrives for a long weekend tomorrow, and I'm so excited for her to be here. She hasn't seen the house we're in now, except in video and pictures, so that'll be nice (if I can get it cleaned up in time!), but most of all, it's about the monster. He's so big and funny and clever, and she's just going to fall madly in love with him, even when he's being naughty. It's been so hard being so far away from all our family and friends, especially when he's growing and changing so fast. And now I sound like a phone company ad. | | Wednesday, October 13th, 2004 | | 2:52 pm |
Duh.
 Threat rating: High. The Bush administration is concerned that it may not get a second term. Therefore, we are going to change the rules so that each Democrat vote only counts as 0.2 votes because Democrat is a shorter word than Republican What threat to the Bush administration are you? brought to you by Quizilla | | Tuesday, October 5th, 2004 | | 3:43 pm |
Happy Anniversary, Boymonster
It's eight years today since me and Boymonster got hitched in South Park (no, really, honest to god, it was really a place called South Park) in Lawrence, KS. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and a surprising number of you, come to think of it, were in attendance. It's our most political anniversary. I figure the debate tonight'll probably figure into it somewhere, TiVo or no TiVo; so might a gift-wrapped copy of Fahrenheit 9/11. But here's the kind of guy I reeled in from a couple of thousand miles away: He bought me a copy of this Francis Cabrel CD (French singer I really adore) that I haven't heard for about 15 years. Better yet, he says he thinks I look cute in the pictures from back then, and he totally would've wanted to date me. Nobody wanted to date me then. *I* wouldn't have wanted to date me then. But it makes the nostagia trip sweeter as I listen to the CD, that's for sure. Happy happy, honey. Love you. | | Thursday, September 30th, 2004 | | 10:57 am |
Small victory in Small Business Land
The Triskelia mommies had our first storefront retail pitch this morning, and it went better than we had hoped. Tadpole Crossing, a little nature-oriented gift shop (sort of the way the Discovery Channel stores are), seemed our likeliest venue to feature some of our "local artist" jewelry as a foot-in-the-door location. It gets a lot of foot traffic from tourists, good location downtown, price points in our range, other stock like ours, but we think ours looks nicer, that kind of thing. Anyway, the woman had indicated she wanted to see earrings, so we brought a bunch in at a couple of price tiers. She said they were very beautiful, but not particularly distinctive, which is totally fair -- we're not doing anything wild and wacky there. The only pair she singled out as unique was sort of a little throw-away pair that I've never been quite satisfied with, so I guess it just goes to show. Still, she took 24 pair on consignment. But when we mentioned our "rescued jewelry" (a nicer way of saying recycled), and showed her some of the necklaces with pendants made from converted horrid 80s earrings, she went gonzo. She loved the "rescued" aspect, asked us write up a little paragraph, and asked for 6 of our best for a special display. She also thought our pretty beaded lanyards (you know, for holding those annoying work or convention badges, rather than the ball chains or shoelace types) were cool, so she wanted 8 of those. She also commended us on being right on target with all of our price points, which is something we've been obsessing over. All in all, a pretty good success, I think, for a first time out. | | Wednesday, September 29th, 2004 | | 12:06 pm |
Quote of the Day
This is almost (ALMOST) enough to make a lifelong CheeseHead contemplate Illinois as an okay place to live: "If there's a child on the south side of Chicago who can't read, that matters to me, even if it's not my child. If there's a senior citizen somewhere who can't pay for their prescription, who has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer—even if it's not my grandparent. If there's an Arab-American or Mexican-American family being rounded up by John Ashcroft without benefit of an attorney or due process, I know that that threatens my civil liberties. And I don't have to be a woman to be concerned that the Supreme Court is trying to take away a woman's right, because I know that my rights are next. It is that fundamental belief – I am my brother’s keeper, I am my sister’s keeper – that makes this country work." – U.S. Senate Candidate Barack Obama (D-IL), LOVE Park, Philadelphia, 9/27/04 But he DID say it in the state I'm in now, so that's something. What a cool guy. |
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