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Welcome to Laurel Jamieson's Journal. Please leave a comment!

I know I type a lot. Only read the entries that interest you; I'll never know what you skip!

Oh, and because you can't hear "tone of voice" in print, please imbue the phrase in the title: "What's the worst that can happen" with a blend of irony, apprehension and humor.

Fortunately, Jamiesons, like Bumbles, bounce. Handy, since I'm always jumping off cliffs.

Profile/Bio: http://laureljamieson.livejournal.com/profile
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May. 7th, 2012 @ 09:55 am Mary, Donna's Dad died...
Mary (from Hghschool), Donna's Dad died...

Please contact me if you wish for details...  I tried to leave you a p.m., and Livejournal wouldn't let me.

Hope all is well with you and yours!
Laurel
About this Entry
Laurel
Mar. 27th, 2012 @ 10:39 am Lot of sparkly, glittering water under the bridge....

It's been a wonderfully busy year. 
In the fall I was rolling around the house like a marble in an empty shoe box. 
I investigated becoming an apprentice electrician.  I really liked the people I met, but decided that I wanted the next level up.  Electricians bring the power to the machines.  It's the machines that I want to work with. 

So I went to the local community college. They have an absolutely fabulous Integrated Industrial Technology associates degree, with lab benches that made my mouth water. 

Except they hardly ever offer the classes in the 15 class cycle, because they can't get minimum class sizes.  I stood with the Recruiter guy, on a walkway overlooking the machining classrooms.  20 students were working diligently.  "Well," I said, "I guess you have enough students to run those classes."

He said,"Yes, and no.  We have capacity to train a hundred each quarter. Companies are constantly calling us, looking for machinists. We can't get the kids."  I asked why, and he said, 'Because no one wants to do the work required to pass the algebra class.  It's the math. They're not 'getting it' in highschool, and don't want to work for it as young adults."

Terrible shame.  And it's probably the same with the industrial technology classes I want to take.  Darn shame.  I told him that I'd work with him to drum up interest, do publicity, give talks at high schools.  He hasn't called me back.

So... I was pondering what to do about the integrated technology (Electronics, Motor Control, HVAC, Blue Print Reading, PLC Programming....)  when I was called in to school for a day of substitute teaching.  I happened to see Mrs. T in the copier room.  (The teacher left me one short on a set of worksheets).  "Mrs. T!" I smiled, "When's Science Olympaid starting?"

"Oh, it's been cancelled due to the budget ax."

Well. That was simply not acceptable.  I went immediately to the principal and asked what needed to happen to keep it afloat.  I wouldn't have started it alone, but I knew who to call. Mary Anne and Cindy immediately agreed to help. 

We took two teams to the regional competition.  The first team qualified for States. The second team came in 9th place, and were "Second place of the Second teams"... which is majorly wonderful.  Together, our teams won medals in 18 of the 23 events!  Stuart got medals in Microbiology, Rocks & Minerals, Bottle Rocket and Trebuchet.  Roger lead Trebuchet, Bottle Rockets, Mousetrap powered vehicles.  I lead Microbiology, Optics and co-lead Thermodynamics.   As a family, we "medalled" in 7 of our 8 events.  (and Mousetrap missed medal by 2).    What fun.

We three started the ball rolling, then Mr. S, Mr. C, My Hubby, Mr. R, Mrs.C, Mr. B and Mrs. H joined to lead one to four of the 23 events. They made enormous contributions.  Parents also worked one on one with their children. And the custodians and the school staff helped too.  We only had one parent-snit, and it wasn't too bad. 
 
I had to learn thermo, to help lead it . Thermo is fascinating, and is very philosopical, in a sense. 

Nothing can be at absolute zero.  Every material contains some amount of "internal" energy". Nothing is a Zero.  Therefore, Thermo focuses on CHANGES.  The trickiest part of leading an event was finding the line between educating, helping and "doing the work for them".  You want the students to be successful, but you want them to be successful under their own steam.  6th, 7th and 8th graders are not adults.  What looks "good" to them, doesn't always look "good" to adults.  And for about 1/3 of them, you have to keep pulling them out from under tables or out of cupboards, and say, "Please get back to work." Discipline is not yet internalized in some of them, so you must provide some.

It's vital, when working with middle schoolers,  (and frankly, anyone) that you focus on the CHANGES.  A student who scored in the bottom 3 on the pre-test, might achieve an enormous CHANGE, and end up with a medal.  And she did.  A student might not achieve a medal, but throughout the 3 months, she might grow in soft skills, and "find a niche."  She did. One kid is still glowing. He learned that he has a gift for science. He is literally standing straighter now, and is more alive than I've ever seen him.

I can document a CHANGE in every single one of the students. 

What a blessing!   As I said to two boys (as a teacher, not as an Olympian), "Look for the gold, the glitter, the joy, the pearl of great value in every person you encounter. Everyone has some glory, somewhere. Once you get good at mining gold -- everywhere you look, every where you go, you see shiny."  

Much, much polishing, warming, work, effort, growth and achievement happened, and is still happening at Science Olympiad. We qualified for states.  20 of our 29 kids got medals at regionals.

And 8 of the students who didn't make it to the state competition are busy preparing a Science Olympaid assembly to present to next year's sixth and seventh grade students.  This project sprung from S's plea: "Mrs. Jamieson, I know I didn't do well enough to go to states, but I have so much fun staying after on Wednesdays... Can I keep coming? What can I do if I still stay after?"

Imagine that.  Science being a fun, "clubby" and cool place to hang out.  

Shiny!     

About this Entry
Laurel
Jul. 12th, 2011 @ 07:37 am Acral Peeling Skin Syndrome - APSS Skin Peeling Feet Painless Solution Treatment
Ahhh... it's genetic.  And harmless (which we suspected) and painless, which we knew, and annoying, but what can you do?  (At least, now, I have an explanation and some fancy words to back up my assertion: "No, it's not contagious. Your child won't catch it from him.")

Each spring, along with the grackle migrations, Stuart's feet begin to peel.  A thin layer of skin simply separates from the healthy skin underneath, 
and comes off.  Jokes about Stuart being a snake abound. The entire bottom of each foot is involved in this process.  It has happened every summer since his second summer.  
 
Years ago, there were NO HITS on the internet for "Skin Peeling, Feet, Painless", except one hopeful note that said, "When I turned twenty, it got better, more or less." The doctors said, "Wha??"  The podiatrist instantly dismissed it as fungus and gave us harsh chemicals that made it MUCH WORSE.
 
Now, with the relative inexpensiveness of genetic testing, there are plenty of hits: 

http://www.nature.com/jid/journal/v130/n6/full/jid201023a.html#fig2 

BUT NO SOLUTIONS.  SO.  Here is what works for us.  Perhaps you will find this link, and tell me what works for you.  Try our solution and let me know what you think. 

Best wishes!

Our treatment plan: Harsh chemicals (like tea tree oil) made it WORSE.  High quality lotions like Cetaphil, applied daily, make the peeling layers much thinner, and allows them to peel off easily (they almost slide off) and to peel in larger sheets, often without having to cut.  When we do cut, we use cuticle scissors (side cutting) to cut off the parts that stick, and only go for the hanging bits that are large enough to catch on something and pull.  The idea is to prevent catching and tearing into the living skin, which might invite infections.   It looks like heck, but it's painless, not contagious, and he just puts up with it.  It's so helpful to have an explanation, finally.

Acral Peeling Skin Syndrome - APSS  Skin Peeling Feet Painless
About this Entry
Sunrise
Jun. 26th, 2011 @ 07:39 am Whew! Running water in the utility tub. What a blessing!
yah know, if you're ever feeling Woe is Me, due to some miserable household task you must perform, consider the poor sops doing middle-aged laundry.

We had fun this weekend, but mud was everywhere. It took me at lest 12 bucket rinses to get the mud out of everything... and it was simply MUD. There were no horses adding their compost, and no one emptying chamber pots and chicken guts into the gutters.

And I didn't have to draw the water from the well... just carry it out to dump in the yard. And I only had one kid (Who got hosed off with a horse sprayer outside the barn, the first night, before bed.)

I find myself very fond of sidewalks and roads and linoleum. One thinks of how much work it was, to build cobblestone roads, but wow... everyone must have been so relieved when the workers finished their street.
About this Entry
Fencing
Jun. 24th, 2011 @ 07:41 am I found my fourth grade teacher on Facebook...


Hi Mr. Z! 

I have so many fond memories of fourth grade. I'm so grateful you were my teacher.  You were kind and wise. The life-lessons you took time to teach me, are with me still.  I remember two, specifically, besides the way you simply lead and taught by setting a good example of integrity, kindness and good humor. 

