Musings

How is your summer going? All ten days so far have been fantastic! It has to do with no homework, with time free for spending with my daughter in an unhurried fashion. This is a big change, a good change.

Also, I've been reading whatever I want to read. A neighbor gave me a book to read called Essential Writings by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk with a serious way with words.

"Practicing Buddhism is a clever way to enjoy life. Happiness is available. Please help yourself to it. All of us have the capacity of transforming neutral feelings into pleasant feelings, very pleasant feelings that can last a long time. This is what we practice during sitting and walking meditation. If you are happy, all of us will profit from it. Society will profit from it. All living beings will profit from it." (p.93)

Think about traffic for a moment. Not a pleasant thought, is it? But how about ways to transform the experience from unpleasant to, if not pleasant, than at least neutral? There are things we can do to make it so, instead of becoming enraged with something we cannot control.

I like to listen to books on cd, and that helps to give me something to look forward to when I'm in the car. Central Oregon is not the world's biggest traffic jam by any means, but there are still slow drivers and people who pull out in front of us. At times like these, I imagine that the driver has experienced loss. Maybe it's an illness or loss of a loved one, maybe they just lost their job and don't know what they're going to do. Whatever it is, I try to give them the benefit of the doubt, and in doing so, create compassion for their annoying driving. It is not a completely selfless act. In doing so, I notice that I release the feelings of anger that easily well inside. Instead of feeling anger, I choose to feel compassion. It is this that stops me from tailgating or from passing the offending car and then pulling in front to express my irritation. This is healthier for everyone, not to mention safer.

This is not to say I am so enlightened and better than you. I didn't used to think this way AT ALL. I used to get mad, and I got even. It was temporarily satisfying to cut off a car who had just cut me off, but it wasn't safe and the feelings didn't last. I remember being a mess after the rapid succession of my brother's death, my father's death, and my own divorce. My mind was not on my driving, and I probably drove too slowly and pulled out in front of people left and right. I was suffering but the rest of the world had no idea. Once I realized this, I expanded that to how I had no idea what other people are experiencing. Duh, but it was pretty profound. If I had no idea, why did I respond to others with aggression and anger? It began to make no sense, and I realized I was putting out negative energy on top of negative energy, and I was ashamed. I might have caused another person pain in the guise of road rage. It was all a great big, unnecessary misunderstanding.

At times of suffering, the last thing anyone needs is hatefulness. Getting flipped the bird in return for an unthinking lane change. I'm grateful for the forgiveness of strangers, and so I try to give back. There is no way to know what another person is going through. Maybe they are just a jerk, and if they are then your compassion at their jerkiness means they get away with it. But maybe they are suffering greatly, and your compassion was sent out and acted as a bit of soothing balm to their painful day, for just a few seconds they had a reprieve. I think they should have the benefit of the doubt. Philo of Alexandria, an ancient philosopher said, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

One of the most difficult things I have done is to realize how much time I have spent rushing my daughter instead of being with her. Going places - work, school, errands - are necessary to daily life. These are not bad things. What makes the difference is the way we handle each of these events. I have not always made the best use of patience.

I am grateful for the chance, every day, to try again; to get it right; to do better.
"Our lives are made of days and hours, and each hour is precious. Have we wasted our hours and our days? Are we wasting our lives? These are important questions. Practicing Buddhism is to be alive in each moment." (p.93)

I'm not a Buddhist, I'm Presbyterian (also known as the "frozen chosen"). I don't care much for rigid lines of categorization, so that if I define myself as a Protestant, that means that I do not study Catholic teachings, for example. I think there is much wisdom offered in our religious traditions and I don't see the point in fighting about it.

From road rage to religious tolerance, this blog defies definition!

I am also no optimistic, glass-half-full kind of pollyanna, but I do have hope for the best. Is this naive? Maybe. I used to care about that but I don't think it much matters. What matters more is that a little optimism is better than the alternative.

Unbelievable!

After fishing last weekend, I found two hooks that had been changed off of the line. These were still good, so I gave them to OH to put away. It was getting dark and he already had put away the tackle box, so he put them in his jacket pocket and said, "Don't let me forget these."

I washed his jacket yesterday, and only one hook was in the pocket. The other hook could be in the lawn where my husband walked, in the carpet where he took off his jacket, or in the laundry room stuck in some other piece of laundry. It could be anywhere.

