Hillary Clinton recently toyed with the idea of giving every newborn a $5,000 "baby bond" from the federal government to offset college or home expenses when they get older.
When I first read the article, I thought, "Great! When I have another baby, that would be awesome." Then I thought some more: "What about my other kids who were born a couple years ago?" That cooled my optimism a bit.
Now, to be clear, Clinton was merely toying with the idea and not recommending or proposing it. There is a big difference between thinking aloud and pushing an agenda. But here are my reasons why this idea disappoints me:
(1) There is no guarantee the money will be wisely spent if we're just handing over a bond that can be cashed in after X years. So are we actually paying for the next generation's crack addiction? Or funding the next porn start up? Or a million other things which might be okay but not necessary?
Solution: make it an education account that can only be spent for college expenses. Associated problem with that: if the money has already been distributed and is never used, the government is still in debt with no tangible benefit. Boo to that!
(2) Back in the day, I was not a fan of Bill Clinton but I admired one thing he did VERY VERY much: he pushed for fiscal responsibility. The words "balanced budget" have been replaced by the Dubya Generation with the terms "war spending." A huge boo to that. But that's beside the point. When I thought about Hillary running for office, I thought that maybe one upside to her platform would be more fiscal responsibility. A proposal like this disappoints me because it reeks of increased debt.
Let's do the math. CNN estimated four million children born each year in the USA.
$5,000 x 4,000,000 = $20,000,000,000
That's just an impossibly huge amount of money to spend each year on something that only might be beneficial to a select portion of the population. If you want to put that money into education, put it into those who are seeking education NOW and see if it works. If you want to put the money into helping people get into a home of their own, put that money into the market NOW while the real estate and mortgage markets are so perilous.
I'm sure that after the numbers are run and Hillary thinks it over, this idea will fade into obscurity. If it doesn't, I'll be fascinated to see how she proposes making this attractive or even feasible.
In the meantime, my "confidence level" in that one particular candidate slipped a little today. Which is frightening when my confidence level in most of the candidates is already so low.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Real Estate Revisited (Fun With Excel)
Here is the full report behind the CNN article I discussed in my last blog entry. I found this online at http://www.realtor.org/Research.nsf/files/MSAPRICESF.xls/$FILE/MSAPRICESF.xls. There is another site for me to bookmark and read regularly. Straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Here are home values in Salt Lake from 2004 through 2007 Quarter 2 (in thousands of dollars):
Salt Lake City, UT
2004 = 158.0
2005 = 173.9
2006 Quarter 1 = 203.0
2006 Quarter 2 = 191.2
2006 Quarter 3 = 216.3
2006 Quarter 4 = 223.6
2007 Quarter 1 = 218.0
2007 Quarter 2 = 233.1
Total Change 2006 Q2-2007 Q2 = 21.9%
Some interesting observations from the full report:
* In 2004, the median home price nationwide was $195,200. In Utah (the Salt Lake Metro region, but that takes a long time to type, so let me simplify here...) the number was $158,000, a whopping $37k below the national average. Three years later, Utah is a mere $700 below the national average--but STILL below the national average. This supports my theory (expressed at http://www.utahcountymommies.com/) that Utah is not spiraling toward huge home drops, but merely catching up with the rest of the nation.
A good point was brought up, however, concerning wages. Have Utah wages risen in a commensurate manner? The answer is confusing because (a) we don't know the size of homes being sold in the above info. The prices could have risen from actual price inflation, or merely because more luxury homes were on the market. We don't have the information to sort that out. So before we jump to conclusions, let's remember: we can't jump to conclusions. :-D
I wonder if anybody has information available to the public that states what the same home would sell for in the two different periods? Hmm.
* Is Utah "overpriced"? Well, by definition I have to say no because that is simple economics: if people are willing to pay the price, then it's the right price. Supply and Demand. This isn't like an oil cartel where the average person has little control over prices, so the market is free to adjust as needed. Again, I'm oversimplifying and I realize that, but it's still a valid consideration if nothing else.
One other factor in favor of Utah being reasonably priced is how we stack up with nationwide home prices. While we have enjoyed huge gains in recent years, we are relatively similarly priced with other markets. I put together a little chart to demonstrate. You can view it at http://www.geekuniverse.org/medianprices.pdf. Utah is #45 (of 149) on this chart with a median value of $233K. So we're in the top third, yes, but things are pretty level on the bottom half. I need a statistician to figure out the standard deviations!
* I expected to see home prices plunging in the most bloated markets, with prices gaining in underpriced markets. Now, obviously, there are a lot of factors that could be considered, but something jumped out at me: there is no correlation at all. The top 11 markets in the nation actually continued to gain value during the previous year! Still rising! Let's look at #1, San Jose-Sunnyvale-Santa Clara, CA (five of the top six are in sunny CA):
San Jose-Sunnyvale-Santa Clara, CA
2004: 698.5
2005: 744.5
2006 Q1: 775.0
2006 Q2: 795.0
2006 Q3: 779.0
2006 Q4: 760.0
2007 Q1: 788.0
2007 Q2: 865.0
% change 2006 Q2 - 2007 Q2: 8.8%
Overall change 2004-2007: close to 25% without a single drop.
The metro area with the steepest drop in home values was also the cheapest home segment in the nation: Elmira, NY:
Elmira, NY
2004: 78.8
2005: 77.1
2006 Q1: 86.8
2006 Q2: 87.3
2006 Q3: 93.6
2006 Q4: 78.4
2007 Q1: 75.3
2007 Q2: 71.7
% change 2006 Q2 - 2007 Q2: -17.9%
* Home prices have risen in Utah (on average) $75,100 between 2004 and the middle of 2007. This is a 47% increase from the original price in a relatively short time. How does this compare to other parts of the nation? The top 10 cities in the nation gaining value from 2004 to 2007 Q2 (total) are:
56.58% Boise City-Nampa, ID
56.31% Phoenix-Mesa-Scottsdale, AZ
56.30% Orlando, FL
55.22% Ocala, FL
53.86% Virginia Beach-Norfolk-Newport News, VA-NC
53.85% Spokane, WA
50.34% Cumberland, MD-WV
50.00% Farmington, NM
47.53% Salt Lake City, UT
47.41% Salem, OR
To summarize: The deeper you dig, the deeper you want to dig. More on this later?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Real Estate News
I'm kind of a real estate junkie. I'm not sure why, but it's in my blood.
I regularly visit several geeky real estate websites. These are my favorites:
http://www.bankrate.com/brm/news/mortgages/mortgage_update.asp
http://www.boxhomeloans.com/
http://www.utahrealestate.com/ (I wish every state had a free MLS search like Utah does. In other places, you actually have to work through a realtor.)
http://money.cnn.com/?cnn=yes
My brother is a home builder and I love to go talk shop with him. Travertine, marble and custom cabinetry never cease to tantalize me.
I love driving around my valley, getting a feel for the neighborhoods and business sectors. I could have told you eight years ago which neighborhoods would have sharp increases in value. And I would have been right, because I fingered all the developments that are hot now and were vacant no-mans land then. If only I had the cash to put my money where my mouth is. That's essentially what my brother does full-time and he is amazingly successful at it. Like I said, it runs in the blood.
Two or three years ago I asked my brother if he was worried about the "bubble" that was then threatening to burst. He shrugged it off and gave me two solid reasons why he wasn't concerned about the market here in Utah:
1. Home prices in Utah were rising more gradually than places like Phoenix, Las Vegas and numerous west coast metropolises. Places that spiked quickly were ripening for trouble.
