"They have reconstituted themselves"

Wow, you'd think that the Al Qaeda in Afghanistan were really dehydrated. Obama makes them sound like powdered milk.

Silliest lame comeback of the entire debate: "Well, I have a bracelet too..."

Boring stuff

It seems that we've been terribly busy here of late, but we haven't much to say as there's nothing very riveting about our various cooking misadventures, shopping trips, and following the news with bated breath.

Ella is very communicative. She clearly understands pretty much everything we say to her, shakes and nods her head emphatically, and follows complicated instructions. Jane's sense of make-believe is growing stronger by the day. She now has an imaginary parallel universe in which her name is Elody (sp?) (pronounced L.E.D.) and my name is Aralyn (sp?). Michael's and Ella's imaginary names she tends to make up on the spot. I'll post a few pictures if I can remember to take them. (Must first replace batteries in camera.)

In other news, Michael may be going out of town for a few days for some computer training. (Note to prospective burglars: No, I'm not going to mention which days, and he's leaving all the guns anyway.) (Addendum to pediatricians: Ha ha, no, of course we don't have any guns, and even if we did, we'd keep them locked up and unloaded.) I'm wishing there were someone I could invite over to stay with us, the way I used to hang out with S.J. when her globe-trotting husband was off on office business (speaking of which, only two weeks!), but the sad reality of moving to Georgia as a married woman is that I haven't really had an opportunity to make any single girlfriends. Sunday schools are so pigeon-holed and the nature of mom's groups is rather exclusive, so I'm not really sure where to begin. I just know that I, as a single girl in Virginia, had a lot of married friends. Not that I'm complaining. I just wonder.

Wedding musings

The main reason destination honeymoons were invented, aside from obvious ones like When Else Will We Get To Go To Hawaii, is that it provides a plausible excuse for the happy couple not to go to church the next day. Because, of course, that just Would Not Do. I'm not sure if there's a socially recognised standard for the acceptable lag time after which it is appropriate to appear in public again, but it seems that a week would allow ample time for the snickers to have died down. My theory is that the Sunday wedding phenomenon has taken hold as a clever way to dodge both the heathen approach of not going to church and the tactless faux pas of turning up too soon and having everyone glance away and pretend not to wonder what you were doing last night.

I love eating bountiful feasts at lavish wedding receptions, and I always maintain that you can skimp on the wedding decorations, because no one (except the ten chums who stayed up all night to decorate your palace for you) will notice how many sprinkles of confetti adorn each centerpiece, but what the guests will take away with them is a solid impression of the food. But I know it wasn't always this way, and I'm a bit nostalgic for the old days when cake, nuts, and punch were the standard, because that allowed for more leeway on the guest list. I remember getting invited to a lot of weddings when I was a child, and I'm sure the lack of fanfare on the food front had something to do with it. Weddings are getting more expensive, and the unhappy side effect is that kids don't get invited to weddings as much. I guess, in short, I love to go to weddings. I love great food at receptions, but I'd rather get invited to a wedding and eat cake and punch than not get invited at all.

These thoughts and many others swirled through my mind tonight as I capered about town playing the Wedding Registry Scavenger Hunt. Ooh, look! This perfect punch bowl - which is beautiful, meaningful, and in my price range - was on the registry when I checked earlier, but it's mysteriously gone! What nimble fellow player, racing against the clock, beat me to this prize?? All shall be revealed at the buffet/feast/punchbowl tomorrow!

Stuff and nonsense

Last week I came across this website, and have been mulling over The Story of Stuff ever since. It's about a twenty-minute video, and well worth watching, although I don't appreciate the political potshots which the narrator takes toward the beginning.

