Sometimes it takes a child to show us short-sighted grownups the things that matter most in life. Take the traditional Thanksgiving blessing, for instance. We grownups tend to offer thanks for such trivial things as family and friends, good jobs, love, peace, joy, etc., etc. But children have a grasp on the truly important things, like Star Wars LEGOs and the Princess and the Frog Just One Kiss Tiana Doll, which is why they are often asked to make the all-important prayer before the Thanksgiving meal.
This year the six-year-old in our family, revealing an uncharacteristic public shyness, declined to offer the thanks before the meal, and so the four-year-old plunged into the task. We re-create here her memorable Thanksgiving prayer, with a few commentaries included.
"Thank you God for everyone who came, and for the holiday..."
(whose name escapes me right now, but I know the names of lots of others)
"And for Christmas and Easter and Halloween and birthdays..."
(especially mine)
"and St. Patrick's Day, and ALL the holidays..."
(especially ones where I get presents)
"and thank you for Char...I love Char and I'm glad she's here and, um, she's my friend and I'm really glad she's here and I would be sad if she wasn't here..."
(so all these other people, including my parents and grandparents and big brother and aunt and uncle, can just go home because they are not Char)
"and thank you for the turkey and -- what else are we having, Mom? -- oh yeah, and especially the MASHED POTATOES!"
Amen.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Failure to survive
Thanks to global shipping and modern food storage, we can pretty much have anything we want, food-wise, all year round. Unlike our foreparents, we don't have to restrict ourselves to just what's in season, or what grows near us. We can have anything from anywhere! More and more we are being encouraged to take advantage of these abundant opportunities by...growing our own food, in our own backyards.
Well, it makes sense. Growing your own food can save you money and help you eat healthier. Growing your own food reduces your dependence on huge, greedy conglomerate food producers. Growing your own food increases your chances of survival in the event of worldwide catastrophe.
If growing your own food is the way of the future, if someday we have to survive only on what we can coax out of the ground, Joe and I are doomed.
Because unfortunately there is a catch to growing your own food. You have to be able to keep things alive.
This is a problem.
According to one source I have consulted on the subject, "any reasonably intelligent person" can learn what it takes to grow food. I am not encouraged by this. Although I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, based mainly on a dim memory of the results of an IQ test back in sixth grade ("Your daughter is reasonably intelligent, Mrs. B., but I'm afraid she'll never be able to grow her own food"), in my case intelligence does not seem to extend to keeping things alive, other than Joe. It also does not extend to doing math calculations in my head, but that is an unrelated topic ("Please encourage your daughter to pursue something other than math").
If you doubt that such a simple task as growing food is possible to mess up, just observe the cilantro plant in our kitchen. The cilantro is my first attempt at home gardening -- start small, they say, although usually "small" is considered a 50-foot vegetable garden -- and it seemed easy enough. I wasn't actually growing anything; all I had to do was keep it alive and snip off its fragrant leaves when I needed some herbs.
The cilantro did well at first. For about five hours. Then it entered a slow decline, and after two weeks has become but a former shadow of itself, despite being watered and occasionally pruned and moved to various advantageous locations. I have used it for cooking exactly once. If I don't again soon, there will be nothing left to use.
I am beginning to think that growing one's own food is some sort of societal IQ test. If so, the cilantro experiment does not bode well for my performance on other parts of the test. Maybe I should stick to math.
Further blog posts will probably not appear over the Thanksgiving holiday, as we prepare to enjoy turkey and other traditional Thanksgiving foods and to give thanks that none of these had to be grown in our backyard.
Well, it makes sense. Growing your own food can save you money and help you eat healthier. Growing your own food reduces your dependence on huge, greedy conglomerate food producers. Growing your own food increases your chances of survival in the event of worldwide catastrophe.
If growing your own food is the way of the future, if someday we have to survive only on what we can coax out of the ground, Joe and I are doomed.
Because unfortunately there is a catch to growing your own food. You have to be able to keep things alive.
This is a problem.
According to one source I have consulted on the subject, "any reasonably intelligent person" can learn what it takes to grow food. I am not encouraged by this. Although I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, based mainly on a dim memory of the results of an IQ test back in sixth grade ("Your daughter is reasonably intelligent, Mrs. B., but I'm afraid she'll never be able to grow her own food"), in my case intelligence does not seem to extend to keeping things alive, other than Joe. It also does not extend to doing math calculations in my head, but that is an unrelated topic ("Please encourage your daughter to pursue something other than math").
If you doubt that such a simple task as growing food is possible to mess up, just observe the cilantro plant in our kitchen. The cilantro is my first attempt at home gardening -- start small, they say, although usually "small" is considered a 50-foot vegetable garden -- and it seemed easy enough. I wasn't actually growing anything; all I had to do was keep it alive and snip off its fragrant leaves when I needed some herbs.