2. Because prices were spiking in other locations, people were being drawn to a place like Utah where you could still get a lot of bang for your buck. Hence a steady influx of people moving out of sunny Phoenix and California to a place where they could afford a home of their own. By his logic, the higher prices rose in other markets, the more stable the Utah economy would continue to be.
I talked this theory over with a realtor friend and he concurred that the "bubble" rising nationwide would not affect us here in Utah. That was before the figurative bubble burst. Now most people know that home prices are "regulating" in those areas where they rose so dramatically a few years back. It's in the news all the time. And if you haven't noticed, I wonder: have you had your head in the sand?
So what has happened in Utah after all the speculating? Several interesting things from the last 12 months, but I'll just post the most recent one. CNN reported today that prices have dropped nationwide in 52 major markets. (Comparing the three months ending June 30th, 2007 with the same period 12 months prior, if I read correctly?) The article then lists the percentage change and median home price in 149 different markets.
If you click on the "% change" column, you'll find some good news for Utahns. It looks like this:
Metropolitcan Area Median Price % Change
Salt Lake City, UT $233,100 21.9%
Binghamton, NY $111,200 19.8%
Salem, OR $227,900 16.7%
Farmington, NM $201,900 14.0%
Allentown-Bethlehem-Easton, PA-NJ $274,500 12.8%
*snip*
What it means is that Salt Lake City is reporting the HIGHEST home value GAIN in the nation. Earlier this year, we were predicted by the same source to make one of the highest increases in the nation and I celebrated. Now it appears that the good news keeps rolling in.
If you want to make this practical, let me put it in simple terms. If you bought a home one year ago for $100,000, then it would sell now (theoretically speaking) for $121,900. And if you were wavering a year ago but chose to continue renting, you're now $21,900 farther from that $100K condo you were looking at.
The news gets better and better for homeowners (and worse and worse for renters) the higher the stakes. If you owned a home worth half a million, you've just added a smooth $100K to your home's value by simply living in it another year. Nice. (I'll have to blog another day about whether or not we should worry about a late-onset "bubble"' in Utah?)
People so often worry about the expenses of buying a home that they worry themselves into putting off home ownership. But if you look at the whole picture, can you afford not to buy a home with prices ever rising? That is obviously an over-simplification but it's also reality to a lot of people. Mull it over and tell me what you think.
I regularly visit several geeky real estate websites. These are my favorites:
http://www.bankrate.com/brm/news/mortgages/mortgage_update.asp
http://www.boxhomeloans.com/
http://www.utahrealestate.com/ (I wish every state had a free MLS search like Utah does. In other places, you actually have to work through a realtor.)
http://money.cnn.com/?cnn=yes
My brother is a home builder and I love to go talk shop with him. Travertine, marble and custom cabinetry never cease to tantalize me.
I love driving around my valley, getting a feel for the neighborhoods and business sectors. I could have told you eight years ago which neighborhoods would have sharp increases in value. And I would have been right, because I fingered all the developments that are hot now and were vacant no-mans land then. If only I had the cash to put my money where my mouth is. That's essentially what my brother does full-time and he is amazingly successful at it. Like I said, it runs in the blood.
Two or three years ago I asked my brother if he was worried about the "bubble" that was then threatening to burst. He shrugged it off and gave me two solid reasons why he wasn't concerned about the market here in Utah:
1. Home prices in Utah were rising more gradually than places like Phoenix, Las Vegas and numerous west coast metropolises. Places that spiked quickly were ripening for trouble.
2. Because prices were spiking in other locations, people were being drawn to a place like Utah where you could still get a lot of bang for your buck. Hence a steady influx of people moving out of sunny Phoenix and California to a place where they could afford a home of their own. By his logic, the higher prices rose in other markets, the more stable the Utah economy would continue to be.
I talked this theory over with a realtor friend and he concurred that the "bubble" rising nationwide would not affect us here in Utah. That was before the figurative bubble burst. Now most people know that home prices are "regulating" in those areas where they rose so dramatically a few years back. It's in the news all the time. And if you haven't noticed, I wonder: have you had your head in the sand?
So what has happened in Utah after all the speculating? Several interesting things from the last 12 months, but I'll just post the most recent one. CNN reported today that prices have dropped nationwide in 52 major markets. (Comparing the three months ending June 30th, 2007 with the same period 12 months prior, if I read correctly?) The article then lists the percentage change and median home price in 149 different markets.
If you click on the "% change" column, you'll find some good news for Utahns. It looks like this:
Metropolitcan Area Median Price % Change
Salt Lake City, UT $233,100 21.9%
Binghamton, NY $111,200 19.8%
Salem, OR $227,900 16.7%
Farmington, NM $201,900 14.0%
Allentown-Bethlehem-Easton, PA-NJ $274,500 12.8%
*snip*
What it means is that Salt Lake City is reporting the HIGHEST home value GAIN in the nation. Earlier this year, we were predicted by the same source to make one of the highest increases in the nation and I celebrated. Now it appears that the good news keeps rolling in.
If you want to make this practical, let me put it in simple terms. If you bought a home one year ago for $100,000, then it would sell now (theoretically speaking) for $121,900. And if you were wavering a year ago but chose to continue renting, you're now $21,900 farther from that $100K condo you were looking at.
The news gets better and better for homeowners (and worse and worse for renters) the higher the stakes. If you owned a home worth half a million, you've just added a smooth $100K to your home's value by simply living in it another year. Nice. (I'll have to blog another day about whether or not we should worry about a late-onset "bubble"' in Utah?)
People so often worry about the expenses of buying a home that they worry themselves into putting off home ownership. But if you look at the whole picture, can you afford not to buy a home with prices ever rising? That is obviously an over-simplification but it's also reality to a lot of people. Mull it over and tell me what you think.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Howdy, Sugar!
It's hard to be mad at a face that sweet. And hands that sweet. And pajamas that sweet.
And when I say sweet, I mean it literally. Honey and chocolate chips yesterday. Today Brown Sugar.
*sigh*
You'd think I'd have learned my lesson yesterday and not let him out of my sight, but cut me a little slack. No mother can keep an eagle eye on three boys simultaneously 24/7.
Oh well. At least I got a "sweet" picture out of the deal.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Hi, Honey!
Here's a multiple choice question to get your brain working.
Which of the following things have happened within the last 60 minutes here at the author's home?
(a) youngest child decided to drizzle a long, twisting, sinuous line of honey all through the kitchen and dining room
(b) youngest child went to the first of several time outs due to above behavior
(c) author realized that scrubbing the floor by hand and then mopping is NOT sufficient to remove the sticky residue as she realizes her socks are sticking to the floor
(d) three peanut butter sandwiches are made while oldest child demands chocolate chips in his sandwich. author gives in.
(e) oldest child, sugared up on chocolate, decides to eat his sandwich sitting on top of the sticky counter
(f) youngest child (now released from time out) throws tantrum about his sandwich, refusing to eat, then throws a tantrum that the sandwich was taken away and eats voraciously after said sandwich is returned
(g) middle child (bless his heart--hasn't done anything reportable at this point!) sits in his chair quietly eating, only mild fussing about the choice of lunch fare
(h) youngest child decides this is the time to make a messy diaper, seeing as mom isn't busy enough with mopping, demanding 5-yr-olds and preparing everyone to get in the car to deliver oldest child to kindergarten
(i) youngest child does NOT obey the order to stay on the toilet until mom returns with wipes for his bottom
(j) author becomes truly poetic with the first of several, "Are you freakin' kidding me?!?!?"s
(h) youngest child decides he will NOT sit in his highchair and finish his lunch quietly and is sent to the next of his timeouts so mom can actually finish feeding the other two. author is heard to say uncharitably, "i do NOT have time for your temper tantrums now, boy!"