(I don't necessarily agree with her assumptions about the limited amount of resources or 'our fair share' of the planetary pie. I guess it comes down to a fundamental difference in worldview - an atheist/evolutionist will see things in the light of chance and survival of the fittest, in which we'd better play the best with the cards we've been dealt, while I believe that God gave us this earth to take dominion over, and provided the resources needed to sustain life in His image. So I'm a little irritated by her trite statistics about the percentage of polluted waterways and the square miles of Amazon rainforest chopped down every day. Treating the water supply and the forests as a finite resource, the draining of which is exacerbated by a growing world population, instead of as a renewable resource that simply needs to be managed better, is a typical alarmist cliche. I am sure that there is irresponsible logging going on out there, but coming from Oregon, where the logging industry is a mainstay and the loggers, realising and respecting this fact - and not wanting to work themselves out of a job - consistently replant at or above replacement level, I tend to resent the all-too-common assumption that cutting down trees is synonymous with trashing the planet.)

Back to The Story of Stuff. Once I got past her alarmist propaganda, I found the rest of the video gripping and enlightening. I am astounded by the notion that our current economic model of rampant consumerism was a deliberate scheme, concocted and constructed according to plan. Apparently the economic advisers of the Eisenhower administration, in drawing up a blueprint for the American economy coming out of the post-war boom, envisioned a long-term model of ever-growing prosperity and expansion, industrialisation and consumption. They developed a shift in the consumer mentality by the precise implementation of planned obsolescence and perceived obsolescence.

Planned obsolescence is when things are designed to be thrown away, so the consumer always has to keep coming back for more. You can see this principle at work with the obvious disposables such as paper goods, diapers, and the like. (Prior to WWII, disposables were almost unheard-of; cloth diapers, personal care and linens were the norm.) Nowadays, we've moved so far away from that notion that we even have such ridiculous 'convenience' items as disposable mops, toilet scrubbers, and, apparently, BBQ grills. (?!?)

More subtle is the planned obsolescence of poor quality goods purporting to be reusable but so cheaply made that they will break often enough to keep the consumer buying and buying again. It's all a cleverly orchestrated balance between having the goods break quickly enough to ensure a steady demand while lasting just long enough to ensure that the consumers will not lose faith in the product. Our expectations have been re-programmed, and we no longer hope for the durability and quality from long-term goods that were the norm a generation or so ago. Hence the very true expression, 'They just don't make them like they used to.' No, and it's no accident.

Perceived obsolescence is simply the cultural pressure to buy a new one, even if the old one isn't broken or dysfunctional. This is the driving force behind fashion, sleek newer cars, bigger houses, and the like. Surely some scientific improvements come with time, but for the most part, the need to buy new stuff is merely imaginary.

The whole thing is very, very annoying to me.

Love a rainy night

'Good thing I didn't mow,' said Michael.

'Good thing I didn't water the tomatoes,' said I.

And we sat and continued to read our respective books, very pleased at how well our procrastinating had paid off.

Wooden silverware

Six years ago today I met the man of my dreams.

Five years ago yesterday I married him.

My, how fast the years have flown.

Somehow trendy

Despite having no cable, we now have one more thing in common with the average American household, thanks to a good internet connection and the wonderful site known as Hulu: we are dedicated Office fans.

I'd heard of the show here and there, and about a month ago we started watching it. We quickly became hooked, pulling too many late nights in a frenzied effort to get all caught up with the past four seasons before Season Five starts next month.

Some of my favourite quotes:

'I'm not superstitious. Well, maybe I'm just a little stitious.'

'This office is cursed! Have any of you desecrated an Indian burial ground recently?'

'We are all about customer service, while machines are about trying to murder people in their cars in a lake.'

'Myth: three Americans die every year from rabies. Fact: Four Americans do.'

It's pretty quirky, and it takes a bit of getting used to. Or maybe not. We liked it right off the bat. I hate laugh tracks, so I'm very proud of this show for standing on its own.

Whew.

It seems that I've been reading a lot lately about the growing trend toward hanging up laundry to dry. People who wouldn't normally strike you as frugality fiends are finding, among other things, that it isn't such a pain as you would expect, that it's nice to get outside and breathe fresh air, that it gives the laundry a clean, fresh scent, that it saves a huge amount of wear and tear on clothing, and that it really does save a ton on the energy bill.