This morning, I got up early to study. I needed to get the blood moving, so I went into the living room to do push-ups and sit-ups. I did ten sit-ups, then rolled over to start doing push-ups, when on the carpet right in front of my face was the other hook! Talk about your one in a million chances.


It was on a part of the floor that we walk every day in socked feet because we take off our shoes in the house. It had been there for TWO FULL DAYS and no one - not even a cat - had stepped on it.

The Longest Weekend

The time: Thursday, 9 pm. Place: An ordinary bathroom.

I was flossing my teeth, which I do occasionally, when a large chunk of white came out and rolled over my tongue. I spit it out into my hand. It was part of my tooth.

It was Thursday night, my daughter was in bed. The dentist's office is closed Friday through Sunday, but never fear, the emergency number will help. Except, it was answered by the babysitter who informed me that the doctors were away brushing up - ha - on their mad dental skillz at a conference out of town. I managed to control my mounting panic to state that I may require emergency care for the part of my tooth that was now in my hand. She laughed a little, and said that had happened to her. There I was, imagining imminent nerve exposure and crippling pain, but instead finding comfort in the babysitter (actually, the children's grandma) who told me it was likely not going to require immediate action but that I should call for an appointment on Monday.

Update: Monday, 9 am.

I have an appointment for a crown this week. I haven't had any pain associated with the cracked tooth, for which I am eternally grateful. And no, there will be no coronation ceremony to cap my falling apart, old teeth. At least I'm not an elephant. When their teeth are ground down to nothing, they die from starvation. I'm not saying I couldn't stand to lose a few pounds, but starvation is a slow way to go. I'm grateful for dentists.


And elephants. Merci.

Ignorant, Illiterate, Uncultured

Shakespeare wrote for the masses. Competition to attract a paying audience was fierce. The theater had to vie with other entertainment options including the horrifying bear-baiting bloodsport down the street.

The cheap seats were standing room only. The action on stage had better be enough to keep these groundlings' minds off their aching feet and instead on the characters in the play.



The terrible brutalities of human nature held their own against contrived animal fights. The Elizabethan era seamlessly accepted bloodthirsty ancient Roman themes as its onstage entertainment.

Shakespeare is not an elite literary tradition reserved for the educated. It is for everyone who breathes and feels and lives. Human nature is human nature. Some emotions are universal. Love, trust, betrayal, protectiveness, tradition, ritual, sacrifice, celebration.... it's all there. "Titus" and "Much Ado" are two of the more accessible plays, in my opinion.

Come to think of it, "Fiddler on the Roof" is pretty good, too.

Erudition

I've read seven Shakespeare plays in as many weeks, and I have to recommend two of them. "Titus Andronicus" and "Much Ado About Nothing" were my favorites. While not exactly beach books, they are fantastic reads you can get through in about two hours. I have the Pelican paperback versions. These are easier to carry around than a honkin' volume.

Lady Beatrice

I liked "Titus" a lot because it was the easiest to read. I understood it right away, which was not always the case with the other plays. I think the setting - ancient Rome - had a lot to do with my comfort level. I dig that era.

"Much Ado" was great because it was easily understood, and so I didn't have to work at reading it. One of the lovers was frustrating to read about because he was such a gullible ninny. Anyway. Check it out.

Southern Oregon is Shakespeare Country

Last summer for my husband's birthday, I presented him with tickets to two plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland. He was really not excited about it. I was patient with him because he had never been to the OSF, and therefore had no precedent upon which to base his silly emotional response.

Of the two plays in question, only one was Shakespeare: "Coriolanus". The other was Thornton Wilder's classic, "Our Town".

Since it was his birthday, it was his choice on how we spent our time when not otherwise engaged in culturally bettering ourselves. For my husband, that usually means going to unpopulated places for physical exercise. The more competitive, the better.

What else would you want to do in Southern Oregon in August, when the temperature tops 102 degrees??? We also had only a few extra hours.

Right. A hike it is! (was?)

View from the top, back to Ashland:

Can you feel the heat? Look at that sky! It was toasty.

We found a hike of reasonable distance and drove to the trailhead. It turned out to have been the location of a recent forest fire. I can imagine how quickly the fire swept over the top of the hill, pushed by winds. The clearing offered great views of Ashland, which is beautiful any time of year.

