Excess Baggage - now updated!

Not that you asked, but...
I am a terrible packrat.

Can anyone think of any earthly reason--and I mean a good, healthy one--why I have held onto a Sanrio notepad containing only two drawings made during my 6 month stint living in Georgia in 1980? Did I mention that the cover is torn off and the pages are falling out? What about a wall map of the world, dated 1955? Or the homecoming football game program from my sophomore year of high school? No? Neither can I.

While some people have the admirable ability to shed belongings, and others don't accumulate them in the first place, I hold onto things, even when reason and practicality dictate letting go. In particular I have kept a tight grip on an assortment of physical manifestations of my childhood. I've held onto things from adulthood too, but these tend to come in the form of books, music, and furniture, which seem more useful, even if more costly to transport.

My formative years are packed away for the most part in a stack of covered plastic tubs. Labeled "Michelle's Mementos", the tubs contain a hodgepodge of meaningful and superfluous objects. There's my Mrs Beasley doll (still in decent shape after nearly 40 years), a trophy for MVP of the 8th grade softball team (my winning was I believe a matter of favoritism rather than talent), a wood penguin coin bank made for me by my friend's sister in 1986, and a delicate ballerina cake topper from my 5th birthday at my grandparents' house in New York.

In some of these tubs I expect I'll find my Girl Scout sash with badges pinned rather than sewn on (mine was not a very domestic household), a finger painted and stuffed fish constructed in pre-school, an assortment of writings (7th grade was a particularly prolific period), toys (Adam has taken a shine to the soft Teletubbies keychains, but I've not let him near Super Nut), and small knick knacks.

The fact that the stuff is in distinctive containers is evidence of progress made a decade ago. As tends to happen with memento purgings, I have no recollection of anything I got rid of back then. (And how the Sanrio notepad survived, I know not. I'll blame it on purge-fatigue.) This is what I remind myself of as I sift through the stuff and make "Keep" and "Get rid of" stacks. Old copies of The Epitaph...gone. Completed get-to-know-you questionnaires from a series of parties I held with friends in the mid 80s...gone. The button for a magazine that no longer exists...gone. The pages of the Sanrio notepad have gone into the scratch paper drawer (they don't make paper like they used to--for good reason). And my drawing of "Amy" from Warner Robins, Georgia--who apparently had long blonde hair, glasses, freckles, and wore blue that day...gone. Bye Amy; I hardly knew ye.

Several hours later
I've now gone through four tubs. One turned out to be missing toiletries, including lots of great shades of lipstick, which was an exciting if counter-productive find. (I did purge a bit upon inspection, throwing away old lotions, my beloved cookie-shaped Avon lip gloss from the late 70s, plus a makeup kit from the 80s--after I shadowed my eyelids turquoise, yellow, and magenta.) I filled one of the emptied tubs back up with garage saleable items, such as a beautiful ceramic mask, some cute gardening magnets, and a life-sized stuffed macaw on a wooden perch (I named him Herbert back around 1988). Now residing in the trash bag are my high school graduation cap, an old red wallet, and a stack of wall calendars from college, among many other items (yea me!). I kept the photos from inside the wallet, a bag of foreign coins, and a letter my brother sent me from basic training which I will transfer to my letters and notes box.

I don't know why I keep this stuff--the photos, the coins, the letters. I don't want to consciously give up on certain memories, certain attachments, even when I know I'd feel better once I did. I know that if it went missing, I wouldn't actually miss any of this (mostly because I've forgotten it exists). But worrying about any of this will not help. I've got the stuff, the baggage, and I will deal with it, a little at a time. In the face of such slow growth, I am soothed by the knowledge that I am at least growing, keeping less stuff than I did in the past, willingly throwing things away. I'm letting go (yea me!).

P.S. I hope Herbert likes his fellow garage sale buddies. They all came from a good home.

UPDATE
I've gone through three more tubs. Barbie and Ken have been found! Also found were their pals Darcy (blonde) and Darcy (brunette), Archie, Skipper, and Cher in all her sequined glory (yes, as in Sonny and Cher). I located more of my Girl Scout badges, a stack of junior high school friend photos, my (very cheesy and very homemade) fifth grade poetry book with sticker from the Young Author's Fair, and an articulated moving snake toy which is as amusing now as it was 30 years ago (in other words, it's a keeper). One more copy of our high school newspaper (The Epitaph) was found, this one from senior year; David was upset that I had tossed the others so he said I should keep this one. I'll remind him of that next time he complains about all the crap we've got stored away.

I feel good that I'm not contributing to landfill with my purgings. It's largely recyclable stuff, or kid stuff I can pass on (such as a set of mini colored pencils--Adam took a shine to them). An oversized Skipper doll went to the trash because she was oozing a sticky substance from her joints. Gone to recycling heaven are a big stack of high school play programs and posters, my customs declaration form and boarding pass from a trip to Mexico in 1984, as well as the name and address of Jose Francisco, who apparently wanted me to write to him in Cozumel. In the give-away box went one giant yellow comb from Great America (I'm guessing it was a statement against the comb-in-back-pocket style of the time).

Disposition still to be determined: dot matrix photo printouts of myself with various friends, certificates of participation in a national academic talent search (yea ME), and the log of my adventures on that Mexico trip (including the unsolicited attention of a 19-year old who told my mother he didn't care that I was "only 13"). I've now got a stack of sheet music, mostly marching band stuff, from my own flautist days as well as music I got from my grandparents' attic. Is there any reason to keep these things?

Put your breast foot forward

I'm full of mammary puns at the moment, as I contemplate team names for my participation in the Susan G. Komen 3-day Walk for the Cure. A friend approached me with the idea of forming a team for the event in Seattle this September, and I signed up that night. That was the easy part. Now I have to train, raise funds, and learn not to hide from hordes of pink-wearing, boob-joking fellow participants.

But first things first. A bit of background as to why I'm participating...

One obvious reason is my grandma Alice. She had cancer when I was very young. I grew up knowing she'd had surgery and that she wore a funny pad in her bra. But it's only been since I was an adult and now a mother that the weight of all that she went through is appreciated. I loved my grandmother dearly, and grew up conscious of the risks of breast cancer because of her, but I will walk for many more reasons than the fact of grandmothers losing a breast to cancer.

Let's see, I like supporting a good cause, defined partially as one whose fundraising supports rigorous basic and applied research. Women's issues are near and dear to my heart, having grown up exposed to all sorts of feminist causes and in a female-heavy household. I have a strong interest in public health and health-promoting practices. I myself could stand to lose a couple (dozen) pounds. I like to walk. I like to travel. I have known various women who've had breast cancer, including a woman who died when her daughters were just 11 and 12 years old.

And so here I am, signed up to walk 60 miles over three days. I attended a 3-Day kick off meeting last weekend, which gave me some ideas for fundraising. The first official training walks are beginning soon, 24 weeks ahead of the start. I've got my fitted shoes, special socks to try out (with toes!), and a schedule for increasing walk distance each week. I hope to find a training group near my home. In the meantime, my husband and 2-year old son have been pressed into duty.

Tomorrow I'm taking my own personal training walk, a nearly 7-mile jaunt to lunch. I'll have to leave home at 9am in order to be sure I make it there in time to meet my family (aka my ride home). I look forward to seeing the neighborhoods from a walker's rather than driver's pace. I am hoping it doesn't rain on me, but by the end I might be wishing for a cool shower. And in the end, if I don't snooze in my burrito I might just smile from ear to ear at my great start.

Parent me

Responsibility for our children’s education and future begins in our homes and communities. What are some of the most effective ways you're taking responsibility at a personal and local level for your child’s education?

I may have taken the assignment too literally, but when asked by the White House to respond to the above prompt, I couldn't help but emphasize that education really does begin at home. Here's what I submitted:

My son is two years old, but I am already planning for his future--as a good student and a happy, healthy man. From personal experience and research, I find all of the following to be effective towards these ends. Learning is the child's “job”, and parents and teachers provide management, leadership, and supervision. My husband and I will be involved with our son's school from day one as we monitor work, volunteer for activities, and communicate with and support his teachers. We're already involved in his schooling; we've enrolled him in a series of parent-child classes since he was six months old, exposing him to music, exercise, water safety, social skills, and developing neural connections all the while. We expect he will continue his education beyond high school, and at home we speak of "when" he goes to college, not "if." We began setting aside funds for our son's college education at birth. Friends worry that our local educational system is suffering under budget cuts, large classes, and test-related strictures in the curriculum. I share their concerns and vote with them in mind, but I also know that school is not the only place where learning occurs. Our home is a place of discovery and fun, and a place where self discipline is practiced and expected (lots of books and reading, limited television, age-appropriate materials in a space set aside for just being a kid, and conscious modeling by both parents). I would love for my son to do well in school, by every measure; but I am most concerned that he be engaged with his learning and encouraged to use what he learns for good. My husband and I work on being honest, attentive, and reflective on our role as parents. We provide unconditional love; we enforce limits but give lots of leeway within them; and we work at being healthy--physically, emotionally, financially--so that we can continue to provide a supportive environment for our child. Like my parents before me, I am involved in my community, and I look forward to involving my son in causes that support vibrant, healthy communities. We get to know our neighbors, and enjoy having friends over to our home. All of these spheres—home, school, community—contribute to a child's education and development as a person. As parents we have the power to influence and strengthen them all, and in so doing increase the chances that our child will be a happy, healthy, productive citizen of tomorrow. That's a great responsibility, and one I take willingly.