That's all well and good, but I still don't like the thought. I know it would probably be good for us, and I'd get used to it, and I'd get the kids involved someday so it wouldn't be such an onerous chore, but still.

Last week we were researching new garage doors, since a spring broke on our current one. In looking through the covenants of our home-owner's association to determine the requirements of a replacement garage door, I discovered that outdoor clothing lines are banned. Oh, bummer. Guess I can't jump on that bandwagon after all.

Homemaking - drudgery or delight?

Recently I discovered this website, and I've been challenged and inspired by the ideas presented. The most fascinating part was her chart contrasting then vs. now, pointing out the various social elements that have changed in the past few decades, which may cause home-making to seem less gratifying and fulfilling now. The idea of community, of a support network, the realisation that we weren't designed to keep things running smoothly indefinitely without a break, has been touched on elsewhere, but it's very clear and compelling in this presentation.

Even though I grew up in the country, in the sort of environment where you didn't lock your doors at night, I can not picture a community where the children play in the street and the moms rely on each other to keep tabs on them. (Was it really like that in the Fifties? Then no wonder Donna Reed could manage to get a five-course dinner on the table while wearing high heels every day!)

Anyway, no time to mull further, but it's been a source of ponderation for me these last few weeks.

Are we getting too close to crazy for comfort?

Today I read this article on making your own kefir. I've heard of kefir before, here and there, and it always sounded intriguing but perhaps just a tad bit out there, closer to tofu than yogurt. Also it always sounded very expensive, like something the marketing department at Whole Foods and Trader Joe's tricks impressionable health food nuts into buying.

However, reading detailed instructions on how to make it at home inspires me to do the same. If it's really as good as they say (Even better than yogurt at regulating digestion and improving the immune system! Contains five species of probiotic microorganisms, living happily together in a symbiotic relationship!) then we should be downing this stuff every day, no question, and if it's as simple as that, then we should turn alchemist and convert all of our milk into kefir henceforward.

I have therefore made arrangements with a local supplier of kefir to pick up a jar of kefir grains tomorrow. We shall see how the experiment turns out. In addition to all the other wonderful benefits of kefir, I'm rather chuffed to be participating in something that requires a starter - it engenders such a happy sense of community, like friendship bread and farm raisings.

Give a little whistle

Jane has become my little conscience.

Whenever I do something that registers on her morality meter, she pipes up about it.

When I roll through a stop sign at anything less than a full stop, she will say, 'Mama, please stop.'

Whenever I close a door or a cupboard too loudly, she will ask, 'Mama, did you slam it?'

If I say anything too soon after taking a bite, she will inquire, 'Mama, did you talk with your mouth full?'

It's like having my own little Jiminy Cricket around. I can't get away with anything.

Time and space

My snatches of computer time are few and far between these days, it seems. Whenever I have a chance to blog, I can't remember anything I was going to post. And whenever I have those great ideas, I can't get to the computer right away. Somewhat annoying, but less so the busier my life gets; perhaps blogging is - and rightly so - taking a back seat to my real life. Rather than watching things through a camera lens, as it were, to be enjoyed only in rewind mode, I'm actually savouring each moment for what it is instead of constantly sizing it up for blog material. Yes, surely that's it: a lapse in blogging indicates a healthy awareness of the passage of time and a renewed commitment to live life to the fullest.

Ha. Who am I kidding? CVS has become a full-blown craze, overshadowing blogs with a mighty vengeance, and the main things I want to blog about are the incredible bargains each week. But I'm not going to bore anyone with that, and I'm not going to post pictures, because that would look greedy and boastful and because it's already being done all over the internet. (Don't worry, we donate all the extra stuff to worthy causes.) (Um, okay, and then get a tax write-off, yeah. But other than that, it's totally altruistic.)