The first was that you heard me say a naughty word. I'm sure it wasn't a biggie word, but still.  You took me out in the hall and discussed the choices one makes in life, the paths one chooses to follow. Then you simply asked me to take the time to THINK and CHOOSE which paths to take, instead of just going with the flow.  Wow.  It was a life-changing moment.  I owe you a lot for that one.  I still rarely, rarely curse. It was a good choice, and the smallest of the benefits I gained from your advice.  Thank you!

The other was when we got busted for throwing wet wads of toilet paper to stick on the ceiling of the girls room.  You demanded to know who had participated in the vandalism. Jane and I and one or two other girls raised our hands.  You said, simply, calmly, "Go get the toilet paper off the ceiling," and sent us out of the room.

Man, solving that puzzle, and fixing the damage was the MOST FUN I had in gradeschool.  We girls stood, staring at the 12 foot (?) ceiling for a long time. Then I suggested, "Tape a bunch of rulers together to make a really big stick? Then whack them off?"  The girls agreed. We asked for masking tape, and asked students to donate their rulers.  You gave us tape and didn't ask any questions. The four of us held the tottering, swaying stick and aimed our best. Slowly, we whacked down each of the wads. Laughter reigned the day as the clumps rained down.  I learned that getting in trouble doesn't require crying, and that I can solve problems and get out of scrapes.  I worried a lot less about life-in-general after that day. I was bolder, after that, less shrinking.  And I had a ball. 

Again, you trusted me to think and make good choices.

You changed my life.  Thank you!

I do hope all is well with you and yours!
Best wishes,
Laurel Jamieson

About this Entry
Sunrise
Jun. 2nd, 2011 @ 06:55 am Eyes all Aglow with Delight and Anticipation
We went camping at a church camp over Memorial Day weekend.  I knew one of my playgroup boys would be there.

"Clint will be there. He's old enough to Really Play imagination stories now," I told my son.  I told him for three purposes... at playgroup, Clint showed all the signs of being ready for imagination play, but he wasn't really doing it. (Fewer and fewer kids know how to do that, now), and because I know that little boys adore big boys who deign to play with them, and because Stuart LOVES imagination play.

I was right.  And three other preschool boys were there, too.

Stuart was marvelous.  The second day, Stuart started the morning reading.  Clint told his mother, "I hope Stuart doesn't read books all day!"  He didn't.

On Monday afternoon, once home, we stopped at Clint's home, so that Roger could help with an unexpected house repair. The family with two of the other preschoolers was there too. (Big repair)

Clint's mom said, "Ok, boys, go outside to play."  At that moment, Stuart was next to the sliding glass door to the porch. He put his hand on the handle, and looked at the boys.  The boys were standing in a row, on the far side of the kitchen table.  As a group, they trembled ever so delicately in anticipation, and their eyes glowed and their faces shown with delight.  Yes, Stuart was going to go out and play with them.


Very nice!

Most of the play was Superhero, Super Villain play.  On the way home from camping, I asked Stuart, "So, were you the hero or the villain?"
"Frankly Mom, most times, I wasn't really sure."  
Very, very nice!
About this Entry
Playgroup
Jun. 2nd, 2011 @ 06:41 am It was a DREAM, ok...?

A long elaborate dream, where everyone around me was dying. Murdered, likely poisoned.

A cranky woman, who I know didn't like me much, offered me a large half of a strawberry, covered with white powder.

 

"What's the powder?" I asked.

"It's just powdered sugar. It's good. Eat it."

So I did.

I'm really hoping this dream isn't trying to tell me something!


About this Entry
Fencing
Apr. 15th, 2011 @ 10:00 am Diversity Award
Everyone (> 500 kids) in the whole school had to write an essay discussing "Tolerance".  There were assorted  topics to choose from.  The six Language Arts teachers forwarded the best 25% of their students' works to the judges.  The judges judged and selected four essays.

Stuart won a cash award.  The school invited the parents of the finalists to the media center where each student read his or her essay. 

A most pleasant trip to the school.  Very fine, very emotional essays.

Mrs. B was there. She was the principal of the elementary school where Stuart attended preschool.  Stuart adored her.  ADORED HER.

My preschoolers usually don't remember me when I see them, years later, so I pointed her out to (13 year old) Stuart and reminded him that she was one of his very most favorite people, when he was four.  He nodded, and whispered, "I don't remember." 

I smiled and said, "Preschoolers never do. That's ok. You loved her."

Later, she approached me first (wise woman who knows about preschoolers), and said, "I didn't realize that was STUART at first. Oh, my!" and she smiled a smile that clearly told me that Stuart was one of her most favorite students. "He's grown. He's doing so very well!"

I told her that she was one of his most favorite people, back in preschool. I said that the schools had treated him and us very, very well and thanked her. I said I was delighted she remembered him. 

She kept gazing at Stuart. "He was a wonderful, wonderful boy.  Still is."  I smiled at her, then nodded toward Stuart.

She smiled, and walked toward him. "Stuart, I'm so pleased to see you. May I give you a hug?"

Stuart, knowing how dearly he loves what he loves, though he didn't remember, agreed, and gave her a genuinely rich hug.

smiles...

'twas a very good day.


About this Entry
Playgroup
Apr. 15th, 2011 @ 09:42 am Goin' Commando
The good news is that the laundry is done.

The bad news is that I left two straight pins in a garb-bit, when I laundered it.

The good news is that one pin remained in the garb-bit.

The bad news is that one pin is on-the-lam.

The good news is that the lost pin was in the last load, so I only had to carefully examine one load.

The bad news is that a) I didn't find the pin and b) that last load had all the family undergarments and socks. YIPES!

The good news is, that should someone get stuck with the pin, it will be very clean. I used non-chlorine bleach in the load.


So... Is the pin inside the workings of the washer? Is it in my husband's briefs? I know it's not in the dryer.

Would a pin, going through the washer pump-out impeller, or the water filtering system pump be ok, or VERY BAD? (I"ve already received some helpful answers on this, via another posting.)

Wish zippers were period for Society for Creative Anachronism events.

I'm hoping this won't be worse than the time the washable crayon went through the wash/dry cycle, or the cherry chapstick.

Son says he's going commando for the next week.

A friendly and helpful comment I received, via e-mail:

The water-to-washing ratio might give a clue. If the washer was
generous with the water, then the pin, being heavy, might well have
settled to the bottom of the tub and found its way out of the load
whilst the clothes were suspended above. While it may have jammed
itself between impeller blades, like as not no immediate harm was
done, though over time it might collect lint and eventually cause a
blockage or balance problem. Most impeller housings are translucent,
so a visual inspection with a bright lantern might tell the tale.

Which lead me to respond: 

Thank you!
 
The load was light with plenty of water.  Thank you for the advice and the tip-off that the impeller casing is likely transparent-ish.
 
Opening up the washer to check out the inside bits sounds like a lot of fun, especially now that I know that I can gather real information without actually taking the mechanical parts apart. 
 
...
 
I took EVERYTHING apart as a child: every last one of my toys (the screw heads weren't triangles then), wind up alarm clocks, the neighbors' musical jewelry box... drove my poor mother nuts. The neighbor was livid.  One day, it occurred to me that I probably shouldn't take something apart unless I was sure I could get it back together. This wisdom made me feel very mature.  I was a remarkably good judge of my mechanical skills, and they were, indeed, impressive.  Therefore, there were still plenty of Take-Apart projects, and I correctly judged by abilities, until the sewing machine miscalculation. 
 
I took my sewing machine entirely apart. It was in excellent shape. I was just curious to see all the insides. I couldn't get it back together.  To figure out the missing links, I took my mother's sewing machine apart, and then... (hullo!) couldn't get hers back together.  Nothing like that sinking feeling when you turn around and see your mom in the room. There's the eternal pause of dread, broken, eventually, by a crushed, emphatic, "Laurie WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SEWING MACHINE". 
 
Fortunately, I had taken care to keep both part sets separate...  Eventually, I got them both back together. It took hours and hours.  (Driving the point home, my capable mom refused to provide either hints or hands.) 
 
I know that the insides of 20 year old analog washing machines are very simple... but the cost of failure (including the possibilty of breaking a seal and needing to find a replacement) is a bit higher than the post-sewing-machine-crisis child in me is willing to risk.
 
Of course, you tempter, you... once I open it and LOOK... 
 
Again, thank you.

Smiles!

About this Entry
Sunrise
Mar. 6th, 2011 @ 01:39 pm Science Olympiad Part 2
Stuart and Sam placed 3rd in Can't Judge a Powder.
Stuart and Alex placed 5th in Microbe Mission.