The cilantro did well at first. For about five hours. Then it entered a slow decline, and after two weeks has become but a former shadow of itself, despite being watered and occasionally pruned and moved to various advantageous locations. I have used it for cooking exactly once. If I don't again soon, there will be nothing left to use.
I am beginning to think that growing one's own food is some sort of societal IQ test. If so, the cilantro experiment does not bode well for my performance on other parts of the test. Maybe I should stick to math.
Further blog posts will probably not appear over the Thanksgiving holiday, as we prepare to enjoy turkey and other traditional Thanksgiving foods and to give thanks that none of these had to be grown in our backyard.
Monday, November 23, 2009
The year-round Christmas
I'm sure you have noticed that the Christmas season seems to be starting earlier each year. If not, either you are living in an extremely isolated locale, or you are dead.
The rest of us are expected to have already begun our Christmas shopping; put up the tree and outdoor lights; taken the family's annual Christmas picture; bought, signed, sealed, and stamped our Christmas cards; and have seven dozen cookies in the freezer ready to give away. Ideally, these things should have been done by Halloween, so that you would have plenty of time to focus on the things that matter most at this season, such as making sure that the homemade gifts you are putting together are better than your sister's.
Now, I can understand that in cold locations, which to me includes pretty much every place on earth except maybe Tahiti, people may not want to wait too far into the season to put up their outdoor Christmas lights. In Michigan, for instance, people routinely take advantage of a warm day to put up their lights. This year the warm day was July 3rd, so people are a bit tired of their outdoor decorations by now, but unfortunately they have to wait for another warm day to take them down, which may not occur until after the snow melts next August.
There are always a few holdouts in Michigan and other cold places who do not put up their lights until December. These individuals account for a substantial number of emergency room visits each year, their fingers frozen to the ladder, a string of lights trailing behind them as they seek help. To ease the burden these thoughtless people put on the health care system, eventually there may be a state law making it illegal for anyone to put up outdoor lights after a certain date. To make it easier for everyone to remember when this date is, they could make it the same as the school cutoff date: By August 1 you must be 5 to enter kindergarten, and by August 1 you must have your Christmas lights up.
Usually I am quite behind in the rush to get ready for Christmas, but not this year. This year I am getting my act together early. In fact, I'm way ahead of a lot of people. I've already eaten all my Christmas cookies.
The rest of us are expected to have already begun our Christmas shopping; put up the tree and outdoor lights; taken the family's annual Christmas picture; bought, signed, sealed, and stamped our Christmas cards; and have seven dozen cookies in the freezer ready to give away. Ideally, these things should have been done by Halloween, so that you would have plenty of time to focus on the things that matter most at this season, such as making sure that the homemade gifts you are putting together are better than your sister's.
Now, I can understand that in cold locations, which to me includes pretty much every place on earth except maybe Tahiti, people may not want to wait too far into the season to put up their outdoor Christmas lights. In Michigan, for instance, people routinely take advantage of a warm day to put up their lights. This year the warm day was July 3rd, so people are a bit tired of their outdoor decorations by now, but unfortunately they have to wait for another warm day to take them down, which may not occur until after the snow melts next August.
There are always a few holdouts in Michigan and other cold places who do not put up their lights until December. These individuals account for a substantial number of emergency room visits each year, their fingers frozen to the ladder, a string of lights trailing behind them as they seek help. To ease the burden these thoughtless people put on the health care system, eventually there may be a state law making it illegal for anyone to put up outdoor lights after a certain date. To make it easier for everyone to remember when this date is, they could make it the same as the school cutoff date: By August 1 you must be 5 to enter kindergarten, and by August 1 you must have your Christmas lights up.
Usually I am quite behind in the rush to get ready for Christmas, but not this year. This year I am getting my act together early. In fact, I'm way ahead of a lot of people. I've already eaten all my Christmas cookies.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Candles in the windows
Like many people, we enjoy decorating our home for Christmas. This includes putting candles in the windows, a practice that was started long, long ago, in 1934 in Colonial Williamsburg. Really. When Williamsburg reopened after restoration, historians were charged with decorating the buildings for Christmas in a traditional manner, which proved to be problematic because the traditional manner in which colonial Virginians celebrated the season of Christmas involved a great deal of fasting and repentance, which sounds a lot like Easter, and which does not lend itself to festive decorations.
So, based on one person's recollection of an old family tradition, candles were placed in the windows at Williamsburg. They became a big hit, and everyone put them in their own houses, especially after electric lights became available and people could stop burning their houses down. Now everyone has candles in their windows at Christmas, giving warmth and love to friends and strangers alike.
