The Redhead is off to camp and I just don't know what to do with myself. She will not be returned to me until sometime between 3 and 3:30 Friday afternoon. Until then, she's off hanging out in the California wilderness and mountains, hiking, canoeing, and everything else one could possibly do while at camp. Mister Man and I went out for Mexican and a Spy movie. I'm curious how crazy and lonely we will feel by tomorrow evening.
She has never gone an extended period of time without being with at least one of us. And she couldn't be more excited.
Here's hoping she has a splendid time. I better use this time wisely and finish up some party tasks...
Monday, June 29, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Wild About Harry: Molly Weasley Has Been Busy
Molly Weasley insisted on making scarves for all of the first years at Hogwarts this term. It was an ambitious project, one voiced ages ago, and scoffed at a few times, secretly knowing she'd try anyway. When asked if we'd have scarves, I did lie. I lied right through my teeth, just in case Molly Weasley ran out of time. I hate committing to anything that may have an enormous amount of pressure (scarves, procreating, etc.). Well, dearest Molly finished them all weeks ago (even before Hankie's) and finished tucking in all of their strings last week. They're not perfect, but they'll work just fine. Not that they'll need scarves in July, but you never know.
Wild About Harry: The Letters Have Been Sent
I shared more detailed photos on Facebook, but these will have to do.
And yes, my house smells like burnt paper. But it was all worth it, especially when The Redhead was in shock that I actually burned the edges of the paper. She commented on how I go "above and beyond." Hmm....glad she noticed.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
A Brief Anecdote Concerning Certain Flags
When I was eighteen, a friend and I repeatedly noticed this flag bumper sticker on the back of a pickup truck that was continuously parked in a Midwest dorm lot. There wasn't any chance you'd miss this pickup truck with its shiny wheels and the confederate flag sticker on the back, perfectly centered on the back window, blushing with pride. Then one day, after numerous remarks concerning this sticker, my friend and I did something spontaneously, insanely, brilliant. Or at least brilliant in our minds. She stood as the lookout while I climbed in the back of that shiny pickup truck and proceeded to scrape off that racist reminder. I managed to get the majority of the sticker removed, I climbed down, and that was that. Were we in the wrong? Well, yes, we had just deliberately vandalized someone's truck. Did it make us feel better? Yes. Smug, even. Would I advise my daughter to also climb into the back of someone's truck and peel something off of their property? Of course not. But I'd also like to think that by the time she's eighteen, confederate flag stickers aren't so widely embraced.
I know many people right now are arguing the heritage of such a flag, but I want to bring up just two minor points.
First, would you also see it as such heritage if a German was flying a Nazi flag? Because the swastika was around long before the Nazis adopted it, but ever since, the Nazis are in direct association with it.
Second, consider this. If that flag was still a valid part of our present, would our current flag be? No, no it would not. One cancels out the other.
Obviously, I don't need to express my views further, but please note, this is my blog. And if at eighteen, I willingly scraped a sticker off the back of a truck at nine at night, you could easily guess what I think should happen all of these years later. Perhaps I'll just blame it on my heritage. And removing such flags may not remove racism, but it may make people feel better and give the impression that maybe, just maybe, it is merely history, and no longer part of the present.
I know many people right now are arguing the heritage of such a flag, but I want to bring up just two minor points.
First, would you also see it as such heritage if a German was flying a Nazi flag? Because the swastika was around long before the Nazis adopted it, but ever since, the Nazis are in direct association with it.
Second, consider this. If that flag was still a valid part of our present, would our current flag be? No, no it would not. One cancels out the other.
Obviously, I don't need to express my views further, but please note, this is my blog. And if at eighteen, I willingly scraped a sticker off the back of a truck at nine at night, you could easily guess what I think should happen all of these years later. Perhaps I'll just blame it on my heritage. And removing such flags may not remove racism, but it may make people feel better and give the impression that maybe, just maybe, it is merely history, and no longer part of the present.
An Inside Out Perspective of Moving
I sat through a movie on Saturday that I both loved and hated. It brought up feelings I hadn't felt in a while, and I don't usually appreciate that. And once the movie was over, I was in a bit of a funk. No one appreciated that, I assure you.