I tried an experiment a few weeks ago. With the price of gas spiking up every week, I was going to practise contentment by staying at home as much as possible, limiting my shopping trips to once a week or so, and focus on making our home as castle-like as could be. (Did I already post this? It sounds somehow familiar. I think I've gone through this particular resolve before.) 

Well, the experiment fell flatter than a pancake, and not in a pleasant, crepe-like flat-pancake way, either. We did not do well with those long days at home. I chafed at all the great deals I was missing, and felt nervous when the stockpile of diapers dipped down to dangerous levels. It's been too hot to walk to the playground at all but the earliest hours, and there are only so many hundred times one can read the same books without going stark raving mad.

So we ditched the experiment this week, and all are much happier for the result. Turns out I enjoy dashing out every day, and the girls do better with errands to break up the monotony of a long day. Running errands every day shortens the duration of each trip, so the time spent out is a pleasure rather than a torture. And our closets are once more full of tp, diapers, and organic tomato sauce. I think I might just scrape by with only five or six shopping trips next week.

People who CVS are bad-grammaring

There have always been those types who, unable to put themselves to the trouble of finding the right word to use and fitting it into the right context, simply grab onto the handiest approximation of what they intend to convey and slap a good-sounding ending onto it.

Pretending to turn a noun into a verb by appending a suffix to it - for instance, pretending to turn a noun into a verb by suffixing it - is a common and long-standing trick. I know this, of course. Language has been evolving for eons, and eventually the modified word passes into accepted usage. I mean, nobody bothers to police the non-verb-ity (nounity? nouniness?) of microwave or contact any more.

But nowhere has this trend been so starkly egregious as in the recent wave of CVS enthusiasts. 'Had fun CVSing!' or 'Good trip CVSing!' is their motto, without bothering to analyse what precisely it is they did at CVS. Was it, indeed, shopping? Well, then, why not say so, to wit, 'I've been shopping at CVS!'? I know, I know, it takes up so many more syllables that way! 'I've been CVSing!' they declare, with all the pithiness of the good bargain-hunters they are. It stands to reason that those people who are careful with their money would be likewise conservative of extra syllables.

What if we started applying this funny little grammar freehand to jolly well any area of life? The results could save us thousands of wasted breaths a year:

'I'm fooding!' vs. the cumbersome 'I'm eating food.'
'He's bathrooming' vs. 'He's using the bathroom' or even 'He's in the bathroom.' (Because, of course, in our world, no one would ever broach this topic in the first person.)
'I was carring' vs. 'I was riding in/driving/washing the car.' (See how deliciously sloppy and unspecific the first instance is? No need to waste time pinpointing the exact nature of the activity.)
'I'm typing text' vs. 'I'm texting'? Oooh, slippery slope.

The six quirks quiz

Thanks to Queen of Carrots, I get to come up with six unspectacular quirks to share. I do believe that memes were invented solely to pull uninspired bloggers out of writing slumps. And I had to ponder long and hard to come up with at least one that didn't involve language. (I mean, that would have been dreadfully lame, if quite accurate: 1) I don't like it when people misuse apostrophes; 2) It grates on me when people mangle turns of phrase, i.e. step foot inside or making due, etc. Unspectacular in the extreme.)

1) The title of this post makes me think of what the Guinness Book of World Records lists as the world's trickiest tongue-twister, to wit: The sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick.

2) Whenever we sing Amazing Grace, I quietly murmur (quietly, so as not to disrupt the mood of reverence), in the last stanza, 'We've no fewer days to sing God's praise...' I can't help it. I just can't bring myself to sing bad grammar. And it works, too, because there are two notes on that word anyway. Why didn't they just write it the right way to begin with??

3) I never tried to play the innocent naive sheltered homeschool debutante, but I'm on ongoing alert to discover just how incomprehensive my education in the seamier side of the ways of the world really was. Michael is frequently put to the task of having to tactfully tell me what, in colloquial language, I just said. Only recently did I learn that the phrase 'knocked up' somehow means, of all things, 'pregnant,' and not, as I had always employed it to mean, knocked about, as in, well-versed in the school of hard knocks, my-head-is-bloody-but-unbowed, that sort of thing. Pity. Apparently the English language is a veritable minefield of double entendres and low-class allusions. Figuratively speaking, mind you.

