Ever have one of those days where everything on the schedule screams "Suck!" but yet the day itself turns out pretty nice? If no, hope for them; they're good.
I woke up this morning with the following agenda: walk the dog who is getting WAY too overweight thanks to heartworm treatments and overindulgent parents, go to the Dentist all the hell the way in Marshfield, stop into the old summer job to pay for my health insurance for the last time, and then try to time dinner to when the Crimefighter gets home starving even though he invariably forgets to call me to tell me he's on his way home even though his come home times vary drastically.
The dog walk was pleasant, mostly because my old friend/nemesis, who I call Mrs. Hurvitz simply because she reminds me of the REAL Mrs. Hurvitz from the Corey road days who I miss, is on vacation. Mrs. Hurvitz (the second) is one of those anomalies you only get in suburbia. I met her a few days after we got Boogie. I was taking him on one of our first walks, trying to bond Cesaer Milan style, when the door of a house I must have passed a thousand times alone flies open and an older lady in a hastily thrown on housecoat comes tearing down the walk. With little fear of imminent danger (I'm not tough, but I figured I can take on a septuagenarian in a housecoat), Boogie and I waited patiently. She immediately threw herself down on the ground beside my dog and began to squeal with delight. Unlike the original Mrs. Hurvitz, she had little to say to me. What can I say? My boy is a ladies' man.
Within a week, she had purchased dog treats to give to Boogie every morning and afternoon on our walks. Boogie is strictly a Science Diet/ Iams boy, so the treats soon became the reason he woke me up every morning for his walk. I have nothing against Snausages, per se, but they do pose a problem when your dog's system is used to genetically perfected dog food formulas.
Explosive diarrhea. And gas.
Within two weeks, The Crimefighter and I almost had to move into the spare room. From his place conveniently in between the two of us and often under the blankets, my boy was a lethal weapon.
This put me in a quandary. This little old lady bought my child treats. She adored my boy, and he loved her treats if not her (but probably her too - my boy, he loves the ladies). Still, my bedroom was becoming a gas chamber. Fortunately, pretty days in Massachusetts, they do not last forever. When the cold weather came, I shortened and changed my longer summer route, and the Crimefighter and I once again slept without the constant fear of methane poisoning.
I haven't decided what this summer will bring. So, for today at least, crisis averted.
On to Marshfield, a city on the South Shore where I once wasted a great deal of my youth.
Allow me explain... no. Is too much..... Allow me sum up:
My first dentist in Boston was hot. Achingly so. This is not why I chose him, but it is not a reason to stop using a good dentist. At the same time, I was dating someone who could not understand why I "needed" to have such a good looking dentist. As if my oral hygiene were a thinly veiled attempt to cuckold him.
Seriously? I know my strengths and my flaws. I grew up without benefit of fluoridated water. The inside of my mouth does NOT send men, least of all dentists, into a frenzy. It is NOT my most attractive feature. I do have Swedish teeth, which is good, but I also drink coffee and soda incessantly. You do the math.
Continuing summation: My then boyfriend (to protect his identity, we'll just anonymously call him "The 175 pound mass of drunken buffoon") wheedled and cajoled until I agreed to go to his mother's dentist, a kindly older white haired man. I needed some work done, so voila, new dentist.
Imagine how hard it was not to smile when I was told that I would not be seeing said kindly older, white haired man but his son who is about the DB's age and significantly more attractive.
INTERJECTION: My dentist is a lovely man with a lovely new husband. These are things I knew about 10 minutes into my first visit. Once you have dated for 20 years AND attended English graduate school in literature, you kind of get a sense of the men who want to play, don't want to play with you, and aren't even aware the game is on. And this is not information I ever presented to the DB. You want to drive yourself crazy with paranoid fantasies you have no reson to create? Knock yourself out. But I digress.
The DB came and went in a series of ugly confrontations, only some about the dentist, but I kept the dentist. He's funny. I figure it's easier to find a new boyfriend than it is to find a good dentist. Turns out, I was right.
What I love about this dentist is that somewhere along the way, it became as important to talk about the books we were reading as about my teeth. Sure, I get a good cleaning (gold star today -- the $100 toothbrush is worth it!), but I have to laugh when he comes in at the very end and the first thing he tells me, before the X-rays and the tooth stuff, is that he's reading Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. I thought it was cool because I have listened to the book on audio (pretty cool, but weird even for Ishiguro) and because I teach an article at Northeastern that relies heavily on his Remains of the Day.
And, no, I didn't ruin the surprise.
All in all, I no longer feel as judged when I go to the dentist. Maybe this is because I get to do a little judging myself. And, for the record, both he and I did well.
PS -- The DB? No clue since he Step Nine-d me (that's an AA thing where you make amends for the people you have wronged).
I told him not to worry about it. I got the dentist, and I've got the Crimefighter.
All in all, I traded up.
Ooo... Just started Captain Freedom: A Superhero's Quest for Truth, Justice, and the Celebrity He so Richly Deserves by G. Xavier Robillard, and it's knocking my nerdy socks off.
Also about 50 pages into The Man Who Sold the World: Ronald Reagan and the Betrayal of Main Street America by Willi Kleinknecht. I still have much to go, but Ronald Reagan may have been a douche.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Rules of the Road in Reading Recommendations
How's that for alliteration?
As weeks go, another week of concentrated reading time hasn't been bad. I'm tempted to say that I've not accomplished much, but if my goal of the summer is to read down my stack of books, I'm actually doing well. I've completed almost a book a day since Mount Ida let out, although, to be fair, I wasn't always on Page one of the books I was reading.
I thought of being what I considered "responsible." My reading was preferenced with library books and then books others got me because they felt these books would change my life.
I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I don't think many people really have a clue what I'm about. And I'm not sure a lot of people I know know what recommending books is about.
I have a lot of friends who are very smart and very literary, but recommending books is a lot like matchmaking people,and it often goes about as well. Sometimes the ass or the boobs ARE enough to hide a multitude of sins, but if you are looking to create lasting, meaningful relationships, you have to do more than pick any two people at random and slam them together on the grounds that "they both know me and like me."
I should say that I do inhale books, and when you inhale books, you eventually have to spread out your topics and fertilize more than one section of your brain. I do that with aplomb. When I'm reading, I constantly make connection between the books that I read and the people that I know. I take recommending reading to people seriously because I genuinely think that people who like to read enjoy life in a myriad of ways that others do not. That said, I have a lot of friends who have never gotten a reading recommendation from me because I haven't met their soulmate yet.
I should say that I tell every person I talk to what I'm reading. I tell them what I am thinking about it, and it's usually positive because I toss more books out from lack of interest than many people read in a lifetime. Hundreds of thousands of books are published every year. There is something for you and something for me, and life is too short to read Moby Dick because you think you owe it to yourself or anyone else.
Still, this line of conversation is NOT a recommendation. So, here are some rules of the road:
So, the Golden Rule is that the only people who should recommend books are those who love their friends and books and want to get them together. Your job is not to improve someone but to give them a few hours of pleasure in reading something. While I do believe in the power of books to change lives, it's been my experience that the books that change a person's life are usually stumbled upon rather than recommended by others. Most people aren't looking for their lives to change. Most people just want a pleasant way to spend the occasional free afternoon or ten minutes between getting into bed and the REM cycle.