(i) oldest child demands another sandwich plus a myriad of other food with exactly four minutes until time to go to kindergarten. author sighs.
(j) author mops the floor a second time and does not care if the floor is still sticky. tough luck.
(k) author decides it's time to get in the car for kindergarten, unceremoniously ending lunch time and releasing youngest child from time out. author looks around for kindergartener's backpack but it can't be found.
(l) oldest child remembers where his backpack is... bless his heart...
(m) oldest child argues that he's old enough to walk to school alone, and doesn't seem to understand or grasp the concept of the word "no"
(n) drop off is successful and mom starts to look forward to three hours of relatively quiet peace
(o) upon returning to the house, author and two younger children have been in the home approximately three milliseconds before middle child decides it's time to join the action and dumps an entire bag of chocolate chips on the floor which mom just cleaned. author isn't convinced the floor is clean enough to eat off yet and the entire bag is dumped into the garbage while the twins spend a little more "quality time" in their bedroom in the last of the time outs.
(p) twins are removed screaming in temper tantrums from their room and ordered upstairs where they can't make such dramatic messes. as it becomes apparent they have ideas of their own, author scoops them up and carries them (for a combined weight of approximately 60+ pounds) up the long flight of stairs while they scream loudly because child A wants to play with the toy child B is holding and child B has just dropped on the floor making it unavailable to either of them. mom thinks the term "tough luck" once again in her none-too-patient mind
(q) author decides this is a moment worth blogging about and dumps the kids on the floor to turn on the computer.
(r) youngest child decides to continue his perpetuatantrum by rolling across the floor into the other room, then crying something about his "bingers" (translation: fingers) which author can find nothing wrong with
(s) middle child decides he doesn't want to watch THAT annoying video that mom has just turned on. He wants the REALLY annoying one that mom can't stand. mom isn't in the mood to negotiate.
(t) youngest child continues tantrum until point (s) above when he becomes entranced by the annoying little video which is apparently not so bad after all.
(u) author decides she really does love her children as youngest child gives mom a hug before starting a new tantrum--despite the sarcastic tone she employed while quickly and loudly (to drown out the screaming) saying the lunch prayer.
ANSWER:
If you guessed all of the above, you win! Youngest child is still screaming. That boy knows how to be patient when it comes to a temper tantrum. I've seen him cry for over 30 minutes in a row over trivial items in the past. Just a phase? I don't know. I'm tired and I don't want to think about it.
Did I mention I'm sick today and I'd rather just be in bed with some tylenol and benadryl running through my system? Oh and when do *I* get to eat lunch?
If anybody uses the phrase "best job in the world" in the next 24 hours, they better duck.
Which of the following things have happened within the last 60 minutes here at the author's home?
(a) youngest child decided to drizzle a long, twisting, sinuous line of honey all through the kitchen and dining room
(b) youngest child went to the first of several time outs due to above behavior
(c) author realized that scrubbing the floor by hand and then mopping is NOT sufficient to remove the sticky residue as she realizes her socks are sticking to the floor
(d) three peanut butter sandwiches are made while oldest child demands chocolate chips in his sandwich. author gives in.
(e) oldest child, sugared up on chocolate, decides to eat his sandwich sitting on top of the sticky counter
(f) youngest child (now released from time out) throws tantrum about his sandwich, refusing to eat, then throws a tantrum that the sandwich was taken away and eats voraciously after said sandwich is returned
(g) middle child (bless his heart--hasn't done anything reportable at this point!) sits in his chair quietly eating, only mild fussing about the choice of lunch fare
(h) youngest child decides this is the time to make a messy diaper, seeing as mom isn't busy enough with mopping, demanding 5-yr-olds and preparing everyone to get in the car to deliver oldest child to kindergarten
(i) youngest child does NOT obey the order to stay on the toilet until mom returns with wipes for his bottom
(j) author becomes truly poetic with the first of several, "Are you freakin' kidding me?!?!?"s
(h) youngest child decides he will NOT sit in his highchair and finish his lunch quietly and is sent to the next of his timeouts so mom can actually finish feeding the other two. author is heard to say uncharitably, "i do NOT have time for your temper tantrums now, boy!"
(i) oldest child demands another sandwich plus a myriad of other food with exactly four minutes until time to go to kindergarten. author sighs.
(j) author mops the floor a second time and does not care if the floor is still sticky. tough luck.
(k) author decides it's time to get in the car for kindergarten, unceremoniously ending lunch time and releasing youngest child from time out. author looks around for kindergartener's backpack but it can't be found.
(l) oldest child remembers where his backpack is... bless his heart...
(m) oldest child argues that he's old enough to walk to school alone, and doesn't seem to understand or grasp the concept of the word "no"
(n) drop off is successful and mom starts to look forward to three hours of relatively quiet peace
(o) upon returning to the house, author and two younger children have been in the home approximately three milliseconds before middle child decides it's time to join the action and dumps an entire bag of chocolate chips on the floor which mom just cleaned. author isn't convinced the floor is clean enough to eat off yet and the entire bag is dumped into the garbage while the twins spend a little more "quality time" in their bedroom in the last of the time outs.
(p) twins are removed screaming in temper tantrums from their room and ordered upstairs where they can't make such dramatic messes. as it becomes apparent they have ideas of their own, author scoops them up and carries them (for a combined weight of approximately 60+ pounds) up the long flight of stairs while they scream loudly because child A wants to play with the toy child B is holding and child B has just dropped on the floor making it unavailable to either of them. mom thinks the term "tough luck" once again in her none-too-patient mind
(q) author decides this is a moment worth blogging about and dumps the kids on the floor to turn on the computer.
(r) youngest child decides to continue his perpetuatantrum by rolling across the floor into the other room, then crying something about his "bingers" (translation: fingers) which author can find nothing wrong with
(s) middle child decides he doesn't want to watch THAT annoying video that mom has just turned on. He wants the REALLY annoying one that mom can't stand. mom isn't in the mood to negotiate.
(t) youngest child continues tantrum until point (s) above when he becomes entranced by the annoying little video which is apparently not so bad after all.
(u) author decides she really does love her children as youngest child gives mom a hug before starting a new tantrum--despite the sarcastic tone she employed while quickly and loudly (to drown out the screaming) saying the lunch prayer.
ANSWER:
If you guessed all of the above, you win! Youngest child is still screaming. That boy knows how to be patient when it comes to a temper tantrum. I've seen him cry for over 30 minutes in a row over trivial items in the past. Just a phase? I don't know. I'm tired and I don't want to think about it.
Did I mention I'm sick today and I'd rather just be in bed with some tylenol and benadryl running through my system? Oh and when do *I* get to eat lunch?
If anybody uses the phrase "best job in the world" in the next 24 hours, they better duck.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Congratulations, it's a perfect baby ball!
A conversation I had with my five-year-old a few minutes ago:
“Mom, would you love me if I was a ball?”
“Yes, I’d always love you, even if you were a ball.”
“Mom, what if one of these other balls was a part of our family?”
“Then I’d love that ball, too.”
“Okay, Mom, would you love this ball if he was a part of our family and his name was Frank?”
“Sure, Joseph.”
“Okay, then, here you go. Love him. Frank.”
“Mom, would you love me if I was a ball?”
“Yes, I’d always love you, even if you were a ball.”
“Mom, what if one of these other balls was a part of our family?”
“Then I’d love that ball, too.”
“Okay, Mom, would you love this ball if he was a part of our family and his name was Frank?”
“Sure, Joseph.”
“Okay, then, here you go. Love him. Frank.”
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
An Observation
The only practical purpose of the phrase "no offense, but..." is to forewarn the listener that they are about to be insulted.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Quotes from "The Book Thief"
Some of my favorite quotes from the first few chapters of "The Book Thief":
This is the entire first page (plus a little bit more):
First the colors.