Does this man look 30???

It was a beautiful hike, through cool forests and open, grassy meadows until it reached the peak here, at (I forget the name of) this hill. It was open (as you can plainly see) and offered beautiful views of the valley below.

Here's the man...

"Do something funny! Strike a pose!" I requested, always looking to add interest to benign photographic situations. He complied, offering up a very 'Lewis & Clark discover the Pacific' kind of thing:


Might I add, if you haven't been to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, you are quite simply missing out on an amazing experience. It isn't hard to understand the language. Besides, you will be mesmerized by the set and costumes and acting that pulls you into the story without needing to be an English major.

Trust a man who, though skeptical at first, thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Forty Stone and Six Months Ago

Last year, OC turned eight years old. She wanted to have cupcakes, and she wanted to make them.

The mixer is carbon dated to be 1.2 million years old. It weighs just over forty stone. That would be, forty Stonehenge-sized stones.

Speaking of stone, this is Pampered Chef stoneware. VERY easy to crack, but cooks up a nice batch of cupcakes. You don't have to take my word for it. Let's ask a qualified expert...


"How are the cupcakes, OC?"


"These cupcakes – much like my mama – rock!!!"

Hey, I'm just the messenger.

Feline Psychology

This is Rum.


Note the greenish blob on the floor in front of her. This is an old sock filled with nepeta, commonly known as catnip. This herb makes Rum behave in very un-Rum behavior, such as exhibit mirth, joy, and playfulness.

Run has earned the nickname "Crabby Patty", and through a careful program of desensitization, she now receives kisses to the top of her head without vocal protestation. She has her limits, but this is considered progress within the context of the Rum/human relationship.

A Person Who Knits

I learned to knit about three years ago. In that time, I've made several scarves and many, many hats. I've even made a wrap.


But this, this is an Alice Starmore sweater pattern. It was begun six months ago, and it still looks like this:


When a pattern is so complicated and with new stitches I've never done before, it requires my undivided attention. I have ripped out many times. That's okay, but what is problematic is the rate of growth of my daughter. It's not her fault, but she is putting the pressure on to get this done before she grows out of it before it exists.

I aspire to be a knitter of sweaters and socks. These, to me, will be the pinnacle of knitting accomplishment.

From January

If there is one good thing about being sick, it's the quality storytelling by certain members of this household.

High Art

It's a pancake...........


.......shaped like a heart. At one time, this was awesome, but I have since forgotten why that was.

Here is another way I spend my time:



It is easy to see the awesome in this photo, sans explanation.

What Blog? Where???

I have neglected the blog again, not for lack of subject matter but time to steal away and write. School, taxes, paperwork, sick cats, LIFE!!!! Good gravy.

The tax news is not as bad as last year, that is the good news. We were good boy scouts and were better prepared, and it has paid off, kind of.

OC is playing softball again this spring, but she is in the minors! I don't know what that means, but I think it is good. She's become very coordinated and strong, likely due to attending regular gymnastics classes. She advanced to Level 2 before we pulled her out to concentrate on softball. Two practices per week and one or two games per week is going to be plenty. We don't need gymnastics on top of it, thank you.

OH is coaching her team. They are peas in a pod.

Life for me rolls along. This term, I have ancient Roman history, Shakespeare, and French 103. Spring break felt very short.

Spring Break Survival Tips

I'm up to my armpits in recycling because I'm spending my valuable free, spring break- time getting to things I don't normally have time to do (nor do I want to do). Going through junk mail is one of those things.

I have a system that looks like this: on a daily basis, pay attention to mail that looks like a bill or otherwise significant correspondence; make a neat pile of everything else for later. It's a good thing I open all the mail eventually because I've found things (like checks) that looked like junk but actually weren't.

I'm also organizing the file cabinet. You know, cleaning out old bank statements and making new folders for papers that have lain about long enough to deserve a file folder of their very own. This is not an interesting topic, but when I read of the mundane tasks that other people do, it makes me feel better. I am sharing this with you by way of a public service. I hope you feel better now.

In order to survive this time of need, the grocery store has mercifully put Ben & Jerry's on sale. It's like they knew what I needed. There is nothing like a roaring fire on a cold spring evening to take the chill off of a bowl of Dublin Mudslide. Who needs Cancun?