That said, I do have some that I recommend without hesitation. These are guaranteed NOT to change your life or make you feel like you ought to be climbing Everest or achieving world peace singlehandedly. Here's my list of time wasters that won't waste your time:
Now, what do you have for me?
As weeks go, another week of concentrated reading time hasn't been bad. I'm tempted to say that I've not accomplished much, but if my goal of the summer is to read down my stack of books, I'm actually doing well. I've completed almost a book a day since Mount Ida let out, although, to be fair, I wasn't always on Page one of the books I was reading.
I thought of being what I considered "responsible." My reading was preferenced with library books and then books others got me because they felt these books would change my life.
I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I don't think many people really have a clue what I'm about. And I'm not sure a lot of people I know know what recommending books is about.
I have a lot of friends who are very smart and very literary, but recommending books is a lot like matchmaking people,and it often goes about as well. Sometimes the ass or the boobs ARE enough to hide a multitude of sins, but if you are looking to create lasting, meaningful relationships, you have to do more than pick any two people at random and slam them together on the grounds that "they both know me and like me."
I should say that I do inhale books, and when you inhale books, you eventually have to spread out your topics and fertilize more than one section of your brain. I do that with aplomb. When I'm reading, I constantly make connection between the books that I read and the people that I know. I take recommending reading to people seriously because I genuinely think that people who like to read enjoy life in a myriad of ways that others do not. That said, I have a lot of friends who have never gotten a reading recommendation from me because I haven't met their soulmate yet.
I should say that I tell every person I talk to what I'm reading. I tell them what I am thinking about it, and it's usually positive because I toss more books out from lack of interest than many people read in a lifetime. Hundreds of thousands of books are published every year. There is something for you and something for me, and life is too short to read Moby Dick because you think you owe it to yourself or anyone else.
Still, this line of conversation is NOT a recommendation. So, here are some rules of the road:
- While books can change lives, no one book changes every one's life (least of all, The Secret). Don't be angry when your favorite book gets a review of, "Meh...."
- Focus on matching interests with readers. I adored Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, but I would never recommend it too any of my students or to anyone I know living in a high rise in the middle of Boston. People living in a New England urban environment aren't going to appreciate a book about living off the land in Kentucky. While they might enjoy it, it could very well leave them feeling at a loss about how to improve their diet. Simply put, New Englanders in apartment buildings can't turn their homesteads into a farm, so why suggest they are inadequate when there's not much they can do to change things? Instead of recommending the book, I decided I wanted to see if organic food really did make people feel better. I invited people in the area to come with me on different weekends to go to a local farmer's market. The message was there, and we found some yummy stuff. No need to drag books into it.
- Avoid books on spirituality, money, or self-help. It's just preachy. People's emotional and spiritual health is their business -- the section is called SELF-HELP for a reason. Everyone knows where the section is in Barnes and Noble -- they'll go there (probably without you) if they want to improve themselves. That doesn't mean that any book on the topic is taboo. It's , again, about sharing enjoyment rather than dogma. I have two recent reads that might better illustrate. I adored Crazy for God: How I Grew Up as one of the Elect, Helped Found the Religious Right, and Lived to Take All (or almost all) of it Back and The Other Preacher in Lynchburg: My Life Across Town from Jerry Falwell. Hailing from the Deep South, it should come as no surprise that I know a lot of people who consider themselves highly religious people. For most of them, I would recommend neither book. For those who really love reading about religion, I would cautiously recommend the second, but not the first even though the first is, in my opinion, the stronger and more impressive book. Why? Because the second is an impression of one man by one man and is written with several disclaimers. The first, while not a hatchet job, is far more antagonistic towards the religious right. I believe the author of Crazy for God is right, but I don't like proselytizers, and I don't aim to be one.
- Don't recommend a book on a subject that the recommendee is an expert on. Instead, recommend a book that offers a unique perspective on the subject. I don't recommend how-to gardening books to my Dad who is a much better gardener than I. I read the novice books and ask his advice, but I don't recommend he read them -- he'd be bored senseless. Instead, I recommended The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden. I also recommend fiction where the main character is a gardener.
- Don't be put out when the book you recommend sits on a shelf for a long time. It doesn't mean the person you gave it to disregards your opinion. Let them have it forever, if they need it. This isn't a race. I've fallen into books on my first attempt at reading them, and others on my seventh attempt. Sometimes, you just aren't in the mood for a particular book. Better to wait until you know you can love it the way it needs to be loved. Books will wait for you to need them. It usually takes me a few false starts and stops to get into a Tom Robbins novel. He writes slow, though, so maybe that's a good thing. I bet I started Skinny Legs and All a half dozen times. Sixth time was the charm, and now it's part of my soul. It would not have been if I'd forced myself through it on my first attempt.
- Understand your weirdness. There are authors I love who I love in the closet. No one else would understand. There are many that I prize who I only recommend to die hard readers with the disclaimer that it takes a while. I'm a fantasy novel junkie. I devour Anne Bishop, Patricia Briggs, and others even when they aren't doing their best work. The Manda is the reading-est friend I have, and I have never recommended a one of these to her. Why? Because her weirdness just doesn't cover orcs and dragons and magical magical lands that I find enthralling. If you love books, you can love them without corroboration. She doesn't ask me to delve into The Economist, and I keep my trolls and dryads to myself.
- Know that books are about more than content. You also need to pay attention to style and length. My partner in crime is wicked smart, but an 800 page book would turn him off. It isn't that he couldn't make it through and enjoy it. Call it fear of commitment. He wants something he can finish in a set period of time, and he doesn't want to develop back problems from lugging it around.
- Don't try to "expand" someone's repertoire, unless they ask you to. If they like fiction, they don't need The Empathy Gap: Building Bridges to the Good Life and Good Society. If they like Nora Roberts-esque happy endings, don't give them Anita Blake novels. You aren't their teacher; you're their friend. Come to think of it, I AM a teacher, and I try to avoid it when I can.
- Be careful with "funny" books. Try to match senses of humor between reader and the read. Christopher Moore makes both me and The Manda pee a little bit. I love Christopher Moore too much to recommend him and then hear, "Meh...," so I only recommend him sporadically.
- Recommend an author's second best book, if you are matching author to reader. That way, if your recomendee likes it, the rest of the reading won't be a freefall into lesser works. It's a simple formula -- second best, best, and then you have them hooked and they will tolerate earlier or not quite on the mark books. So, if you want to try Christopher Moore, start with Fluke, Practical Demonkeeping, or Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story and ease into Lamb:The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal. You won't be disappointed.
- Don't recommend blockbusters. They have enough PR. Look into the corners for undiscovered gems. Plus, lots of blockbuster novels suck.
- Don't recommend books on reading. There are a lot of good ones out there, but it's kind of redundant.
- Know when to break the rules, as I will at the end of this blog post.
So, the Golden Rule is that the only people who should recommend books are those who love their friends and books and want to get them together. Your job is not to improve someone but to give them a few hours of pleasure in reading something. While I do believe in the power of books to change lives, it's been my experience that the books that change a person's life are usually stumbled upon rather than recommended by others. Most people aren't looking for their lives to change. Most people just want a pleasant way to spend the occasional free afternoon or ten minutes between getting into bed and the REM cycle.