Then the humans.
That's usually how I see things.
Or at least, how I try.
I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.
***REACTION TO THE AFOREMENTIONED FACT***
--Of course, an introduction.
A beginning.
Where are my manners?
I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on your shoulder. I will carry you gently away.
Two pages later:
White is without a question a color, and personally, I don't think you want to argue with me.
***A REASSURING ANNOUNCEMENT***
And one of my favorites:
***A TRANSLATION***
Whoever named Himmel Street certainly had a healthy sense of irony. Not that it was a living hell. It wasn't. But it sure as hell wasn't heaven, either.
This is the entire first page (plus a little bit more):
First the colors.
Then the humans.
That's usually how I see things.
Or at least, how I try.
***HERE IS A SMALL FACT***
You are going to die.
I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.
***REACTION TO THE AFOREMENTIONED FACT***
Does this worry you?
I urge you--don't be afraid.
I'm nothing if not fair.
--Of course, an introduction.
A beginning.
Where are my manners?
I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on your shoulder. I will carry you gently away.
Two pages later:
White is without a question a color, and personally, I don't think you want to argue with me.
***A REASSURING ANNOUNCEMENT***
Please, be calm, despite that previous threat.
I am all bluster--I am not violent.
I am not malicious.
I am a result.
And one of my favorites:
***A TRANSLATION***
Himmel = Heaven
Whoever named Himmel Street certainly had a healthy sense of irony. Not that it was a living hell. It wasn't. But it sure as hell wasn't heaven, either.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Site Address
To all my loyal devoted reader(s?):
You can now access my blog two ways: using this same address (http://jhm2.blogspot.com) or going directly to http://blog.geekuniverse.org. This change is phase one of actually doing something with my domain name other than hosting files conveniently.
The new site (eventually) will host the blog, our photo gallery (now at http://www.geekuniverse.org/gallery/main.php) and miscellaneous geeky this-and-thats.
You can now access my blog two ways: using this same address (http://jhm2.blogspot.com) or going directly to http://blog.geekuniverse.org. This change is phase one of actually doing something with my domain name other than hosting files conveniently.
The new site (eventually) will host the blog, our photo gallery (now at http://www.geekuniverse.org/gallery/main.php) and miscellaneous geeky this-and-thats.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Crying for Rudy Steiner
Books, words, images. These are the themes of the novel I just finished reading: "The Book Thief." The backdrop? World War II. The eyes we see through for the journey? Death.
There are two books which have utterly torn my soul into two pieces and left me a new person. The first was "Where Angels Fear to Tread" by E.M. Forster. The second was "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak.
Read it. Now. Don't wait for the library hold list like I did for months. Buy it. Read it. Enjoy. Tell me what you thought.
There are two books which have utterly torn my soul into two pieces and left me a new person. The first was "Where Angels Fear to Tread" by E.M. Forster. The second was "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak.
Read it. Now. Don't wait for the library hold list like I did for months. Buy it. Read it. Enjoy. Tell me what you thought.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Very Important Message
I have relatives (who shall remain unnamed) who regularly send me emails on subjects which they feel are very important: the latest bill that congress is about to pass which will endanger the free world as we know it, horrible computer viruses which are going to create a second ice age, etc. Not that there aren't real causes for concern in the world; I just don't believe that most legitimate concerns are discussed and resolved in the realm of spamlike, extremist, panic-inducing emails.
Those petition ones really get me the most. Let's say person A sends an email to B, C and D asking them to sign their name at the bottom and then forward on. Logic goes, eventually this petition will make its way all around the internet and end up on some ashamed congressman's desk who will immediately storm into the capital demanding change.
First email sig line:
A
After the friends each sign:
A, B
A, C
and
A, D
Already we have a discrepancy on our hands! The three friends never signed the same "petition!" Then it just gets worse:
A, B, E
A, B, F
A, B, G
A, C, H
A, C, I
A, C, J
A, D, K
A, D, L
A, D, L
Imagine how convoluted this would be after it's been forwarded 10 times. Or 100. Or 1000. And it will just keep getting forwarded forever, annoying innocent people like ME.
So I'm begging you. Please. If you have my email address, use with caution. Do not forward me "petitions" to send on to congress. I will delete so fast the computer won't know what hit it. Do not warm me about the latest virus which I must not open(!!!!!!!). Do not ask me to send money to a family or government or corporation in need. I will not do so. I will send my charity dollars to places that I have researched on my own and really believe in.
If you want to send me something humorous, send it on! Something inspirational? As long as it isn't Bush-loving, "patriotic," rest-of-the-world hating, right-extremist inspiration, send it on! Here's a perfect example of what you SHOULD send to me. It is the inspiration for this blog entry. Enjoy:
http://info.org.il/irrelevant/may02-smilepop-soapbox4.swf
(Thanks, Elle, for the link!)
Those petition ones really get me the most. Let's say person A sends an email to B, C and D asking them to sign their name at the bottom and then forward on. Logic goes, eventually this petition will make its way all around the internet and end up on some ashamed congressman's desk who will immediately storm into the capital demanding change.
First email sig line:
A
After the friends each sign:
A, B
A, C
and
A, D
Already we have a discrepancy on our hands! The three friends never signed the same "petition!" Then it just gets worse:
A, B, E
A, B, F
A, B, G
A, C, H
A, C, I
A, C, J
A, D, K
A, D, L
A, D, L
Imagine how convoluted this would be after it's been forwarded 10 times. Or 100. Or 1000. And it will just keep getting forwarded forever, annoying innocent people like ME.
So I'm begging you. Please. If you have my email address, use with caution. Do not forward me "petitions" to send on to congress. I will delete so fast the computer won't know what hit it. Do not warm me about the latest virus which I must not open(!!!!!!!). Do not ask me to send money to a family or government or corporation in need. I will not do so. I will send my charity dollars to places that I have researched on my own and really believe in.
If you want to send me something humorous, send it on! Something inspirational? As long as it isn't Bush-loving, "patriotic," rest-of-the-world hating, right-extremist inspiration, send it on! Here's a perfect example of what you SHOULD send to me. It is the inspiration for this blog entry. Enjoy:
http://info.org.il/irrelevant/may02-smilepop-soapbox4.swf
(Thanks, Elle, for the link!)
Sunday, August 05, 2007
P.W. Seared Pot Roast
I assure you that the P.W. in the title does not stand for a small child’s disgusted cry of “Peeeyoo!”
If you think it might stand for “Proven Winner” you’re also wrong.
If you guessed “Prize Winning” you’re getting closer! But only because somebody will give me some sarcastic Darwin-esque award when they’re done reading this blog entry.
I think I have a good track record of making mouth-watering pot roasts in the past. Today I decided to try something a little different. My Mom said she always takes them straight from the freezer, sears them a bit on each side to keep in the juices and lets them cook a little longer than usual. I thought, “Why not?” The Why Not was occasioned in part by the fact that I had no fresh meat to satisfy my inner carnivore.
I warmed up the stove (a lot, as it turns out, because I got distracted by the twins needing something) then unwrapped the pot roast. It looked a little shiny and icy on the outside, but otherwise quite cookable. I put a little oil in the pan, browned two sides of the pot roast and then turned it down to cook with some nice seasonings and water.
When I got home from church a couple hours later, I had the following conversation with my husband (who had stayed home with the sick twins):
Husband Man (laughing): I took the plastic wrap off your pot roast.
Me (blinking and furrowing my eyebrows): P—P—Plastic wrap?
Husband: Yeah. The whole roast was wrapped in plastic wrap.