Stuart is very, very, very, very happy and proud.
Sam (who also won a first place in Experimental Design), wore his medals to church today. He's very happy too.

Once again, I did little to help. Stuart read four books on Microbes. He paged through "Chemistry for Dummies" and read a Manga Electricity book(really!), Twice.

The boys did most of it on their own -- the learning, the application, the work.

I'm so proud. And delighted.

Yay boys!!!
About this Entry
Stuart's Desk
Feb. 11th, 2011 @ 02:43 pm Heeh-heeh-heeh.... Finale SongWriter
Just upgraded to Finale Songwriter from Finale Notepad.

Ooouuuuuhhhhhh it's nice!

(after the awkward initial getting-acquainted period.)

Just transcribed Korobuska to Clarinet and Horn from 5 part Recorder ensemble. Yeah, it lost a lot of nuance, but we should have a ball working on it. You start playing it really, really slowly, then with each run-through, you get faster and faster, hoping that the dancers pass out before you pass beyond your ability.

sca.uwaterloo.ca X /~praetzel/ X phaedria/ X KOROBUSH.MID

(sorry, I've been getting plastered with spam on a post that had a link to youtube, so Take out the Spaces and the X's.)
About this Entry
Sunrise
Feb. 10th, 2011 @ 05:19 am Holy Moley Science Olympiad!
Stuart placed 12th out of 48 at the Science Olympiad Invitational, in "Microbe Mission".

And I've done nothing to help, except find library books for him to read!

(And apparently, the top 10 teams are crazy-intense and considered impossible to beat, unless you live-breath-eat your topic. One team drove 'bout 400 miles, another about 700!! We drove 8 miles.)

How 'bout that!?!?!

His other two events?
One, he survived, with some dignity, which is an accomplishment in and of itself. It was not what he expected -- they thought they were prepared, and they were not, at all.

The other, they were competent, but need to pick up speed, in order to complete the test.

He'll be getting some coaching on all of them, now, from the science teachers.

Whoa! Yay Stuart!
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Fencing
Feb. 8th, 2011 @ 02:53 pm Glories of Very Small Airports
I rode with Roger to a an airfield for his jump across Lake Erie. He forgot something in the car and I gave him back the car keys.

After Roger walked to the runway, I took preschooler-Stuart to use the airport potty. I realized there that Roger STILL HAD the car keys.

I left Stuart on the pot. "DON'T MOVE" and ran ONTO the runway, waving my arms frantically. The pilot saw me, cut back his motors and called back to my husband.

Realizing I had been seen, I jogged toward the plane, mouthing "Car Keys". The pilot laughed, called back again, and soon handed the keys to me, through a little window in the cock-pit canopy.

Whew. Stuart stayed in the bathroom. All was well. Stuart and I were likely the only people in the building, short of the air-traffic controller guy.
About this Entry
Fencing
Jan. 16th, 2011 @ 03:16 pm Sunday School
So.
I felt inspired to offer an adult Sunday School based on my Preschool curriculum. I've been teaching the preschool lessons for 8 years, and have put A LOT of thought into them.

To Mature-It-Up, I'm pulling other, related Bible Stories into the lessons, or taking the story further through it's arc. For instance, Lesson One, Creation, for preschoolers stops when God rests after creating the world. For the adults, we carried on through the fall, then introduced Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and God's promise to bring Abraham's children into a land flowing with Milk and Honey... a new "Eden" that they didn't build for themselves, but that God prepared for them. We hit Deuteronomy 6, hard.

Mr. B asked, "For the preschoolers, why do you stop before the Garden of Eden and the Fall?"
My answer, after some thought, was, "Because 2's 3's and 4's are still living in the Garden. My experience with them, my deep discussions and my observations indicate that they have not yet developed the knowledge of Good and Evil..." I gave examples.

Today's lesson was The Burning Bush -- Proof vs. Faith
We had great discussions. Both lesson sheets, as Replies

So far, I've gotten good reviews.
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Playgroup
Jan. 10th, 2011 @ 02:32 pm Kittens
The kittens are a lot of fun.

And we STILL call them the Flying Monkeys.

Tootsie continues to explore gravity. "Hmmm. If I pick up something from the mantle, dangle it over the edge and let go... will it fall? YES! yes it does fall. And makes such a delightful sound!"

Both cats explore the garbage can after I clean the bird-cage. Hope springs eternal. "Someday, someday, she might just throw the BIRDS into the can, and when she does, we'll be ready!"

When I open Stuart's bedroom door each morning, (his alarm is quiet and he's been sleeping through it, lately), Juliette ga-lumps from where-ever she is, and dashes into his room for her morning scritches. Giving scritches, and receiving an enthusiastic paw-kneading, is a great way to start the morning! J-cat has deeply bonded to Stuart. (Mommy purrs with delight when she ponders that gem.)

The two kitties have truly enriched our lives. What a furry, purry blessing.
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Sunrise
Jan. 10th, 2011 @ 02:12 pm School is Still Going Well
WHEW! School is still going well for Stuart. This year is so very, very, very much better than last year.

Just finished the first day of Playgroup. Looks like we'll have another great group of moms / grams. Ten 3 & 4 year olds, and a toddler, who is really toddly. It will be a ball to see her gait settle out. The returning children have all grown by leaps and bounds. It's wonderful to see.

We purchased a Holton-Farkas nickel/silver french horn for Stuart. We found it on Craig's List, in Pittsburgh. It's in excellent shape. We also got a bass trumpet in the deal, which is a lot of fun. There was a familiar last name written inside the trumpet, and the woman looked very-much like one of that clan, and lived in the same town as that family. So I will choose to assume both instruments are from that family. That makes them more special. Stuart delights in both instruments.

Best wishes, all!

I will try to get back to posting here, regularly.
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Laurel
Oct. 13th, 2010 @ 10:49 am Leap, leap, leap.
Sunday and Monday were dreadful, full of the down-side of adolescence. And for the first time in our life together, when Stuart refused to do any homework, I allowed it -- respected his choice, called the day a total loss.

On Tuesday, Stuart made another quantum leap. Wow. The Artemis Fowl books, by Colfer, have sentences written in a cypher code at the bottom of each page. On Tuesday, he searched for unique symbols until he had almost 26. He assigned them letters, at random, then converted several sentences into the new alpha-cypher. He typed that into the crypto-secretary program I wrote, years ago, and set about decoding. With very little help from me, besides basic training on how to go about solving a cryptogram, he solved it. (He did know exactly which symbol is "E", but the crypto-secretary reports letter frequency and he would know to guess that as "E", anyway.) He re-wrote the cypher decode, and by the end of the evening, he was sounding out the sentences from the bottom of the pages, with rare reference to the decode sheet. He says some cyphered words are "popping", meaning he sight-reads them. These new "sight words" include, "The" and curiously, "Buttocks". (The stuff at the bottom is very silly, and a lot of fun to read.)

Also on Tuesday, in the midst of this focused work, he ate dinner. After dinner, I suggested he do his homework before going back to cypher land. He did work in Science, Social Studies, Math and Language Arts. They weren't long assignments, and he kept at them. SS had some tough questions, so he skipped them, finished the rest, and returned to the sticklers. "I felt a bit overwhelmed by them," he said, "so I moved on. When I get to the end of an assignment, I can tell myself, 'Hey, you're very nearly finished.'"

This morning (Wednesday) on the way to the busstop, I explained that babies and children make neural connections with abandon, desperately trying to figure out this LIFE STUFF. The neruons are tangled like the growth in a lush jungle. In adolescence, the brain starts pruning, cutting out the undergrowth. So, a young brain, on the way to remembering the square root of 16, pauses at "blue sky", "tacos", "Look, there's a quarter". The adolescent brain says, "Wait, Blue Sky? Yeah, I looked out the window in fourth grade when the teacher was talking about square roots... but no, we've got to nip this connection. We'll leave Blue Sky connected to beauty and science, but this math link... Sheesh! It's gotta go."

Stuart laughed.

I continued explaining. An adolescent brain moves more smoothly, for there are not 97 distracting, diverging paths on every millimeter of the route between 16 and 4.

Stuart nodded, and began spinning in a circle while moving in a circle around my body. (Blue sky -> Science -> Sun and Earth -> Sunrise -> Earth rotating and revolving ->)

I giggled. "Yes. Definitely. Take care, during all this pruning. Take care not to grow up!"

Stuart smiled wider, nodding in agreement. (We are still in agreement -- Grow in wisdom, grow in compassion, grow in knowledge, grow in faith, hope and love, but NEVER grow up!)

Stuart has leapt.