In Pixar's latest creation, they show the worker bees inside our heads, the ones pulling all the grunt work. They're responsible for my emotional rollercoaster feelings, my passive tendencies, my fury when I lose a shoe, and my irrational fear of balloons in the car. (I have these dreams where I am traveling with balloons, they block my view and I die. Yes, I die in my dreams. That's not weird.) They're why I hold emotions in, why I get passionate about politics, probably why I can't make eye contact with the majority of humans, and why I make an enormous deal over as many holidays as possible. Essentially, they're why I'm me. You can profusely thank them at any time.
Pixar gave us all someone to blame. A whole little team of peons. What they also gave me was a walk down memory lane concerning our big move to California. The family in the movie is plucked from Minnesota and forced to live smack dab in San Francisco. It's a beautiful city, but I'm not sure I'd want to live there. The main character, Riley, does not immediately adjust as expected. As you could probably guess, I related to that, more than any word in the dictionary can describe.
The voices inside Riley are confused as to how to handle the situation. Now, I don't want to give the movie away to you, spoilers and all that jazz, but I find I must write about this all anyway. Joy, who is usually in charge, is having a harder time controlling the situations. Up to this point in time, Joy is always the go-to person. Sadness seems to be more in the way all of a sudden. Anger, Fear, and Disgust also have their own opinions over the move. In my case, I'm adding a voice to this panel. Reason. Inside my head, I may have Joy, Sadness, Fear, Anger, and Disgust, but I also have Reason. And Reason is in charge inside my head. Reason is the number cruncher. Perhaps in most people's heads, Reason is merely a consultant, but in my head Reason is the one surveying the room, Reason is the one who everybody waits for. And Reason is the one that decided the move could happen. Reason is the manager and what Reason states happens, whether everybody else agrees or not.
I despised Reason during that time.
Reason deduced that if we were going to move, it needed to happen no later than The Redhead going into sixth grade. Reason also never thought we'd stay in O-Town, Kansas later than fourth grade. This was a steady prediction on Reason's part, and had Reason placed a bet, obviously Reason would have won. Reason stacked all the data and determined that this move could happen. All the other voices were so anxious with this news that Joy couldn't be heard for a while. I don't even know if Joy was in the control room. Perhaps she was accidentally locked in a supply closet somewhere, or lost in a walk down memory lane. It's hard to say or type.
Sadness, Anger, Disgust, and Fear had a lot to say though. Unlike Joy, they were not silenced. Some people in my life tried to appeal to the Joy side and tell me all the wonderful adventures we'd have in California. Joy wasn't around to hear any of them. Joy didn't hear a single word of it. Some people offered condolences to my despondent side, and Sadness was only encouraged. Others in that same group also hung out with Anger, chanting the unfairness of it and all of the sacrifices Reason was forcing us to make. One person in particular spoke to Fear, and that almost derailed everything, as Fear was already overactive during that time. And Disgust, well, Disgust tried to make snarky jokes, just as Disgust is often known to do. Clearly, my brain didn't know what to think; I was pulled in all sorts of directions.
Reason was right, by the way. It was the time in the summer of 2013 to move. If we were going to move, it was a splendid opportunity to do so. The job offer was a fortunate one. Fear was also right. Moving meant we would own two houses, leaving us vulnerable to a plethora of scenarios, some we have faced since then. (Like bad tenants versus good tenants.) Sadness also had every right to step up and behave the way it did. It was a trying time in my life, full of many changes, even loss. It was no mystery why Joy wasn't around during that time. Anger had every right to express its reluctance and the unfairness, and recall every sacrifice. Loudly. And Disgust, good ol' Disgust, well, it's no secret how Disgust could play a role in the trials and tribulations of a major move. The fact is, I had every right to feel every emotion I felt during that time. I felt like some at the time didn't understand that, and I never expected them to, but what I felt, those were my feelings, and even though Reason was leading the charge, it didn't mean the other voices couldn't drag their proverbial feet.
It's been almost two years since we finally arrived in our little house on California soil. Joy has had a lot more of a role since then, like continuously laughing over the dog locking us out of the house our first full day in this state. Do the other voices still exclaim their opinions from time to time? Well, of course they do. Another concept the movie also introduced was that our experiences, our core memories shape us. And obviously the move shaped me. I hadn't been that shaped from an experience in a while. But much like discovering how I handle bad news (I drown myself in remedial tasks, by the way, distracting myself indefinitely), something I learned when my father died the day of the school play I was in, the move proved to me that sometimes change, whether for the better or not, can be handled in multiple ways. We have to prove how we wish to handle it. Luckily, I have Reason to help me with that. I also have Reason to blame.