Me (more blinking and furrowing): But, I didn’t…. I seared… It browned…
Husband (paling): You SEARED it?
Me: Seared.
Turns out the Society for Kindness to Plastic Wrap need not be too worried because the plastic wrap came through without any injuries. I’m not quite sure what physics were involved with the heat and the sizzling and browning of the meat and seeming lack of change in the plastic wrap.
So now you know what my special “P.W. Seared Pot Roast” is: Plastic Wrap-seared Pot Roast. I swear I had no way of knowing it was all covered in plastic wrap. I didn’t see the butcher wrapping it. And when I unwrapped it, it looked like a nice, solid sheen of ice on top but otherwise completely unnoticeable. Oh well. Perhaps it’ll turn out better this way and I’ll start preparing it this way every time. (Anxiety of carcinogens and plastic chemicals aside…)
If you think it might stand for “Proven Winner” you’re also wrong.
If you guessed “Prize Winning” you’re getting closer! But only because somebody will give me some sarcastic Darwin-esque award when they’re done reading this blog entry.
I think I have a good track record of making mouth-watering pot roasts in the past. Today I decided to try something a little different. My Mom said she always takes them straight from the freezer, sears them a bit on each side to keep in the juices and lets them cook a little longer than usual. I thought, “Why not?” The Why Not was occasioned in part by the fact that I had no fresh meat to satisfy my inner carnivore.
I warmed up the stove (a lot, as it turns out, because I got distracted by the twins needing something) then unwrapped the pot roast. It looked a little shiny and icy on the outside, but otherwise quite cookable. I put a little oil in the pan, browned two sides of the pot roast and then turned it down to cook with some nice seasonings and water.
When I got home from church a couple hours later, I had the following conversation with my husband (who had stayed home with the sick twins):
Husband Man (laughing): I took the plastic wrap off your pot roast.
Me (blinking and furrowing my eyebrows): P—P—Plastic wrap?
Husband: Yeah. The whole roast was wrapped in plastic wrap.
Me (more blinking and furrowing): But, I didn’t…. I seared… It browned…
Husband (paling): You SEARED it?
Me: Seared.
Turns out the Society for Kindness to Plastic Wrap need not be too worried because the plastic wrap came through without any injuries. I’m not quite sure what physics were involved with the heat and the sizzling and browning of the meat and seeming lack of change in the plastic wrap.
So now you know what my special “P.W. Seared Pot Roast” is: Plastic Wrap-seared Pot Roast. I swear I had no way of knowing it was all covered in plastic wrap. I didn’t see the butcher wrapping it. And when I unwrapped it, it looked like a nice, solid sheen of ice on top but otherwise completely unnoticeable. Oh well. Perhaps it’ll turn out better this way and I’ll start preparing it this way every time. (Anxiety of carcinogens and plastic chemicals aside…)
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
N-A-Y-M-E-Z
I take names very seriously when I have a child. It seems some parents just pick a few consonants at random (close your eyes and point?) and then throw in a few vowels in to make it pronouncable.
dfj turns into Fajden or Fayjden or Dafej. I'm all for creativity, but seriously folks. I imagine school teachers saying, "Is that spelled R-O-B-E-R-T?" and the kid replies "R-A-H-B-U-H-R-T." Parents get creative in all the wrong ways, in my opinion. Children's hairstyles and names are not the way to express your individuality!
For example:
* I knew a grandmother a couple years back who was VERY proud to show pictures of her grandson, Anakin. I thought to myself, "That boy sure has a bright future ahead of him!"
* In junior high, my brother had a friend named Konden. He was lucky to be good looking, popular and very witty or he probably would have committed suicide by age 13. Teenagers can be brutal and a name like "KONDEN" isn't going to help, for heaven's sake. Who wouldn't slip up and say the wrong thing?
* My brother-in-law is named Mikle. Pronounced Michael. (He would say, "Pronounced MIKLE.") He told me a few weeks ago that one reason his dad chose that spelling was so it couldn't be turned into Michelle. Ironically, he told me this right after I called him Michelle. So much for that theory. Instead of becoming just Michelle, he is now Michelle, Mickel and Mickley.
So I go the boring route and I'm very happy with it. I like my kids to have a sort of heritage behind their names. I thought Thomas was a safe name for one of the twins until a few weeks back when he started mispronouncing his name.
The T sounds like a D.
The O sounds like a UH.
You put it together. I hope this self-inflicted nickname doesn't last.
dfj turns into Fajden or Fayjden or Dafej. I'm all for creativity, but seriously folks. I imagine school teachers saying, "Is that spelled R-O-B-E-R-T?" and the kid replies "R-A-H-B-U-H-R-T." Parents get creative in all the wrong ways, in my opinion. Children's hairstyles and names are not the way to express your individuality!
For example:
* I knew a grandmother a couple years back who was VERY proud to show pictures of her grandson, Anakin. I thought to myself, "That boy sure has a bright future ahead of him!"
* In junior high, my brother had a friend named Konden. He was lucky to be good looking, popular and very witty or he probably would have committed suicide by age 13. Teenagers can be brutal and a name like "KONDEN" isn't going to help, for heaven's sake. Who wouldn't slip up and say the wrong thing?
* My brother-in-law is named Mikle. Pronounced Michael. (He would say, "Pronounced MIKLE.") He told me a few weeks ago that one reason his dad chose that spelling was so it couldn't be turned into Michelle. Ironically, he told me this right after I called him Michelle. So much for that theory. Instead of becoming just Michelle, he is now Michelle, Mickel and Mickley.
So I go the boring route and I'm very happy with it. I like my kids to have a sort of heritage behind their names. I thought Thomas was a safe name for one of the twins until a few weeks back when he started mispronouncing his name.
The T sounds like a D.
The O sounds like a UH.
You put it together. I hope this self-inflicted nickname doesn't last.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Why Blogging is Dangerous
…and why my “true confessions” will never be more than superficial fluff.
The worse you make a fictional character, the better real people feel because they can feel superior by comparison. Readers can enjoy hating the evil man who is fictitious because they know they are meant to hate him. They can boo at the manipulative woman who beguiles those around her and feel that, if nothing else, they don’t act like she does. In other words, it’s enjoyable to hate a villain.
However, when you speak the ugly truth about those who are real to you, you probably come off as arrogant and judgmental. At the very least, you’re showing poor diplomatic skills by exposing others to criticism.
I often smile at the small hypocrisies, questionable intentions, inconsistencies and other subtle character flaws in those around me. It would be very simple to take these things and turn them into humorous slices of life, but I know the good of these people too much to laugh at them. And, of course, some human frailities are too serious to laugh at anyhow.
Benjamin Franklin stated, “Any fool can criticize, condemn andcomplain and most fools do.”
If I am to be a fool, give me the role of Fool from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night: one who uses wit to entertain those around me, using the cover of a fool's mirth-filled laugh. (More on this another time, perhaps. And if you get a chance to travel down to Cedar City this summer, be sure to book tickets to Twelfth Night at the Shakespeare Festival. It is well done.)
The worse you make a fictional character, the better real people feel because they can feel superior by comparison. Readers can enjoy hating the evil man who is fictitious because they know they are meant to hate him. They can boo at the manipulative woman who beguiles those around her and feel that, if nothing else, they don’t act like she does. In other words, it’s enjoyable to hate a villain.
However, when you speak the ugly truth about those who are real to you, you probably come off as arrogant and judgmental. At the very least, you’re showing poor diplomatic skills by exposing others to criticism.
I often smile at the small hypocrisies, questionable intentions, inconsistencies and other subtle character flaws in those around me. It would be very simple to take these things and turn them into humorous slices of life, but I know the good of these people too much to laugh at them. And, of course, some human frailities are too serious to laugh at anyhow.
