ImPerceptibility

Archive for July, 2006

I can’t help it. I am addicted to the Snowmuncher game at Neopets.com. I really enjoyed Destruct-O-Match, Chemistry for Beginners was good, and I had a blast with Deckswabber. But, I am addicted to Snowmuncher. I’m not very good at it. I am usually finished with the game within 10 minutes. Maybe that’s why I am addicted. A quick 10 minute break whenever I get a few minutes to myself – or maybe the weather we have been having lately is influencing my choices. It’s hard to tell.

If you have never played the game, you wouldn’t understand. There is a little Polarchuck named Dieter who starts at the top of a huge block of ice. He eats his way down through the ice until he gets to the bottom. You have to drink the Bloat-Be-Gone medicine before he gets to 100% or you loose a life. When he drinks the medicine, he burps. Loudly. You have to be careful or the ice blocks will fall on his head. He yells “Ouch!” when this happens. Sometimes, I’ll say I’m sorry! It’s kinds weird. There are also ice worms that will chase you and gems that you should pick up. When he gets to the bottom he sings “Yodel Lay He Hoo” It cracks me up. I alternate from giggles when he burps or sings to yelling darn-it when a block falls on him.

I’m thinking I need to get out more…What do you think?

When I was in college, I had a friend that could sing beautifully. I have no musical ability. She was rehearsing for a show one night and I was amazed. “How can you sing like that? I could never do that.” I told her. She said she didn’t know how she did it. She just opened her mouth and it came out. The more she practiced the better it became. She wanted to know how I could draw like I did. I told her that I just started moving my pencil and the drawing started to take shape. The more I did it, the more pleased I was with what I saw. She had a great talent for music; I had a small talent for art. We both enjoyed what we did, and we did it every chance we got.

A talent is defined as an innate ability. Innate means possessed as an essential characteristic. I worked in a daycare center when I was in High School. If you have spent any amount time with a room full of two-year-old, you know that they all have innate abilities. Some of them build amazing things from blocks. Some love to talk and have advanced vocabularies. Some are natural leaders or athletes, and a few have remarkable abilities. I wonder what they would become if they were allowed to develop their abilities freely.

I talked with someone recently that did not believe in talent. Just hard work. I have also read an article or two that tried to say the same thing. I can’t agree with them. Even if I spent the rest of my life trying to sing, I would never be a great singer. I wouldn’t enjoy it and it would be a waste of my time. I don’t believe you can do anything you want just because you are willing to work at it. It takes a bit of talent. I also don’t believe talent can take the place of hard work. Having an innate ability to do something doesn’t mean you can do it automatically.

Tell me what you think.

Not too long ago, I ran into the grocery store to pick up a gallon of milk and a few things for dinner. When I came back out, I was angry. I got in the car steaming. My husband asked me what was wrong. I looked at him angrily and said, “That little (censored) called me Ma’am!”

My husband is a smart man. He sat there for a few seconds looking at me, started the car, and headed home. He eventually tossed out the idea that maybe the little (censored) was just being polite. I know he was just being polite. I know, as a mother of daughters, that I should be happy that there are young men out there that are respectful and have manners. I know that I am (almost) old enough to be a ma’am, but I don’t like it. When did I stop being a sweetheart, or a cutie? What invisible door did I walk through that made me a ma’am?

I spent a few days thinking about and came up with a plan. I grabbed my ID and headed to the store. I walked in, looked around picked up a bottle of wine and headed to the checkout. I put the bottle on the counter and defiantly looked at the man behind the counter. He asked to see my ID. I left it in the car I told him and laughed. He looked at me closely. Sorry young lady, I can’t sell that to you without an ID. I grinned and handed it to him. As I left he told me to have a nice night. I did.

Several years ago, for my birthday, I decided to learn to knit. I had a small bag of knit baby clothes that had belonged to my father-in-law. His mother had made them for him. They were over 70 years old and in perfect condition. I never met his mother. She passed away several years before I even knew my husband existed. But I felt like I had a small piece of her with me when I wrapped my new baby up in one of her comfy little sweaters. I loved how the soft wool felt in my hands. The perfect little stitches were amazing. I wanted to make something my children could use to keep their babies warm.

I went to the craft store, bought some needles, bought some yarn, bought a how-to-knit book and started. It didn’t go very well. The yarn, needles, and book ended up being launched across the room in a fit of frustration. It landed against the railing to the stairs and it stayed there for several weeks. I eventually put it all in a plastic grocery bag and tucked it away in my closet.

A few years later I found that bag in the back of the closet. I decided to give it one more try. Things went a lot easier this time. Before I knew it, I had made a pair of fuzzy purple mittens for my daughter. They didn’t fit well, they were a bit crooked, and the thumb had a small hole in it. She loved them. I made her a matching hat and scarf. Then I made a second set in warm fall colors for my other daughter. She was so proud of them.

Not too long ago, my youngest decided to “needle” like mommy. Her little hands wrapped in yarn and a big pair of orange needles that had belonged to her Grandmother was too charming to pass up. It didn’t take her long to change course. She decided the needles were a perfect tool to dig up worms. I can’t help but wonder if she’ll decided to try “needle-ing” again. A part of me hopes she does. I have a bunch of needles. They would be perfect for her babies to dig up worms.

I recommend that you always:

Bring an umbrella to a water gun fight.