In Pixar's latest creation, they show the worker bees inside our heads, the ones pulling all the grunt work. They're responsible for my emotional rollercoaster feelings, my passive tendencies, my fury when I lose a shoe, and my irrational fear of balloons in the car. (I have these dreams where I am traveling with balloons, they block my view and I die. Yes, I die in my dreams. That's not weird.) They're why I hold emotions in, why I get passionate about politics, probably why I can't make eye contact with the majority of humans, and why I make an enormous deal over as many holidays as possible. Essentially, they're why I'm me. You can profusely thank them at any time.
Pixar gave us all someone to blame. A whole little team of peons. What they also gave me was a walk down memory lane concerning our big move to California. The family in the movie is plucked from Minnesota and forced to live smack dab in San Francisco. It's a beautiful city, but I'm not sure I'd want to live there. The main character, Riley, does not immediately adjust as expected. As you could probably guess, I related to that, more than any word in the dictionary can describe.
The voices inside Riley are confused as to how to handle the situation. Now, I don't want to give the movie away to you, spoilers and all that jazz, but I find I must write about this all anyway. Joy, who is usually in charge, is having a harder time controlling the situations. Up to this point in time, Joy is always the go-to person. Sadness seems to be more in the way all of a sudden. Anger, Fear, and Disgust also have their own opinions over the move. In my case, I'm adding a voice to this panel. Reason. Inside my head, I may have Joy, Sadness, Fear, Anger, and Disgust, but I also have Reason. And Reason is in charge inside my head. Reason is the number cruncher. Perhaps in most people's heads, Reason is merely a consultant, but in my head Reason is the one surveying the room, Reason is the one who everybody waits for. And Reason is the one that decided the move could happen. Reason is the manager and what Reason states happens, whether everybody else agrees or not.
I despised Reason during that time.
Reason deduced that if we were going to move, it needed to happen no later than The Redhead going into sixth grade. Reason also never thought we'd stay in O-Town, Kansas later than fourth grade. This was a steady prediction on Reason's part, and had Reason placed a bet, obviously Reason would have won. Reason stacked all the data and determined that this move could happen. All the other voices were so anxious with this news that Joy couldn't be heard for a while. I don't even know if Joy was in the control room. Perhaps she was accidentally locked in a supply closet somewhere, or lost in a walk down memory lane. It's hard to say or type.
Sadness, Anger, Disgust, and Fear had a lot to say though. Unlike Joy, they were not silenced. Some people in my life tried to appeal to the Joy side and tell me all the wonderful adventures we'd have in California. Joy wasn't around to hear any of them. Joy didn't hear a single word of it. Some people offered condolences to my despondent side, and Sadness was only encouraged. Others in that same group also hung out with Anger, chanting the unfairness of it and all of the sacrifices Reason was forcing us to make. One person in particular spoke to Fear, and that almost derailed everything, as Fear was already overactive during that time. And Disgust, well, Disgust tried to make snarky jokes, just as Disgust is often known to do. Clearly, my brain didn't know what to think; I was pulled in all sorts of directions.
Reason was right, by the way. It was the time in the summer of 2013 to move. If we were going to move, it was a splendid opportunity to do so. The job offer was a fortunate one. Fear was also right. Moving meant we would own two houses, leaving us vulnerable to a plethora of scenarios, some we have faced since then. (Like bad tenants versus good tenants.) Sadness also had every right to step up and behave the way it did. It was a trying time in my life, full of many changes, even loss. It was no mystery why Joy wasn't around during that time. Anger had every right to express its reluctance and the unfairness, and recall every sacrifice. Loudly. And Disgust, good ol' Disgust, well, it's no secret how Disgust could play a role in the trials and tribulations of a major move. The fact is, I had every right to feel every emotion I felt during that time. I felt like some at the time didn't understand that, and I never expected them to, but what I felt, those were my feelings, and even though Reason was leading the charge, it didn't mean the other voices couldn't drag their proverbial feet.
