I have a driver's license. This means that if I ask my mom to drive me into the scary big city, she mocks me. Mercilessly. So this morning I struck out towards courage instead of fear and claimed the Austin atlas (okay, Mom gave it to me). I located my (two) campuses. I marked them with x's. I chose the safest and most uncomplicated route to and from school. Mom highlighted it with yellow, because she wanted to color too. I highlighted the long edge of every page that had part of that route on it. (Think seminary mastery scripture.) I highlighted it with pink. Because I hate pink, so I won't use it for anything else. (Following this same logic, purple would have been a very bad choice.)
I, Peaches, WILL NOT BE LOST. Even if I have to memorize the entire atlas.
I hope I don't have to. It's pretty thick.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Children (Part 1): Did you know?
(Context: I was called by one of the women in my church and she asked me if I had found a summer job yet. I said no, I was unemployed but still looking. She promptly asked me if I would babysit two of her sons for two and a half days while she took her daughter to girls' camp. After saying that I was looking for employment, how was I supposed to say no? How do you explain to someone's ear (since we were on the phone it wasn't really to her face) that you never, ever, in a thousand years ever, babysit? Ever. Then she said she would pay me a hundred dollars a day and I was suddenly much less anxious. I accepted the job. I told the Teacher, who had been not-so-subtly hinting that I should find a job. I expected her to be ecstatic and congratulate me on my bravery and determination to Do Hard Things. She did not. She told me they would bake me in the oven and gnaw on my bones. In not exactly those words. I told her they couldn't possibly have an oven big enough for me (I'm six feet two inches) and I'd be fine. In not exactly those words.)
Did you know that kids aren't capable of processing detailed instructions? You can't say "Pick up the towels, wipe down the table, and sweep the floor, and you'll be done." They just look at you like you're Miss Hitler and say "But that will take forever!" However, if you say "Pick up the towels," and wait, "Wipe down the table," and wait, and "Sweep the floor," by amazing chance they've cleaned the entire room all by themselves and- shocker!- it didn't take more than half an hour!
I think children are like robots. They will do what you want them to do, but you have to explain it in extremely simple language that cannot be misunderstood or misinterpreted. And they have no long term memory, so you have to give them one instruction at a time.
Of course, they have an extremely good memory for things like "You can have a snow cone after lunch."
Did you know that children measure things in minutes? I do not have the patience to support and encourage this habit. Whenever they asked me how many minutes until their mom came home, after I had already said tomorrow, I told them "Lots."
Did you know that even though they're in middle school and you're a college freshman, you're actually extremely stupid? And if their mother clearly told you the day she left that they are allowed ONE half hour EACH on the computer, you won't notice when someone who already had their one half hour charges up the stairs to the computer like a rampaging elephant when they hear that the other boy finished his turn. And if you do happen to notice this, and remind him that he already had his half hour, he will assure you that what his mother really meant was that they were allowed unlimited turns on the computer, and each turn was half an hour long. And you're so stupid that you won't wonder why it slipped both their minds to mention it for the last two days. It would have been insulting if it hadn't been funny.
Did you know that even though kids ask you to be mediator, they don't actually need a mediator? They are fully capable of figuring it out themselves. Case in point: I was watching them swim. They kept coming and telling on each other: He's shoving me. He's cheating. He's winning too much. And each time I reminded them that they were thinking creatures with the agency to choose to walk away whenever they wanted to. Okay, not really. What I actually said was "When you stop having fun, you can get out of the pool. Are you still having fun?" They didn't get out of the pool.
Did you know that kids aren't capable of processing detailed instructions? You can't say "Pick up the towels, wipe down the table, and sweep the floor, and you'll be done." They just look at you like you're Miss Hitler and say "But that will take forever!" However, if you say "Pick up the towels," and wait, "Wipe down the table," and wait, and "Sweep the floor," by amazing chance they've cleaned the entire room all by themselves and- shocker!- it didn't take more than half an hour!
I think children are like robots. They will do what you want them to do, but you have to explain it in extremely simple language that cannot be misunderstood or misinterpreted. And they have no long term memory, so you have to give them one instruction at a time.