Returning to my Cromagnon Roots

I've been in my pajamas all morning. I am enjoying not being under deadline to produce a paper. Last week? I had six papers to complete. S.I.X. I stayed up late, got up early, and got them all done.

My 4.0 GPA hangs in the balance with two upcoming finals, economics on Monday and French Tuesday night. Right now, they seem so far away. It's tempting to watch one of the movies that Netflix has sent (they always know what I'm in the mood to watch!) and catch up on knitting projects that had to be ignored last week. But I've never had a 4.0 GPA before, and I don't want to lose it. Remember how nutty I was over my math classes last year? I still am. I have not evolved.

At least I can study in my pajamas. I don't have to go anywhere today. It's just me, my daughter, two ancient cats, one less-ancient cat, six baby chicks, and one McConnell + Brue.

Hilarity

You might have guessed that school has gotten the better of me for the past couple of weeks. School, and illness, and getting behind.

You shouldn't suffer from my schedule, so enjoy the following:


Two sodium atoms are walking down the road chatting. All of a sudden, one stops and turns to its friend looking worried:

Na#1: “Oh, no...I think I’ve lost an electron!”

Na#2: “What, are you sure?”

Na#1: “Yes, I’m positive!”

House of Ill Ness

They are sick. My husband and daughter are coughing up mucous and heating the house with their fevers.

So far, I have escaped infection, but I don't know how long I can hold out.....

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

BARACK OBAMA: The chicken crossed the road because it was time for a change! The chicken wanted change!

JOHN MC CAIN: My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he recognized the need to engage in cooperation and dialogue with all the chickens on the other side of the road......ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

SARAH PALIN: BECAUSE, PRAISE JESUS, I WAS GONNA SHOOT HIS SORRY LIBERAL ASS OFF FOR BLOCKING MY VIEW OF RUSSIA!

HILLARY CLINTON: When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely qualified to ensure right from Day One that every chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross the road. But then, this really isn't about me.

GEORGE W. BUSH: We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.

DICK CHENEY: Where's my gun?

COLIN POWELL: Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road.

BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with that chicken. What is your definition of crossing?

AL GORE: I invented the chicken.

JOHN KERRY: Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it now, and will remain against it.

AL SHARPTON: Why are all the chickens white? We need some black chickens.

DR. PHIL: The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the problem on this side of the road before it goes after the problem on the other side of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his current problems before adding new problems.

OPRAH: Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

ANDERSON COOPER, CNN: We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.

NANCY GRACE: That chicken crossed the road because he's guilty! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN: To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

JERRY FALWELL: Because the chicken was gay! Can't you people see the plain truth? That's why they call it the other side. Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay, too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like the other side. That chicken should not be crossing the road. It's as plain and as simple as that.

BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heartwarming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die in the rain, alone.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

JOHN LENNON: Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together, in peace.

BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken2008, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook. Internet Explorer is an integral part of eChicken2008. This new platform is much more stable and will never crash.

ALBERT EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

GRANDPA: In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.

COLONEL SANDERS: Did I miss one?

Things My Husband Has Learned Because of Me

1. I've saved us hundreds of dollars because of the thousands of dollars I've spent (over the years) buying things when they are on sale.*

2. Ice cream really does make you heal faster. Period.


We didn't go skiing (downhill) on Saturday because Natalie wasn't quite over the sniffles. I didn't want her out in the cold air all day long because I thought it would make her cold worse.

My husband went XC skiing instead, for miles and miles. He woke up this morning with a cough and cold. When I told him that skiing had made him sick, he was so insulted he made me take it back.


* To be honest, he's not so sure about this one yet.

Animated Map

Every Once in a While, Economics Offers a Universal Truth

The relationship between productivity and costs is inverse. In other words, the higher the productivity of workers, the lower the cost to produce the thing, whatever it is. Economies of scale are the consequences of specialization of labor and management, more efficient capital, and spreading costs among units of output. The minimum efficient scale is the lowest level of output at which a firm's long run average total cost is at a minimum.

There is a point, however, when a company can get so large as to become ineffient, disorganized and uncoordinated. This is called diseconomy of scale.

The conclusion?

SIZE MATTERS.

I don't know about you, but I've been saying THAT for YEARS!