These are the good days, the dashing along a recently cleared path days, the days that help you get through the bloody pruning days. On days like this, one can almost see into the distance. Today, the long-view looks rosy.

Thanks for listening.
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Sunrise
Sep. 19th, 2010 @ 08:15 am I'm getting spammed
I apologize, but all non-friends now must do the "type what you see" dialogue to leave a comment.

I don't remember leaving a comment on an harry potter focused something or other, but It seems that's where they're picking my name from.

I'm also changing my password.

Sigh.

Smiles!
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Fencing
Aug. 22nd, 2010 @ 06:36 pm I'm still here
And school starts on Wednesday.

Hope all is well with you and yours.
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Laurel
Jun. 24th, 2010 @ 11:57 am (no subject)
The difference between a Coach and a Mom

Stuart is going out for cross country running in the fall. He’s been attending Endurance Training on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Parents are invited to attend. Therefore, I was present when R had his event.

R couldn’t keep up on his first day, so on his second, he was determined to complete the three miles in 30 minutes. He over exerted.

He ran ‘til he puked.

He stood in the parking lot, projectile vomiting. The kids called out to the coach. The coach, from half way across the graveled ground shouted, “Hey, R, Whad’ya have for breakfast?” His voice was loud and sharp but not unsympathetic.

R paused in his puking to moan, “Orange juice,” then continued spewing.

The coach walked toward him at a brisk pace, impressive, as the retired gentleman had just finished running at least two miles, “Oh, man, OJ is the worst thing to drink before running. When did you drink it?”

R paused in his puking to gurgle, “About 20 minutes before we started.” He resumed puking.

Coach stood at a safe distance, asking several diagnostic questions, "Are you light headed..." (Puke) and then lecturing him. "Milk is bad too." (Puke) "You need to eat solids, not just a beverage…" (Puke) "And eat at least X minutes before..." (Puke)

I’ve never seen such enthusiastic disgorgement!

R’s surges finally eased and he stood up. Coach turned around and shouted to the other students. “Okay, let’s head down the hill for a 20 minute cool-down walk. He looked over his shoulder and grunted, “R, you stay here.”

I saw that R still had plenty of water in his water bottle. Being a substitute teacher, he knew me. I gave him some time, then approached to see if he needed a wee bit of Mothering after his coaching.

He smiled as I approached, so I said, “Well, now you have a story to tell YOUR kids when they start running cross country.”

His smile broadened. “That was a lot of puke.”

I laughed, “Dude! You looked like a fire hose.” (I mean, he may as well take some comfort in feeling proud about it.)

He smiled. And then he started talking, and I started listening. Seventh graders don’t need hugs, but they DO, apparently, appreciate a Wee Bit of arms-length Mothering.

And I didn’t say, “Dude, that’s how you get a knick-name.” (Though once Stuart went to bed, Roger and I brainstormed a few.)
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Playgroup
Jun. 21st, 2010 @ 08:48 am Two Kitties
We got two kittens yesterday. Much hilarity ensues.
About this Entry
Laurel
Jun. 21st, 2010 @ 08:44 am Bardic Event
I attended my First Bardic Weekend with the local Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA).

It was marvelous. I've been telling Stuart that "His People" are out their, but as a grade-schooler, his world, right now, is too small to find them. After spending time last week-end at the bardic coffee house and this weekend at the bardic weekend, he's now a believer. His people ARE out there.

Playing along with the "Authorizations" required of SCA fighters, before they fight, during the weekend, each bard was encouraged to seek Authorization as a bard, in the following categories: "Rapier Wit, Thrown Insults, Heavy Metaphor and Seige Mentality, or Any Other Category".

Here follows my Attempt at Qualifying. To understand it, some, you must know that I, ME!, I was the very first person to use the port-o-let. It was shockingly clean... something that I'd never, ever, ever experienced. I was so enamored of it's pristine nature, that I wrote a song about it. You should also know an "In-Joke" of the group. Once, a lady, upon exiting a port-o-let exclaimed, "Well I've never used one of these before, and it wasn't so bad. It even had a purse holder." The group, who had extensive experience with port-potties, were most curious, and one said, "I didn't know they had purse holders, please show me." Turns out the woman had plunked her purse down into the urinal. Ick. But it's a great story.


Submission for Authorization in "Painful Personification"

The lady stood proudly, erect in the sun.
Bright white was her bonnet; the week just begun.
She beckoned me over, to her I was drawn.
I intended to use her, and then I'd be gone.

(refrain) I'm not a rapscallian, and I'm not ashamed.
When the urge comes, we must all seek a dame.
We'd rather a young maid, we'll take any tart,
For nature keeps calling and will not depart.

I opened her chamber, she welcomed me in.
Her hearth, it was spotless, her purse holder trim.
I cried out in wonder, how blessed could I be?
I unwrapped her rolls. Her first user was me.

(refrain)

By the end of the weekend, the girl needed care.
Her hat was still pristine, but not her underwear.
I slunk to her chamber, still drawn to her flanks,
And gingerly used her, although she was rank.

(refrain)

The flower, once lovely, she'd now lost her bloom.
Engorged by her actions, her countless bridegrooms.
She'd take any comers, for nary a fee,
And her floor was all covered with dry crusty *stuff*.

(new tune here:)
The event, it was over. She sat there alone.
Her lovers had left her, gone off to their homes.
With no one to service, with nothing to drink,
She sat in her fumes-ing, she had time to think.
"We girls still have dreams," she thought with a blush.
"Perhaps they'd stay with me, if just I could flush."

----- by Hazel the Carpenter's Wife. aka Laurel Jamieson

Amid most satisfying laughter, I was awarded Authorization in Painful Personification, AND Heavy Metaphor, and I also won a boon from the Muse of Comedy.

Absolutely WONDERFUL weekend. I thank all the fine members of the SCA group for their friendliness, generosity, and nurture. I watched faces as each person performed, and was re-assured to see that even when the performance was not Excellent, each person CHOSE to find something to enjoy in Each and Every submission. Nice, and Good, and Creative. Oh, MY!
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Laurel
May. 8th, 2010 @ 09:52 am exploring timestamps
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears...
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Laurel
Apr. 21st, 2010 @ 10:26 am Blind as a Cat
My kitty woke up blind, yesterday.

She's taking it with great dignity.

We suspect she had a stroke.

She's much less wobbly on her feet today. She can find her food bowl, her litter box, and the blanket I set in the sun.

She slept nearly all day yesterday, her sister keeping vigil next to her, sitting upright with concern. Today, she's not casting her head around constantly, seemingly muttering, "Where did everything GO?"

Should I ever go blind, I hope to sprout kitty whiskers around my nose and eyebrows. They're fabulously useful.

Dear kitty.
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Sunrise
Apr. 21st, 2010 @ 10:14 am WHEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
Oh, what fun!


http://www.imdb.com/name/nm3878396/

hee, hee, hee! Thanks Mike!
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Laurel
Apr. 20th, 2010 @ 08:39 am New Moon
"You know? sometimes, you gotta learn to love what's good for you, yah know what I mean?"

The one truly good part in the New Moon movie.

time mark 1:05, here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20MzO-k7ZIU


And then CARRY THROUGH.

Smiles
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Sunrise
Apr. 14th, 2010 @ 08:26 pm Going out for Pizza on the Diningroom Chairs
My husband and I are most usually Lawful-Good in alignment. But our styles are very different. My husband is overly concerned with propriety, in my opinion. In his opinion, I am disconcertingly unconcerned with propriety. Whether in pursuit of a noble goal or a harmless whim, I don't give a fig what anyone thinks. Herewith, I present the telling of my hysterically telling dream to my husband.

"Roger, I had a dream last night. We were going out for pizza. I said to you, "Let's take the chairs."

"The WHAT?" the real and the dream Rogers ask in unison.

"The old dining room chairs. We'll set them up in a two by two array, Stuart will sit in back, you and I will sit in front and you'll go, 'Vrooom, vrooom, vrooom.'"

Real Roger smacks his head. "And I agreed to this?"

"Well, you were very un-impressed, but yes, it being my dream, you consented."

Real Roger smiles and shakes his head. We're both quiet for a moment as I recall, and Roger imagines, the kind of muttering noises Dream Roger made during the whole trip. "Did it work?"

"Oh, most beautifully."

Real Roger scoffs, cheerfully.

"The pizza was excellent, and we had a good time. When we came out, I re-arranged the chairs and said, 'Hey, let's put three chairs in a row, so that Stuart can join us up front. That'll be more fun."

"What did we do with the fourth chair?"

"Don't know. Dreams are like that. Anyway. That was pushing you too, too far, and you said, 'The h**l with that!' You vrooom, vrooom, vrooomed, and you and Stuart took off down the road with out me."