That said, I do have some that I recommend without hesitation. These are guaranteed NOT to change your life or make you feel like you ought to be climbing Everest or achieving world peace singlehandedly. Here's my list of time wasters that won't waste your time:
- Mystery -- Naked in Death by JD Robb. Futuristic/ female cop mystery series. There are about 30 books in the series. If you like this one, you'll finish the series before you hang your Christmas lights.
- Sci-Fi/ Fantasy -- Daughter of the Blood by Anne Bishop. Fantasy. Hands down the most intricate and imaginative world I've ever encountered. 6-7 books in the series. A disclaimer: there's a lot of disturbing images in the first book. All I can offer you is that there's a Roald-Dahl-esque justice by the end of the series. First one is hard to read, but everything comes up roses by the end of the third, except the stuff that doesn't, you know.
- Children's -- Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by JK Rowling. There's a reason it's a blockbuster and a new classic. Sometimes the masses do speak volumes.
- Non-fiction, recent -- The Lonely American: Drifting Apart in the 21 st century by Jacqueline Olds and Richard S. Scwartz. I liked it. It tried to explain some of the things I find discouraging about the world.
Now, what do you have for me?
Sunday, May 17, 2009
There's something about summer.....
Since I turned in my grades Wednesday morning (right on time, thank you very much -- I bet the registrar is shocked), I've officially had 5 days completely to myself. Thanks to a lot of very (in my opinion often overly) specific rules about online classes and application thereof, my summer school online course in business writing has been all set to go. A quick welcome letter and answering the 6 question quiz at Kingdomality (our "get to know you icebreaker," not that that's redundant) meant I'm ready to jump into summer school tomorrow.
I know, on the outside, 5 days off sounds like a dream, but apparently I'm not cut out for it. Don't get me wrong -- I know how much of a blessing 5 days off would be for someone with children or vacation plans, but I have neither of those. Frankly, I'm too unstructured and the result is that nothing is getting accomplished except for way too much time on Facebook and resulting carpal pain nightmares.
So, in an attempt at forcing structure where none exists, I dragged the laptop up stairs and plugged it into mission control, finally. A few printer drivers and software bits later, and I'm actually at a desk writing. It will look like structure, even if it isn't. Fake it til you make it, right?
I ask my students every semester what they would do if they won the lottery. Would they stay in school? Would they work? Would they do something other than their planned career path. I've always been amazed how many of them say they would quit school and do nothing. I can officially say now that it sucks. No... really.
My first day of unemployment (right after I typed in grades and hit "send") was amazing. I did nothing. I tuned in a little Maury AND a little Oprah. I took the dog on two walks and to the dog park. I finished The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher in peace and quiet. When my partner in crime came home and asked what I did that day, I got all Office Space and said, "I did nothing. And it was as good as I thought it could be."
Then came Day Two. Incapable of sleeping past seven am (and not wanting to learn since I do have 8 o'clocks in the fall) I made coffee, kicked some ass in Mafia Wars on Facebook, gave an old friend whose daughter is looking at colleges some advice, and walked the dog.
It was 8:30 a.m.
I went to the gym, planned a menu and bought the groceries. I potted the remaining of my heirloom tomatoes and cucumbers. I rearranged the ENTIRE upstairs bathroom closet (see former posts about reed baskets and matching cloth liners).
It was barely noon.
I started - and finished - the book on Generation Y. It just made me mad.
I started and finished a Miss Julia book. It just made me realize that a sassy Octogenarian in North Carolina has a more culturally stimulating life than mine. Then again, I know a whole bunch of octogenarians from the South, and I think more than a bit of Ross' fiction is just that.
I know there are things I could do. I have some basement organization that desperately needs to get done, but I was saving that for the middle of July when the basement is the only place worth being in the heat.
I could finally put all that stuff up on ebay I've been meaning to get up there.
I could scan the 30 million pictures I have in a box before I forget who they are of.
The point is that I have the whole summer to complete the things I have to do (and I will), but I find that hard to get started on when I still hold on to the thought that there ought to be something I really WANT to do. We spend so much time rushed and hurried thinking "if only I had the time."
Maybe that's just wishful thinking, because I HAVE the time, and without having to "fit" it all in, I'm getting a graduate degree, already, in the lost art of time suckage.
I need a schedule. My thought was "one crappy thing I have to do every day and then one fun thing." Unfortunately, I can't really seem to get enthused about even the "fun things."
What scares me is that before I know it, I'll be parking in renaissance garage, printing out my syllabus, and this summer won't have one good story to tell my friends at our start of term meeting.
So, here's one more thing. 5 more books I've finished that are up for grabs. Most are OK, if not stellar, and they are something to do while I get back to Maury and the search for inspiration.
The Book of Joe (Jonathan Tropper) -- think October Road, the book. It's better than the TV show, but that's sort of like being the valedictorian of summer school.
Obedience (Will Lavender) -- big overture; little show. Know how sometimes you struggle through the book until the end makes the struggle worth it? This is kind of the opposite. The entire book had me on the edge of my seat, and I found the end unsatisfying and forced. But you might not. If I taught creative writing, I might assign all but the last three chapters to students and have them write their own endings. I bet one would be better.
Hero (Perry Moore) -- superhero book. I thought it was a hoot. Thom Creed is the son of a pair of superheroes. Mom has vanished (which has a lot of potential meanings in superhero world) and Dad was disgraced when he bungled a save many years before (think the opening scenes of The Incredibles). Now, the book's version of the Superfriends wants him..... but for what?
The Age of the Conglomerates: a novel of the Future (Thomas Nevins) -- dystopian future where "Coots" (those whose age makes them a social and financial burden on society) are all relocated to government designed communities in the Southwest. Kids can be dumped into the sewers and replaced with genetically superior (and better behaved) specimens. Cahoots and chaos galore! I liked it, but then again I'm a dork like that.
Keeping Faith (Jody Piccoult) -- if I'm in a Jody place, I love her books. I'm not in a Jody place all that often. I liked this one, and I really liked Plain Truth but I really have to be in the mood.
MY READING:
Just finished Non-fiction : Rich Like them: My Door to Door Search for the Secrets of Wealth in America's Wealthiest Neighborhoods (Ryan D'Agostino)
I liked it -- It's not so much a "how to be wealthy" book as a "how to make your life more enjoyable and stop being so hung up about money" book. Bottom line: most of the people who make a lot of money don't do it by making money their primary focus. Interesting.
Just Finished Fiction: Unplugging Philco (Jim Knipfel)
Imagine if George Bush had his way..... very Wag the Dog. Full of a lot of pop culture references, although they could be a little more subtle. Dystopian future where the government (really a corporation) enacts its will by convincing the populace that they are under threat of namelss, faceless terrorists. You know.... after The Horribleness (and who created that is up for discussion). Sound familiar?
NOW READING Fiction: Fire Study (Maria V. Snyder) Currently: p. 68
Third in a fantasy series -- not blown away by it, but it's the final in the series, and I feel compelled to see how it ends.
NOW READING Non-fiction: The Empathy Gap: Building Bridges to the Good Life and the Good Society (J.D. Trout) Currently p. 56
Interesting look at combining what we know about people's psychological makeup and how we can explain the lack of compassion an increasing lack of real empathy in some and almost hysterical levels in others. Attempting to define what it is we feel or should feel compelled to do to support our fellow man -- nice addendum about how we look at life differently from Western Europe/ Scandinavia.