We spent most of yesterday tubing on Lake Anna. We usually go out on the Rappahanock but it was too dirty. I hope those shad like mud. I’ve never seen the river nastier. It was a toss up, muddy nasty river or nuclear power plant cooling pond. We went for the cooling pond. Your skin has such a nice glow after spending the day out there.

The weather was perfect for a day on the water. Lots of sun and a slight breeze. There were six of us and we took turns bouncing over waves on the tube. The boat driver takes great pleasure in making us scream like little girls. Turning the boat sharply and throwing us over the wakes is his specialty. I must be getting old because I’m a bit sore today. I’m not complaining though. I loved every minute of it.

I took a shower when we got home and had to laugh at myself when I looked in the mirror. I forgot to put on sunscreen and looked like the old Coppertone ad. The one with the little girl and the dog pulling on her pants. They’ve changed that ad now. The little girls perfectly pink from head to toe. Doesn’t seem quite right that way. I liked it better the way it was.

For a smile, read this article about the Coppertone ad artist.

My husband stopped at the WaWa in Central Park to get gas this evening. Gas is usually about 10 cents cheaper at that WaWa than it is at ours. While he was there, three men came up to him and asked for directions to Centerville. People always ask my husband for directions. I guess he looks like he knows where he’s going. Unlike me, he usually does. He tried to explain it to them and in the processes concluded that they were going to get lost late at night in D.C. So he gave them his Road Atlas. When he got home he told me the story and I couldn’t stop smiling. It reminded me of why I love him so much. He would give a stranger a road atlas just to make sure they arrived safely at their destination.

I remembered my first day of work when I was 19. I was introduced to him in the hall and he made me feel so welcome. He told me if needed help with anything to let him know. I let him know a lot. He helped me with e-mail, he helped me with the database, and he helped me with a ride home. Eventually, he helped me break up with my boyfriend. The rest is history. I guess I’m saying that he’s always been there to help me, even when I was too stubborn to want help. That’s why I’m still smiling as I write this. I suppose the best thing for me to do is make him smile a little later tonight. Once he gets finished turning the lid to his latest container. I like to be helpful too.

I decided to plant potatoes this year. Not in a garden, I don’t have enough room for that. I planted them in a trashcan.

I was searching for a web article about growing vegetables in containers. I came across this site – Taters in a Barrel. I had to try it. I have an abundant supply of wood shavings courtesy of my husband’s woodturning hobby. All I needed was a trashcan and some potatoes.

I chose blue skin potatoes. Actually, they chose me. It was the only variety left at the garden center. I then chose a blue trashcan for them to grow in. Ok, it was the cheapest can at Lowes. But I liked it best anyway. I planted the potatoes as directed and waited. In just a few days they were growing above the soil. I carefully covered them and waited. Every few days I re-covered them with a topsoil/wood shaving mixture until they reached the top of the trashcan. The vines grew right out of the container and are now tumbling quite nicely down the side. I have to wait until September to see if I actually get any potatoes. But, I’m feeling confident.

A trip to the Freer Gallery, a kiln fired pottery display, and a painting of a semi-naked woman in a chair somehow became this digital image. I was admiring an ancient piece of chinese pottery while my youngest daughter weaved in and out of the displays. I thought, good thing there’s glass around these things. I could see a thousand years of perfectly maintained baked clay crashing down around my feet. This gave me the idea of the falling pottery. Shortly after that a visit to a local art center provided the remaining inspiration.

Let me know what you think.

Soon we’ll be starting our third year of homeschooling. I look back and can’t believe I was so apprehensive about educating my own children. I honestly have no idea why I thought it would be so hard. I have 365 days to teach them 180 days worth of material. It’s amazing how quickly children learn when they are learning at just the right level and pace. I can remember mailing my first Notice of Intent into the school board and feeling terribly rebellious and nervous. (I checked it three times to make sure I had everything correct) The stacks of books for the upcoming year seemed to loom above me and haunted me at nights. Then I started. I’ll take this one day at a time I told myself. Before I knew it the stacks of books were smaller, the kids were smarter, and we discovered, among many other things, the joy of taking spelling tests with sidewalk chalk on the front walk. I haven’t looked back.

Before I started homeschooling, my days were filled with rushing around to get dressed, eat breakfast, and down to the bus stop before the bus arrived. Shopping, errands, and house cleaning until it was time to get back to the bus stop. Then snacks, homework, and getting them to bed on time. Otherwise we’d never make it the next morning. Family trips revolved around the school schedule. The kids (and their parents) were frequently cranky and tired.

Now, my days are filled with reading stories, science experiments, math problems, PE classes, art projects, group field trips and art classes. Most of that is done by lunch. The girls get to have almost every afternoon to just be kids. I love watching my oldest at the kitchen table painting her newest masterpiece or my youngest happily mushing a lump of clay into a fantastic 3D addition to my overcrowded fireplace mantle. House cleaning, shopping, and errands are a family affair. Once again, I get to go the beach in late September.

There are times I feel a little guilty when I’m out enjoying a beautiful afternoon tea party on our front lawn, or playing a spirited game of wiffle ball, while everyone else is stuck at work. Of course, I change my mind when it has rained for five straight days and the kids are experiencing a particularly severe case of cabin fever. At these times, I have been known to break down and go to Chuck-E-Cheese. I count this a temporary loss of judgment, forgive myself and move on.

I love the time I have with the girls. I am so happy that I put that NOI in the mail two years ago. Plus, I can’t wait for lesson three in science. We’re building a model of a virus out of pipe cleaners and an acorn.