It's been almost two years since we finally arrived in our little house on California soil. Joy has had a lot more of a role since then, like continuously laughing over the dog locking us out of the house our first full day in this state. Do the other voices still exclaim their opinions from time to time? Well, of course they do. Another concept the movie also introduced was that our experiences, our core memories shape us. And obviously the move shaped me. I hadn't been that shaped from an experience in a while. But much like discovering how I handle bad news (I drown myself in remedial tasks, by the way, distracting myself indefinitely), something I learned when my father died the day of the school play I was in, the move proved to me that sometimes change, whether for the better or not, can be handled in multiple ways. We have to prove how we wish to handle it. Luckily, I have Reason to help me with that. I also have Reason to blame.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Everything I Know About Velociraptors
Sadly, entirely everything I know about velociraptors, or rather, everything I think I know about velociraptors, came from Jurassic Park and its subsequent movies. Their highly intelligent behaviors, their sounds, their eyes, the ways they communicate. Everything about them is embedded in my brain like it's fact, when in fact, it's actually all in my brain because of movies I've seen since I was thirteen. Chances are, most everything you know about velociraptors also came from the movies.
It had me thinking, how many things do we think we know are only a matter of fiction? I'm terrified to learn the answer. It's like finding out everything you know as real is only part of The Matrix.
Like millions of other movie goers, My Favorite Two and I watched Jurassic World over the weekend. We enjoyed it. The velociraptors had a starring role, per usual, and within this last hour, I compared cats to velociraptors then said, "but at least velociraptors are trainable." And then my brain reminded me again, "everything you think you know about velociraptors isn't necessarily truth." I have an IQ near 180 (true story), and yet I have to constantly remind myself these facts, these traits of dinosaurs I think I know, are indeed fictitious.
What else have we been tricked into believing?
Let's consider what we know about people. How much of what we know is from other sources? Think about celebrities, politicians. How much of what we think we know about these people is indeed truth? Family? Friends? People we barely speak to? How much of what we know about all of these people is influenced by someone else? By the media? By popular opinion?
It could be the velociraptors and Jurassic Park all over again.
Sure, stereotypes exist for a reason, but do they exist because of fact or fiction? Am I just taking analysis too far again? I do that. Often. Religion. Books. Movies. People. All of these things, even velociraptors, have been taught to us so many ways through so many various mediums, that it's hard to sort out what is true and what's not. And yet, so much of it is in our brains as fact. I could probably go on about this all night, and I most likely will, but for now, just consider that what we think we know about velociraptors isn't necessarily fact. And what we know about everything else probably isn't either. Fortunately, unlike with dinosaurs, the truth does exist, we just have to discover it.
The cake is a lie. (Only certain geeks will get that reference.)
It had me thinking, how many things do we think we know are only a matter of fiction? I'm terrified to learn the answer. It's like finding out everything you know as real is only part of The Matrix.
Like millions of other movie goers, My Favorite Two and I watched Jurassic World over the weekend. We enjoyed it. The velociraptors had a starring role, per usual, and within this last hour, I compared cats to velociraptors then said, "but at least velociraptors are trainable." And then my brain reminded me again, "everything you think you know about velociraptors isn't necessarily truth." I have an IQ near 180 (true story), and yet I have to constantly remind myself these facts, these traits of dinosaurs I think I know, are indeed fictitious.
What else have we been tricked into believing?
Let's consider what we know about people. How much of what we know is from other sources? Think about celebrities, politicians. How much of what we think we know about these people is indeed truth? Family? Friends? People we barely speak to? How much of what we know about all of these people is influenced by someone else? By the media? By popular opinion?
It could be the velociraptors and Jurassic Park all over again.
Sure, stereotypes exist for a reason, but do they exist because of fact or fiction? Am I just taking analysis too far again? I do that. Often. Religion. Books. Movies. People. All of these things, even velociraptors, have been taught to us so many ways through so many various mediums, that it's hard to sort out what is true and what's not. And yet, so much of it is in our brains as fact. I could probably go on about this all night, and I most likely will, but for now, just consider that what we think we know about velociraptors isn't necessarily fact. And what we know about everything else probably isn't either. Fortunately, unlike with dinosaurs, the truth does exist, we just have to discover it.
The cake is a lie. (Only certain geeks will get that reference.)
Friday, June 12, 2015
Making Friends on a Friday Night
We're exciting around here. I found myself baking banana bread at nine tonight. Mister Man and The Redhead watched Honey, I Shrunk The Kids, and oh yeah, we made a new friend this evening.
This is Chuck. Not the car. The bird that's blending in with the concrete.
And yes, we know fully just how ugly our driveway is.
But Chuck is really cute.
He is a chukar partridge, discovered all thanks to Mister Man's father. It helps having a birder in the family.
For a while, we thought this little guy might belong to someone. So we even considered bringing him inside.
We didn't want anything happening to him.
He was quite friendly.