The first 5 are free to you to keep if they look appealing. The four on my current list are all library books. Hoping to turn both in by Wednesday.
I know, on the outside, 5 days off sounds like a dream, but apparently I'm not cut out for it. Don't get me wrong -- I know how much of a blessing 5 days off would be for someone with children or vacation plans, but I have neither of those. Frankly, I'm too unstructured and the result is that nothing is getting accomplished except for way too much time on Facebook and resulting carpal pain nightmares.
So, in an attempt at forcing structure where none exists, I dragged the laptop up stairs and plugged it into mission control, finally. A few printer drivers and software bits later, and I'm actually at a desk writing. It will look like structure, even if it isn't. Fake it til you make it, right?
I ask my students every semester what they would do if they won the lottery. Would they stay in school? Would they work? Would they do something other than their planned career path. I've always been amazed how many of them say they would quit school and do nothing. I can officially say now that it sucks. No... really.
My first day of unemployment (right after I typed in grades and hit "send") was amazing. I did nothing. I tuned in a little Maury AND a little Oprah. I took the dog on two walks and to the dog park. I finished The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher in peace and quiet. When my partner in crime came home and asked what I did that day, I got all Office Space and said, "I did nothing. And it was as good as I thought it could be."
Then came Day Two. Incapable of sleeping past seven am (and not wanting to learn since I do have 8 o'clocks in the fall) I made coffee, kicked some ass in Mafia Wars on Facebook, gave an old friend whose daughter is looking at colleges some advice, and walked the dog.
It was 8:30 a.m.
I went to the gym, planned a menu and bought the groceries. I potted the remaining of my heirloom tomatoes and cucumbers. I rearranged the ENTIRE upstairs bathroom closet (see former posts about reed baskets and matching cloth liners).
It was barely noon.
I started - and finished - the book on Generation Y. It just made me mad.
I started and finished a Miss Julia book. It just made me realize that a sassy Octogenarian in North Carolina has a more culturally stimulating life than mine. Then again, I know a whole bunch of octogenarians from the South, and I think more than a bit of Ross' fiction is just that.
I know there are things I could do. I have some basement organization that desperately needs to get done, but I was saving that for the middle of July when the basement is the only place worth being in the heat.
I could finally put all that stuff up on ebay I've been meaning to get up there.
I could scan the 30 million pictures I have in a box before I forget who they are of.
The point is that I have the whole summer to complete the things I have to do (and I will), but I find that hard to get started on when I still hold on to the thought that there ought to be something I really WANT to do. We spend so much time rushed and hurried thinking "if only I had the time."
Maybe that's just wishful thinking, because I HAVE the time, and without having to "fit" it all in, I'm getting a graduate degree, already, in the lost art of time suckage.
I need a schedule. My thought was "one crappy thing I have to do every day and then one fun thing." Unfortunately, I can't really seem to get enthused about even the "fun things."
What scares me is that before I know it, I'll be parking in renaissance garage, printing out my syllabus, and this summer won't have one good story to tell my friends at our start of term meeting.
So, here's one more thing. 5 more books I've finished that are up for grabs. Most are OK, if not stellar, and they are something to do while I get back to Maury and the search for inspiration.
The Book of Joe (Jonathan Tropper) -- think October Road, the book. It's better than the TV show, but that's sort of like being the valedictorian of summer school.
Obedience (Will Lavender) -- big overture; little show. Know how sometimes you struggle through the book until the end makes the struggle worth it? This is kind of the opposite. The entire book had me on the edge of my seat, and I found the end unsatisfying and forced. But you might not. If I taught creative writing, I might assign all but the last three chapters to students and have them write their own endings. I bet one would be better.
Hero (Perry Moore) -- superhero book. I thought it was a hoot. Thom Creed is the son of a pair of superheroes. Mom has vanished (which has a lot of potential meanings in superhero world) and Dad was disgraced when he bungled a save many years before (think the opening scenes of The Incredibles). Now, the book's version of the Superfriends wants him..... but for what?
The Age of the Conglomerates: a novel of the Future (Thomas Nevins) -- dystopian future where "Coots" (those whose age makes them a social and financial burden on society) are all relocated to government designed communities in the Southwest. Kids can be dumped into the sewers and replaced with genetically superior (and better behaved) specimens. Cahoots and chaos galore! I liked it, but then again I'm a dork like that.
Keeping Faith (Jody Piccoult) -- if I'm in a Jody place, I love her books. I'm not in a Jody place all that often. I liked this one, and I really liked Plain Truth but I really have to be in the mood.
MY READING:
Just finished Non-fiction : Rich Like them: My Door to Door Search for the Secrets of Wealth in America's Wealthiest Neighborhoods (Ryan D'Agostino)
I liked it -- It's not so much a "how to be wealthy" book as a "how to make your life more enjoyable and stop being so hung up about money" book. Bottom line: most of the people who make a lot of money don't do it by making money their primary focus. Interesting.
Just Finished Fiction: Unplugging Philco (Jim Knipfel)
Imagine if George Bush had his way..... very Wag the Dog. Full of a lot of pop culture references, although they could be a little more subtle. Dystopian future where the government (really a corporation) enacts its will by convincing the populace that they are under threat of namelss, faceless terrorists. You know.... after The Horribleness (and who created that is up for discussion). Sound familiar?
NOW READING Fiction: Fire Study (Maria V. Snyder) Currently: p. 68
Third in a fantasy series -- not blown away by it, but it's the final in the series, and I feel compelled to see how it ends.
NOW READING Non-fiction: The Empathy Gap: Building Bridges to the Good Life and the Good Society (J.D. Trout) Currently p. 56
Interesting look at combining what we know about people's psychological makeup and how we can explain the lack of compassion an increasing lack of real empathy in some and almost hysterical levels in others. Attempting to define what it is we feel or should feel compelled to do to support our fellow man -- nice addendum about how we look at life differently from Western Europe/ Scandinavia.
The first 5 are free to you to keep if they look appealing. The four on my current list are all library books. Hoping to turn both in by Wednesday.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Why Y?
Although I love books, I find, often, that books are situational. Like people, all books are created equally, but all books are not equal at all times. Sometimes, even a reading junkie like me makes a bad decision. Such was the case with Not Everyone Gets a Trophy: How to Manage Generation Y.
There's a phenomenon I refer to in my classes as "The Michael Moore Effect." In short, we must learn to evaluate separately the message and the messenger. I call it TMME because I find Michael Moore to be, usually, a ridiculous self-promoting blowhard, as do most of my students. Still, pomposity aside, that doesn't mean he's always wrong. This actually provides a very concrete lesson to my students in voice and tone. Does being right matter if you have offended your audience before they even get to your thesis? Like the tree in the forest with no one to hear it fall, does your genius and brilliance change the world if it's on paper in the bottom of Mr. X's wastebasket?
This is the effect I feel now. Bruce Tulgan, author of Not Everybody Gets a Trophy, may actually have some valid points, but the book has been sitting on my coffee table and has been picked up by many people, first chapter read, and tossed down in disgust. And I think the tosses might have some merit.