Roger grinned, pleased that his dream-self finally asserted himself, and then shook his head again, imagining himself vroooming down a public road and through a public intersection, on a dining-room chair. "What did you do?"

"Well, without the other chairs, mine wouldn't work, so I picked it up, and ran after you. I never caught up."

We laughed. A lot.

Yesterday, I made an insulated water-bottle sack for Stuart. Roger and I have had them since before he was born. Stuart used a smaller system, but he's a big kid now and needs a big water bottle. The new sack looks pretty good. For insulation, I used closed cell foam that something was shipped in. It's the same stuff I used for making an insulated carrier for a 1.5 gallon bottle we carry on canoe trips and camping. It works exceedingly well.

Roger said, "I was thinking. You should fill up two of the bottles with water, leave them the fridge over-night, then put them in my sack and Stuart's sack and set the timer. Every ten minutes, you can stick the meat thermometer in them, and chart which one stays colder.

I smiled and nodded. "The meat thermometer doesn't do cold, I think. I think I could just stick my finger in each bottle and tell which was colder."

Roger shifted in his chair. "Stick your finger in? No. You'd need to do blind testing. No. I'll borrow an electronic thermometer from work."

I smiled gently at him and said, "Vrooom, vrooom."

He looked surprised for a moment, then started laughing a deep belly laugh. "No!" he cried out mirthfully, "I need NUMBERS!"

***

I think "Vrooom, vrooom," has entered our family vernacular.

And yes, testing makes sense. If the new one is far superior to the old ones, (and it's GOT to be -- the old ones are insulated with a layer of felt) then I may as well make new ones for Roger and me too... but if the difference isn't signficant, why bother?

****

There's a minor flaw on the new water bottle sack -- a horizontal nylon reinforcing band didn't line up quite right. I pointed it out to Roger, and said, "I was really disappointed when I turned everything right-side out and the strapping wasn't aligned perfectly." He went down, got his, and pointed out that his professionally made sack had the same flaw. Dear heart. And he didn't say, "Vrooom, vrooom" at me, either. (smile!)
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Sunrise
Apr. 14th, 2010 @ 08:18 pm sigh-Pod
sigh-Pod.

So, after witnessing a student throw an i-Pod Touch in a corner, and committing to which mp3 player I will start off with, for my son, I encountered an i-Pod Nano. In the hands of a second grader, whom I knew, and outside of school. "Oh, wow. Will you show me how it works?" She demonstrated stepping through the menus.

I asked if I could try. She handed it to me. I was Thoroughly Unable to get the thing to work. She repeated several times, "No, you slide your finger across, it like this. It is pretty hard."

No luck.

I feel so old.
(and I'm glad I didn't buy an i-Pod nano!)

So. Stuart showed me a memory-stick mp3 player in a robotics book. "This looks really cool. I'd be pleased to have one like this."
So, after reading all the negative reviews on bunches of stick players, I picked a $21 coby 2 gig.

It's working beautifully. I ripped a bunch of his favorite CD's to the computer, and dragged two of the albums over to the MP3 player -- Night at the Opera by Queen, and Star Wars 1. He's enjoying it immensely, and isn't ready to add any more music yet. Well, it's ready when he's ready.

And now, I have a plugged-in son. This is new. So far, he's being very reasonable with it. The only "problem" is that sometimes when I say, "Hey, Stuart! Come here!" (come look at the hawk in the back yard... or such), he doesn't come. He can't hear me.

Ah well.
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Stuart's Desk
Apr. 14th, 2010 @ 08:12 pm New Ice Cream Flavor ???
Nascar Licensing:

We've been having icecream most nights, for snack. Stuart is lean and muscle-y, but borders on too thin. He gets two big scoops. Roger and I get one meager, paltry scoop.. We get Pierre's. It's quite yummy, and comes in a great variety of flavors. I believe we've tried them all but spumoni.

Pierre is on sale right now, so we have three containers in the freezer. I blocked on the names when offering flavors*. The best I could come up with was "Animal Prints". Hubby and son started guessing. We ended up deciding the flavor was "Skid Marks - A NASCAR licensed flavor".

Skid Marks... Great flavor name, n'est ce pas? We've decided to re-christen "Frosting on the Cake" to "Skid Marks", as flavor has the ideal appearance. We shall call it that, forever.

Snickers.

* you see, we can't just OPEN the freezer and read the names off. The freezer must be opened only after one has formed a clear idea of exactly what she desires, and exactly where the desired object sits. That may be why (knock on wood) we've kept this fridge for so long. (and why it's so well organized.)

Smiles!
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Fencing
Apr. 14th, 2010 @ 12:57 pm 20 % improvement
My in-laws love Dancing with the Stars. I'm visiting them soon, so I popped into Youtube to watch some snippets, gathering fodder to feed our next afternoon of conversation.

I'm struck by the two underdogs. And trust me, I'd be the under-under-dog, were I to go on the show. (Perhaps I'll be invited after I step down from being King.) And I'd cry some, during rehearsal, I'm sure, for it would be so hard for me.

I'm struck by the DIFFERENCE between the two underdogs...

Kate Gosselin: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aia-7JDxylM

Steve Wozniak: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2xYbWNz0Xk&feature=related

Different natures, backgrounds and resources, tangible and intangible, internal and external. And I certainly can relate to Kate's "I can't let go." Yet I'm ever so grateful that, most often, I've still got a lot of Steve Wozniak's spirit in me.

And I LOVE Steve's 20% comment. Math Rules!
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Fencing
Apr. 14th, 2010 @ 11:31 am Huh! Dummers
Never really appreciated the art of drumming. Indeed, I fell asleep at a Moody Blues concert during a very, very, very, very long drum solo.

But, finding a reason to look up this song, curiously one of my favorite of Queen's archive, I find the drumming ... impressive... admirable.

Huh.

Yay.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdDNFJpil50
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Laurel
Mar. 25th, 2010 @ 06:13 pm I'm a cruel, cruel teacher
Or so "D", a student, told me. (all initials are made-up.)

I subbed for three days, last week.

I heard something odd, a glimmering, shimmering, subtle noise. The class was in small groups working on presentations. The sound was faint, tinny and tiny, like a rhythm track. I followed the sound.

"E" saw me coming, looked guilty and THREW something into the corner where all the computer cables go into the wall. It was a shallow, noisy, skittering toss. I stepped past him and knelt down. "What are you doing? What are you doing?"

"Picking something up." I don't know anything about mp3 players, but the thing in my hand was clearly playing music.

"That's not mine!" he said.

I put it in my pocket.

"What are you doing with that?"
"I'm keeping it. You may tell whomever it belongs to, that I have it."

A few minutes later, "F" came up to me. "That thing you picked up? It's not mine."
"Ok. Then You may tell whomever it belongs to, that I have it."

I lead the class to music. While waiting for the door to open, "D" (apparently uninvolved in this saga... news travels fast), said, "You're a very cruel teacher. Very cruel."

I raised my eyebrow.

"You should have returned it, and given the student one more chance."

"Sorry, D." I shrugged my shoulders.

Once the class was in music, I went to the office, stripped the rubber suit off the machine and discovered it was and I-pod Touch. That's $170 - $280 worth of electronics that got THROWN into a corner. I shook my head. I handed it to the secretary. "I believe I should turn this in."

"Oh, you most CERTAINLY should!" she said. She pulled off a sticky note and picked up a pen. Whose is it?"

"Um, it's not E's and it's not F's. They won't tell me whose it is, and I didn't ask."
"Well, then, good luck for the owner's parents to pick it up, then. Who are you in for, today?"
"I'm in for G, but the classes were blended for a project, so it could be a student from H or J's classes too."
"Oh, dear. I'll give it to the principal. He'll know how to turn it off, and he may be able to find a name in it's memory, somehow."
"Did I do the right thing?" I asked.
"Most certainly."

A few hours later, "K" was crying in the hall, while waiting to enter my classroom. Perhaps it was hers?"

At home, that evening, I got out the school rules. It says, very clearly, that such devices are not to be turned on nor even in the hands of students during the school day. (Bus-time is ok.) If found, staff will confiscate the item. The student may get detention, and a parent must come to the office to pick it up.

And, two days later, Stuart walked into the kitchen holding his Lego Mindstorms Brick (a small robot CPU). He had programmed it to play music, and he was wearing pipe-cleaner "ear-buds". Guess who's birthday is coming up? Guess what he wants?

He's getting a Starter mp3 player. If he can keep it safe, unthrown and un-confiscated, for a year, we might up-grade.
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Playgroup
Mar. 21st, 2010 @ 02:54 pm (no subject)
March is turning out to be a fine month!