And he enjoyed hanging out.
He felt welcomed at our house.
Alexandra wanted to hang out with Chuck as well.
And these two couldn't stop watching him.
You can't quite see it, but he was enjoying one of my glass dishes. He both drank out of it and bathed in it.
After some research, we discovered he liked eating clover. And peanuts.
The Redhead thought we should keep him. But we declined.
Chuck eventually left out house to see if the grasses were indeed greener on the other side. But we sure loved the visit.
This is Chuck. Not the car. The bird that's blending in with the concrete.
And yes, we know fully just how ugly our driveway is.
But Chuck is really cute.
He is a chukar partridge, discovered all thanks to Mister Man's father. It helps having a birder in the family.
For a while, we thought this little guy might belong to someone. So we even considered bringing him inside.
We didn't want anything happening to him.
He was quite friendly.
And he enjoyed hanging out.
He felt welcomed at our house.
Alexandra wanted to hang out with Chuck as well.
And these two couldn't stop watching him.
You can't quite see it, but he was enjoying one of my glass dishes. He both drank out of it and bathed in it.
After some research, we discovered he liked eating clover. And peanuts.
The Redhead thought we should keep him. But we declined.
Chuck eventually left out house to see if the grasses were indeed greener on the other side. But we sure loved the visit.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
When Cruz'n Blew Chunks
The Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, we had a glorious plan. We headed early to Santa Cruz listening to a book on CD, enjoying our family time. And then outside of Fairfield, suddenly there was a sound. A horrible sound. And the car started acting funny. And before we knew it, we were on the shoulder of a very busy I-80 with a blown tire. This wasn't just a flat. No, this tire was dead.
And there we were on the side of the highway.
A very nice state patrol lady stopped to make sure we were fine. Mister Man neglected to put a piece of his jack back whenever he used it last, so changing the tire was more difficult than usual. He eventually managed with a piece of something that didn't belong there. Our insurance company had a tow truck on the way just in case, but alas, we were back on the highway before it arrived, canceling by phone as we headed off. We tried some tire companies, but no one was open on a holiday weekend. And if they were, they didn't have our specialty tires in stock.
We headed back to Sacramento on the spare tire, continuing to listen to our book on CD. Our plans had obviously changed, but we embraced the changes like champions. We ended up at our favorite arcade joint and it was like we never had different plans. The Redhead had a great time, we made memories together as a family, and we forgot all about the difficulties that morning had possessed. Then that Tuesday, we had new tires. All was as it should be in the world.
It's a beautiful thing to be gracious with obstacles and move forward regardless. It doesn't happen so easily. Or nearly as often as it should.
Then on this past Sunday, we finally made it to Santa Cruz. We saw our tide pools. We visited Natural Bridges State Park (even though we refer to it as Natural Bridge since only one is still standing), and we hung out on the pier and gawked at sea lions. We ate lunch at the same place as before, right there next to the water. We do love California. And when your address boasts temperatures in the high 90s, it's a lovely event to escape to 74 degrees.
Just some strange "shell" we found on the beach.
And there we were on the side of the highway.
A very nice state patrol lady stopped to make sure we were fine. Mister Man neglected to put a piece of his jack back whenever he used it last, so changing the tire was more difficult than usual. He eventually managed with a piece of something that didn't belong there. Our insurance company had a tow truck on the way just in case, but alas, we were back on the highway before it arrived, canceling by phone as we headed off. We tried some tire companies, but no one was open on a holiday weekend. And if they were, they didn't have our specialty tires in stock.
We headed back to Sacramento on the spare tire, continuing to listen to our book on CD. Our plans had obviously changed, but we embraced the changes like champions. We ended up at our favorite arcade joint and it was like we never had different plans. The Redhead had a great time, we made memories together as a family, and we forgot all about the difficulties that morning had possessed. Then that Tuesday, we had new tires. All was as it should be in the world.
It's a beautiful thing to be gracious with obstacles and move forward regardless. It doesn't happen so easily. Or nearly as often as it should.
Then on this past Sunday, we finally made it to Santa Cruz. We saw our tide pools. We visited Natural Bridges State Park (even though we refer to it as Natural Bridge since only one is still standing), and we hung out on the pier and gawked at sea lions. We ate lunch at the same place as before, right there next to the water. We do love California. And when your address boasts temperatures in the high 90s, it's a lovely event to escape to 74 degrees.
Just some strange "shell" we found on the beach.
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