Only in our case, the candles we recently put in the windows make our home seem more suited to Halloween, because they are bright orange and exhibit a very obvious flicker, as if beckoning all the unsuspecting to see what lurks within. We bought these particular candles because a) Joe loves all things LED, and b) I have a marked tendency to accidentally knock candles with cords off the windowsill as I am opening and closing curtains. If we had had actual candles in our windows, our home would have burned down many times over.
So when we saw these candles that could turn themselves on and off at a certain time each day, AND came with suction cups so they could be securely attached to the window and not be susceptible to the clumsy among us, we bought one for every window. Joe painstakingly put them all out while I was gone, and when I came home he asked how they looked from outside.
"It looks like we have a haunted house," I said.
I had driven by the front of the house, and thought I must be mistaken about it being our house, because there were orange things shining out of the first floor window that I knew did not belong to us. I immediately thought it must be the new neighbors' house, and mentally chastised them for introducing such unsightly window decorations into the neighborhood.
"I bought some LED tea lights, too," Joe said in explanation.
I mentally apologized to the new neighbors.
The orange candles were short-lived, and now lie neatly packed away in their original packaging ready to go back to the store. We are confident, however, that, like the historians at Williamsburg, we will ultimately be successful in our quest to decorate our home for the holidays, however historically inaccurately.
So, based on one person's recollection of an old family tradition, candles were placed in the windows at Williamsburg. They became a big hit, and everyone put them in their own houses, especially after electric lights became available and people could stop burning their houses down. Now everyone has candles in their windows at Christmas, giving warmth and love to friends and strangers alike.
Only in our case, the candles we recently put in the windows make our home seem more suited to Halloween, because they are bright orange and exhibit a very obvious flicker, as if beckoning all the unsuspecting to see what lurks within. We bought these particular candles because a) Joe loves all things LED, and b) I have a marked tendency to accidentally knock candles with cords off the windowsill as I am opening and closing curtains. If we had had actual candles in our windows, our home would have burned down many times over.
So when we saw these candles that could turn themselves on and off at a certain time each day, AND came with suction cups so they could be securely attached to the window and not be susceptible to the clumsy among us, we bought one for every window. Joe painstakingly put them all out while I was gone, and when I came home he asked how they looked from outside.
"It looks like we have a haunted house," I said.
I had driven by the front of the house, and thought I must be mistaken about it being our house, because there were orange things shining out of the first floor window that I knew did not belong to us. I immediately thought it must be the new neighbors' house, and mentally chastised them for introducing such unsightly window decorations into the neighborhood.
"I bought some LED tea lights, too," Joe said in explanation.
I mentally apologized to the new neighbors.
The orange candles were short-lived, and now lie neatly packed away in their original packaging ready to go back to the store. We are confident, however, that, like the historians at Williamsburg, we will ultimately be successful in our quest to decorate our home for the holidays, however historically inaccurately.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Worms in space
Being an astronaut requires rigorous training, and competition is fierce. Especially if you're a worm astronaut. Four thousand "wormonauts" went up in Atlantis this week as part of a study on the effects of zero gravity on human muscles. These lucky few beat out 58,426 other worm applicants with winning essays on "What I Would Do if I Got Loose in a Space Shuttle."
Of course, no one really knows what these worms would do if they got loose in a space shuttle, because they are microscopic worms, and theoretically they could pretty much do anything they want up there and no one would know, including setting the controls to shift the shuttle on a path toward a distant planet where babe worms are known to hang out.
According to Wikipedia, on earth these worms are often found in gardens. Their preferred method of travel, when they are not in space, is on an insect or other small creature, and according to Wikipedia, when they are carried by such a host and reach a "desirable location" -- say, Ruth's Chris Steakhouse -- they "get off." Research is not yet conclusive on whether they offer adequate compensation to their hosts for this service, although in laboratory situations the worms have been known to consume the hosts if they happen to die. I think this is something the astronauts on Atlantis should be aware of.
The effects of space travel on worm muscles are being studied because "muscle wasting is a major problem for astronauts," as their muscles do not get used properly in the absence of gravity. Amazingly, MY muscles show the same wasting tendency even IN the presence of gravity. I suppose I could offer myself for research, and I wouldn't even have to go into space.
The worms are a good choice for a study on human muscles because apparently they "share up to 80% of their genes with humans," and are therefore considered "a perfect substitute" for us. This information concerns me somewhat. Lately at work we have been seeing a proliferation of worms in the building. They seemingly randomly crawl around the building, in and out of cubicles, restrooms, copiers, etc., but now I wonder: Are these worms that didn't make the NASA cut, and now they've been forced out onto the streets to fend for themselves, find jobs, earn a living? Are they looking to take OUR jobs? Never mind that the space worms are microscopic, and these are only too visible. They are all related somehow.
Personally I can think of several other organisms I would like to see sent into space, preferably permanently. Cave crickets, for instance, which were highlighted in the previous blog post. I think cave crickets have had ample time to try to prove they have a purpose for being here, and as far as I know they haven't come up with anything convincing, so why not ship them out too?