Wonderful!

Spent Saturday evening and Sunday morning swimming at a hotel pool. Swish, swish.

Smiles!
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Laurel
Mar. 18th, 2010 @ 07:37 pm I'm delighted that you love me, but please look before you hurl a ball at me!
I feel especially blessed by one of my former substitute-aide positions. There were two lil' guys who loved me most dearly. But that made "Adapted Gym" hazardous to my health.

See, the little guys hadn't mastered the art of Functional Eye Contact, that skill most folk take for granted. So. When ever they'd get a ball, they'd want to throw it to me. That would be just fine, if I happened to be looking at them. I was very attentive, but when they were on opposite sides of me, I couldn't watch both of them. The consequence was lots of balls smacking me upside the back of my head. So. We worked on "Make sure I'm looking at you, before you throw." A most worthy objective!

Here's a game we played, to work on Functional Eye Contact. (I typed this very fast, so forgive the typos and boo-boos. It's that, or not have it posted!)

------

Ok... the game we loved... I worked A LOT to attain Functional Eye Contact. The goal was for him to recognize when someone is paying attention to what he's saying. The goal was for him to look at faces when he was unsure, as their expressions (fear, complacency, pleasure...) would tell him if he was safe, ok, appropriate... and all that other non-verbal communication.

I don't care if he ever looks anyone "In the Eyes", as long as he gathers the data that's out there.

So. First game, very simple. Find the biggest ball you can find, and toss it back and forth. Except, you may not throw until your partner is looking at you. And, immediately before you throw, you must signal your intention by smiling, or making a similarly expectant face, or, I guess, an anxious face, if the distance is great and you think you might not make it.

Second game: Island, Island.

Setup: you'll need to cut non-skid pads into island shapes, big enough to fit most of your two feet on. You'll need two dozen, ideally. Anything you can think of, to use as "Islands in a carpet sea" will work. Styrofoam plates are too slippery... paper plates are too. Squares of felt or fabric? that might work.

You also need a flipper, coin or other such thing to randomly choose "Sink" and "Float". We used a green rectangular eraser with "Waves" drawn on the "Sink" side. (Fish on the sink side? whatever works.) It should be big enough that it's easy for both players to see the results when it lands on the ground.

Create a dense archipelago of islands between the two players. Close enough that one may step easily from island to island, but far enough apart that the Stepper can point clearly to one or another island, without confusion.

The stepper starts by noticing that the Navigator is paying attention to him. He points to an island, and looks to the Navigator. The navigator indicates, by facial expression, whether the island is a stable or a sinker. Stable: Smile, or look confident or not-worried (make the expression more subtle, as the Stepper gains sophistication in interpretation). Sinker: the Navigator shakes her head "No", or looks worried or afraid... again, tone down the expression as the child learns. How does the Navigator decide if the island is Stable or Sinker? Just randomly pick. Make it different each time. (Tell the Stepper that it's a different set of islands each time, or physically move them, if flexibility is lacking...)

Once the stepper collects the facial data, then he either steps to the new island, (if it's Stable), or points to a new island, if the previous choice was a Sinker. DON'T Trap the Stepper. ALWAYS have a clear and safe path available, though it might require a few points to find it or might require a LONG step or a good jump (if your islands won't slip and land the child on his rump!)

When the Stepper makes it safely through the shark infested waters, to reach the Navigator, he "Wins". (Yeah, it's hard to lose.)

Eventually, Ideally, the child will declare the game "Too Easy". That's when you get out the flipper/coin/eraser/whatever.

Occasionally, as the stepper points to an island, the Navigator displays an "Uncertain" expression, or a shoulder shrug. The navigator doesn't know if it's safe or not. At first, the child will just point to a different island, and the game continues. Again, always have a safe path available. Don't force the child to take the chance.

Eventually, the child will be willing to take a risk. If he chooses to try the "I'm Not Sure" island, he steps on it, then tosses the coin/flipper. (Ideally after checking to make sure you're looking and paying attention. So, sometimes, be distracted for 3 seconds...)

If the toss comes up Stable, he's safe, and the game continues. (Smile and make "Whew!" expressions.)

If it comes up Sinker, then he mimes sinking and glug, glug, glugging. Then he goes back to the beginning and starts over. Make this fun and giggly! Make "I'm sorry" expressions, or sad expressions or comforting expressions or "Oh, well, better luck next time" expressions.

Except for the giggling, this game should be silent! Use facial expressions/body language only.

Besides all the non-verbal communication (and POINTING is NOT intuitive to some children. You'll have to teach/explain... 'draw a straight line with your eyes along the person's arm and finger and see where it continues on toward. Use string if necessary, or a yardstick, to demonstrate the "Line".)

So, besides all the non-verbal communication, over time, your child will learn that Always Winnning can get dull. You can create Productive Uncertainty, by taking a chance, a risk. And Not Knowing, giving it a go, seeing-what-happens, can actually be a lot of fun!!!!! (Imagine that!) and Losing isn't the end of the world.

We found this game enormously fun and illuminating.

(I actually hope your guy is way beyond this point... but give it a try anyway, as it's a fun giggly thing.)

Best wishes,
Laurel
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Playgroup
Feb. 16th, 2010 @ 12:25 pm (no subject)
We were compelled to get out "The Leg" again this year.

http://laurelj.shutterfly.com/10
(It's the old picture...)
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Fencing
Feb. 16th, 2010 @ 11:59 am (no subject)
"Everyone is made so they WILL float."


Just watched "The Big Bad Swim". Pleasant movie.
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Sunrise
Jan. 20th, 2010 @ 02:39 pm And when I want to shout, "It's not THAT hard!!!", I must remember
And when I want to shout, "Calm down! It's not THAT hard!!!" to a youth who's close to me, I must remember how hurt I was when I didn't get cast as Juliet in the school play.

GAWD! being older and wiser, now, I know I'd have stunk, and would have fallen apart under the pressure of learning all the lines. It was a blessing in deep disguise.

Nevertheless, at the time, I was crushed, defeated.

Fate had dealt me another unexpected, cruel, thoughtless blow.

Cold and uncaring,
Merciless, unsparing,
Comes another face
From deep outer-space.

It doesn't feign
That it feels no pain.
It has no desire
To know love's fire.

With empty eyes,
(It never cries),
It kills the bird
In my backyard.

The bird that calmed,
Pleased me, eased me,
That woke me this morning...
It destroyed, without warning.

I'll bury him tomorrow.
Great is my sorrow.
But the face doesn't care.

The face doesn't care.
It smiles as it stares
At my bereavement.
-- Laurel Jamieson, November, 1981
 
All pain is painful. All hard times are hard. All anxiety is anxious.
And I must bite my tongue.

And I must also remember that I used to cry in my Physics TA's office, until, one day, everything clicked, and it didn't seem so hard.

And I must believe that the Click is just around some nearby corner.
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Sunrise
Jan. 20th, 2010 @ 02:22 pm Facebook...
I am somewhat sad to report that I'm making more entries on Facebook, lately.
I'm not feeling especially reflective right now, being more in treading water mode.
Though I hope that will change, soon.

If you wish, you are each most welcome to find and friend me on FB, if you wish...

Over there, I've the same name, and the same profile pic.

Smiles!
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Laurel
Jan. 16th, 2010 @ 10:03 am The chicken
Why did the chicken cross the road?

Skreeeeeaaaaccchhhh.... Thump.

We shall never know.
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Anna Letters
Jan. 9th, 2010 @ 12:32 pm Familiarity Breeds ... familiarity
On Thursday, I went with my in-laws to Father-in-law's blood test.

Before he started his first rounds of chemo, he had a Port installed. It's a dome shaped device inserted under your skin, on your chest, near your shoulder, that has a main-line that drops into a large vein. It required surgery, but was worth the discomfort and time. Well worth it.

Now, instead of searching for a vein to draw blood, or to insert an IV, the nurse just takes a bent needle, and stabs through the skin and into the dome. Always hits. The dome's lump is quite visible -- impossible to miss.

The port is wonderful, especially given F-i-L's low platelet count. Occasionally, they can't get blood-test blood from the port, and his arm bruises, spectacularly from the needle-stick, and the profuse under-the-skin bleeding that results.

But sometimes, often, actually, even the port bleeds quite dramatically.

Everyone was in high spirits. F-i-l's blood counts were holding steady. Yay! We got to the restaurant that serves M-i-L's fried chicken. F-i-L took off his coat. His port had bled, quite significantly. He said, wearily, "Oh, no." M-i-L groaned and began a litany of what she'd have to do to clean up the shirt.