Of course, they have an extremely good memory for things like "You can have a snow cone after lunch."
Did you know that children measure things in minutes? I do not have the patience to support and encourage this habit. Whenever they asked me how many minutes until their mom came home, after I had already said tomorrow, I told them "Lots."
Did you know that even though they're in middle school and you're a college freshman, you're actually extremely stupid? And if their mother clearly told you the day she left that they are allowed ONE half hour EACH on the computer, you won't notice when someone who already had their one half hour charges up the stairs to the computer like a rampaging elephant when they hear that the other boy finished his turn. And if you do happen to notice this, and remind him that he already had his half hour, he will assure you that what his mother really meant was that they were allowed unlimited turns on the computer, and each turn was half an hour long. And you're so stupid that you won't wonder why it slipped both their minds to mention it for the last two days. It would have been insulting if it hadn't been funny.
Did you know that even though kids ask you to be mediator, they don't actually need a mediator? They are fully capable of figuring it out themselves. Case in point: I was watching them swim. They kept coming and telling on each other: He's shoving me. He's cheating. He's winning too much. And each time I reminded them that they were thinking creatures with the agency to choose to walk away whenever they wanted to. Okay, not really. What I actually said was "When you stop having fun, you can get out of the pool. Are you still having fun?" They didn't get out of the pool.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Hello Again
After such a long blogging silence, I feel like I need an icebreaker.
My favorite icebreakers are the questions that make people's eyes kind of bug out. I'm not really the gentle chisel and saw approach kind of person when it comes to ice. I like dynamite.
So a question I asked the Teacher this morning, which was completely out of any spoken context but made sense to my own convoluted way of thinking: "Why does a woman become a prostitute?"
So now that you know what my mother has to be ready for every day, here's my question for you: Aren't you glad you don't have to actually live with me?
My favorite icebreakers are the questions that make people's eyes kind of bug out. I'm not really the gentle chisel and saw approach kind of person when it comes to ice. I like dynamite.
So a question I asked the Teacher this morning, which was completely out of any spoken context but made sense to my own convoluted way of thinking: "Why does a woman become a prostitute?"
So now that you know what my mother has to be ready for every day, here's my question for you: Aren't you glad you don't have to actually live with me?
Sunday, June 20, 2010
14.5
Wow.
My family went on a 14.5 mile bike ride yesterday. It took three hours. According the Principal's GPS, our fastest speed was 30 mph (that was for maybe three or four minutes on an awesome downhill stretch).
The amazing thing to me is that I'm not dead today. I should be. A year ago I would have been. But I'm lazing around doing slow Sunday things, and the fact that I rode half a marathon just doesn't seem to matter.
I'm still so flabby (weight loss to date: 30 lbs; somehow, I don't think I'm going to make the 100 in one year goal), it's hard to remember or even realize that I'm actually in better shape than I've ever been.
The Principal and I are planning on riding a century sometime in early December. A century, for those of you who haven't caught the cycling mania, is a 100 mile bike ride, usually done in one day.
My family went on a 14.5 mile bike ride yesterday. It took three hours. According the Principal's GPS, our fastest speed was 30 mph (that was for maybe three or four minutes on an awesome downhill stretch).
The amazing thing to me is that I'm not dead today. I should be. A year ago I would have been. But I'm lazing around doing slow Sunday things, and the fact that I rode half a marathon just doesn't seem to matter.
I'm still so flabby (weight loss to date: 30 lbs; somehow, I don't think I'm going to make the 100 in one year goal), it's hard to remember or even realize that I'm actually in better shape than I've ever been.
The Principal and I are planning on riding a century sometime in early December. A century, for those of you who haven't caught the cycling mania, is a 100 mile bike ride, usually done in one day.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Ambition for Wealth
There are some books I shouldn't like that I read for fun. The most recent example is The Millionaire Next Door. I can tell as I'm reading it that it's on the dry side and the authors certainly didn't have me in mind as their audience, but it's interesting and (to me) enjoyable.