And with them we can send the worms from the office. Just in case.
Of course, no one really knows what these worms would do if they got loose in a space shuttle, because they are microscopic worms, and theoretically they could pretty much do anything they want up there and no one would know, including setting the controls to shift the shuttle on a path toward a distant planet where babe worms are known to hang out.
According to Wikipedia, on earth these worms are often found in gardens. Their preferred method of travel, when they are not in space, is on an insect or other small creature, and according to Wikipedia, when they are carried by such a host and reach a "desirable location" -- say, Ruth's Chris Steakhouse -- they "get off." Research is not yet conclusive on whether they offer adequate compensation to their hosts for this service, although in laboratory situations the worms have been known to consume the hosts if they happen to die. I think this is something the astronauts on Atlantis should be aware of.
The effects of space travel on worm muscles are being studied because "muscle wasting is a major problem for astronauts," as their muscles do not get used properly in the absence of gravity. Amazingly, MY muscles show the same wasting tendency even IN the presence of gravity. I suppose I could offer myself for research, and I wouldn't even have to go into space.
The worms are a good choice for a study on human muscles because apparently they "share up to 80% of their genes with humans," and are therefore considered "a perfect substitute" for us. This information concerns me somewhat. Lately at work we have been seeing a proliferation of worms in the building. They seemingly randomly crawl around the building, in and out of cubicles, restrooms, copiers, etc., but now I wonder: Are these worms that didn't make the NASA cut, and now they've been forced out onto the streets to fend for themselves, find jobs, earn a living? Are they looking to take OUR jobs? Never mind that the space worms are microscopic, and these are only too visible. They are all related somehow.
Personally I can think of several other organisms I would like to see sent into space, preferably permanently. Cave crickets, for instance, which were highlighted in the previous blog post. I think cave crickets have had ample time to try to prove they have a purpose for being here, and as far as I know they haven't come up with anything convincing, so why not ship them out too?
And with them we can send the worms from the office. Just in case.
Monday, November 16, 2009
A letter to Mr. Bug Guy
Dear Mr. Bug Guy,
I have read your information online about cave crickets, those delightful creatures that look like a cross between a mutant spider and a grasshopper, or a shrimp and a grasshopper, depending on the particular type, and can leap over sofas and tables and washing machines and refrigerators with no effort whatsoever. Having discovered several of these creatures in my home and workplace, I heartily concur with your observation that "cave crickets often startle residents who discover them in the basement." Perhaps, though, this observation does not go far enough. "Startles them into life-threatening heart palpitations" is, I think, not too strong of a description of what happens when you find one of these things.
You also state that cave crickets are "harmless." Perhaps you and I have differing understandings of the word "harmless." If I, upon discovery of such a creature in my home, scream, leap over the end table and knock a lamp to the floor, destroy four pairs of my husband's shoes from trying to hit the intruder, then create large holes in the walls and floors from repeated attempts to hit it with a 2 x 4, is it still considered "harmless"?
Thank you for your reassurance that cave crickets are "disinclined to mate indoors unless under damp, dark conditions." Until I read this, I confess it did not cross my mind to wonder whether cave crickets were mating in my basement. Now I have a new thought to keep me up at night, along with my new-found knowledge -- thanks also to you -- that these creatures will eat their own limbs to avoid starving, and that although they are theoretically edible, they probably "don't taste very good due to their diet," which may included canine feces. No doubt the thought of MOST people upon discovering a cave cricket in their dwelling is "Can I have this for dinner?" You have obviously saved a great number of us from the dire consequences of our curiosity.
I am encouraged by your advice that I can get rid of these creatures by eliminating the "dark, damp conditions they prefer" and creating a "clean, dry home." I have already begun this process, and my efforts to make our home less hospitable for cave crickets are paying off. We have seen a marked decline in their numbers. There is just one problem. In order to create a "clean, dry home," I have eliminated everything in the house except a few old newspapers, in case we see any more cave crickets. What do we do now?
Sincerely,
Cave Cricket Vanquisher
I have read your information online about cave crickets, those delightful creatures that look like a cross between a mutant spider and a grasshopper, or a shrimp and a grasshopper, depending on the particular type, and can leap over sofas and tables and washing machines and refrigerators with no effort whatsoever. Having discovered several of these creatures in my home and workplace, I heartily concur with your observation that "cave crickets often startle residents who discover them in the basement." Perhaps, though, this observation does not go far enough. "Startles them into life-threatening heart palpitations" is, I think, not too strong of a description of what happens when you find one of these things.
You also state that cave crickets are "harmless." Perhaps you and I have differing understandings of the word "harmless." If I, upon discovery of such a creature in my home, scream, leap over the end table and knock a lamp to the floor, destroy four pairs of my husband's shoes from trying to hit the intruder, then create large holes in the walls and floors from repeated attempts to hit it with a 2 x 4, is it still considered "harmless"?