It's not that I think schools are so unimportant. I went into the field of education because I view schools as vital parts of society. But I get frustrated by the attention directed at teachers, administrators, and the public school system because it paints a woefully incomplete picture of the education of our children.

No one is going to appoint me Education Czar with unlimited powers over curriculum, staffing, and policies in public education; my powers to affect these things through available means--voting, attending local meetings, running for school board, working as a teacher, etc--provide incremental and indirect change (which is not to be discounted). Yet there is one area where I have rather direct and immediate influence: at home with my own child. And if you're a parent, so do you.

I really do believe that if we, each of us, worked on our own issues a bit more, all of our children would be a lot better off, and then by extension so would the schools. Start with adequate sleep, eat breakfast and get 20 minutes of exercise each day, practice patience and stress management techniques when dealing with family/coworkers/tailgaters, and spend less than earned (which includes knowing how much we spend and earn). If everyone did just those things, schools would already be better off, because it would mean better health and less stress in children's lives. Imagine the possibilities.

Now go work on your issues, and I'll go work on mine. Let's call it our contribution to 21st century education.

Recording history

I'm clearing out some old posts, ones that never got published and have languished with the DRAFT label for no better reason than that I couldn't bring myself to complete the thought that spurred me to write. I edit to make the post at least intelligible (or so I hope), but otherwise leave the core thought as it was. Enjoy.

The following was written in August of 2009.

Ten days ago David's grandfather Verl, aged 96 and a half, passed away peacefully. He was the last of David's and my grandparents, and the only one to have known Adam. My grandma Ginny, the last surviving on my side, died weeks before Adam was born, just seven months ago. We miss them both, and all of our grandparents, each in their own way, dearly. For better or worse, they are our links to the past, part of the mystery of who we are and why.

While we have no regrets about waiting to have a child, we are sad that we did not have Adam sooner, in order to have shared his joy with more of our grandparents. Having a kid with a grandparent in residence was a true blessing. When the baby cried or projectile vomited, I worried that the disruption would bother Verl, but he was unfazed. He would calmly point out that the baby behaved as he did for a reason; it was nothing that getting upset about would help (how very logical). Naturally, as a father, I imagine he a) was not very helpful if even much present during his own child's rearing in the 1950s, and b) when he was aware of concerns involving the child, he wasn't near as patient as when he was 96 and tickled to finally be a great grandpa, ever present with no obligations attached. For this reason, I hope to live to be a grandmother, and I hope to be nearby when I am.

Thinking about life and death lately gets me thinking about my family history pursuits. Genealogy has been a hobby of mine for a long time, and I try to preserve just enough data to provide a rich record of history for my own ancestors. Years before they passed away, I did interviews with both Ginny and Verl. I asked them about their childhood, where they lived, early memories of home, school, and family traditions. These recordings don't bring loved ones back, but their voices and personal perspectives lend irreplaceable pieces of data. Plus it was just nice to sit down and have a conversation about personal history without any judgments or comments (along the lines of "Oh no, not that story again"). During the recorded interview it was for posterity, and I didn't mind repetition one bit.

The idea came to me after I heard a West Virginia woman interviewed on the radio, a woman whose voice sounded exactly like that of my great grandmother and her sisters. I felt a visceral longing for that unique voice. The twangy, distinctive dialect was a world away from the homogenized English I hear and use most days. It made me think about how those dialects are disappearing, and might be preserved as part of my own family history.

But I also happen to believe people's stories are interesting regardless of their utility, a point underscored by a website I've been monitoring recently. Interview Project is just a bunch of interviews. Random folks walking down the street or eating at a restaurant or wherever they were found, were asked to participate; they sat down and told their childhood dreams, how they met their spouses, and things they are most proud of, among various questions posed to them, while being filmed in black and white. Producer David Lynch describes it as a "a road trip where people have been found and interviewed". It's a profoundly simple way to highlight the commonalities we share, and I highly recommend a viewing (you watch each interview individually, which you can choose from a map of locations).

But first, go call a family member and schedule a sit down interview of your own. Make a list of questions (5-10 is sufficient for a 30-45 minute session, when you take into account follow up clarifying questions). Remember, they won't always be here (nor will you).

Cedar Rapids

We left the kid with his grandparents and went out for a grown up dinner and a primetime movie. Impressive, right? More impressive still is that I spent 10 bucks on a movie that made me not care that I'd just spent 10 bucks on it. Okay, part of my joy was based on the fact that I was out on a Saturday night. But mostly it was because we saw a really nice movie.

Cedar Rapids stars Ed Helms as Tim Lippe, a naive insurance agent who, after the untimely demise of his company's star agent, is sent to represent the company at the regional conference, held every year in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Tim's never been to such a big city, and everything is a marvel to him. His boss tasks Tim with winning a coveted award, and orders him to steer clear of notorious client poacher, Dean Ziegler. Both of these things cause Tim a great deal of stress, as he discovers that the award is not as straight forward as he believed, and Dean is not the antichrist he was represented as either. Cedar Rapids becomes a place of transformation for Tim, as he explores his relationship with his new friends, a lover back home, a comely married colleague at the conference, a young hooker based at the hotel, and his entire future.

Ed Helms does a good job of making absurdly naive Tim sympathetic without seeming pathetic. The other supporting characters are all fitting to their roles, including Anne Heche (in one of her best parts--I kid not), Sigourney Weaver, Arrested Development's Alia Shawkat, and HBO The Wire's Isaiah Whitlock. but the real star of this movie is John C. Reilly as Dean Ziegler. He is as foul mouthed as anyone you'll see in the movies these days, as well as laugh out loud funny. What takes the occasional verbal raunchiness out of the realm of obnoxious is the genuine heart behind everything that occurs. The movie is absurd and funny and sweet and grown up and satisfying. Cedar Rapids is a movie I recommend without reservation (but note that it's not a film for children).

Dreaming

Not that you asked, but...
I lost the Mega Millions lottery recently. The winners up in the Pacific Northwest are as deserving as anyone, I'm sure, and I wish them the best. But I would so very much have liked to have had my numbers called (not that my odds of winning could be considered by any rational person as good). My mother laughed at me ("You didn't seriously expect to win, did you?" she asked, ignoring the fact that she gave me 2 bucks to buy her entry as well), but I received consolation at home. David was similarly disappointed that our delusions of gambling-based grandeur had once more come to naught. I play very rarely (there are ground rules: winnings must be over $100 million, for example), and I gamble a pittance for the chance at the jackpot. Nonetheless, I am guaranteed never to win if I never play. (I am also guaranteed to lose money and contribute to a host of serious problems if I play regularly and/or large amounts, but that is the subject of another blog, which you can get a glimpse of from the Freakonomics guys, or in this guy's blog post.)

I have ideas for how I might spend a mad money portion of any lottery win (I picture a swim spa and built-in storage EVERYWHERE; David has fantasized about a share in a private jet and early retirement funds). But it's not all fun and games. I also have definite plans for using a sizable portion of any windfall for a dream project: starting a fabulous school.

All my life I have been fixated on teaching and education. I played teacher as a child, making up rosters, seating and lesson plans, picking up old textbooks at the flea market to play with, grading pretend homework (this sort of play may have reflected my social weaknesses and control issues, most of which I like to think I've overcome). As I prepared to become a "real" teacher, I started imagining an ideal school (the teacher equivalent of the English major's novel-writing dream). I drew layouts for buildings and grounds, explored subjects outside my field for "best of" ideas, and have accumulated a library of books for students of all ages. Everywhere I go, I am struck by lesson ideas, field trip possibilities, and those basic but all-important teachable moments. I regularly reference "My School" in conversations.