I asked, "May I look, to see if it's still bleeding?" F-i-L nodded. He's become familiar with being the patient.

I unbottoned the top of his shirt, and pulled it open. "It's done now." I re-buttoned.

The waitress showed up, carrying three sets of napkins and cutlery. She stopped. She stared. Her expression was priceless. "What's that?" she asked, with surprising calm, given the wideness of her eyes.

I looked back at F-i-L. Truly, he very closely resembled a gun-shot victim. I smiled, and briefly explained about the port. She asked him, "Will you be alright?"

"Oh, yeah," said F-i-L.

The waitress continued to stare at the spot. I looked at the crowded restaurant. I noted how the booths were arranged. Fully 1/4 of the patrons would be sitting, facing the bright, large patch.

"I've got an idea! May I have one of those napkins, please?" I reached out and tried to delicately take one of the three paper napkins from the waitress's hand, delicately, for my finger tips were covered with blood.

She had reached equilibrium. She deadpanned, "Please, take them all." I did. I tucked them into F-i-L's breast pocket, and fanned them out some, to cover the spot. It worked quite well. The waitress said, "Now, tuck them under his collar, and they'll stay better."

"Excellent. Thank you!"

F-i-L said, "What are you doing?"
"Um, hiding the blood. I don't think anyone really wants to sit here, looking at it."
"Oh! Yes. Didn't think of that. Thank you." F-i-L fought in the Battle of the Bulge.

Lunch was very good.
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Laurel
Jan. 6th, 2010 @ 11:11 am Catch Up
It's been busy. Hope all is well with you and yours!

Father-in-law back in the hospital and then out again, only a week this time, and Mother-in-law DIDN'T go in the day after F-i-L got out! This whole thing has me musing over how difficult it is to draw the line on "First Do No Harm", regarding chemotherapy. Oh, dear. Well, so far, so good. And while I woke up last night worrying about F-i-L's platelet count, this morning, when I called, they told me they're goin' to Bingo today. Don't worry, be happy now! Good for them. I'm heading up to check on them, soon.

New Year's party was a blast. Stuart had a ball. The three kiddos spent most of the evening planning and rehearsing the "Big Show" that they perform at 11 p.m. Every year the show is better, and every year, the house survives with less upheaval. The first year?!? Nearly every square inch of the floor was covered with scattered toys. This year, it took less than two minutes to clean up the bits and bobs.

All three performed very well, and Stuart thrived. That's so good to see! I've decided we'll have a mini party at the end of every even month....

My parents are well.

At Roger's company, work seems to be picking up.

Playgroup's first class went smoothly. Again, a great group of families. We'll have 16 little ones participating, though with the snow, only 10 showed for the first day. I agonized over whether to run it, this year. And the county health department recommends bleaching all the objects in the room. THAT task seemed overwhelming. Four helpers showed up to each bleaching sessions, and it got done, with a little help from my friends. Yeah, we'll get by... keep-the-faith. And a few of my little darlings really, really NEED playgroup. And I got at least four wee hugs, which, truly, I really, really NEED.

Stuart gets fitted for a jaw adjusting retainer next week.

Trumpeting is going well. When one sets a trumpet case in the snow, then brings it in, and sets it on the carpet, the carpet gets rusty from the hinges. Apparently Stain-Master can resist wet rust, somewhat, but dried out rust water, Stain-master embraces that - have and hold 'til death do it part. sigh.

School is lumpy. Sigh.
Vacation was excellent.

Our 1991 vintage tv is starting to look like it's wearing venetian blinds. So... we broke down (I broke down) and ordered a new, 1080p HDTV. This will require a serious re-arranging of the living room. We'll lose the entertainment center and the gas-log fireplace, and un-encumber the huge bay window. I'm almost more excited about getting the window out from behind the entertainment center! Snow is so beautiful, after all!

My crowd of characters are still on the Allegheny River, but I now have a very clear idea of WHY they're on the river. I might start writing them, again. Yeah, "It's not rocket science, what's the worst that can happen?" But the more I contemplate the ART of writing, the more it seems like rocket science. And... oh well. This will be practice, then I'll get on to the story that's wound round my heart.

Thanks for listening!
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Laurel
Dec. 4th, 2009 @ 08:40 am Youtube has Everything - Liberace
In church last week, we had a guest organist. He played beautifully, especially on the offertory. The last hymn is written in 4/4, but is normally played with a pronounced swing that makes it feel almost like a complex 3-something. He played it exceedingly accurately in a precise 4/4.

On the way home, Stuart mentioned the offertory. "Yeah, that was really well done," I agreed. As we've been working on "Swinging" some of the music we're playing together on trumpet and clarinet, I mentioned the last hymn. I said he played it as Bach would have played it, perfect and square. "But, I'm accustomed to singing it with a good swing, like Liberace would have played it."

"Who's Liberace?" he asked. (Liberace is pronouced LIB-r-AA-chi).
Roger laughed. He explained, "Liberace was an exceedingly flamboyant piano player. He played very, very well, and my grandparents LOVED him. I remember watching his tv show as a kid. Someone asked him, 'Liberace, how do you play with all those rings on your fingers?', and Liberace replied, 'Beautifully!'"

"And then he probably flounced off to his piano," I added. "He loved to wear capes, rhinestones, satin. He was quite the dresser."

So, we looked him up on Youtube, which seems to have EVERYTHING on it.

I haven't heard him play since I was very small. Good grief, that man can play!!! I wonder if he did his own arranging. This song was fantastic, and funny. We watched it without the introduction, and I kept snickering... I recommend watching it without the intro first, so you can giggle too...

w/out intro http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8-92jNmKwU
w/intro http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wD7dw_BW_UI

yeah, I'm easily amused... but that means I'm frequently amused...
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Laurel
Nov. 28th, 2009 @ 02:01 pm New Music Wow
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuYW8GegdWQ&feature=fvw
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Laurel
Nov. 24th, 2009 @ 09:08 am Gushing with Giggles and Embarassment
Spent Friday, Saturday and Sunday with my mom, in the old stomping grounds, watching movies in a hotel room, and doing some light shopping. A very, very good weekend.

That meant that Stuart came home from school and hung out, alone, in the house for about 45 minutes, before Roger got home. He's comfy with that, and usually just reads in his bedroom.

On Monday, I found the replacement faucet insert (valve) from Moen in the mail. I opened it and showed it to Stuart. Later, while I was e-mailing, he called out to me, "I can't get it out!"

L: "What?"
S: "I'm trying to replace the faucet valve, but I can't get the old one out."
L: "Did you pull out the pin?"
S: "No... Oh! Yes. I pulled out the pin. Still can't get it out."
L: "It's in really tight. I had a devil of a time getting it out before I called Moen." I walked into the bathroom. "Here, put the screw back into the insert, and that will give you an excellent ledge to pull on.
He threaded the screw (that holds the shiny plastic handle in place) into the valve.
L: I demonstrated the best way to apply the pliers beneath the screw head. "Now, pull, really hard. It's really hard. Use all your strength."
He pulled, hard.
The valve popped out.
The geyser erupted.
We were both soaked to the skin, instantaneously.
We both howled in surprise.
I tried, stupidly, to push the valve back in. That just sprayed the ring of disaster wider.
L: "Stuart, turn off the water!" (He knew where the under-the-sink valves were.)
S: "No! I'll get wet!" (author's note: Good grief... head-desk) He started to laugh. "This is just like Calvin and Hobbes!" He repeated that several times, hopping up and down in delight.
L: "Then put your hand over the faucet to control the water some!"
S: "But I'll get wet!" he said, still laughing and hopping.
I put my hand over the gusher, just to divert some of it into the sink, (which was stoppered, to keep important things like clips and screws from falling down the drain.)
I squatted and used the other hand to turn the supply valves off. Fortunately, they each only required a half turn. Surprisingly, I got the right direction first time, twice.
S: Continued Giggles and hopping.
L: "O.K." Breathe for a moment. "Yes. It's JUST like Calvin and Hobbes. Now, Calvin, go get the bathroom towels. We've got to clean up YOUR mess."
It took five deluxe, oversized bath towels and a hand towel to wipe up the floor, the walls, the vanity top, the vanity drawers and cupboard, the mirror, the toilet, the ceiling, the window, the shower doors, the carpet. They were sodden when we finished. Stuart helped most actively and effectively.

Given the breadth of the spraying, I'm surprised and delighted to report that nothing was lost. Not even the brand new box of 200 [girl things], nor the four years of Muse Magazine, Robotics Magazine and LEGO comics that were stored in the room. Fortunately, Stuart had left the fallen off cover of one magazine on top of the magazine organizers. It suffered, but shielded.