Thank you for your reassurance that cave crickets are "disinclined to mate indoors unless under damp, dark conditions." Until I read this, I confess it did not cross my mind to wonder whether cave crickets were mating in my basement. Now I have a new thought to keep me up at night, along with my new-found knowledge -- thanks also to you -- that these creatures will eat their own limbs to avoid starving, and that although they are theoretically edible, they probably "don't taste very good due to their diet," which may included canine feces. No doubt the thought of MOST people upon discovering a cave cricket in their dwelling is "Can I have this for dinner?" You have obviously saved a great number of us from the dire consequences of our curiosity.
I am encouraged by your advice that I can get rid of these creatures by eliminating the "dark, damp conditions they prefer" and creating a "clean, dry home." I have already begun this process, and my efforts to make our home less hospitable for cave crickets are paying off. We have seen a marked decline in their numbers. There is just one problem. In order to create a "clean, dry home," I have eliminated everything in the house except a few old newspapers, in case we see any more cave crickets. What do we do now?
Sincerely,
Cave Cricket Vanquisher
Thursday, November 12, 2009
How robbing a bank keeps your brain young
As we saw in the previous blog post, performing routine tasks with your eyes closed can be highly beneficial to your brain's health. Of course it may not be so beneficial for the health of various other parts of your body, namely the ones that have to move through space guided only by what you can fell, hear, smell, or run into.
This book I am reading about mental fitness is fond of using this method to strengthen connections in the brain. For instance, it is suggested that you try getting dressed in the morning with your eyes closed. To do this, the authors say you should lay out your clothes the night before, or that you have someone else lay them out for you. ("Your clothes are ready, madam." "Thank you, Rose, that will be all." "Very good, madam.")
With your clothes all laid before you by the thoughtful Rose, your task is to arrange them on your person using only your sense of touch. Rose has gone off to attend to the vacuuming, so you are on your own. Without looking you must distinguish and put on your pants, shirt, socks or stockings, toupee, etc.
This may have been the way bank robbers first hit upon the idea of wearing a stocking over their face. While trying to kickstart his brain, a man with an ordinary office job -- let's call him Bob -- got dressed with his eyes closed, but fortunately looked in the mirror before leaving for work. Aware of the inappropriateness of wearing a stocking over his face to the office, he instantly realized the potential of his appearance for more nefarious activities, and set off to rob First National. Of course this leads one to wonder why Bob was wearing stockings in the first place, but let's be kind and assume he accidentally put on some of his wife's clothes, which Rose had carelessly arranged too closely to his.
Other tasks that can be performed with your eyes closed:
-- Keep a collection of small objects in your pockets, and when you are idle -- waiting for the teller to stuff your bags with money, for instance -- try to identify the objects strictly by touch. (Note: Do NOT try this with the collection of objects in anyone else's pocket, unless you are SURE no one can see your face through the stocking.)
-- If the booty from your robbery includes a substantial variation of coins, place some in a cup holder in your car. At red lights, try to identify the different denominations simply by feeling them. (Note: If you are stopped by a police officer and your vast amount of coins arouses suspicion, simply hand the officer a copy of the book, explain how he can increase his mental fitness with all these closed-eye exercises, and suggest he try it out right there. When his eyes are closed, run.)
This book I am reading about mental fitness is fond of using this method to strengthen connections in the brain. For instance, it is suggested that you try getting dressed in the morning with your eyes closed. To do this, the authors say you should lay out your clothes the night before, or that you have someone else lay them out for you. ("Your clothes are ready, madam." "Thank you, Rose, that will be all." "Very good, madam.")
With your clothes all laid before you by the thoughtful Rose, your task is to arrange them on your person using only your sense of touch. Rose has gone off to attend to the vacuuming, so you are on your own. Without looking you must distinguish and put on your pants, shirt, socks or stockings, toupee, etc.
This may have been the way bank robbers first hit upon the idea of wearing a stocking over their face. While trying to kickstart his brain, a man with an ordinary office job -- let's call him Bob -- got dressed with his eyes closed, but fortunately looked in the mirror before leaving for work. Aware of the inappropriateness of wearing a stocking over his face to the office, he instantly realized the potential of his appearance for more nefarious activities, and set off to rob First National. Of course this leads one to wonder why Bob was wearing stockings in the first place, but let's be kind and assume he accidentally put on some of his wife's clothes, which Rose had carelessly arranged too closely to his.
Other tasks that can be performed with your eyes closed:
-- Keep a collection of small objects in your pockets, and when you are idle -- waiting for the teller to stuff your bags with money, for instance -- try to identify the objects strictly by touch. (Note: Do NOT try this with the collection of objects in anyone else's pocket, unless you are SURE no one can see your face through the stocking.)