Other books I've not-so-secretly read include The Courage to be Rich (so-so) and The Total Money Makeover (awesome!).
And from these books, I've drawn certain conclusions.
1-I'm poor.
2-I would like to be rich.
3-Becoming rich is hard.
4-Staying rich is harder.
5-It's easier to look rich than it is to be rich.
6-Most things you have to do to become rich are boring.
7-So are the things you do to stay rich.
8-Writers usually do not become rich.
9-Sadly, I want to be a writer more than I want to be rich.
10-Rich people usually act poor, especially during the becoming rich stage.
11-Writers traditionally are poor, so no problem there.
12-It would be cool to live in an RV park, wouldn't it? It would be like living in a nomadic village. And Jane Austen said that a small village is just the thing for a writer.
13-Sorry. Sidetracked.
14-I'm going to be a writer and rich. So there. Feel free to call in forty years to ask how it's going.
Other books I've not-so-secretly read include The Courage to be Rich (so-so) and The Total Money Makeover (awesome!).
And from these books, I've drawn certain conclusions.
1-I'm poor.
2-I would like to be rich.
3-Becoming rich is hard.
4-Staying rich is harder.
5-It's easier to look rich than it is to be rich.
6-Most things you have to do to become rich are boring.
7-So are the things you do to stay rich.
8-Writers usually do not become rich.
9-Sadly, I want to be a writer more than I want to be rich.
10-Rich people usually act poor, especially during the becoming rich stage.
11-Writers traditionally are poor, so no problem there.
12-It would be cool to live in an RV park, wouldn't it? It would be like living in a nomadic village. And Jane Austen said that a small village is just the thing for a writer.
13-Sorry. Sidetracked.
14-I'm going to be a writer and rich. So there. Feel free to call in forty years to ask how it's going.
Friday, June 11, 2010
An unProfessional Opinion
I plan to be professional, which is why I capitalized the p instead of the u.
Last night after reading most of Stephenie Meyer's new book, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner (I think that's right) (and it should be against the law to be forced to leave the bookstore when you only have a quarter inch left to go), I informed my parents that the Twilight Saga is an unfortunate blip in Stephenie Meyer's career but that with time she'll overcome it. (I'm assuming that she wants to. I could be wrong. I don't think I am. We'll have to wait and see.)
They laughed at me. How serious I am is directly proportional to how hard people laugh at me. (But someday they'll be sorry... they'll all be sorry.)
But seriously. By a random fluke of chance, Stephenie Meyer's first book (and its sequels) hit it big time, not only making it onto the bestseller list but gathering a cult, fans, and establishing a firm place in pop culture.
This is not a good thing.
I've already talked about how awesome The Host is. Possibly the difference between The Host and the Twilight Saga is that The Host is adult fiction. The Twilight books are YA fiction. Have you skimmed the YA section recently? Do I really need to go farther? (If I ever, of my own free will, write YA fiction, by law I'll have to scratch the 'of sound mind' part out of my will.)
But I think it's more than that. Twilight was Stephenie Meyer's first book. A very good first book, but still a first book. That Twilight was published and basically won the lottery (so to speak) is an unfortunate fluke. The Twilight Saga is basically Stephenie Meyer's learning curve, out there for the whole world to see. And like any learning curve, it went off the road in places. (I know about going off the road even if I'm note technically qualified to give a Professional Opinion.)
I was worried that Stephenie Meyer would never overcome this. Sure, she wrote The Host, one of the best books ever (yes, I am aware that it's a romance; shut up) but that was a while ago. I had nightmare visions of an endless series featuring Bella and Edward and their kid (what was her name?). I mean, all the main characters are immortal- there's no reason the story ever has to end. Besides the fact that, you know, stories that don't end lose everything that made them good when they started.
It's happened. Look at Anne McCaffrey and her Pern books. If you watch anime, remember OnePiece and Bleach. None of those stories were allowed to end because they hit it big, won the lottery, whatever, and success strangled all the good out of them.