We retired to our rooms to strip off our clothes.
Stuart called out, delighted, "Hey, my underwear aren't wet."
I shook my head and pulled on my footie jammies. "Ahhh. Times like these, a person needs footie jammies."
Stuart spread his only slightly damp magazines all up and down the hallway to dry.
Roger called. "Coming home now."
"Excellent. Stuart! You get to tell Dad what happened."
"All Right! It was just like Calvin and Hobbes!"
I nodded my head. Then I looked hard into his eyes. "Stuart, we BOTH knew better."
He nodded. I gently pushed his forehead with the heel of my hand. "D'oh!"
He gently pushed my forehead with the heel of his hand. "D'oh!"
I said, "This was a lesson. Someday, you will replace a valve, and you will know to turn off the water first. And that will be a very, very good thing, at the time, as the ensuing disaster would have been much, much worse."
He nodded.

Roger came home and immediately commented, "Stuart, why are you in your underwear?"
"Because my clothes got wet. Mom's too!"
Roger looked warily at me.
"Everything is ok. But Stuart has a story to tell you. The faucet valve arrived in the mail today."
Roger's eye widened. He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "Ok, Stuart, tell me the story."

And of course, before throwing out the plastic bag that held the valve, I pulled out the paper insert, for recycling. The very first line of the directions said, "Warning! Turn off water supply before starting!"

That night, I said to Roger, "So, you've got a new story to tell the men at work, huh?"
He smiled widely.
"It can never be so bad, that it can't get worse... What if the valve arrived on Friday, and Stuart tried to replace it, while I was gone and you were still at work?"
His eyes got really, really wide. "Oh dear."

(But three cheers to Stuart for his initiative.)
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Sunrise
Nov. 23rd, 2009 @ 02:27 pm Ahh, so THAT's what he's thinking
Took my son to an orthodontist consultation.
The man looked like a movie star. The office looked like it belonged in Beverly Hills.
There were six or eight chairs in a circle, where dental assistants adjusted braces.
Everyone who passed us, smiled warmly to us.
But when you looked at them, when they thought no one was looking at them, they weren't
smiling.

The orthodonist took a lot of time with us, and answered all our questions.
We waited in his office for a while first, and for a time, he and I spoke, leaving Stuart's eyes and mind even more time to wander. The man had a 18 inch model of "The Thinker" on his book case. Stuart pointed to it, and said, "Maybe you should turn that sideways." I didn't understand, and the doctor talked briefly about what the statue meant to him.

On the ride home, I told Stuart that The Thinker was a very old and famous statue, and that I thought (but was not sure) that everyone wondered what he was thinking about.

Stuart laughed. He said, "The statue is anatomically correct. I know what he's thinking about."
I laughed really, really hard. "I didn't know that! Wow. A 107 year old mystery solved!"

Yeah. The orthodonist ought to turn that statue sideways, some.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Thinker
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Laurel
Nov. 19th, 2009 @ 03:40 pm And sometimes, even footy pajamas can't cheer you up.
But they are most wonderfully comfy.

Mine have airplanes, and are a slightly brighter red.

http://www.target.com/Boys-Cherokee-Penguin-Blanket-Sleeper/dp/B002FOFQEO/ref=sc_qi_detailbutton
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Stuart's Desk
Nov. 11th, 2009 @ 06:33 pm Veterans' Day

Honor Them
If you were fighting in a war,
Veterans' Day is not a bore.

Honor them!

While they were standing by the tanks,
They did not cower in their ranks.
And always stood and fought,
No matter what the enemy wrought,

What bravery!

Although the sights were far from pretty,
My grandfather and his comrades,
They took the enemy cities.
They did their duty to the country,
And without them, we might have never been
Here.

By someone young and very dear to my heart, who modestly wishes to remain anonymous. 

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Sunrise
Oct. 13th, 2009 @ 01:43 pm Those easily amused are frequently amused!

    (posted in slightly different form, as a reply to another's LJ entry.  Might be a repeat...)

Twice, in college, I encountered a woman I barely knew, while being amused. 

I was standing in the Quad, with my arms spread wide, moving vaguely east. 
"Huh?" she asked.
"See!  It's raining lightly on my right hand, and not, on my left hand.  Thousands of feet up, there's a cloud boundary, directly above me." 
She shook her head and wandered off.

I was standing, again, in the Quad, this time with my feet spread wide, slowly tipping from side to side.
"Huh?"
"See! All these huge, one ton, paving squares are the roof of an underground parking garage. This one's tippy.  You can FEEL the acceleration of gravity working, feel the momentum change as this enormous mass falls, first one way, then the other, as I shift my weight. So slow, slow, less slow, faster, faster, fastest, BOOM!" I smiled widely. "See!  Wanna try? It's fascinating, after all those physics and engineering classes, to feel it in your feet and gut. It's real, man, it's real!"

I shivered with delight, but refrained from exclaiming, "Acceleration, integration, derivatives, tangential slopes on a quadratic curve," as she stepped back from me, scowling.

"You're very easily amused." I think she meant it to hurt.

Her slash entirely missed its mark.

"Ah," I said, smiling widely, "As I am easily amused, I am almost always amused. Lucky, lucky me!"

I have GOT to go back to the campus to see if that square is still tippy.  I REALLY enjoyed standing there... Gotta show my hubby and my son.

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Fencing
Oct. 6th, 2009 @ 08:59 am Programming Bug
My father-in-law's in the hospital again.
Poor guy.
It's also nearing his birthday.
So, Roger went to Giant Eagle to buy a Happy Birthday mylar balloon.
The store was packed.
He went through the self-checkout line.
He scanned the balloon.
The computer said, "Please place my-lar-ba-loooon on belt."

Hmmmmm.....
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Fencing
Oct. 5th, 2009 @ 12:28 pm Two Baths in One Day, or The Synchronicity of Corrugations
We signed up to take our canoe down an urban river, for a clean-up day.  
It was great fun.  It was AMAZING what we found in the river. 

No refrigerators, but two road-construction barrels, over a dozen tires, with and without rims, tarps, the remains of steel barrels, a big-wheel sans big wheel, a lounge chair, 100 feet of rubber tubing, a recycle container...  we FILLED eight canoes with man-made gunk, emptied them half-way down the 3 or so miles of river, and re-filled them again.  

I don't know if there was a big storm recently, that washed all the little stuff away, but there was only one bend in the river filled with water bottles and small trash.

One find was a 16 foot stretch of stiff, black, corrugated, eight inch diameter pipe.  I pulled it out, and handed it off to a college professor to stow in his canoe.  He set it longwise parallel with the length of his canoe. Being so long, it was in the bottom of the canoe in the back, and cantilevered out the front of the canoe.  He paddled on ahead of us, and I started laughing.

"What?" asked my hubby, and my mid-shipman son.  The prof turned around to listen in.

"Um," I choked, pointing and addressing the prof, "Please forgive me, but, my, your hose looks, um, phallic.  Words fail me, but smart remarks are clogging my brain."  (The scene angle, THE angle, and the cant of his body were, really, just *perfect*)

Stuart and Roger laughed, hard. Roger concurred. The prof blushed, good humoredly.

The log jam in my brain broke open a bit.  "Ribbed for her...um Never Mind." 

"Let's just leave it at that," the prof deadpanned.

It drizzled lightly, on and off, and when we were done, both we and the canoe were filthy.    
A good day, followed by a nice hot bath. (Shower # 1)

Once home, all three bathed, and having run a load of laundry with lots of non-chlorine bleach, Roger decided to investigate our now relatively well rinsed sewer lift-pump.  It grinds our effluent and pushes it about 200 feet up the grade to the sewer main which ends in the neighbor's tree lawn.  The pump's been short-cycling, only pumping out about 1/3 of the crock, before stopping.   He repeatedly filled the crock with a garden hose to study the process, then made some calls and did some testing.  

Finally, he wanted to see... something.  "Laurel, come here please, and hold this hose in the bucket."

I held the two inch, black corrugated tube in the bucket with one hand. (Oops, mea culpa)
Roger activated the pump. 
The hose bolted out of hand.  It flailed around as if possessed, shooting rather unpleasantly scented water EVERYWHERE.

Roger shouted, "Get the hose in the bucket!"
That advice was neither helpful nor achieveable.

Roger changed tacks, and unplugged the pump.
That worked.

Yeah, the crock was as clean as it gets, but it's still poopy.
Gah.
Sweep all the grey water toward the floor drain.
Time for another bath.
Ick.

ah well.  It's funny, now. Who thought filthy black corrugated pipe could bring such mirth? Twice in one day?!
 

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Laurel