I can apply much of this inspiration on my child, though no doubt he will get sick of Ms. Teacher Mom and the fun will wear off in the adolescent years (for him, not me). It inspired me to go back to school once more for a doctorate in education. I can also go back to classroom teaching, which I love. But I feel like I have a bigger calling. Call it megalomania or egotism, if you will; however, I do think I could create and sustain a kick-ass educational environment.

Lots of educators feel this way. The system of education in the United States has issues, partly because it's a huge, complex universe reflecting the free will imperfections of human nature and society. Ideas for running and/or reforming education are as numerous as the global population. And there exist great schools, teachers, and lessons, already out there, making a difference every single day. I honor all of that. But I still want to start my own school.

There is nothing stopping me from going out and starting a school today, you might point out. Very true. It's my dream that is stopping me, because I want it all. I want hands-on academics. I want mixed ages. I want fresh air and sterile labs. I want heart-pumping activity and I want quiet contemplation. I want a student-run coffee shop. I want proximity to population centers and public transportation. And I want affordability. With that, I will show you interested and involved students and families. With all that, I will show you capable minds, generous hearts, and a skilled, committed citizenry, ready to face the challenges of life. With all that, I would be living a dream.

Many people dream of winning the big prize, and many people dream up big ideas. I wonder sometimes if I have held onto my dreams for too long. Although sleep is restorative, it is when we are awake that things get done. Is it time for me to wake up?

New You

Have I been sucked in to the "new year's resolution" cult? Check back with me in a month.

Oh, and happy 2011!

Boys and their Toys

We went to the drive in again last night. It's the last such theater in our area, one of the only ones in Northern California, and I'm glad we live close enough to it to make a last minute decision possible. So, off we went to see Toy Story 3 on a warm Saturday night in the middle of a three-day weekend. We found a cozy spot at the back, far enough behind the countless minivans to actually allow us in our average-height sedan to see all of the screen. We rolled down the windows and opened the sunroof, popped the top on a can of soda and settled in for the evening. Adam played in the backseat, watching some kids bounce a ball back and forth behind our car, until finally settling down on his blanket and sleeping, well, like a baby. Ahh, suburbia. Nice.

TOY STORY 3
I assume you know the fundamentals of Toy Story by now: Andy has a bunch of beloved toys, led by cowboy Woody and astronaut Buzz Lightyear, and these toys love Andy. Alas, the toys have had it rough these past few years, dwindling in numbers and cooped up in a toy chest as the boy grew to be a young man. Now Andy is headed off to college and the toys begin to look for new play outlets. They eventually end up at a daycare center, where the environment shifts from dreamy to worst nightmare real fast. And so they attempt a daring escape in order to return to Andy's, where they figure waiting in the attic is better than being destroyed.

I've glossed over a lot of details, but you get the idea. Like all other Pixar films, Toy Story 3 is charming, entertaining, has humor for kids and adults alike, and feels as nice as a warm fire on a cold day. The story is solid from beginning to end, and the ending is perfect. I've yet to meet anyone who has not gotten teary eyed (go ahead, try not to be moved). Heartily recommended to all ages.

THE A-TEAM
Whereas Toy Story 3 made me teary eyed over its sweetness and sensitivity and lovability, the second feature of our night made me want to cry for completely different reasons. I should begin by saying I was never a viewer of the tv show The A-Team. I knew its cast, I vaguely understood it was a bunch of renegade problem solvers, and I knew they rode around in a black van or a helicopter piloted by a crazy guy. But I never had a desire to watch the show when it aired in the 80s or ever since. This should have been enough to convince me to choose something else as the follow up to our drive in experience. But no, I was swayed by reviews and comments that the movie was "a lot of fun," a summer/buddy/action movie. I don't often object to such a combo, and "fun" sounded, well, fun to me. After the fact, David said he didn't know why I had chosen it. Oh well. I'm not sure I should review this movie (can you tell I'm not a fan?), but I'll try to be fair.

A foursome of Army Rangers realize their combined talent for fixing sticky situations, and become a strategically used military team. They get drawn into a search for missing money-printing plates in Iraq, which they end up losing in a mission that goes out of control. They are court martialed, dishonorably discharged, and imprisoned. In order to clear their names, they decide to find these plates. But first, they have to break out of prison, locate the person suspected of having taken the plates, and then get them to someone who has enough clout to remove the charges against them.

This sounds like a much better movie than the one I saw. In reality, the film moved jerkily from one wacky situation to the next, with actors pantomiming original characters (especially Liam Neeson as the leader) and spouting ridiculous snippets of dialogue. The cast has potential (though Quinton Jackson as Baracus can't hold a candle to Mr T in that role), the basic plot is more complex than it needed to be (an entire, very fun, movie could have been spent on bringing the team together, and there are some cute/funny moments (Sharlto Copley as Murdock is by far the most entertaining of the bunch, no the only entertaining character, but still very good). Alas, much of this movie felt like a wasted opportunity.

My final analysis: the script is atrocious, the shifts from one scene to the next are inexcusably poor, much of the plot and related dialogue is offensively dumb, and the pacing makes me think a 10-year old boy was in charge. Which is precisely who I think this movie is targeted at, so maybe the film-makers achieved their goal. I was disappointed and disgruntled halfway through the movie, and couldn't turn the car on fast enough when it ended. Need I say...I do not recommend this movie, unless, of course, you are an anti-communicative, girls-are-yucky, explosions-are-cool, 10-year old boy (at heart).

Home is where the heart is

Maybe you've lost track of how many times we move or put offers on houses and whatnot (for the record, we have shared 8 residences, and had more than twice that many in our lifetimes otherwise). Maybe you heard we were in negotiations for a house up in Belmont this past March, then last month we put an offer on a house going through a probate sale. We like where we live at present, but it has always been seen as a California-starter home for us, one we were so pleased to share with Verl, but which we're now ready to move on from. Over the years of pseudo-househunting, we've harborbed no illusions about finding our "dream house", but we do hold out hopes of at least finding something we would be happy to settle down in (buying an adorable house in Southeast Texas didn't count as settling down, since we knew it was short term).

So maybe you'll be interested to read that we seem to have finally been successful in buying a house we could live in for a long while. This morning we heard that our bid--on a 3 bedroom, 2 bath, 1840 square foot, turnkey house in Sunnyvale--was the winning and final one. Now we just need to go through the escrow period, finalize some fixes, and move in. Voila! Twenty years of being together and it looks like we're finally going to settle down.

David looks forward to being moved in, not moving again for a long time, and getting rid of a lot of our "crap". Those all sound good to me, but I also look forward to having a dedicated space for Adam to play in, a kitchen we can unpack all of our dishes and appliances into, and a space in which to once more allow easy access to our (greatly reduced) personal library. We'll live with the downsides--the freeway is on the other side of a creek behind the property, the laundry is in the garage, and the kitchen is fairly small and closed in). On the plus side, the family room and living room are large, rooms are well laid out, there is a 20'x20' enclosed patio room, baths and kitchen are all updated, and there's ample parking (parties are definitely in our future).

I will miss the swimming pool and vast lawns at our Los Gatos Village complex, and the assorted places we've grown to enjoy in this area (although being 11 miles north on highway 85, it's not like we're moving to another planet, and it's not as if we've not spent lots of time in and around Sunnyvale these past 20 years). I do feel a wee bit odd about moving back to Sunnyvale, after now spending more than half my life out of it; there is a part of me that feels I ought to have grown out of my hometown. But there's a bigger part of me that is deeply content with the idea of reconnecting with all that the place I grew up in has to offer and having Adam grow up in it too, albeit in his own way.

Cross your fingers that all goes well between now and the end of escrow (we don't foresee any problems, but of course your good thoughts are welcome). We hope you will come visit us when you're in the area. And if you are willing to help, such as with a bit of painting (Adam's room needs to be personalized, don't you agree?) or packing/unpacking, we would love your assistance. We hope to begin the moving process as soon as July 17. I'll send a more formal change of address and all that after the whole thing is final.

PS One lesson I learned from our dealings with a probate sale: If you haven't done so yet/recently, go right now and write/update your will. Seriously.

It's a mystery

Each night before sleep I read a bit to clear my head. Most of my reading comes from a local library, one of my favorite places on earth. The world and everything in it seems accessible and interesting at a good library. The trouble with libraries, however, is that it's a tough place to find something you'll enjoy at random. So in my dedicated library bag I keep a running list of books I've heard about elsewhere, authors I've liked in the past, and topics I want to explore further. Then I hit the stacks. How much better can an hour be spent than perusing books, I ask you. Okay, don't answer that.