Having read most of The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner puts my Stephenie Meyer fears to rest. Because I know how the book ends. Bree dies. There isn't a happy ending for her. Knowing that should make it easy to say 'oh, it's time to go? I'll put this down then'.
They practically had to pry my fingers off of it. My parents have their evil moments. (Sure, I could have bought it, but I let go of money even less willingly than I let go of books. I'm going to wait for it to go to paperback. And you just lost all sympathy, didn't you? I can tell these things.)
But if someone can write a book about someone who's going to die, and you know they're going to die, and still make it next to impossible to walk away- well, that person knows how to write.
Which is far more important than any number of fans or movies. I'm glad that Stephenie Meyer isn't going to let the bestseller list get in the way of success.
(But I hope she branches out more. I'm getting just a little tired of vampires. Why doesn't she write something about witches? Or vampire hunters? I would totally buy a book about vampire hunters. Especially if it's about the hunter that kills Edward. I don't like him, Sam I Am.)
(On a not completely unrelated side note, there were parts of the later Twilight books that I enjoyed. They weren't completely evil. I liked Jasper. And Seth. And Jacob, right up until the last half of the last book. I don't hate you, Stephenie Meyer! Write more awesome books! End of side note.)
Last night after reading most of Stephenie Meyer's new book, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner (I think that's right) (and it should be against the law to be forced to leave the bookstore when you only have a quarter inch left to go), I informed my parents that the Twilight Saga is an unfortunate blip in Stephenie Meyer's career but that with time she'll overcome it. (I'm assuming that she wants to. I could be wrong. I don't think I am. We'll have to wait and see.)
They laughed at me. How serious I am is directly proportional to how hard people laugh at me. (But someday they'll be sorry... they'll all be sorry.)
But seriously. By a random fluke of chance, Stephenie Meyer's first book (and its sequels) hit it big time, not only making it onto the bestseller list but gathering a cult, fans, and establishing a firm place in pop culture.
This is not a good thing.
I've already talked about how awesome The Host is. Possibly the difference between The Host and the Twilight Saga is that The Host is adult fiction. The Twilight books are YA fiction. Have you skimmed the YA section recently? Do I really need to go farther? (If I ever, of my own free will, write YA fiction, by law I'll have to scratch the 'of sound mind' part out of my will.)
But I think it's more than that. Twilight was Stephenie Meyer's first book. A very good first book, but still a first book. That Twilight was published and basically won the lottery (so to speak) is an unfortunate fluke. The Twilight Saga is basically Stephenie Meyer's learning curve, out there for the whole world to see. And like any learning curve, it went off the road in places. (I know about going off the road even if I'm note technically qualified to give a Professional Opinion.)
I was worried that Stephenie Meyer would never overcome this. Sure, she wrote The Host, one of the best books ever (yes, I am aware that it's a romance; shut up) but that was a while ago. I had nightmare visions of an endless series featuring Bella and Edward and their kid (what was her name?). I mean, all the main characters are immortal- there's no reason the story ever has to end. Besides the fact that, you know, stories that don't end lose everything that made them good when they started.
It's happened. Look at Anne McCaffrey and her Pern books. If you watch anime, remember OnePiece and Bleach. None of those stories were allowed to end because they hit it big, won the lottery, whatever, and success strangled all the good out of them.
Having read most of The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner puts my Stephenie Meyer fears to rest. Because I know how the book ends. Bree dies. There isn't a happy ending for her. Knowing that should make it easy to say 'oh, it's time to go? I'll put this down then'.
They practically had to pry my fingers off of it. My parents have their evil moments. (Sure, I could have bought it, but I let go of money even less willingly than I let go of books. I'm going to wait for it to go to paperback. And you just lost all sympathy, didn't you? I can tell these things.)
But if someone can write a book about someone who's going to die, and you know they're going to die, and still make it next to impossible to walk away- well, that person knows how to write.
Which is far more important than any number of fans or movies. I'm glad that Stephenie Meyer isn't going to let the bestseller list get in the way of success.