Benjamin Franklin stated, “Any fool can criticize, condemn andcomplain and most fools do.”
If I am to be a fool, give me the role of Fool from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night: one who uses wit to entertain those around me, using the cover of a fool's mirth-filled laugh. (More on this another time, perhaps. And if you get a chance to travel down to Cedar City this summer, be sure to book tickets to Twelfth Night at the Shakespeare Festival. It is well done.)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The United States of Money
I was telling my son about the 4th of July a couple days ago. It must have stuck in his head because today he decided to make a U.S. flag. (Meaning: he decided that I was making him a U.S. flag.)
He brought me some green paper and a turquoise crayon and told me that he couldn’t find red, white and blue so this would be okay. I took the crayon and drew some stars and stripes for him and then we made a construction paper flag pole and taped it on.
As my son joyfully waved his flag a few minutes later, I was amused: our flag looked like a dollar bill perched on a pole. Somehow this seemed appropriate. Hasn’t our great country become a symbol of wealth, commerce, free trade—in a word: the American Dream?
My son decided to use his flag in place of the traditional torch and pretend to be the Statue of Liberty. My mental wanderings continued:
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
These words once called to those who sought freedom of religion, freedom of speech, or freedom from oppression. As my son inexplicably holds aloft his “dollar bill” flag, I wonder if people are still attracted to America for the light of freedom—or the dollar bills waving in the wind?
He brought me some green paper and a turquoise crayon and told me that he couldn’t find red, white and blue so this would be okay. I took the crayon and drew some stars and stripes for him and then we made a construction paper flag pole and taped it on.
As my son joyfully waved his flag a few minutes later, I was amused: our flag looked like a dollar bill perched on a pole. Somehow this seemed appropriate. Hasn’t our great country become a symbol of wealth, commerce, free trade—in a word: the American Dream?
My son decided to use his flag in place of the traditional torch and pretend to be the Statue of Liberty. My mental wanderings continued:
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
These words once called to those who sought freedom of religion, freedom of speech, or freedom from oppression. As my son inexplicably holds aloft his “dollar bill” flag, I wonder if people are still attracted to America for the light of freedom—or the dollar bills waving in the wind?
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Fiction: Flora
Flora
Virginia Marie Conrad sat alone in her parlor, peacefully dozing. Other than the faint intake of her breath, the room was silent. No neighborhood sounds penetrated her carefully crafted solitude. To glance at the room, a stranger might think they had stepped into Victorian England.
Miss Conrad—as she insisted forcefully on being called—was wrapped in a volumous dress from her ankles to the top of her neck. An antique brooch perched on her breast, slightly hidden by a meticulously detailed lace shawl. The knitting needles, crochet hooks and miscellaneous yarns and strings next to her chair hinted at the shawl’s origins. Her face was lined with wrinkles, a testament to the anguish and pain that had defined her past.
The “back parlor”—as Miss Conrad insisted forcefully on calling this room—looked out at green foliage on every side. A first impression might have labeled this view as a jungle, but closer scrutiny revealed careful cultivation of the flora. The huge ash tree was pruned into symmetrical perfection and led the eye to beautifully shaped antique roses, grapes crawling purposefully along a trellis, and masses of foxgloves reaching for the sky.
The faint rev of an engine nearby was the only hint that this paradise was, after all, in the middle of modern suburbia. Miss Conrad had always been a very light sleeper, and frowned vaguely at the reminder of the city that had grown up around her.
A louder sound abruptly pierced the air. This sound reverberated from within the Victorian incongruity. Miss Conrad, already partially aroused from her nap by the engine noise, opened her eyes immediately, suddenly animated into life. Her lips drew together into a thin, almost invisible line and her eyes were dark and sharply serious. Although blazing with fierce intensity, they admitted to a groggy confusion as her mind was expelled from the land of imaginings into the stark light of reality.
Miss Conrad noted her state of mental confusion and was annoyed by it. As the jarring sound invaded her serenity again, she pulled her eyebrows together in disgust. “Michael!” she screamed in an autocratic tone of voice. The power of the voice resonated in stark contrast with the frail frame that produced it. There was no answer.
The sound pierced her ears again. She looked at the originator of the sound—a small, wireless telephone—feeling offended and annoyed. It’s sleek design and modern contours contrasted sharply with the house surrounding it. Miss Conrad felt somehow affronted and tense as she looked at it.
“Michael!” she screamed again, “Answer the telephone!” She didn’t seem to consider the idea of picking it up herself. As it commanded her attention again, she covered her ears to dull the intrusion, leaning away from it. Her face weakened and she moaned softly, rocking back and forth. “Michael…?” she whispered, suddenly looking small and vulnerable. “Where are you, Michael?” The phone continued to ring.
Then she remembered. Michael was gone. “I’ll never see him again,” she gasped slightly. She choked softly as she repeated the word “never” in a barely audible whisper.
She felt shockingly alone, vulnerable and weak. Then, just as suddenly, her strength of character seemed to awake and revolt. She fought off the creeping depression. As the last echoes of the phone faded away, Miss Virginia Marie Conrad gingered picked up the offending item and hurled it forcefully across the room. Two things then happened.
In the heat of her emotion, she had misjudged rather badly her state of health and suddenly felt her arm burn with pain. She had no idea what she had done to herself, but felt a series of painful contractions in her arm and chest. She gasped loudly in unexpected pain as she watched the telephone descend. It flew in a picturesque arch and landed in the middle of Michael’s forehead. She screamed loudly now, absorbed in what she saw, not noticing until Michael’s head seemed to shatter into dozens of pieces that it was merely a framed photograph.
She wanted to run to where the picture had fallen to assess the damage, hoping only the glass had been broken, but the pain was too intense. Battling both physical and mental pain, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Michael. I lost my temper and I hurt you and I don’t know how much. But you know I didn’t mean to. I love you.” The words faded away as more sensations of pain ran through her body. The intensity left her breathless for a few moments and she leaned back and fainted.
Virginia Marie Conrad sat alone in her parlor, peacefully dozing. Other than the faint intake of her breath, the room was silent. No neighborhood sounds penetrated her carefully crafted solitude. To glance at the room, a stranger might think they had stepped into Victorian England.
Miss Conrad—as she insisted forcefully on being called—was wrapped in a volumous dress from her ankles to the top of her neck. An antique brooch perched on her breast, slightly hidden by a meticulously detailed lace shawl. The knitting needles, crochet hooks and miscellaneous yarns and strings next to her chair hinted at the shawl’s origins. Her face was lined with wrinkles, a testament to the anguish and pain that had defined her past.
The “back parlor”—as Miss Conrad insisted forcefully on calling this room—looked out at green foliage on every side. A first impression might have labeled this view as a jungle, but closer scrutiny revealed careful cultivation of the flora. The huge ash tree was pruned into symmetrical perfection and led the eye to beautifully shaped antique roses, grapes crawling purposefully along a trellis, and masses of foxgloves reaching for the sky.
The faint rev of an engine nearby was the only hint that this paradise was, after all, in the middle of modern suburbia. Miss Conrad had always been a very light sleeper, and frowned vaguely at the reminder of the city that had grown up around her.
A louder sound abruptly pierced the air. This sound reverberated from within the Victorian incongruity. Miss Conrad, already partially aroused from her nap by the engine noise, opened her eyes immediately, suddenly animated into life. Her lips drew together into a thin, almost invisible line and her eyes were dark and sharply serious. Although blazing with fierce intensity, they admitted to a groggy confusion as her mind was expelled from the land of imaginings into the stark light of reality.