My point is, I make my way through one novel at a time, one chapter (or two) a day, and it adds up. When asked recently if I'd read anything good lately, I had a bevy of replies. A few I've mentioned here previously (my reading posts), but not enough. I'm here today partly to remind myself years later of books I already read before I check them out again (I'm talking to you, Girl's Guide), and partly to share my recommendations in hopes of spreading some reading joy.

I recommend (and loan out) Kathryn Stockett's Jim Crow-South novel The Help to everyone, though I've discovered it's too intense a subject for a few people. The three narrators (two black maids and a younger white woman who delves into her hometown's segregationist practices) take a bit of getting used to, but stick with it and you'll be rewarded with wonderfully authentic voices, moving stories, and a vivid history lesson no American should forget. I especially loved the Afterword by the author, in which she describes her own relationship history with her family's black maid. Touching, sad, important, personal.

It seems like I've always got one or two "serious" books on my bedside table, waiting for me to be in a contemplative mood. Don't worry, I won't dig out the titles at the moment, if for no other reason than that I don't have a good track record of recommending such books to others. (Avoid religion and politics, isn't that rule one of chitchat?)

Switching to the frivolous side of reading, I do enjoy a bit of good chick lit from time to time, but recognize that chick lit is not to everyone's tastes. Sophie Kinsella's Twenties Girl is cute, but not very memorable. I've not even requested Emily Giffin's latest, Heart of the Matter, from the library, because it looks to confirm my apathetic feelings towards her books since reading her stellar debut novel, Something Borrowed.

By far the bulk of my casual reading this past year has been mysteries. I wrote previously about the international phenomenon, the Millenium trilogy, which isn't so much a mystery series as one very long novel of intrigue and character studies. Replete with violence and minutiae, that is not for everyone. But I've got a few other more classic mysteries that I can recommend to any reader.

Mistress of the Art of Death is the first in a series of medieval forensics novels by Ariana Franklin. Adelia, the central character, is the modern day equivalent of a medical examiner, brought to England to help King Henry II solve a sensitive crime and thereby calm the local populace. The mystery aspect of the story is well done, with a wide cast of suspicious characters. The crimes are a bit gruesome, but I skim those descriptions and feel I miss nothing of the story development. There's something of a love interest for Adelia, though this enters the plot late and is not dwelled upon. What's most interesting about this story, I thought, is the incorporation of what seems to be well researched historical detail. All aspects of everyday life are touched upon, as are customs and language. I love that kind of thing. Right now I'm reading the second book, The Serpent's Tale, which is keeping my attention. After that, there are three more books featuring Adelia. Hopefully the plots remain appealing and the mysteries intriguing. I'll let you know.

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie is the first of a very promising new series of mystery novels by Alan Bradley. It centers on an adolescent girl in post-War England who is obsessed with poisons and extremely well versed in chemistry. Alas Flavia de Luce has no one to temper her eccentricities. Her father is a stoic widower, and her two older sisters focus on relationships and music, far outside Flavia's realm. When Flavia becomes involved in a murder investigation, she gets in over her head, but of course ends up solving the crime before the police do. The story is told from Flavia's perspective, demonstrating her blend of sophisticated insight and childish views. It's a charming book, and one I recommend to mystery fans and historical fiction fans alike. The next book, The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag, came out recently and I've not read it, but again, I am hopeful that the quality is maintained.

A cute book I'd recommend to any reader is another unusual-perspective mystery novel, Dog On It. This is the first in yet another new series, the Chet and Bernie mysteries. In this case, the narrator is...wait for it...a dog. I can't tell you exactly why it works so well, but I can simply tell you it does. The author has done a great job of viewing a private detective's work through a dog's eyes. A rather insightful and well behaved dog, but a dog nonetheless. The mystery part of the story is secondary to the interactions of dog and human.

Speaking of mystery series, and the potential for storylines to get iffy after a while, I will recommend--with qualifications--the Stephanie Plum books by Janet Evanovich. I read the first one years ago, but I think I'd still recommend it to vacation readers. Stephanie is a bounty hunter, a profession she took on as last resort when she lost her job. She's also an accident-prone Jersey girl involved with two different guys, cop Joe Morelli, and mysterious fellow bounty hunter, Ranger. The first book, One for the Money, shows Stephanie as she learns her job and becomes reaquainted with Joe; it's fast paced, filled with oddball characters, and plain old lighthearted (adult) fun. A few of the other books, especially early on, are similarly amusing. But lately the stretching out of Stephanie's perpetual dilemma choosing between Joe and Ranger, and the repetitiveness of cases and improbable problems she encounters have grown tiresome. Still, I do hold out hope, like so many other readers who've been sucked into this series, that Stephanie will one day move on. At last count there were 15 published novels in the regular series, plus three supplementary stories, and the 16th book comes out next month. There's also reportedly a movie in the works. I'm sure I'll have an opinion when that arrives. Til then, happy reading.

Selfishness

Ever have one of those days where things just irk you? That's today for me. And in an effort to rid my brain of some of the more vexing thoughts occupying it before I head off for my night's rest, I thought I'd vent a little. Hmm, where to begin...

• Okay, this is not a new one, and I'm not sure why it's bugging me so right now, except that I continue to hear and see evidence that there are a lot of people who watch or at least lend credence to the need for and value of of 24-hour news. In fact, I think nothing could be further from the truth. I'm sick of the news networks'--especially Fox News channel's--irresponsible fear mongering and non-existent fact checking. I hate the stupid teasers that local, national and 24-hour news programs use to activate viewers' imaginations in negative ways, especially when the actual story is more often than not completely harmless or relevant for such a small portion of the population as to be irrelevant as a mass communication. Why?! What earthly purpose could be served by luring viewers into false impressions, scaring them, or decontextualizing and oversimplifying things to the point of making the information valueless?
• I think the greediness of media executives has completely blinded them to the value of using communications and entertainment power for good not evil, and thus they act in ways that make themselves wealthier in dollars, and poorer in spirit. how's the saying go, money is the root of all evil? There's much truth in that.
• I'm also a bit peeved about rampant short-term thinking, mindless consumerism, ignorance, and gullibility (and the systems that essentially maintain these aspects of society). These are ongoing frustrations, probably hard wired in me by this point, and only on occasion do they make me want to give all my belongings away and remove myself and family from society. 
• I know this may seem ironic coming from a blog entitled "It's all about ME", but I am so *%&#ing sick of rampant self-centeredness. Every day I observe people thinking they are the exception to the rule. It's a normal facet of human behavior that has become a dominant and increasingly acceptable way of life. I don't like it.
• I don't like hatred, excess, abuse, or any so-called "necessary evil." Alas, I did not say I never engage in any of these. ;)
• It's hard to look out for my neighbor as myself when I spend most of my time looking out for myself. How often do I tell myself it's okay to take the shortcut, or break the rule, simply because it's the easy way out, and if I play the game right no one else will ever know or be harmed by it. But this is just playing the odds, and in the game of life I will on occasion lose. Add up all the "me"s in the world, and you've got a whole lot of gambling going on each day.
• As I maintain faith that there's always tomorrow, my todays--or those of my neighbors--may be getting suckier and suckier. And on a grand scale, lots of us putting off until tomorrow what we don't want to do today undoubtedly creates a to-do list that is unfinishable by mortal man. So I tell myself, "It's okay, someone else will take care of it," just so I can sleep at night.
• I am an unapologetically practical optimist.
• I wonder at what point the hope I hold out for tomorrow is just propping up my complacency today and contributing in a roundabout way to the suckiness I feel right now. Fear, isolation, anger. Wash, rinse, repeat.
• Sometimes I act selfishly because I believe it's for the best, but upon further reflection I realize it was just laziness. Like every other person on the planet, I struggle with gaps between intention and action, beliefs and practices.
• I adore and am uplifted by the teachings of Martin Luther King Jr. I fantasize about incorporating his writings in a national curriculum for K-12 education. First, we need a national curriculum (and not just so-called standards).
• Have I mentioned that I believe the teaching of anger management principles to the population at large ought to be a major public health initiative? I think anger is a vastly under-discussed problem, and one whose negative consequences are far reaching. (It's a long read, but this is a great overview of the subject.)
• The average adult apparently does not get enough sleep to perform their best during the day. I know how cranky I am when I'm tired, and I know how my interactions with another sleep-deprived person go (aka not very well). And I know how much more manageable my day's chores seem after a good night's rest (if not enthusiastic, I am at least free of one excuse to avoid doing what I know I must). Hmm, is it possible that the treatment for many of society's ills is as simple as an enforced bedtime?