(But I hope she branches out more. I'm getting just a little tired of vampires. Why doesn't she write something about witches? Or vampire hunters? I would totally buy a book about vampire hunters. Especially if it's about the hunter that kills Edward. I don't like him, Sam I Am.)
(On a not completely unrelated side note, there were parts of the later Twilight books that I enjoyed. They weren't completely evil. I liked Jasper. And Seth. And Jacob, right up until the last half of the last book. I don't hate you, Stephenie Meyer! Write more awesome books! End of side note.)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
My Poor Baby
The more I get to know Bayan the more I love her. We went to the park this morning, and enjoyed an idyllic ride on the (mostly) flat stretch of road. And then we turned across the dam to face my enemy together for the first time.
The Hill.
The Hill looks harmless. Hills usually do. But The Hill is crooked, so it looks soft and gentle and then you turn and all there is in front of you is more stinking hill. I've gone up The Hill on Old Busted. The bike came to a grumbling stop about fifteen feet from the top, and I had to fight my way the rest of the way up. Old Busted doesn't like hills. At all.
Bayan mocks hills. She laughs at them until they droop in shame. She doesn't walk up hills- she dances up them. She chews them up and spits them out and jumps up and down on them.
I don't dance up hills. I wheeze and puff and wonder if I'm about to have an asthma attack. But Bayan is a nice bike to have on hills, and someday I'll be able to dance up with her. (Clarification: I never got off the bike. I never felt like I had to, or was about to have to. I just wasn't dancing.)
But then tragedy struck (and it didn't even strike on The Hill; life has no sense of appropriate setting).
I took a wide turn, wobbled (have I mentioned that I'm an inexperienced cyclist? it would be hard to find someone who knows less about what they're doing than I do), went off the road, tried to get back on the road because Bayan is a road bike and I was given dire warnings about what would happen to her offroad, but nothing very bad happened because at that point I fell over. Happily, I was next to a nice paved road and landed on some nice soft pavement. Bayan mostly fell on me, and I'm softer than the road, so that's good.
I scrapped my palms and my elbows but other than that (and the embarrassment) I'm fine. But Bayan's chain popped out of the gear or whatever it is, so she's temporarily out of commission. If I knew anything about bikes I could probably fix this in ten minutes. I don't know anything about bikes. The Principal knows about bikes, so I'll ask him to fix it.
And the next time we go to the library, we're getting books on bike maintenance and repair. I need to know how to take care of Bayan.
The Hill.
The Hill looks harmless. Hills usually do. But The Hill is crooked, so it looks soft and gentle and then you turn and all there is in front of you is more stinking hill. I've gone up The Hill on Old Busted. The bike came to a grumbling stop about fifteen feet from the top, and I had to fight my way the rest of the way up. Old Busted doesn't like hills. At all.
Bayan mocks hills. She laughs at them until they droop in shame. She doesn't walk up hills- she dances up them. She chews them up and spits them out and jumps up and down on them.
I don't dance up hills. I wheeze and puff and wonder if I'm about to have an asthma attack. But Bayan is a nice bike to have on hills, and someday I'll be able to dance up with her. (Clarification: I never got off the bike. I never felt like I had to, or was about to have to. I just wasn't dancing.)
But then tragedy struck (and it didn't even strike on The Hill; life has no sense of appropriate setting).
I took a wide turn, wobbled (have I mentioned that I'm an inexperienced cyclist? it would be hard to find someone who knows less about what they're doing than I do), went off the road, tried to get back on the road because Bayan is a road bike and I was given dire warnings about what would happen to her offroad, but nothing very bad happened because at that point I fell over. Happily, I was next to a nice paved road and landed on some nice soft pavement. Bayan mostly fell on me, and I'm softer than the road, so that's good.
I scrapped my palms and my elbows but other than that (and the embarrassment) I'm fine. But Bayan's chain popped out of the gear or whatever it is, so she's temporarily out of commission. If I knew anything about bikes I could probably fix this in ten minutes. I don't know anything about bikes. The Principal knows about bikes, so I'll ask him to fix it.
And the next time we go to the library, we're getting books on bike maintenance and repair. I need to know how to take care of Bayan.
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