Miss Conrad noted her state of mental confusion and was annoyed by it. As the jarring sound invaded her serenity again, she pulled her eyebrows together in disgust. “Michael!” she screamed in an autocratic tone of voice. The power of the voice resonated in stark contrast with the frail frame that produced it. There was no answer.
The sound pierced her ears again. She looked at the originator of the sound—a small, wireless telephone—feeling offended and annoyed. It’s sleek design and modern contours contrasted sharply with the house surrounding it. Miss Conrad felt somehow affronted and tense as she looked at it.
“Michael!” she screamed again, “Answer the telephone!” She didn’t seem to consider the idea of picking it up herself. As it commanded her attention again, she covered her ears to dull the intrusion, leaning away from it. Her face weakened and she moaned softly, rocking back and forth. “Michael…?” she whispered, suddenly looking small and vulnerable. “Where are you, Michael?” The phone continued to ring.
Then she remembered. Michael was gone. “I’ll never see him again,” she gasped slightly. She choked softly as she repeated the word “never” in a barely audible whisper.
She felt shockingly alone, vulnerable and weak. Then, just as suddenly, her strength of character seemed to awake and revolt. She fought off the creeping depression. As the last echoes of the phone faded away, Miss Virginia Marie Conrad gingered picked up the offending item and hurled it forcefully across the room. Two things then happened.
In the heat of her emotion, she had misjudged rather badly her state of health and suddenly felt her arm burn with pain. She had no idea what she had done to herself, but felt a series of painful contractions in her arm and chest. She gasped loudly in unexpected pain as she watched the telephone descend. It flew in a picturesque arch and landed in the middle of Michael’s forehead. She screamed loudly now, absorbed in what she saw, not noticing until Michael’s head seemed to shatter into dozens of pieces that it was merely a framed photograph.
She wanted to run to where the picture had fallen to assess the damage, hoping only the glass had been broken, but the pain was too intense. Battling both physical and mental pain, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Michael. I lost my temper and I hurt you and I don’t know how much. But you know I didn’t mean to. I love you.” The words faded away as more sensations of pain ran through her body. The intensity left her breathless for a few moments and she leaned back and fainted.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Suburban Claustrophobia
Canada Red Choke Cherry. Small tree forming a rounded pyramidal crown. The leaves come out light green, then turn to reddish-purple later in the Summer. The flowers are white and bloom in April; fruits are dark purple. Easily grown and very cold hardy.
Newport Flowering Plum. Dark purple foliage holds its color well in full sun. This tree is more tolerant of changing temperatures than Thundercloud. Single, pink flowers in early spring followed by fruit.
Chanticleer Flowering Pear. This tree forms a narrow, upright, somewhat pyramidal crown with crisp, glossy green foliage that turns reddish in the Fall. The flowers are white and form in clusters.
For months now, I have been battling the slow onset of suburban claustrophobia. The neighbors' homes, which have always been too close for comfort, now seem to be expanding every day. Is it possible that they have foundations on wheels and once in a while, when nobody is looking, they push a little closer to me, boxing me in more and more? Perhaps not but it feels like it.
My crisis began when I contemplated a fix for my problem.
Problem: I feel that my yard has no privacy and I may as well be in a public park (which I despise greatly) when I step outside. (Note to self: is it reasonable to feel like I have to be dressed for public, hair combed, makeup on (ha ha... gotcha.. I never wear makeup except when I'm going out and even then, only rarely...) before I go through my back door? I say NO! Not reasonable!)
Proposed Solution: Line the backyard with trees, which will grow and fill in and make me feel less like my neighbors are holding binoculars up to see my movements. (Note to self: that is absurb on so many levels but I never claimed to be exempt from absurdity so ha! As if my neighbors would need binoculars to see ten feet away? and what would they be watching?)
Putting the plan into action: Look at map of yard. Problems emerge: It will take years for the trees to mature and fill in. If I were to plant them NOW for the privacy I want NOW, they would overrun each other and become tangled within two years. But I don't want to wait two years to go lie down in my backyard with tangled hair and holes in my clothes. I want to go stretch out in whatever I feel comfortable in--lying in some position that is completely ridiculous-looking but COMFORTABLE--and I want to do it NOW!
Perhaps I feel like a spoiled child who has been denied a piece of candy. Or that brat in "Willy Wonka" who screams, "But I want it NOW Daddy! Now Now Now!" Perhaps I need to chill. One feeling I couldn't deny, however, as I stood shyly in the shade of my french doors was the sense of unhappy claustrophia. I wanted to run and sing and act like a child in my back yard if the mood struck me. I didn't want to feel on display. As I mulled these things over, I waved to my neighbor who was jumping on the trampoline in her back yard. Each bounce reminded me that I am part of a larger community--like it or not.
When my husband got home from work yesterday, I told him I was feeling claustrophic in our neighborhood but I was trying to not think about it. I laughed it off, because he wasn't thrilled with my plans to buy a half acre in Lehi and get a house half the size for the same cost. I wasn't particularly thrilled with THAT aspect of it either, but I digress. I laughed it off but the feeling remained.
Long Story (even longer than what is posted) Short: The doorbell rang this morning and somebody from my landscaping company was at the door. "Where do you want these trees?" he asked. I stood there dumbly.
"Umm let me come look at them," I said. I walked all around my yard while the landscaper stood there (semi)patiently. First I chose one spot. Then another. Then another. Then after I'd finalized where I wanted everything I changed it all around. Two flowering pears in the front yard. The Canada Red Chokecherry and Flowering Plum (Newport) in the back yard. I had to face the facts: no amount of rearranging four small trees is going to turn my .19 into a 1.19 acre lot. Claustrophia set in again.
But now, as I look out my second story window to the neighbors down below, there is one more piece of humanity and nature planted below. Humanity because my two Flowering Pear trees are joining a whole procession of perfectly-proportioned, spring-blooming, autumn-coloring, not-too-small yet not-too-big, neighborhood-friendly trees that my neighbors would approve of. I resisted this variety at first because it is so popular in landscaping right now and I have that tendency to want to prove I think for myself rather than blindly following the pack. But facts are facts: these trees are gorgeous and no amount of rebellious, individualistic free thinking can change that fact. So now I have one more thing in common with those around me.
As I was driving away after the trees were planted, my neighbor called out, "Flowering Pears?" I nodded and we discussed them. My neighbor approved. And suddenly I felt protective of my little trees. They're like children when you get down to it: my trees may be smaller than my neighbors' or less perfectly oval or vaselike in their shape. But they are mine. And because they are mine they are beautiful. If they grow ill, I will worry and watch over them. And if they die, I will feel a real sense of sorrow as a piece of me is forcefully extracted from my being. And until then, I will have headaches over them but love them. And perhaps we'll add more to our family one day. I'm already thinking about a weeping cherry. Or a corkscrew willow. Or an ash. Or a braeburn apple to harvest each fall. Or a peach tree for my husband. Or apricot just to get those beautiful blossoms even though I can't stand the fruit....
Newport Flowering Plum. Dark purple foliage holds its color well in full sun. This tree is more tolerant of changing temperatures than Thundercloud. Single, pink flowers in early spring followed by fruit.
Chanticleer Flowering Pear. This tree forms a narrow, upright, somewhat pyramidal crown with crisp, glossy green foliage that turns reddish in the Fall. The flowers are white and form in clusters.
For months now, I have been battling the slow onset of suburban claustrophobia. The neighbors' homes, which have always been too close for comfort, now seem to be expanding every day. Is it possible that they have foundations on wheels and once in a while, when nobody is looking, they push a little closer to me, boxing me in more and more? Perhaps not but it feels like it.
My crisis began when I contemplated a fix for my problem.