First, to the positive praise (because to talk to Gen Yers, apparently you always have to say something nice, even if they are currently setting you on fire, lest you hurt their feelings). I actually did get some good ideas about approaches to take in my classroom from his advice on self-explanation of managers in the workplace. I do get, from my days of bouncing around from manager to manager, that there are no concrete ways of being managed by anyone. Different people want different things from those they manage, so making a more clear list of what works for each manager was a delineation of something we all probably knew but had never seen worded that way before. Perhaps my generation should stop insisting that there is a stone-carved set of behaviors that those of us born in the seventies and before just "knew" encompassing every aspect of work life. So, Bruce, kudos. One point on your scorecard.
That said.... why did I just read one hundred and 170 pages without ever seeing the words "competence" or "solid knowledge base?" Tulgan points out, ad nausea, that Generation Yers were born into an age when all knowledge was at their fingertips and technology was becoming obsolete as it left its factory packaging. He advises us to allow them their blackberries, ipods, and wikipedia in the workplace or classroom because they are exceptional at multi-tasking and being able to "get the gist" of a situation in a few fingerstrokes on a keyboard.
Here's where the problem comes in -- he leaves out a very important problem he never acknowledges or even alludes to. ""The gist" or the soundbyte IS the story for many of my students. It's like reading the headlines in The Times to know what is going on in the world. Yes, it works if your goal is dinner party conversation, but I often find my students are satisfied with "the gist" and never see the crucial importance of extended in-depth, repeated study of a situation.
Tulgan argues that information changes so rapidly that Generation Yers feel no compulsion to seek out anything in depth because, in their eyes, it will be obsolete soon enough to not warrant their extended attention. Once something new comes along, the old stuff is inconsequential, so why bother even looking at it?
This is where Tulgan and I part in fundamental ways because this thinking highlights why so many of my students never grasp the concept of the courses I teach. Every semester, I ask for in-depth and researched articles on topics of importance or relevance to my students' career paths and what I get is extended headline and bibliography. When I broach this subject to my students, they say that they have provided the source so if their reader wants to know more, they know where to look. They see over explanation as a waste of time to their reader and the writing of said explanation as a waste of theirs. The important thing is to know where to look should that piece of information ever be in a position to push them forward towards a future goal. Tulgan calls this a "transactional relationship mindset" and actually praises it.
I have always advocated that the most important part of the academy is inspiring students to want to know more and giving them a solid foundation in research methodology so they CAN. I think we DO complete the latter well, but it seems to be at the expense of the former.
Generation Yers seem to see the internet as a place where all the knowledge in the world is stored (and, to an extent it is), but they don't see the fact that someone researched and wrote all that information. Who do they think compiles these wonderful soundbytes and 10 second newsreels which keep them anchored, if slightly, to the happenings of the world?
And who will do it when my generation are gone?
I do agree that, in the workplace, sometimes managers need to let go of things that aren't all that important. In a lot of jobs, it actually would be OK for an employee to work 8-4, 9-5, or 10-6 depending on their preference. I do think some small-minded managers use these tiny little matters as cudgels to make themselves feel important by being able to deny something to their employees because denying makes them feel in control.
Case in point: When I worked 8-4 at John Hancock, I wanted a later lunch and was told no. I went so far as to find a person who had a later lunch hour and desperately wanted to switch with me because they got cranky if they didn't eat right at 11. I don't get hungry until at least one. This co-worker wound up eating shit at his desk, not being hungry when lunch came around, gaining weight from the shit, and doing nothing during their lunch hour. Likewise, I would do nothing during my lunch hour and then snack at my desk later when I did get hungry. We petitioned to switch and were told no because that wasn't how things ran at John Hancock. We had found a solution that worked, offered no downside, and were told we couldn't.
Note to my former manager: Nobody likes a bitchy princess, honey.
So, yes, perhaps we do need to change sometimes. Protocol for protocol's sake isn't good. We've all read Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," and it scared the shit out of us.
That said, I see Generation Yers often thinking that my example is the rule of the road -- no rules apply to them and five minutes late is always the same as on time, and this is also not the case. If I schedule library research time in a class, I schedule it at a particular time, because I also see many of my students consistently following the path of least resistance. If I don't supervise them, they won't do it.
They want trust and responsibility, but they have never been asked to do anything that didn't involve getting a tangible "trophy" for their effort. No trophy, no work.
I teach 114 students a semester. I'm trying to give them power and responsibility by asking them to choose their own topics and do their own research. I give them what they say they want, what Tulgran says we should give them, and they evaluate me by saying "She wouldn't tell me exactly what she wanted (for me to get an easy A)."
Tulgran advocates lots of checklists and a lot of micromanagement. Didn't my whole generation spend the last twenty years screaming at the top of our lungs how damned frustrating that is? Isn't it still? Simply put, you cannot have it both ways. I can give you a specific checklist OR I can give you power and responsibility. I can outline what you need to get a very specific kind of "A" OR I can let you express your creativity.
It takes working mothers years to be able (if they ever do) to "have it all." Generation Yers want us to hand them "it all" and they seem to want it yesterday. And Tulgran says we should be able to provide that.
But ask anyone who's been in business a while how many kids' games they have had to miss when something came up. Ask them how many vacations had to start a say later or how many days the work day ran beyond 8 hours.
It just seems to me that Tulgran is expecting the American Businessplace to adapt to this Headline only, someone else will do the legwork mentality.
My question is who, exactly, is supposed to actually make something or do something or be something while the rest of us hold hands of Generation Yers while they grab the soundbyte and wave for the camera?
Buy stock in a trophy-making company.
There's a phenomenon I refer to in my classes as "The Michael Moore Effect." In short, we must learn to evaluate separately the message and the messenger. I call it TMME because I find Michael Moore to be, usually, a ridiculous self-promoting blowhard, as do most of my students. Still, pomposity aside, that doesn't mean he's always wrong. This actually provides a very concrete lesson to my students in voice and tone. Does being right matter if you have offended your audience before they even get to your thesis? Like the tree in the forest with no one to hear it fall, does your genius and brilliance change the world if it's on paper in the bottom of Mr. X's wastebasket?
This is the effect I feel now. Bruce Tulgan, author of Not Everybody Gets a Trophy, may actually have some valid points, but the book has been sitting on my coffee table and has been picked up by many people, first chapter read, and tossed down in disgust. And I think the tosses might have some merit.
First, to the positive praise (because to talk to Gen Yers, apparently you always have to say something nice, even if they are currently setting you on fire, lest you hurt their feelings). I actually did get some good ideas about approaches to take in my classroom from his advice on self-explanation of managers in the workplace. I do get, from my days of bouncing around from manager to manager, that there are no concrete ways of being managed by anyone. Different people want different things from those they manage, so making a more clear list of what works for each manager was a delineation of something we all probably knew but had never seen worded that way before. Perhaps my generation should stop insisting that there is a stone-carved set of behaviors that those of us born in the seventies and before just "knew" encompassing every aspect of work life. So, Bruce, kudos. One point on your scorecard.
That said.... why did I just read one hundred and 170 pages without ever seeing the words "competence" or "solid knowledge base?" Tulgan points out, ad nausea, that Generation Yers were born into an age when all knowledge was at their fingertips and technology was becoming obsolete as it left its factory packaging. He advises us to allow them their blackberries, ipods, and wikipedia in the workplace or classroom because they are exceptional at multi-tasking and being able to "get the gist" of a situation in a few fingerstrokes on a keyboard.