Which reminds me, it's quite a ways past mine (so much for taking my own advice, eh?). Tootle loo and good night, friends. Be good, sleep well. See you soon....

PS I'm feeling very Notes to Myself right now. It's a beautiful book about self reflection, relationships,  acceptance, and forgiveness. I recommend it to everyone.

The Girl...

Sometimes I stumble upon popular phenomena. This happened to me when I caught the series premieres of shows like Survivor, Lost, and Mad Men, only to become an evangelist for each on its own merits. It happened when I picked up Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and got sucked into this fabulous romantic saga of time travel and Scottish history (though I'm not a fan of most of its sequels). And it's happening in real estate lately. A few weeks ago we went to an open house for a nice but un-updated place in Redwood City; I was thinking seriously about it the next day, when David called to report that someone had that morning put in an offer and been accepted.

These are not random coincidences, I realize. Great minds think alike, good products gain attention, and my tastes are not so unique as to be without peers. Still I am always pleased to learn I've become interested in something that a lot of other people are also interested in. It's nice to know I'm not alone in the world. :)

The latest example is my fascination with the Swedish crime fiction trilogy Millenium. Each title (in English) begins The Girl... (the first is The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo). The two main characters--a middle aged male investigative reporter and a diminutive young female computer hacker with a lot of issues--cross paths and end up working together to solve a decades old crime, but they are not a couple. It's a pretty cynical tale, the author does not shy from incorporating sex, and the beginning is a confusing mix of unfamiliar Swedish names, places and events. But all that aside, for some of us readers it also happens to be a wildly compelling read.

These books are not unknown (on my recent vacation, four of us were reading the second book). They are bestsellers around the world, and have already been turned into a trio of films in Sweden (an indication of the popularity there that this happened so soon, considering the last of the books hasn't even been released in the US yet). Here in the US, the first book has been on the New York Times bestseller list for a year, in spite of mixed reviews. People complain that the author included an inordinate amount of extraneous detail. There are few if any committed healthy relationships to savor within the cast. And there's violence, much of it sexual in nature, which understandably turns many readers off.

Even with all these detractors, I've gotten really involved in the series, and sought out the movie. I wanted visuals and was curious how the book would translate to film. What I found was that the filmmakers did an excellent job of distilling the essence of the plot, maintaining background detail but zeroing in on the action-packed storyline. What I had not been prepared for, in my detail-oriented reading haze, was that that essence was so very, very dark. All that being said, here's my review of the film.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
This briskly paced, 2-and-a-half hour thriller tells the story of Mikael Blomquist, an investigative journalist hired, after losing a well publicized libel case, to look into the disappearance of a young woman 40 years earlier. Mikael is cyber-tracked along the way by a young female hacker, Lisbeth Salander, who was employed initially by a security firm to gather background on him. She is a top-notch researcher, but utterly lacking in social skills and niceties. As a result of childhood trauma, Lisbeth is a ward of the state, even at age 24, and under the nominal control of an unscrupulous guardian. While Lisbeth deals with her guardian, she monitors with curiosity what Mikael is working on and ends up decoding a key part of the evidence. After she shares what she found, Mikael enlists her help, and the two work together to unravel an increasingly bizarre mystery.

At first the rhythm of the Swedish dialogue (and occasionally hard to read white subtitles) were distracting. And the movie does not shy from disturbing scenes of sexual violence that provide a basis for key parts of the plot (the Swedish title translates as "Men Who Hate Women"). But it's a well done thriller, with good bursts of action and tension, a few twists, and a good cast. Other readers will similarly appreciate the film. The movie is a faithful adaptation of the book, and the changes make sense. The movie also stands alone quite well, though I think it would appeal only to those with an appetite for a dark thriller.

Drive In

Yikes, I've been neglecting my poor blog. I'd like to think it's because I've been doing so much interesting stuff that I have no time to sit and record my thoughts, but one glance at my facebook page or twitter feed will show you this ain't true. Of course a closer look at the piecemeal comments and activities there will show why I might not be blogging as much. Just as I feel I am growing more light-hearted with age, I am also growing more light-brained. I prefer not to think about it, and thus my blog suffers. Sorry, little bloggy. But the event that will always trigger a return to my blog has occurred, and this brings me to why I am here today. That's right, I went to see a movie. (Cue dramatic swell of music.)

HOT TUB TIME MACHINE
The ads for this movie tantalized me back during the Olympics. I'm a sucker for fun John Cusack movies, and throwbacks to the 80s only entice me further. David did not understand my fascination with such a raunchy mindless movie (he was concerned for my pleasure, not his--isn't that sweet?), but still he agreed to accompany me to the drive-in on the film's opening night. With such lofty expectations (maybe lofty isn't the right word) the movie could hardly excel in my final estimation, and indeed it did not. However, it wasn't a waste of time.

Hot Tub Time Machine centers on a trio of middle aged men who have grown apart since their glory days as debaucherous youths. Now facing the sad realities of adult life (lost dreams, shattered marriages, etc) they are thrown together for a weekend and decide to make the most of it at a ski resort they used to frequent. (Inexplicably) joining them is one of their nephews.

Cusack is the nominal star, but his character Adam is fairly flat, and he virtually phones in the performance (I'm excited to finally use that phrase). Clark Duke is amusing as Adam's nephew Jacob, played as the modest-quippy-geek type Duke is building a career of (check him out on ABC Family's Greek or the deadpan online show Clark and Michael). Craig Robinson plays Nick, a former singer now married and working for a dog care business. And the most outrageous--and in this case funniest--of the characters is Lou, played by The Daily Show's hilarious Rob Corddry. Lou is a foul mouthed, hard drinking, insecure man-child whose antics are at the center of the laugh-out-loud moments of the movie.

The plot barely holds together and centers on a hot tub that takes the guys back to the mid 1980s, where they must recreate what turned out for some to be a pivotal night of relationship letdowns and inappropriate sex. As that combo implies, the movie never quite figures out whether it's trying for heart or pure outrageousness. Like the 80s teen sex movies it attempts to harken back to, HTTM at its best succeeds only on a sophomoric level, though it's sometimes a very funny level. So the movie didn't live up to my hype. But it delivered laughs, had a good soundtrack, and kept me awake on a Friday night. No need to relive the night, but I certainly won't regret it either.

REMEMBER ME
First a bit of explanation...
My intention had been to switch venues in order to watch When In Rome instead of She's Out of My League, which was what was paired with Hot Tub Time Machine as a second feature. Thus we had to relocate within the drive-in during intermission. I had scoped out the other screens to see where The Bounty Hunter was playing, which I thought was paired with When In Rome. Logical, right? So we maneuver, find a space, and await a Kristen Bell-Josh Duhamel fluff movie. This would all be a lot easier to do if, a) I could recall from one visit to the next how best to determine what is playing with what at the local drive-in, or b) the 6-screen outdoor theater were not so elaborately walled off and riddled with oddly parked cars and bits of tire-threatening flea market detritus. Five minutes into the movie we "chose"--after a dark slow moving murder scene unfolded without titles (maybe I missed them?)--I turned to David and said, "This doesn't seem like the start of a romantic comedy." Boy was I right.

So I didn't intend to see what I ended up watching, and--once I'd figured out what it was--knew nothing about the film other than the names of its stars (Robert Pattinson, the British actor who is so pretty and square jawed as to be occasionally distracting, and Emilie de Ravin, the Australian actress who plays Claire on the tv show Lost). Indeed, I spent a full quarter of an hour contemplating how we could politely move our car to the opposite end of the complex, where I now saw brightly colored scenery at the start of the lighthearted rom-com I'd expected to settle into. This was not helped by the quiet, deliberate pace of Remember Me (a title I had to look up after we got home). But I gotta say, in the end I actually liked this movie.

Remember Me is about two damaged young people who get together under somewhat false pretenses and then have to deal with their family traumas (past and present). There's basically no soundtrack, the scenery is nothing special, and the various foreign actors playing New Yorkers with accents can be irritatingly distracting (to me, although maybe you don't care). But just let yourself sit and watch and wait, and the movie delivers. I think anyone who knows too many details of the story would be very disappointed, but with an open mind and a patient mood you might find you like this movie too. Read nothing more about it, just check it out. How's that for a rousing endorsement?

Close calls

Not that you asked, but...
1. I possess the power to deactivate automatic toilet flushers, albeit temporarily. At least three-quarters of the time when using a public restroom where those hands-free flushers are installed, it will not work automatically for me. I am this<---->close to taking it personally.