-- If the booty from your robbery includes a substantial variation of coins, place some in a cup holder in your car. At red lights, try to identify the different denominations simply by feeling them. (Note: If you are stopped by a police officer and your vast amount of coins arouses suspicion, simply hand the officer a copy of the book, explain how he can increase his mental fitness with all these closed-eye exercises, and suggest he try it out right there. When his eyes are closed, run.)
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Your brain on an exercise program
Because I have a deep-seated psychological compulsion to read self-improvement books that do not result in any actual self-improvements -- unfortunately I have no equally compelling drive to follow what the books say -- I am currently reading a book about improving your memory and mental fitness. The title has the word "brain" in it. I think. I can't remember for sure.
Contrary to popular belief -- according to the book -- new brain cells are not just generated when you're young. Adult brains also generate new brain cells. Unfortunately these cells are mostly put there by TV and radio advertisers, with the result that one cell starts singing "You say 'good buy,' and I say 'hello...' " and pretty soon all the other cells are singing it too.
A vital brain activity for staying young mentally is communication among the nerve cells. Unfortunately some of these nerve cells are male, and some are female, and so you can imagine that communication has a tendency to be somewhat problematic. To increase the sharing of information across brain cells, the book advocates a brain exercise program that uses the five senses in novel ways and "shakes up everyday routines."
I have scoured the book from beginning to end, and nowhere does it talk about shaking up your everyday routine by, say, unexpectedly winning large sums of money. But as disappointing as this may be, the idea of doing things in new ways, thereby stimulating new pathways in the brain, nevertheless may have some merit.
Take the daily commute. If you're like many people, commuting is one activity where your brain pretty much gets to take a nap, and it looks forward to this time. The book advocates implementing tough love, whereby your brain is not allowed to take naps while you are commuting, but is forced to pay attention to its environment in new ways.
One way to do this is to perform routine tasks, to which your brain pays scant attention because they are so routine, with your eyes closed. You should, the book says, attempt to use only your sense of touch and memory to, for instance, unlock the car, find the ignition, put on your seat belt, turn on the radio, put on your makeup, spill coffee in your lap, etc. Your other senses are forced to give you information about the items you are touching, which encourages your brain to form new responses to the stimuli, such as "What the heck is THAT?"
This type of exercise can have unexpected effects not only for you but also for those who live around you, who may be saying, "Why is the neighbor trying to open the hood of our car with her keys?" "Now she's putting the gas cap up to her ear. Do you think we should call the police?"
It is not recommended that you extend this little exercise to its logical conclusion, which would be to actually drive with your eyes closed, even though it may seem that a good percentage of the OTHER drivers on the road do this routinely. Be assured that although they seem to do this effortlessly, in their brain a full-blown war is taking place between the male and female cells:
Female cell: "We should have turned left back there!"
Male cell: "You think I don't know how to get to work? Stop trying to tell me how to get to work! I could do this with my eyes open!"
My physical being has so far resisted any attempts to make it more fit, but perhaps I'll have better luck with my brain.
Contrary to popular belief -- according to the book -- new brain cells are not just generated when you're young. Adult brains also generate new brain cells. Unfortunately these cells are mostly put there by TV and radio advertisers, with the result that one cell starts singing "You say 'good buy,' and I say 'hello...' " and pretty soon all the other cells are singing it too.
A vital brain activity for staying young mentally is communication among the nerve cells. Unfortunately some of these nerve cells are male, and some are female, and so you can imagine that communication has a tendency to be somewhat problematic. To increase the sharing of information across brain cells, the book advocates a brain exercise program that uses the five senses in novel ways and "shakes up everyday routines."
I have scoured the book from beginning to end, and nowhere does it talk about shaking up your everyday routine by, say, unexpectedly winning large sums of money. But as disappointing as this may be, the idea of doing things in new ways, thereby stimulating new pathways in the brain, nevertheless may have some merit.
Take the daily commute. If you're like many people, commuting is one activity where your brain pretty much gets to take a nap, and it looks forward to this time. The book advocates implementing tough love, whereby your brain is not allowed to take naps while you are commuting, but is forced to pay attention to its environment in new ways.
One way to do this is to perform routine tasks, to which your brain pays scant attention because they are so routine, with your eyes closed. You should, the book says, attempt to use only your sense of touch and memory to, for instance, unlock the car, find the ignition, put on your seat belt, turn on the radio, put on your makeup, spill coffee in your lap, etc. Your other senses are forced to give you information about the items you are touching, which encourages your brain to form new responses to the stimuli, such as "What the heck is THAT?"
This type of exercise can have unexpected effects not only for you but also for those who live around you, who may be saying, "Why is the neighbor trying to open the hood of our car with her keys?" "Now she's putting the gas cap up to her ear. Do you think we should call the police?"
