Coursera Sci-fi and Fantasy: Unit I The Brothers Grimm

And are they ever Grim! One of the very first stories in the Crane translation was, "Death of the Hen" in which everyone died in the end. As someone pointed out in the class forum, it's like Hamlet with fowl.

For some reason this story stuck in my craw (har har!). So I decided I'd look into it a bit more and write my first paper about it. Yup, this online class through Coursera (ultimately through University of Michigan), Fantasy and Science Fiction: The Human Mind, Our Modern World, requires papers. 270-320 words on every unit, one unit per week. FUN! (No, I'm not being sarcastic.)

The paper isn't due until tomorrow, so I have ample time to change my mind. Because, truly, I could write a whole BOOK on Grimms' stories. Every one of them has some fabulous little nugget - about writing, wisdom, history, the nature of story and its role in human development, on and on.

Wanted: Hydration Station OR Confessions of a Dog Neglecter

At this very moment St. Nick is singing, "I'm a little butterfly." To annoy his sister. Which is working marvelously.

Moments ago, however, Oscar Wild (the dog) was sitting in the kitchen, staring at me. He does this sometimes and it can be unnerving. It usually means something. As in MEANS something. Like FEED ME or I WILL SOON BE PEEING ON THE FLOOR. This time I knew he wasn't hungry (well, he's always hungry) because he'd just been fed, and he'd just come in from going outside.

So I said, "Out!" which is our handy command for: QUIT STARING AT ME YOU FREAKY BEAST!

He stood up, walked two feet. Sat down. Stared.

He stared at me. At his bowl. At me. At his bowl. Smart me suddenly noticed his water dish.

See, Dr. D has been saying for ages that he's the Only One who fills the dog's water dish and I always say, "Bla bla bla whatever." But Dr. D has been out of town for a couple of days. And the dog's water bowl was bone dry. Hmmm.

I guess it's a good thing the boys leave the toilet seat up.

Oops.

The Many Questions of Fish

Little Fish is in a delightful phase I don't remember St. Nick going through at age 8ish. He asks questions.

Yes, of course Nick asked (and still asks) questions. But his questions are more, um, grounded. Take, for example the question he asked about a year ago. "Mom, when did you and Dad have sex to make the baby?" Hello math lesson.

Fish's questions are ... different.

Fish's Picture - Intended for use on t-shirts

Hey Mom? If we had a baby polar bear would we keep it in the freezer?

Hey Mom? If you had on a meat vest and saw a pack of wild dogs and ran away would they chase you?

Hey Mom? What if you dropped a potion in a cemetery and all the people came up out of the ground as zombies?

Hey Mom? Mama? Mom? Wouldn't it be cool if gravity didn't exist?

Hey Mom? Where do homeless people go to hang out?

Hey hey Mom? Did Clifford get so big from radiation? Or from steroids?

This was from one ten minute drive. One. Ten Minute Drive. What's more fun, no matter what I'm doing Fish never hesitates to come ask me one of his questions. Just a second ago: Hey Mom? Don't you think the Lego makers should start making Power Miners again? He was on to something else before I could remember what "Power Miners" were.

LinkedIn Fail

Over the weekend I received a LinkedIn request from a friend and accepted it. Then I made my oopsie. I thought of Dr. D and how he said, "Wow, I have two zillion connections on LinkedIn, how many do you have?" Uhhh, I don't really do LinkedIn. But why not? It's a good networking tool, right? RIGHT? So why not add some people I know. But who do I know? People I email. Like in my Gmail, and look at that, right there on the screen is a little button to link me with people in my Gmail. Cool!
Uh, not cool. Because I am an idiot. I clicked the link and saw a screen to check the people I knew, but it only showed, like, thirty? So I checked a few and clicked "Next Step." I thought (stupid stupid) that the Next Step would be to see the next thirty contacts from Gmail so I could click the people I knew.

Nope. Uh-uh. Instead an invite went out to all the zillion people I've ever sent an email to. People I've bought stuff from (or sold stuff to) on Craiglist, people I sort of know, people I don't know at all, people I'm not convinced are real people.

For example, I am now connected to Rajneet. I'm sure you're really a great person, and a real person (ummm), and I'm delighted to have you in my network, Rajneet.
Whoever you are.

And here would be "Graffiti Fail"

Seven Things Every Baby MUST Have

1 & 2 A really good highchair and Baby Mum Mums. Wow! How did I survive the first three kids when all we had were Biter Biscuits? Remember those? They dissolved in a messy mush, with choking-sized chunks often breaking off in baby's mouth. Mum Mums are fabulous - they dissolve safely and slowly with no mess (less mess - it's not possible to use "no mess" and "baby" in the same sentence). Plus, they taste pretty good. Even for Mom. Did I just write that? No, I did not. Forget I wrote that. Wrote what? Right.

3 & 4 Workhorse diapers and Thirsties covers. I fell in love with Thirsties economical, colorful, and durable covers when Mud Pie was a baby. Imagine my delight to find they're still being produced! And still as cute, durable, and economical. The old-fashioned prefold diaper is still around too, but a new addition: a "fitted" prefold. All the absorbency but without shoot-out-poo. Love.

5 Barnyard Dance. Stomp your feet, Clap your hands, Everybody ready for a ... I have the whole thing memorized. And I still have the chewed-nearly-to-bits copy I read to St. Nick 11 years ago. I bet it's the only picture book that uses the word "Promenade." Seriously. I bet.

6 Floor Poy - our word for Floor Toy. What I find unbelievable, however, is the price of these things. $60+ for a mat with dangly toys?!? I found this uber-portable model for $24. It's Rowdy's fave.

7 Fave except for keys. EVERY BABY NEEDS KEYS. Not kidding. It's like as important as milk or something. Really truly not kidding. Keys.

So there you have it! These seven things and you'll be ready for baby.

Uncomfortableness in the Eyes: The Four Hour Workweek

I'm reading Timothy Ferris's book, The Four Hour Workweek, and although I have no desire to be part of the New Rich or to outsource scheduling of doctor appointments to someone in India, I do like the idea of independence: both personal and financial.

So far I've been confirmed in a number of things, like my selective ignorance (I hate watching/reading news - if it's important, someone will tell me). I've also been challenged. What Time Waste activities keep me from being productive? Um, not blogging. Nooo, certainly not that. Or email. Or Facebook. Or mindless Google searches for nonsensical things like, "Can Babies Eat Beets?" or "What to do if Baby eats a button?"

Ferris suggests certain exercises meant to make the reader embrace uncomfortableness, to release fears. The first one was simple: make eye contact. When speaking, when walking around, whenever. Just make eye contact and hold it. I thought, sheesh, I'm great at this!

Then I went to the shoe store. A man stopped me and started cooing at the baby. I looked at little Rowdy and smiled. She smiled. We all smiled. The man asked questions about her, I answered, but all the while I was looking - not at him - at the baby! It didn't occur to me to look at him consistently until the second time I ran into him. Then maintaining eye contact - wow, it was hard. Painful, almost. With his wife it was somewhat easier, but still unnatural.

I've had similar results at the grocery store, Blockbuster, other random places. Hmmm. Is this the first step toward something new? I don't know. But stay tuned for updates. This book is giving me ideas. And you know what happens with ideas. They sometimes lead to ... adventures.

Dangerous, they are. Dangerous.

Yes, this is Fish trying to fry an egg on the driveway. No, it didn't fry. It might have, but he sprayed it with water.