2. I am this<----->close to being a certifiable music hoarder. I collect any tangentially interesting digital music legally available to me, duly rate it in my iTunes, then forget it exists as I merrily collect other music. I don't believe I will ever set aside the time necessary to listen to all of this music through. And collecting more just muddles my automatic playlists and makes it harder to find that one song I really want to hear. And now that I'm thinking about it, why do I keep around songs I rate 1 or 2 stars out of 5?

For that matter why am I keeping my decades-old and rarely played lps and cassette tapes? Apart from the warmth-spreading nostalgia I feel when listening to crackles and pops on my now vintage vinyl, I'm not sure these albums hold any real value for me anymore. A sad realization that maybe I should have come to several cross country moves ago.

3. And since I brought up public bathrooms (sorry, squeamish readers)...I am this<-->close to asking perfect strangers why they flush the toilet before sitting on it. I'm not sure women do this at home, but out in public they do it a lot.

I'm not in there with them, but it's obvious they enter the stall, immediately flush it, then continue with their business. While I can come up with plausible explanations for this sort of behavior, I still think it is completely irrational. (And I'm not talking about flushing the left behind contents of a previous user; I'm talking about flushing an empty toilet in a suburban public restroom.)

WHAT exactly does flushing the toilet beforehand do for your health and hygiene? For that matter, what exactly do you think you're going to get by sitting on the average public toilet? My answer: Nothing. Others agree there's nothing, nothing, nothing to fear. Just wash your *&^%ing hands afterward, nothing fancy or obsessive required. Oh, and don't put things down on the floor of a public bathroom. I will spare you, faithful readers, the rest of my thoughts on this subject.

4. I might someday be this<--->close to being the victim of road rage at the hands of a cell phone driver whom I have gestured at repeatedly in an attempt to get them to hang up. David has forbidden me from even staring at these people while he's driving, probably an indication of the intensity of my feelings on this matter. It bugs me how many people believe they are immune to the potential power of distractability while driving. Just one of many things people think they are the exception to. Which reminds me of my 1% rule in perceptions of behavior, but that's a subject for another post.

5. I am this<------------------>close to joining a mommy group. While I think Adam would benefit from socializing with other babies, I'm not sure I'd enjoy socializing (or, to be more accurate, hanging out on the fringes) with other baby mommies/nannies. I'd enjoy the access to new acquaintances, but from what I've seen thus far this venue is going to pan out for me. Inevitably it turns to talk of the kid, and listening to conversations about kids' behavior as if it's a competition (fueled by lots of ignorance and fear) gives me ticks. Plus, and I will admit it here but nowhere else: the parents in mommy groups scare me a little.

Okay, enough sharing for one day. It's time for baby gym (I wish I was kidding, but it's really quite fun). Ta ta for now.

Entertain me

I failed to report on our third, fourth, etc monitor-free Monday evening activities because, well, we cheated one week (I felt naughty, but I think David felt nary a twinge of regret) and have done nothing worth reporting otherwise (read, clean up, read some more--this new policy is doing wonders for our periodical consumption). As you have no doubt deduced, monitor-free Mondays are quiet and dull. Still, this is no excuse for not following up on my pledge to report weekly on this personal experiment. As the year waxes and wanes I hope to remain faithful, no matter how mundane those few hours or subsequent reports are.

Monitor me 2

Last week we started monitor-free Mondays, wherein we go without television, computers, and other sit-and-watch type electronic pastimes, one night a week. Here is a report on our second monitor-free evening.

Week 2
We avoided the mutinous stare of our big screen tv by going out to dinner (mmm, cheesy biscuits and blackened fish at Red Lobster). It was nice to eat something other than leftovers. Back home we played with Adam before whisking him off to bath and bed. Then, fearless of Adam's proto-slumbering proximity, David managed to pull out all of the Christmas decoration boxes from our attic in search of his pyramids. Three pyramids, a tablecloth, and a few candle holders made it downstairs, while the haphazard boxes stayed behind, a mess to clean up another day. We rounded out the evening reading; David had his year-end Economist, and I had an interesting article on South African runner (and intersex female) Caster Semenya.

Blackened

I've never been much of a shopper, and the idea of heading out on Black Friday has never appealed to me. I can't think of anything I want or want to give badly enough to get up before dawn and compete with others just to stand in a long line to buy it. But this year I was asked by a friend to accompany him as he bought gifts for a children's shelter, and I figured, what the heck, you only live once. Adam woke me up before dawn, I dressed, gathered some sustenance (sesame crackers, cheddar cheese, and dark chocolate M&Ms), and hit the road.

We made it to the big box store (which will go unnamed, lest I be forced to go into why I generally refuse to shop there) around 7:15am. The barricades were still up and I had to walk all the way around the building to make it back to the front entrance in time to be told entry was no longer being controlled. Good timing, eh? We enter chaos. There are plenty of shopping carts, but virtually no space within which to maneuver them. The checkout lines literally meander all the way to the back of the store. Staff stand at the end of many aisles and next to any display with easily pocketed merchandise. If anyone has only one item in their cart, it's a big screen tv; otherwise carts are piled high with mostly toys, games, dolls, and electronics. We make a circuit along the outermost aisles, picking up any toy that looks good, and I add one thing for Adam. Together we politely push past confused shoppers, listless children, and more than a few overburdened shopping carts.

At the other side, my friend has the bright idea of asking whether there's a checkout off in the garden section, and sure enough there is. Eureka! The lines are still long there, but the quiet of the space makes it all bearable. No one pushes through us while we wait in line, no tinny music assails our ears, and all we gaze upon are stacks of tastefully boxed holiday decorations. We befriend the two women in front of us, take turns wandering around the madhouse of the main store, and make it through the line in about 35 minutes. Start to finish our early morning shopping venture lasted an hour.

I was so energized I agreed to go for a bit more shopping elsewhere (where crowds were relatively sparse) and then Costco afterward. I know, wow. And Costco was the emptiest I've ever seen it. All in all, an enjoyable morning, and something I never would have predicted.

Monitor me

This week we began a monitor-free policy for Monday evenings. I had proposed keeping away from all computers and tvs etc one night a week in favor of family time and non-electronic amusements, here on forward. (Sort of a "Kill your TV, Lite".) David immediately agreed. On Sunday I reminded him we couldn't turn to tv or check emails to occupy ourselves the following night, and he said he knew, he was ready. He then indicated that I was the one who might not be able to forgo a bit of email and facebook monitoring, but I assured him this would be no hardship for me. He raised a skeptical brow.

Fast forward to Monday...

Week 1
David calls from work shortly after lunch. It's deader than a doornail there (this being Thanksgiving week) and he's heading home early. When he arrives he puts the laptop out, which I eye suspiciously. He still has work to do. He has a few hours before evening starts, so I let it go. Clock ticks by, we're both busy with baby, chores, making dinner.

The meal is finished and cleaned up. David gets cranky, says he has work he needed to do, that he'll have to do it after I go to bed (apparently this is acceptable to him as it is after family time). Not so fast, I tell him. "You agreed." He's the one who bathes Adam and puts him to sleep, so his time upstairs raises no alarms until it's about 8pm and I realize I've not heard from David in a while, though I notice the laptops are all downstairs. I figure he is curling up with his Economist. Curious, I go up to check and find him reaching to turn out the light and go to bed. Not to read, but to sleep. At 8:15. "But I'm tired." I would have teased him mercilessly if he didn't really look tired. (I felt his pain; we'd had a very long week prior.)

I ask him to keep me company downstairs while I bake some bread, which he does. He curls up on the sofa under several layers of blankets and reads the book I'd gotten for him from the library. I braided a beautiful loaf of bread and waited for it to bake. When we eventually both settled in for sleep, it was with a much quieter mind than I've felt for some time. I call the night a success.

Check in next week for the Monitor-free Monday, Week 2 report.

My favorite mug

I herein am creating a new chain-response activity, entitled "My favorite [blank]". Feel free to respond with your favorite blank.

My favorite mug is large enough to have a nice size cup of tea or hot chocolate without going overboard (Too small and I wonder--I wasted a teabag on that? Too big and I end up wasting the excess, because how can I not use the space provided when making my drink?). It has a sturdy handle (important for carrying with baby or laptop in other hand), and is a wide regular cylindrical shape (good for even stirring and marshmallow placement) But the best part, and why it is my favorite, is the (oddly current but dated 1982, Murphy's Law-esque) text decoration which entertains me every time I read it. Naturally when there is something that brings me such joy I will want to share it with the world (the text, not the mug--there are limits to my generosity).