Here's where the problem comes in -- he leaves out a very important problem he never acknowledges or even alludes to. ""The gist" or the soundbyte IS the story for many of my students. It's like reading the headlines in The Times to know what is going on in the world. Yes, it works if your goal is dinner party conversation, but I often find my students are satisfied with "the gist" and never see the crucial importance of extended in-depth, repeated study of a situation.
Tulgan argues that information changes so rapidly that Generation Yers feel no compulsion to seek out anything in depth because, in their eyes, it will be obsolete soon enough to not warrant their extended attention. Once something new comes along, the old stuff is inconsequential, so why bother even looking at it?
This is where Tulgan and I part in fundamental ways because this thinking highlights why so many of my students never grasp the concept of the courses I teach. Every semester, I ask for in-depth and researched articles on topics of importance or relevance to my students' career paths and what I get is extended headline and bibliography. When I broach this subject to my students, they say that they have provided the source so if their reader wants to know more, they know where to look. They see over explanation as a waste of time to their reader and the writing of said explanation as a waste of theirs. The important thing is to know where to look should that piece of information ever be in a position to push them forward towards a future goal. Tulgan calls this a "transactional relationship mindset" and actually praises it.
I have always advocated that the most important part of the academy is inspiring students to want to know more and giving them a solid foundation in research methodology so they CAN. I think we DO complete the latter well, but it seems to be at the expense of the former.
Generation Yers seem to see the internet as a place where all the knowledge in the world is stored (and, to an extent it is), but they don't see the fact that someone researched and wrote all that information. Who do they think compiles these wonderful soundbytes and 10 second newsreels which keep them anchored, if slightly, to the happenings of the world?
And who will do it when my generation are gone?
I do agree that, in the workplace, sometimes managers need to let go of things that aren't all that important. In a lot of jobs, it actually would be OK for an employee to work 8-4, 9-5, or 10-6 depending on their preference. I do think some small-minded managers use these tiny little matters as cudgels to make themselves feel important by being able to deny something to their employees because denying makes them feel in control.
Case in point: When I worked 8-4 at John Hancock, I wanted a later lunch and was told no. I went so far as to find a person who had a later lunch hour and desperately wanted to switch with me because they got cranky if they didn't eat right at 11. I don't get hungry until at least one. This co-worker wound up eating shit at his desk, not being hungry when lunch came around, gaining weight from the shit, and doing nothing during their lunch hour. Likewise, I would do nothing during my lunch hour and then snack at my desk later when I did get hungry. We petitioned to switch and were told no because that wasn't how things ran at John Hancock. We had found a solution that worked, offered no downside, and were told we couldn't.
Note to my former manager: Nobody likes a bitchy princess, honey.
So, yes, perhaps we do need to change sometimes. Protocol for protocol's sake isn't good. We've all read Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," and it scared the shit out of us.
That said, I see Generation Yers often thinking that my example is the rule of the road -- no rules apply to them and five minutes late is always the same as on time, and this is also not the case. If I schedule library research time in a class, I schedule it at a particular time, because I also see many of my students consistently following the path of least resistance. If I don't supervise them, they won't do it.
They want trust and responsibility, but they have never been asked to do anything that didn't involve getting a tangible "trophy" for their effort. No trophy, no work.
I teach 114 students a semester. I'm trying to give them power and responsibility by asking them to choose their own topics and do their own research. I give them what they say they want, what Tulgran says we should give them, and they evaluate me by saying "She wouldn't tell me exactly what she wanted (for me to get an easy A)."
Tulgran advocates lots of checklists and a lot of micromanagement. Didn't my whole generation spend the last twenty years screaming at the top of our lungs how damned frustrating that is? Isn't it still? Simply put, you cannot have it both ways. I can give you a specific checklist OR I can give you power and responsibility. I can outline what you need to get a very specific kind of "A" OR I can let you express your creativity.
It takes working mothers years to be able (if they ever do) to "have it all." Generation Yers want us to hand them "it all" and they seem to want it yesterday. And Tulgran says we should be able to provide that.
But ask anyone who's been in business a while how many kids' games they have had to miss when something came up. Ask them how many vacations had to start a say later or how many days the work day ran beyond 8 hours.
It just seems to me that Tulgran is expecting the American Businessplace to adapt to this Headline only, someone else will do the legwork mentality.
My question is who, exactly, is supposed to actually make something or do something or be something while the rest of us hold hands of Generation Yers while they grab the soundbyte and wave for the camera?
Buy stock in a trophy-making company.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Now is the Summer of Our Abundant Content
It's all over but the shouting. Classes are over, grades have been submitted, coffee has been brewed, and now I get down to the business of what to do until August. To be honest, it's a nice feeling, but very unsettling. I have nothing that needs to be done, and it feels rather unseemly, sort of like flying a kite at night.
Before anyone starts hating and emailing me that they wished they had my dilemma, I should remind all that the downside of having nothing to do is that I also have no salary coming in, other than one online summer course, until the middle of September as well. So my favored option of how to spend the summer (sipping coffees in a little cafe near the edge of the Grand Canal in Venice) is not exactly an option. I did have the foresight to watch my money all year so that I could make it through the summer, but I might not have watched closely enough, so it will be a stretch.
I think the last summer I had "off" was either in high school or college. I don't do extended downtime well. Now, though, I'm tired. I've given a lot to my students since August, and I need some sort of me time. I didn't have a job last summer either, but that was a blur of moving from the city to the burbs and then realizing that this boy who had been a cheerful weekend respite for two years was now my landlord and there.... all the time. It was great (and still is), but it wasn't a restful time. When two thirty-somethings move in together, that's a LOT of compromise, and the process isn't always seamless. A year later, we're still negotiating whether my shampoo actually has to be in the shower all the time and just how gross it is to shave our head in the bathroom sink. My votes, by the way, are "yes, it is" and "quite."
All in all, though, the move was a good one for many reasons, and it is also the reason I don't have to find yet another 50-60 hour a week summer thing to tide me over and wear me out until the fall begins. I have half the debt I had when I made this move, and far more spacious and homey surroundings in which to do whatever I choose to do.
Which leaves me relatively poor and with a lot of time on my hands. I guess it's time for introspection (which is what you have to do when you want to grow and you don't have enough money to travel).
I have always fancied that I know myself pretty well -- I have no illusions about the things I'm good at. I think I'm still pretty happy because, unlike many people I know, I do not let my natural ability or lack thereof influence my enthusiasm about projects. It's why I have vegetable plants even though the odds don't look good and why I don't own a gun even though a summer at a summer camp sharing counseling duties with the riflery counselor proved I am a wicked good shot. There is no relationship between my activities and my natural inclinations towards them. Still, our self-picture needn't be constructed wholly by regal decree, and others may have a more accurate picture of certain parts of who I am than I.
People like to give me books. On one hand it makes sense; I read a LOT, and I think sometimes (as in the case of students) some seek out my opinion or seek to find some sort of acknowledgment of their taste by garnering my agreement that something they found inspiring or artful actually was. Those newer to the reading game sometimes feel that, because I read so much, I must know what I'm doing. I don't necessarily agree -- if I knew so much, would I actually have waited with bated breath for the library to find me a copy of their book on goose livers and the surrounding wars? Would I own a copy of New Moon? I think not.