4) I wax very sarcastic when people misuse the word 'literally,' apparently mistaking it for just another adverb, interchangeable with 'really' and 'like, totally.' ('It literally fell into our laps!' they gush. 'Really?' I inquire, craning my head upwards to look and, possibly, take cover. 'That's amazing!')

5) I have never dyed my hair, but I have boxes upon boxes of hair dye stashed away in my closet should occasion require it. Just a couple of weeks ago I bought a set of fake French manicure nails. I keep staring at them, wondering if I dare try them on.

6) Ten years ago, when I moved across the country, all my worldly goods consisted of a bed, a dresser, and four boxes of stuff. Five years ago, when I was preparing to get married, all my worldly goods consisted of a bed, a dresser, a closetful of stuff, three bookshelves of books, one bookshelf of knick-knacks and other junk, and a hopechest. At least it all fit into one room. Today, my stuff sprawls to fill an entire house. Granted, Michael contributed some stuff and we got a lot of loot at wedding and baby showers, but my oh my where did all this stuff come from? Why doesn't money multiply that readily?

Now the rules are that I am supposed to tag six other people for the meme, but I always like to leave these things open (no pressure and all that, plus I can never keep track of who's already done it.) So it's a self-tagging meme. If you want to play, jump in and join the fun.

I am not cut out for this

We've been battling sickness here for some time, and it's usually been low-grade enough to overlook. Between runny noses for the girls and a sore throat for me, I haven't yet declared it to be a full-fledged cold. Michael, however, succumbed in grand style a couple of weeks ago. He doesn't get sick often, but when he does he does it completely. He was sick over the weekend, and ended up staying home from church as well as from work the next couple of days.

So I got the girls up, fed, and dressed on my own, which I do every day, but this time it felt overwhelming. We drove to church alone, and I got them checked into class by myself and went to Sunday school on my own. I had to unpack the stroller on my own, collect the tired girls after class, and keep them happy on the drive home.

I kept thinking how glad I am not to be a single mom, and feeling slightly ashamed of being so overwhelmed and tired by just a few days of running things on my own, when so many people do this every day of their lives. Military wives do it for months at a time. I admire these people so much, and I'm so glad I have a strong, (mostly) healthy husband to tag-team with.

I was feeling all full of contentment and gratitude when Michael got better, and resolved to be more thankful than ever for my life, now that I'd learned to appreciate how good I really had it. Enter these last two weeks.

Michael has had computer training for work several days last week and this, necessitating a longer drive and late nights (a couple of nights he just stopped off at the office afterwards to catch up on work and the girls never saw him at all that day).

Ever doing my part to save on gasoline costs, I coaxed Michael to take the car so I wouldn't be tempted to run out on frivolous errands. Yesterday I still had a scratchy throat, so I decided to stay home from choir, too. We would stay home this week, make our home our castle, clean up from top to bottom, and learn contentment in our circumstances. Which is a noble resolve, but I was never one to flourish in solitude, far from the madding crowd. The days have been long, and Saturday will come not a moment too soon.

Happy Mother's Day to you, too

Now don't think I'm taking umbrage at all those well-meaning good wishes, but Mother's Day is another one of those heavily marketed Hallmark holidays that I just don't buy into. I certainly do believe in honouring one's mother, but I think it should consist of the same common courtesy and respect that motivates one all year long, and not be reserved for one glorious hurrah a year.

This aversion to all the fuss and feathers may have something to do with the fact that my 'love language' (cleverly hidden in quotation marks so you won't sneer at me if you don't buy into the Five Love Language philosophy either) doesn't lean toward the giving of gifts, and certainly doesn't go anywhere remotely near the giving of overpriced, mass-produced, unoriginal cards and flowers. If I liked expensive, trite, generic cards for my birthday, then I'd probably enjoy getting them for Mother's Day, too.