Laws of Computer Programming
* Any given program, when running, is obsolete.
* If a program is useless, it will have to be documented.
* If a program is useful, it will have to be changed.
* Any program will expand to fill any available memory.
* The value of a program is proportional to the weight of its output.
* Program complexity grows until it exceeds the capability of the programmer to maintain it.
* Make it possible for programmers to write in English and you will find out that programmers cannot write in English.

Weinberg's Law
* If builders built buildings the way programmers wrote programs, then the first woodpecker that came along would destroy civilization.

Hare's Law of Large Programs
* Inside every large program is a small program struggling to get out.

Troutman's Programming Laws
* If a test installation functions perfectly, all subsequent systems will malfunction.
* Not until a program has been in production for at least six months will the most harmful error then be discovered.
* Job control cards that cannot be arranged in improper order will be.
* Interchangeable tapes won't.
* If the input editor has been designed to reject all bad input, an ingenious idiot will discover a method to get bad data past it.
* Machines work, people should think.

Golub's Laws of Computerdom
* A carelessly planned project takes three times longer to complete thane expected; a carefully planned project will take only twice as long.
* The effort required to correct the error increases geometrically with time.

Bradley's Bromide
* If computers get too powerful, we can organize them into a committee--that will do them in.

Fabulous, eh? Okay, your turn.

Jonesing

Know anyone who's an internet addict? How long can you go without using a computer, smart phone, or other net connected device? When is the last time you went 48 hours complete without checking your email? (Odds are it was during a vacation, a forced net-free zone.) Sounds funny, but I bet this is a serious problem for some people. And I'm sure it's changing (changed?) the way we interact, move, and plan our days. Just something I woke up contemplating. Now I'm off to check my email.... :)

Personal Statements

How cool is it to have a dedicated space to share one's views with friends and strangers alike on a regular basis? Vain, yes; generally pointless, certainly, but fun too. Never discount the value of fun. (I am reminded of the old "sound of one hand clapping" or "if a tree falls with no one to hear..." questions. Does anyone read my blog? Hello? You do realize I keep tabs on my readership, right? Wait, what was I doing? Oh, right, writing about vanity writing.)

Some people think bigger. Television producer Chuck Lorre is allotted space at the end of shows he produces for displaying a production logo to millions of viewers. Instead of the usual personalized production company image, Chuck takes this big-time opportunity to share a rant, story, or whatever is on his mind. So far he's presented 260 or so of these, including #255:

In film and television there exists a rule that all phone numbers spoken in dialogue or seen on the screen begin with the fake prefix 555. The reason for this rule is that somewhere along the line idiots began calling the phone numbers used on TV shows and movies. This resulted in production companies and networks being sued by the unhappy people who were harassed by the prank calls from the aforementioned idiots. All of which means that whether you're trying to enjoy a humble sitcom or a hundred million dollar action movie, every phone number will begin with the hateful, illusion-wrecking prefix, 555. In tonight's episode of Two and a Half Men we tried to get around this dilemma. The phone number Charlie rattles off in the first scene is actually one number short of a real number. Then, later in the scene, he discusses a memory trick which involves replacing numbers with letters in order to remember them. If you check your phone, you'll see the letters we used, OXOFEMPAL, or 696-336-725, is again one number short of being an actual working number, and JKLPUZO is the broadcast acceptable 555-7896. A lot of work, not to mention endless negotiations with our CBS censor, was necessary to come up with these numbers. So, to all the idiots out there, let me just say, 555-382-5968.

Like a few others, #255 never aired. In its place the network ran this alternate #255:

CENSORED
As always, the offending material is available to be read if you know where to look. I think you'll find that the card, while mildly amusing, is nowhere near as entertaining as the raging paranoia of our network censors.

P.S. For selfish reasons I would ask that you wait to read the censored card until after The Big Bang Theory.

Where to look is on his website, where he posts all of 'em, aired or not. Whether good or bad, self destructive or career making, as of tonight Chuck Lorre Productions has generated more than 260 of these industry-poking "vanity cards". Harmlessly fun and way cooler than a blog, I'd say.

P.S. I ran a google search with just the word "fun" and it suggested Wikipedia's "Recreation" entry. Okay, I could challenge the relevance of presenting recreation as a legitimate objective when seeking out fun, but that's not what got my blood boiling. Check out the preview line offered for that page:

Recreation - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Recreation or fun is chasing around black people with sticks. While leisure is more likely ...
Look up recreation or fun in Wiktionary, the free dictionary. ...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recreation -

Wtf?! When I clicked through to the page, that text does not actually appear. I am thankful (the offending text has been edited out) and still deeply disturbed all at the same time.

P.P.S. Lest you be left with an appalling image of Wikipedia and its anyone-can-contribute, seemingly nonexistent publishing standards, check out the un-fun but not un-interesting discussion of its Recreation entry. Some people have way too much time on their hands.

P.P.P.S. It could be said that all blog writers have too much time on their hands. Me, I'd say Chuck Lorre does.

Don't shoot me

The Small Arms Trade: A Beginner's Guide

Hmm, to read or not to read? Sounds kinda interesting, BUT...depressing interesting or enlightening interesting? If it's both, does injection of latter mitigate effects of former? One thing I know for certain: I don't want to read the advanced guide.

Farewells

I keep running into people who ask "How's David's grandfather doing?" This tells me I have been remiss in informing our friends of the sad news of Verl's passing. In mid July, 96-and-a-half year old Verl went to bed as usual and the next morning I found him snoring and unwakeable. Turns out he had had a massive stroke in the brainstem sometime during the night and then 36 hours of unconsciousness later he just slipped away. It was, as the doctor said, one of the best ways to go. No pain, quick, living life to the fullest right up to the end. We will miss him very much, as we do all our grandparents and loved ones; but more, we feel profound gratitude for the time Verl had with Adam and vice versa, and the way his presence added a special touch to our little family.

Highbrow, lowbrow

I've got two tv shows to recommend this week: one that aired originally a few years back but is still fabulous; and the other a new show that's just ended its first season and whose future is up in the air.

I just caught a fabulous episode of the PBS program Nature entitled Queen of Trees. It's a largely unnarrated film about the ubiquitous fig tree (there are 1000 varieties, who knew?) and its direct and indirect role in sustaining many lifeforms (the show's summary implies this is just about a tree and its dedicated wasp, but really the show is about one tree and the entire ecosystem it feeds). Beautifully filmed in high definition and thoughtfully edited, I found myself contentedly oohing and aahing repeatedly (such as when the guy patiently smokes out the bees then digs out the honeycomb, or when the alligator waits with its mouth open at the rockfall in the stream). And for what it's worth, even Adam was enthralled. (Before you ask, I will admit to allowing my 8-month old to occasionally watch nature programs and nonviolent sporting events with me, an extent of tv viewing I think reasonable for the next five years or so.)

The second show I recommend is the season finale of 10 Things I Hate About You. Loosely based on the movie of the same name (which was a loose adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew, one of several modernizations of classic stories that I also heartily recommend), this 30-minute ABC Family teen show features a solid cast, amusing storylines, and some very clever writing.

Cameron: Despite everything, I still feel that Bianca and I are meant to be together. Haven't you ever known something deep in your heart?
Michael: I'm fifteen, I know things deep in my pants. That's why I don't waste time on chicks that aren't into me.

Okay, so it's not Proust. But it's cute and contemporary and generally compelling, and it could use a few more viewers to ensure its return. Check it out.

There's a time and a place for expanding one's mind, and there's a time and place for relaxing it. I'm proud to offer you opportunities for both.

UPDATE 9/17/09: The 10 Things season finale, that I enjoyed so much, drew this response from David (imagine him looking completely unimpressed as he says...): "This is the episode you were so excited about?" Well pttht to David. I for one am quite happy the show was renewed, and I know he'll be right next to me as I watch them.

Good news

As an aside before I get to the point of my posting today...I think having a child has turned me mushy and sentimental. There are things I hear and see now that affect me far more than they ever did before. (Or more than I might ever have admitted.) News stories about missing or dying children--or this latest one about the discovery of skeletal infant remains--make my heart ache. (If you must, read the story on that last one over at CNN.)

Anyway, I thought this news story in the local paper today was simply too lovely not to share. Apparently a woman has helped raise over a thousand dollars for the area foodbank. The donations came about after she picked up a fellow shopper's tab, which eventually turned into a surfeit of cash (read the story for details) that instead of spending on herself she decided to donate, as did others who heard what she'd done. A nice story, yes?