Still others are from people who read something that reminds them of me and my sensibilities. I'm embarrassed to say that, while I give books as gifts all the time (and expect people to read them!) I have fallen WAY behind on that front. I'm not a snooty academic; I'm just a person who goes to the bookstore and the library way too often and quite often gets excited by something shiny (like an interesting title). I forget old authors I loved or books from people I admire. The new stuff gets thrown on the old stuff and the old stuff gets older, unread.
Anyway, I combined my desire to have something to do (yesterday, I organized my bathroom closet -- everything is categorized and placed neatly into reed baskets with cloth lining that matches my towels..... ) and Gerry's desire to have a more organized home, and I pulled out every book from every nook and cranny that I have not yet read. Here they are. My spokesmodel, Bubba, kindly allowed me to use his bedroom as their temporary resting place.
The library books are first and then the ones people have gotten for me because they thought I would like them. I bet I find more as time goes on. As per an unspoken agreement with Gerry, every book I finish that is mine then gets to find a good home with someone else, free of charge.
Before anyone starts hating and emailing me that they wished they had my dilemma, I should remind all that the downside of having nothing to do is that I also have no salary coming in, other than one online summer course, until the middle of September as well. So my favored option of how to spend the summer (sipping coffees in a little cafe near the edge of the Grand Canal in Venice) is not exactly an option. I did have the foresight to watch my money all year so that I could make it through the summer, but I might not have watched closely enough, so it will be a stretch.
I think the last summer I had "off" was either in high school or college. I don't do extended downtime well. Now, though, I'm tired. I've given a lot to my students since August, and I need some sort of me time. I didn't have a job last summer either, but that was a blur of moving from the city to the burbs and then realizing that this boy who had been a cheerful weekend respite for two years was now my landlord and there.... all the time. It was great (and still is), but it wasn't a restful time. When two thirty-somethings move in together, that's a LOT of compromise, and the process isn't always seamless. A year later, we're still negotiating whether my shampoo actually has to be in the shower all the time and just how gross it is to shave our head in the bathroom sink. My votes, by the way, are "yes, it is" and "quite."
All in all, though, the move was a good one for many reasons, and it is also the reason I don't have to find yet another 50-60 hour a week summer thing to tide me over and wear me out until the fall begins. I have half the debt I had when I made this move, and far more spacious and homey surroundings in which to do whatever I choose to do.
Which leaves me relatively poor and with a lot of time on my hands. I guess it's time for introspection (which is what you have to do when you want to grow and you don't have enough money to travel).
I have always fancied that I know myself pretty well -- I have no illusions about the things I'm good at. I think I'm still pretty happy because, unlike many people I know, I do not let my natural ability or lack thereof influence my enthusiasm about projects. It's why I have vegetable plants even though the odds don't look good and why I don't own a gun even though a summer at a summer camp sharing counseling duties with the riflery counselor proved I am a wicked good shot. There is no relationship between my activities and my natural inclinations towards them. Still, our self-picture needn't be constructed wholly by regal decree, and others may have a more accurate picture of certain parts of who I am than I.
People like to give me books. On one hand it makes sense; I read a LOT, and I think sometimes (as in the case of students) some seek out my opinion or seek to find some sort of acknowledgment of their taste by garnering my agreement that something they found inspiring or artful actually was. Those newer to the reading game sometimes feel that, because I read so much, I must know what I'm doing. I don't necessarily agree -- if I knew so much, would I actually have waited with bated breath for the library to find me a copy of their book on goose livers and the surrounding wars? Would I own a copy of New Moon? I think not.
Still others are from people who read something that reminds them of me and my sensibilities. I'm embarrassed to say that, while I give books as gifts all the time (and expect people to read them!) I have fallen WAY behind on that front. I'm not a snooty academic; I'm just a person who goes to the bookstore and the library way too often and quite often gets excited by something shiny (like an interesting title). I forget old authors I loved or books from people I admire. The new stuff gets thrown on the old stuff and the old stuff gets older, unread.
Anyway, I combined my desire to have something to do (yesterday, I organized my bathroom closet -- everything is categorized and placed neatly into reed baskets with cloth lining that matches my towels..... ) and Gerry's desire to have a more organized home, and I pulled out every book from every nook and cranny that I have not yet read. Here they are. My spokesmodel, Bubba, kindly allowed me to use his bedroom as their temporary resting place.
The library books are first and then the ones people have gotten for me because they thought I would like them. I bet I find more as time goes on. As per an unspoken agreement with Gerry, every book I finish that is mine then gets to find a good home with someone else, free of charge.
Just let me know you want it, and it's yours. Here's my starting place:
Just Finished: The Other Preacher in Lynchburg: My Life Across Town from Jerry Falwell by John Killinger.
Analysis: Effing awesome! Easy to read and fascinating. Made it through in less than 24 hours!
Just started Non-Fiction: Not Everyone Gets a Trophy: How to Manage Generation Y by Bruce Tulgan
Analysis: Am one chapter in -- not much to say other than the portrayal of Gen Y sounds familiar.
Just Started Fiction: Miss Julia Paints the Town by Ann B. Ross
Analysis: Haven't actually started it, but the Miss Julia series is one of my simple pleasures. Funnily reminiscent of little old ladies I knew growing up. A non-consequential, but enjoyable series. For when I'm pissed at Gen Y in my other book.
***Please excuse the weird formatting -- I seem to be having a miscommunication with blogger, and I give up!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Tales of Testosterone and Murder on a Rainy Morning
I think it's time to kill, and I'm feeling nerves.
No, it isn't my students. They're doing well, and even if they weren't, they're almost no longer my problem.
It isn't my partner in crime. We're actually in the formative stages of house shopping (where you look at the pretty pictures and dream even though you won't start looking in earnest for 6-9 months). I still have time to convince him that a library and walk-in closets are essential to our happiness.
It isn't even the canine and feline testosterone junkies vying incessantly for mom's attention. BACKGROUND: The passing of Booger means that I am now the only woman in my packed house, except for two very aggressive clown loaches who NEVER back me up when I need them to. Additionally, Bub (the feline testosterone junkie) has decided that he now needs the run of the house. When he had Boog for company, they were generally content to stay in their bedroom and hang out provided I came in for frequent Buffy the Vampire slayer, My Name is Earl, or Dexter marathons (always happy to oblige, especially during hockey/basketball/baseball season). Now, he feels the need to wander aimlessly through the place, stopping only to swipe my dog across the face for looking at him weird. Both animals have been neutered, but I think both are currently growing their lost parts back. There's a lot of posturing and growling and hissing.
My partner in crime has yet to realize that his "Dog Whisperer" tactics do little to impress the cat (who apparently sits and stares at the Crimefighter when he's sleeping, waking him up at 3 am as if to say, "You won't last. *I* am the man in her life. Talk to me when you've made it 15 years, asshole.")
Still, it isn't any of this. Today, it is the vegetables I must cull. Pretty soon, I have to go out to my seed pots and decide, much in the fashion of a medeival king or an American Idol judge, who gets to live, and who gets to die. I don't think I can do it.