It is not recommended that you extend this little exercise to its logical conclusion, which would be to actually drive with your eyes closed, even though it may seem that a good percentage of the OTHER drivers on the road do this routinely. Be assured that although they seem to do this effortlessly, in their brain a full-blown war is taking place between the male and female cells:
Female cell: "We should have turned left back there!"
Male cell: "You think I don't know how to get to work? Stop trying to tell me how to get to work! I could do this with my eyes open!"
My physical being has so far resisted any attempts to make it more fit, but perhaps I'll have better luck with my brain.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Please follow these instructions (but not if you're hungry)
Microwaves may have made cooking easier, but frozen microwaved meals are becoming more and more complex. The early generation of microwave meals were attractive mainly for their simple directions:
1. Put box in microwave until hot.
2. Eat until full.
These simple instructions made it possible for consumers to, say, have their Yorkshire terrier heat up their dinner for them. But now you must now have a commercial kitchen license to cook a frozen lunch or dinner in the microwave. Following are the typical directions one will find on the box of one of these meals:
1. Directions are given for CRISPIER flatbread as well as for SOFTER flatbread. Note: We highly recommend that if you love your flatbread crispy, you learn to love it softer, as the directions for soft flatbread are far simpler.
2. For both CRISPIER and SOFTER flatbread, open carton at perforated tab, then peel back the top. If you love your flatbread CRISPY, TEAR OFF the top of the carton, but DO NOT DISCARD IT. You will need it in Step 172 A.
3. If you love your flatbread SOFTER, DO NOT, UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, PERJURY, AND HIGHER TAXES, TEAR OFF THE TOP OF THE CARTON. JUST PEEL IT BACK. Do not be concerned that the carton top is not secured; this operation will be completed in Step 53 C.
4. If you love your flatbread SOFTER, remove the shrinkwrap from the flatbread and discard it (unless you have children in middle school, in which case the shrinkwrap may come in handy for a school science project). But if you love your flatbread CRISPY, do not attempt this maneuver until Step 14.
5. For SOFTER flatbread, place flatbread back INTO carton. It must be perfectly centered in the carton, 2.7 centimeters from the edge in all directions. Note: We regret that due to rising shipping costs, we are no longer able to provide centimeter rulers with our products. You will have to borrow one.
6. For CRISPY flatbread, first remove from the carton and hold securely in one hand. With the other hand, flip the carton over to make a platform. Retrieve the carton top that was removed during Step 2 and place it, SILVER SIDE UP, on the platform. With a third hand (procedures for obtaining a third hand are not included here; please see our Web site), assemble the platform such that it resembles a teepee.
7. For SOFTER flatbread, close the carton. Glue tab AB to tab 714Q~^6 with microwave- and food-safe glue, and microwave on HIGH for 3 minutes and 47.6 seconds. Halfway through, rotate the box 64 degrees and continue heating. Allow product to stand in microwave for exactly 4.72 to the fifth minutes, unless you are making this in an office microwave and others are waiting to heat up their flatbread, in which case it is permissible to let stand for 4.72 to the third minutes.
8. If you love your flatbread CRISPIER, NOW is the time to remove the shrinkwrap. Please look out for our planet and recycle the shrinkwrap. Place the flatbread inside the teepee platform you have assembled, making sure to securely tuck all flaps under the carton. Microwave on HIGH for -- (due to our ongoing efforts to provide you with the highest quality foods, please check our Web site for the most current recommended cooking time for CRISPIER flatbread).
9. Carefully remove your CRISPIER or SOFTER flatbread from the microwave. Congratulations! You have successfully assembled an authentic, edible replica of an 1843 Sioux Indian teepee. Enjoy.
1. Put box in microwave until hot.
2. Eat until full.
These simple instructions made it possible for consumers to, say, have their Yorkshire terrier heat up their dinner for them. But now you must now have a commercial kitchen license to cook a frozen lunch or dinner in the microwave. Following are the typical directions one will find on the box of one of these meals:
1. Directions are given for CRISPIER flatbread as well as for SOFTER flatbread. Note: We highly recommend that if you love your flatbread crispy, you learn to love it softer, as the directions for soft flatbread are far simpler.
2. For both CRISPIER and SOFTER flatbread, open carton at perforated tab, then peel back the top. If you love your flatbread CRISPY, TEAR OFF the top of the carton, but DO NOT DISCARD IT. You will need it in Step 172 A.
3. If you love your flatbread SOFTER, DO NOT, UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, PERJURY, AND HIGHER TAXES, TEAR OFF THE TOP OF THE CARTON. JUST PEEL IT BACK. Do not be concerned that the carton top is not secured; this operation will be completed in Step 53 C.