And because I just thought this was funny (and it was baby related, which touches me these days, as noted previously), read here about how to automate the opening and closing of your computer's CD tray in order to rock a baby. But I don't recommend reading the comments (kind of unusual for me), because they're a downer (some people have no sense of humor or adventure).

Lifting weight

A few things I've just got to get off my chest (in no particular order):

1. I am sick of hearing about the Gosselins. David used to watch Jon & Kate Plus 8, the reality tv show about an endearingly dysfunctional couple and their home life with twins and sextuplets. And I certainly read a story or two about them whilst enjoying my airplane-ride People magazine. Well, the endearing is long gone, replaced by disturbing and pathetic. I do not care what the root cause of their breakup is, or whether Jon is really in love with the woman (women?) he has started dating since he and wife Kate split a few months back, or any other detail of their private lives. I think they should end the show--now, for their children's sakes. I feel horribly for the kids, and wish the parents would see that this is not a period of their lives that needs to be filmed and shared with the nation.

2. I am loving, loving David Mitchell's Bildungsroman Black Swan Green. I keep telling David to remind me in a decade or so to read it again, just before Adam enters his teens, as it is a wonderful look into the world of the adolescent boy. And as it is written by an author who has several other similarly styled and highly acclaimed works, I feel as I did when I first read Salinger and Stegner, that sense of deep literary contentment with a promise of still more to come.

3. I not only laughed about the results of the trustworthy news anchor poll which reported Jon Stewart is America's most trusted newscaster, but wholeheartedly agreed (although the poll did not include Jim Lehrer, who I trust more than Jon Stewart). I think if every member of Congress watched the first 10 minutes of The Daily Show our government would function a lot better.

4. I'm so irritated by the ridiculous (I didn't say biased, I do mean ridiculous) accusations being lobbed at the healthcare reform proposals that I am struck speechless every time I hear a new one. Maybe that's the protesters' plan: render supporters dumb. [I had a follow up that played off the word dumb, about making supporters peers of sorts for the protesters, but decided that was all a bit too low. And just like the protests themselves, what would it help?]

5. Facebook is a massive time suck. But sometimes a very enjoyable one. I think it may be on the path to hell.

6. The meat industry uses up a LOT of natural resources, and I think if more people realized it we'd be producing a lot less meat. I consume meat. I feel guilty.

7. Insert dozens of other modern day conveniences and amusements in place of "meat" in #6. [This reminds me of a question that has long plagued me: Why do we do things that we know are bad for us? I should suggest this topic to the Freakonomics authors.]

8. I am fascinated by David Lynch's Interview Project. He (or his documentarians) are traveling the country and interviewing random people they encounter along the way. What a fabulous reminder of how much we have in common, how fallible and hopeful and basically content most of us see ourselves as being.

Movies!

This past week I saw two current release movies. That's right, two movies. In theaters now. I know, it's shocking. In the unlikely event that you too find yourself headed for a movie theater, maybe my thoughts on these films will help you choose what to see (or not to see, depending on your tastes).

The Hangover
Caveat #1: I watched this at the drive-in, with a mostly sleeping infant and a spouse who didn't feel well. Read this review through whatever color lenses helps your own "truth" filter through to you.

Caveat #2: Before this movie even came out, I had a strong desire to see it (based on the amusing trailers) which then turned to hesitation (based on previous experience with funny trailers that ended up being associated with disappointing or downright terribly unfunny films) which then turned to renewed high hopes (based on a series of positive reviews from newspapers and friends). So by the time I saw it, I had a fair amount invested, emotionally. End caveat.

"You'd be forgiven for thinking this is a documentary. After all, who hasn't woken up in a trashed Las Vegas hotel suite with a missing tooth, a tiger in the bathroom, a baby in the closet and little or no memory of what happened the night before?" -- AP reviewer's take on The Hangover

The Hangover is indeed about three guys, in Vegas for a bachelor party, who must piece together the events of an increasingly bizarre evening, one that they all have forgotten. Starring Bradley Cooper and Ed Helms, this R-rated comedy is clever in places, mostly well paced, and funny without going over the top (though it comes close with the inexplicably flamboyant Asian gangster).

The full story behind their night is presented almost as an afterthought, and the conclusion was sort of forgettable, but a goodly number of the gags along the way are thankfully not. I particularly liked the casting, which matched likable actors to potentially unsympathetic roles; there's the cavalier risk taker (Cooper), the submissive rule follower (Helms), and the questionably stable future brother-in-law (Galifianakis, who is hilarious in this). The R-rating falls on the mild side, although the humor is certainly adult oriented (I don't think kids would be as titillated by marital jokes and references to Rain Man or Mike Tyson). Recommended for a laugh.

The Proposal
Continuing with my marriage comedy movie theme, I took the grandpa-in-law and the baby to see The Proposal, which stars the engaging duo of Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds as a boss-assistant pair who attempt to fool his family and the INS into believing their engagement is for real.

Caveat #3: My choice of The Proposal was tied to the fact that it was the "diaper day" movie offering for the week. Referred to elsewhere as "crybaby cinema", this film was viewed with the lights only partly dimmed and in a theater full of babies, toddlers, and their get-me-out-of-the-house parents. I was eager to get out, the grandpa-in-law was eager to get out, and so we went. There were several times during the movie when the toddlers and parents in pursuit captured more of our attention than the film. Thankfully for us (but maybe not for you, if you were to see this movie in a dark, relatively distraction free setting) the dialogue and plot did not lose much to the secondary program in the theater. End caveat.

Bullock plays the tough as nails boss and Reynolds is her loyal assistant, hopeful of one day earning recognition for the breadth of his talents. But his loyalty is tested when she claims him as her fiance in order to avoid deportation. He reluctantly agrees in exchange for a promotion and, needing to get the INS off their backs, the two embark on a long weekend trip to his native Alaskan hometown where she meets the folks, the ex girlfriend, and his wacky grandmother (played with usual verve by Betty White).

I thoroughly enjoyed the first four-fifths of this cliched, harmlessly amusing movie. It was cute, the lead actors were charming, the setting was quaint and easy on the eyes. Sure, there were a few overdone jokes, the story is fairly predictable, and the scene where Bullock and Reynolds run into each other is a bit too drawn out, but it was all charmingly done and without taking itself too seriously. If it was left at that, I'd recommend this movie without hesitation. Unfortunately, the screenwriters, director and editor seem to have disagreed on how to end the thing. The last 10 minutes felt rushed and oddly incoherent. Even predictable endings deserve to be shown, and in this case where the lead up was engaging, the absence of a satisfying conclusion left me particularly disappointed. I was sorry to miss out on the ending an otherwise cute movie deserved. Recommended for lighthearted romantics capable of imagining alternate endings. And if you're distracted while watching, the experience might even be improved. :)

On DVD
In the event you do not find yourself drawn to a movie theater, may I recommend a few things available on dvd? Without doubt my top recommendation would be Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. It's funny, dark, romantic, clever, and a musical. And lest you think, "Singing? Blech!" let me tell you--the music is nearly the best part (subtitles help). It stars Neil Patrick Harris as a wannabe supervillain (Dr. Horrible) with a crush on do-gooder Penny. But Dr. Horrible is no good at love, and his archnemesis, the dimbulb Captain Hammer, makes a move on Penny before he can. The story is creative, the casting spot-on, the songs Broadway-worthy, and it's all just a wonderful surprise. (I know, I'm gushing.) This originally aired as a series of "webisodes" (sort of like a Web-based miniseries) during the writer's strike, but is now available on a single dvd. Look for it.

My second recommendation is better known, but still its quality came as a surprise to me. I'd read and somewhat enjoyed Stephenie Meyer's teen vampire romance novel Twilight. Interested as I always am about a book's transition to film, I followed the hype surrounding casting (Robert Pattinson didn't seem to fit my vision of the sparkling romantic lead, and many others shared my skepticism) and tales of director disgruntlement (Catherine Hardwick either turned down directing the second film or was not asked to continue, depending on the source). By the time the movie hit theaters, the whole Twilight phenomenon was making me gag a little. I was in no hurry to see the movie (or read the second book, but that's a topic for another post), but added it to my netflix queue because I knew I would feel compelled eventually. When the dvd showed up I hesitated. It sat unwatched for a few weeks. Low expectations probably came into play, but by the time I did watch it, I quite enjoyed it. The film style is creative, the setting perfectly matches that created in the book, and the casting worked much better than expected. They chopped bits of the story for ease of filming but did it well enough that people who hadn't read the book could follow along. Because I was pleasantly surprised, I thought maybe others would be too. A decent moody teen romance.