I'm the daughter of the greenest of green thumbs I know. My father can stare a seed into sprouting. I, however, have no such gift.
Long story short, I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and decided I needed to grow something.
I really need to stop reading books, even if my summer project is to read down the piles I've accumulated throughout the year so that I can once again to see the carpet. Teaching 6 classes a semester doesn't leave a whole lot of time to stay on top of books when you buy them as much as I do. It took me 2 weeks to begin recouping money from my Barnes & Noble member card..... 2 weeks to get $250 worth of books.
The Crimefighter listened intently to my entire argument that where books are, dirt can't get in thus meaning my addiction actually saves energy and therefore the planet and our energy bills by meaning we vaccuum less. He doesn't buy it. I thought it was GENIUS.
Anyway, I decided to grow tomatoes and cucumbers on account of they are supposed to be easy and I am too heavily influenced by a good writer and a passionate tale. I had visions of myself learning to can and freeze and get us through a Massachusetts winter on the sweat of my brow.
OK, I never went that far, but I felt the need to get my hands dirty.
I bought one of those 50 seed pot starter kits and some seeds (this is more difficult than it appears, but it's a story for another day) and went to work figuring, with my gardening disability I would get about a ten to fifteen percent return. The directions said they would germinate in 6-10 days and grow in a few more weeks. 2 weeks passed and NOTHING. Not one little green shoot to tell me I wasn't a gardening buffoon.
Not one to be mocked openly by plantlife, I decided the problem was that I bought commercial seeds. I clung with fervent hope to Barbara Kingsolver's rant against commercial seeds. I went out and bought ANOTHER 50 seed pot starter kit and heirloom tomato and cucumber seeds.
Take THAT Burpee and American Seed Company! I don't need you and your terminator-gene-having seeds.
10 days later, all 100 plants sprouted..... um.... woops.
Did I mention I don't actually HAVE a garden? That I was intending to do a container garden? This you CAN do up here, but not with 100 plants. If I go out and buy those little hanging planter things from the TV, or now conveniently the Lowe's, my backyard is going to look like I'm attempting to channel aliens or attract my crazy gardening neighbor. Neither is an attractive option.
So, today is the day that my Dad tells me I have to choose the strongest plant from the seed pots and cull the rest out. The problem is that I have no idea how to choose the strongest one. I keep walking out there with the scissors and standing over them ("Bring me the runty one on the left; he no longer amuses me!) and thinking they all look fine to me. Who's to say one will do better than the others?
I'm reminded of the lady on Grey's Anatomy who wouldn't selectively terminate any of the 56 fetuses growing inside of her even though they would probably all die if she didn't.
And then I remember that they all lived.
And then I start thinking that too much time on my hands is not a good thing, and maybe I need a real job this summer, if it's Day One and I'm having a dilemma over tomato plants.
OK, I'm off to judge and then murder vegetables. Simon Cowell, out.
No, it isn't my students. They're doing well, and even if they weren't, they're almost no longer my problem.
It isn't my partner in crime. We're actually in the formative stages of house shopping (where you look at the pretty pictures and dream even though you won't start looking in earnest for 6-9 months). I still have time to convince him that a library and walk-in closets are essential to our happiness.
It isn't even the canine and feline testosterone junkies vying incessantly for mom's attention. BACKGROUND: The passing of Booger means that I am now the only woman in my packed house, except for two very aggressive clown loaches who NEVER back me up when I need them to. Additionally, Bub (the feline testosterone junkie) has decided that he now needs the run of the house. When he had Boog for company, they were generally content to stay in their bedroom and hang out provided I came in for frequent Buffy the Vampire slayer, My Name is Earl, or Dexter marathons (always happy to oblige, especially during hockey/basketball/baseball season). Now, he feels the need to wander aimlessly through the place, stopping only to swipe my dog across the face for looking at him weird. Both animals have been neutered, but I think both are currently growing their lost parts back. There's a lot of posturing and growling and hissing.
My partner in crime has yet to realize that his "Dog Whisperer" tactics do little to impress the cat (who apparently sits and stares at the Crimefighter when he's sleeping, waking him up at 3 am as if to say, "You won't last. *I* am the man in her life. Talk to me when you've made it 15 years, asshole.")
Still, it isn't any of this. Today, it is the vegetables I must cull. Pretty soon, I have to go out to my seed pots and decide, much in the fashion of a medeival king or an American Idol judge, who gets to live, and who gets to die. I don't think I can do it.
I'm the daughter of the greenest of green thumbs I know. My father can stare a seed into sprouting. I, however, have no such gift.
Long story short, I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and decided I needed to grow something.
I really need to stop reading books, even if my summer project is to read down the piles I've accumulated throughout the year so that I can once again to see the carpet. Teaching 6 classes a semester doesn't leave a whole lot of time to stay on top of books when you buy them as much as I do. It took me 2 weeks to begin recouping money from my Barnes & Noble member card..... 2 weeks to get $250 worth of books.
The Crimefighter listened intently to my entire argument that where books are, dirt can't get in thus meaning my addiction actually saves energy and therefore the planet and our energy bills by meaning we vaccuum less. He doesn't buy it. I thought it was GENIUS.
Anyway, I decided to grow tomatoes and cucumbers on account of they are supposed to be easy and I am too heavily influenced by a good writer and a passionate tale. I had visions of myself learning to can and freeze and get us through a Massachusetts winter on the sweat of my brow.
OK, I never went that far, but I felt the need to get my hands dirty.
I bought one of those 50 seed pot starter kits and some seeds (this is more difficult than it appears, but it's a story for another day) and went to work figuring, with my gardening disability I would get about a ten to fifteen percent return. The directions said they would germinate in 6-10 days and grow in a few more weeks. 2 weeks passed and NOTHING. Not one little green shoot to tell me I wasn't a gardening buffoon.
Not one to be mocked openly by plantlife, I decided the problem was that I bought commercial seeds. I clung with fervent hope to Barbara Kingsolver's rant against commercial seeds. I went out and bought ANOTHER 50 seed pot starter kit and heirloom tomato and cucumber seeds.
Take THAT Burpee and American Seed Company! I don't need you and your terminator-gene-having seeds.
10 days later, all 100 plants sprouted..... um.... woops.
Did I mention I don't actually HAVE a garden? That I was intending to do a container garden? This you CAN do up here, but not with 100 plants. If I go out and buy those little hanging planter things from the TV, or now conveniently the Lowe's, my backyard is going to look like I'm attempting to channel aliens or attract my crazy gardening neighbor. Neither is an attractive option.
So, today is the day that my Dad tells me I have to choose the strongest plant from the seed pots and cull the rest out. The problem is that I have no idea how to choose the strongest one. I keep walking out there with the scissors and standing over them ("Bring me the runty one on the left; he no longer amuses me!) and thinking they all look fine to me. Who's to say one will do better than the others?
I'm reminded of the lady on Grey's Anatomy who wouldn't selectively terminate any of the 56 fetuses growing inside of her even though they would probably all die if she didn't.
And then I remember that they all lived.
And then I start thinking that too much time on my hands is not a good thing, and maybe I need a real job this summer, if it's Day One and I'm having a dilemma over tomato plants.
OK, I'm off to judge and then murder vegetables. Simon Cowell, out.
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