I don't know why everyone pretends to think it's such a nice treat for husband and children to take Momma out to eat for Mother's Day. Most Americans eat out a lot anyway, so why should it be any big deal? And anyone can spend money - eating out requires no forethought, no sacrifice, no effort. The real treat would be to fix Mother Dear a meal at home, and clean up afterwards.

Finally, I have no earthly idea why so many blessed people - whom I am most emphatically NOT the mother of - wished me a Happy Mother's Day on Sunday. Isn't that something you say to your mother?

There, I've got that off my mind, and can rest easy until next month, when I'll have to get on my soapbox again and explain why I am not spending any money on Father's Day.

A little learning

Jane is prodigiously proud of her rapidly expanding vocabulary and cognitive skills, and never misses a chance to trot them out.

Yesterday, when she walked by, I remarked, 'Hi, big girl!'

Jane grinned and replied, 'Hi, medium woman!'

Then she turned to Ella and said, 'Hi, little baby!'

She paused. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Then she looked at me. 'Where's big man?'

Three years ago today

Five years ago today

Dangerous cheapness

It's been growing on me lately, as our cost of living has gone down while our standard of living seems to be going up, that free stuff has a sinister side effect. It seems like the perfect win-win situation, the ultimate symbiotic relationship between manufacturer, retailer, and consumer (and can a symbiotic relationship even go three ways? -or is it strictly a two-party deal?): the producer gets name recognition and product awareness, the retailer gets business, the consumer gets free (or cheap) stuff.

But ponder a little while (and I am willing to ponder anything late enough at night) and it becomes apparent how the ready availability of free stuff can erode morale. It's a known fact, of course, that we prize highly that which costs us dearly. Scarcity, or even the appearance of scarcity, causes us to hoard resources, while abundance encourages us to live it up. And even my efficient nature is struggling against the impulse to grow callous and lax in the face of apparent plenty. It's becoming harder and harder to wrestle with extracting the last few dregs of toothpaste from the tube when there are two dozen fresh tubes in the drawer, and last week I tossed out half a spoiled loaf of bread with far less gnashing of teeth than would have occurred if it hadn't been free to begin with.

There are a couple of reasons why I still won't give in and be a totally wasteful consumer. For one, I'm not sure how long this spate of feasting will last - I keep thinking that the deals must dry up sooner or later - and I don't want to have gotten too comfortable at an unsustainably high standard of living when reality sets in again. For another - well, I still don't like wasting things, even if wasting free stuff hurts me less. That's just my personality, and quite possibly those feelings would erode entirely given enough time - many people seem to have no qualms about tossing away things which cost them little effort to acquire.

I wonder whether this is an attitude that we're seeing challenged and shaken up by the recent climb in grocery prices. Perhaps American consumers were getting too spoiled by low prices of
cheap goods, and that had a lot to do with the wasteful consumerist mentality that ran so rampant. So is this rise in gasoline and milk prices really a blessing in disguise? An unwanted lesson in character development?

I've also been re-thinking a lot of my opinions on the importance of maintaining a low cost for goods and services. Well, my evolving opinion on Wal-mart is a post for another day, but in short, I've come to see the value of high-priced, quality merchandise. As Ma Ingalls would say, 'Enough is as good as a feast.' All other things being equal, and in a free market where the end price is a natural result of supply and demand, why shouldn't it be just as good to spend a given amount of money on fewer but higher-quality food items that will all get eaten, as to spend the same amount on far more stuff half of which ends up going to waste?

(I had to toss in the remark about the free market as an expression of my irritation at the ongoing farm subsidies, which make corn syrup so cheap to produce and hence so readily available. So now cheap and deadly high-fructose corn syrup is in everything, but it's an artificial construct, because it really wouldn't be that cheap otherwise.)