Problem: I feel that my yard has no privacy and I may as well be in a public park (which I despise greatly) when I step outside. (Note to self: is it reasonable to feel like I have to be dressed for public, hair combed, makeup on (ha ha... gotcha.. I never wear makeup except when I'm going out and even then, only rarely...) before I go through my back door? I say NO! Not reasonable!)
Proposed Solution: Line the backyard with trees, which will grow and fill in and make me feel less like my neighbors are holding binoculars up to see my movements. (Note to self: that is absurb on so many levels but I never claimed to be exempt from absurdity so ha! As if my neighbors would need binoculars to see ten feet away? and what would they be watching?)
Putting the plan into action: Look at map of yard. Problems emerge: It will take years for the trees to mature and fill in. If I were to plant them NOW for the privacy I want NOW, they would overrun each other and become tangled within two years. But I don't want to wait two years to go lie down in my backyard with tangled hair and holes in my clothes. I want to go stretch out in whatever I feel comfortable in--lying in some position that is completely ridiculous-looking but COMFORTABLE--and I want to do it NOW!
Perhaps I feel like a spoiled child who has been denied a piece of candy. Or that brat in "Willy Wonka" who screams, "But I want it NOW Daddy! Now Now Now!" Perhaps I need to chill. One feeling I couldn't deny, however, as I stood shyly in the shade of my french doors was the sense of unhappy claustrophia. I wanted to run and sing and act like a child in my back yard if the mood struck me. I didn't want to feel on display. As I mulled these things over, I waved to my neighbor who was jumping on the trampoline in her back yard. Each bounce reminded me that I am part of a larger community--like it or not.
When my husband got home from work yesterday, I told him I was feeling claustrophic in our neighborhood but I was trying to not think about it. I laughed it off, because he wasn't thrilled with my plans to buy a half acre in Lehi and get a house half the size for the same cost. I wasn't particularly thrilled with THAT aspect of it either, but I digress. I laughed it off but the feeling remained.
Long Story (even longer than what is posted) Short: The doorbell rang this morning and somebody from my landscaping company was at the door. "Where do you want these trees?" he asked. I stood there dumbly.
"Umm let me come look at them," I said. I walked all around my yard while the landscaper stood there (semi)patiently. First I chose one spot. Then another. Then another. Then after I'd finalized where I wanted everything I changed it all around. Two flowering pears in the front yard. The Canada Red Chokecherry and Flowering Plum (Newport) in the back yard. I had to face the facts: no amount of rearranging four small trees is going to turn my .19 into a 1.19 acre lot. Claustrophia set in again.
But now, as I look out my second story window to the neighbors down below, there is one more piece of humanity and nature planted below. Humanity because my two Flowering Pear trees are joining a whole procession of perfectly-proportioned, spring-blooming, autumn-coloring, not-too-small yet not-too-big, neighborhood-friendly trees that my neighbors would approve of. I resisted this variety at first because it is so popular in landscaping right now and I have that tendency to want to prove I think for myself rather than blindly following the pack. But facts are facts: these trees are gorgeous and no amount of rebellious, individualistic free thinking can change that fact. So now I have one more thing in common with those around me.
As I was driving away after the trees were planted, my neighbor called out, "Flowering Pears?" I nodded and we discussed them. My neighbor approved. And suddenly I felt protective of my little trees. They're like children when you get down to it: my trees may be smaller than my neighbors' or less perfectly oval or vaselike in their shape. But they are mine. And because they are mine they are beautiful. If they grow ill, I will worry and watch over them. And if they die, I will feel a real sense of sorrow as a piece of me is forcefully extracted from my being. And until then, I will have headaches over them but love them. And perhaps we'll add more to our family one day. I'm already thinking about a weeping cherry. Or a corkscrew willow. Or an ash. Or a braeburn apple to harvest each fall. Or a peach tree for my husband. Or apricot just to get those beautiful blossoms even though I can't stand the fruit....
YourTube MyTube, We All Cheer for YouTube
Here's something to cheer up your day. Legal/Copyright questions aside, I have enjoyed several "We really ought to get to sleep... Okay, just one more link" moments courtesy of YouTube this week. Quirky though they may be, here they are to waste some of your workday or sleeping hours. Bon appetit!
The One, The Only..... Weird Al!
White & Nerdy (final version) :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mBGODdzzVw
White & Nerdy (take #1 for all you Donny fans) :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWc6QQ9JlMc
The Saga Begins :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-gi4Nt_xxg
All About the Pentiums :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vaNeaWQoHI
Falco
Rock Me Amadeus! :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjBXK4CTtvM
Vienna Calling :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRjRGVDD0Wk
The One, The Only..... Weird Al!
White & Nerdy (final version) :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mBGODdzzVw
White & Nerdy (take #1 for all you Donny fans) :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWc6QQ9JlMc
The Saga Begins :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-gi4Nt_xxg
All About the Pentiums :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vaNeaWQoHI
Falco
Rock Me Amadeus! :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjBXK4CTtvM
Vienna Calling :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRjRGVDD0Wk
Monday, May 28, 2007
New Site
I should mention, as a follow up to my earlier post titled "Fun Moms Would Do This Stuff," that I have reorganized my info, added more to the calendar, and purchased a dedicated domain name. You can find my cool new version of the site at:
http://www.funtodo.org
Thanks to the people who helped me with this project, including (but not limited to) Josh, Mike, Nick, Marianne, Mike (the other Mike), James, Josh (the other Josh), the friends who gave me feedback as I was developing it and my well-behaved kids who watched hours of Dora The Explorer and The Backyardigans while I coded and searched the internet.
http://www.funtodo.org
Thanks to the people who helped me with this project, including (but not limited to) Josh, Mike, Nick, Marianne, Mike (the other Mike), James, Josh (the other Josh), the friends who gave me feedback as I was developing it and my well-behaved kids who watched hours of Dora The Explorer and The Backyardigans while I coded and searched the internet.
Techie News
A local company made headlines today as the #2 fastest-growing tech company in America. (Read it here: http://money.cnn.com/magazines/business2/b2fastestgrowing/2007/full_list/index.html) The company helps "mom and pop" businesses gain an online presence.
There is a certainly a huge market for this kind of service out there, so I'm not surprised. What did surprise me was the information available on their website. My first question, of course, was what kind of jobs they might have posted right now. (My husband's 50-minute commute each way is more than a little tiresome.)
I did not find any job listings online or even a link to job openings. Nor did I find a statement of "we do not currently have any jobs available." As I was mousing over their menus to see what kind of information they had available, I noticed that the menus were extremely straightforward. Then I moused over "Investor Relations" -- where a whole list of subitems was readily available.
So this business specializes in helping other people create an online presence... yet the seeming majority of their readily-available information is for investors. This brings up several questions as to their business model or, at a minimum, their public relations strategy. I do not feel compelled to critique in this area, since I have very limited information regarding the company. But it's something to keep an eye on. Best of luck to our local company as they "grow up"!
There is a certainly a huge market for this kind of service out there, so I'm not surprised. What did surprise me was the information available on their website. My first question, of course, was what kind of jobs they might have posted right now. (My husband's 50-minute commute each way is more than a little tiresome.)
I did not find any job listings online or even a link to job openings. Nor did I find a statement of "we do not currently have any jobs available." As I was mousing over their menus to see what kind of information they had available, I noticed that the menus were extremely straightforward. Then I moused over "Investor Relations" -- where a whole list of subitems was readily available.
So this business specializes in helping other people create an online presence... yet the seeming majority of their readily-available information is for investors. This brings up several questions as to their business model or, at a minimum, their public relations strategy. I do not feel compelled to critique in this area, since I have very limited information regarding the company. But it's something to keep an eye on. Best of luck to our local company as they "grow up"!
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