4. If you love your flatbread SOFTER, remove the shrinkwrap from the flatbread and discard it (unless you have children in middle school, in which case the shrinkwrap may come in handy for a school science project). But if you love your flatbread CRISPY, do not attempt this maneuver until Step 14.
5. For SOFTER flatbread, place flatbread back INTO carton. It must be perfectly centered in the carton, 2.7 centimeters from the edge in all directions. Note: We regret that due to rising shipping costs, we are no longer able to provide centimeter rulers with our products. You will have to borrow one.
6. For CRISPY flatbread, first remove from the carton and hold securely in one hand. With the other hand, flip the carton over to make a platform. Retrieve the carton top that was removed during Step 2 and place it, SILVER SIDE UP, on the platform. With a third hand (procedures for obtaining a third hand are not included here; please see our Web site), assemble the platform such that it resembles a teepee.
7. For SOFTER flatbread, close the carton. Glue tab AB to tab 714Q~^6 with microwave- and food-safe glue, and microwave on HIGH for 3 minutes and 47.6 seconds. Halfway through, rotate the box 64 degrees and continue heating. Allow product to stand in microwave for exactly 4.72 to the fifth minutes, unless you are making this in an office microwave and others are waiting to heat up their flatbread, in which case it is permissible to let stand for 4.72 to the third minutes.
8. If you love your flatbread CRISPIER, NOW is the time to remove the shrinkwrap. Please look out for our planet and recycle the shrinkwrap. Place the flatbread inside the teepee platform you have assembled, making sure to securely tuck all flaps under the carton. Microwave on HIGH for -- (due to our ongoing efforts to provide you with the highest quality foods, please check our Web site for the most current recommended cooking time for CRISPIER flatbread).
9. Carefully remove your CRISPIER or SOFTER flatbread from the microwave. Congratulations! You have successfully assembled an authentic, edible replica of an 1843 Sioux Indian teepee. Enjoy.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Halloween survey results
It is time for our analysts to make some sense of our recent Halloween survey, which was generously filled out by an overwhelming total of 4 people. Thank you to all of our willing participants for helping to advance society's understanding of typical Halloween behavior. Your responses will no doubt one day lead to a very important breakthrough in understanding why most people -- at least according to this survey -- despite the fact that they have 11 whole months to decide on a costume, end up wearing some variation of a bed sheet.
Let me assure everyone that the scientific integrity of this survey is in no way compromised by the fact that we had to bribe some family members, friends, little old ladies crossing the street, etc., to fill it out. And although 4 respondents does not seem enough on which to base conclusions that are representative of the population in general, we figure half of the general population needs to be bribed to go through life itself, so our 4 responses should be a good representative sample. It would have, of course, been much easier to report our findings if FIVE people had responded, because 5 lends itself to percentages very nicely, but at least 4 is easier to make percentages out of than 3.
By far the most popular activity on Halloween -- besides eating all of one's own candy, which unfortunately was not an option on this question -- was sitting in one's house with all the lights turned off. It is difficult to say what this finding means. Are these people afraid to answer their door? Why are they afraid to answer their door? Did they forget to buy candy? Did they eat all the candy and have nothing left to give away? Were they waiting to pounce on unsuspecting trick-or-treaters and scare them off, thereby not having to explain why there is no candy left?
(This brings up an important point that has nothing to do with the survey. Due to our own neglect to buy any candy this year -- a decision prompted by the total lack of trick-or-treaters at our home the past three years -- Joe, failing to find any secret stash of chocolate, was forced to rummage through the pantry and give the four costumed children who came to our door whatever he could find. I sincerely apologize to those trick-or-treaters for any mental anguish caused by being the only ones in the entire county to receive low-fat granola bars in their candy bags.)
But back to our survey. In contrast to the respondents who sit in the dark on Halloween, one person apparently openly welcomes trick-or-treaters, but instead of giving them candy, hands out apples and toothbrushes. Clearly, this individual is concerned about children's health and well-being and is willing to buck tradition to be proactive about it. Clearly this individual is also sorely in need of psychological help. It is not the business of our analysts to think up punishments for respondents, but in this case they could not help thinking of a few.
For the next question on the survey, the category of pumpkin carving respondents felt they were mostly likely to win, half indicated that they would probably win the "most likely to end up in the emergency room" category. One individual checked "most likely to use power tools" to carve his (or her, but likely not) pumpkin. We suspect that this person, too, is likely to end up in the emergency room, but as the survey allowed for only one answer per question, this cannot be ascertained for certain.
The next two questions on the survey concerned dressing up for Halloween. Seventy-five percent of respondents indicated either that they still harbor secret wishes of being able to dress up and go trick-or-treating, or that they indeed still do so. These individuals are likely endeavoring to recapture some thrill from their youth, or perhaps just interested in free candy. We can probably safely conclude that as children, they were never confronted by the respondent who gives out apples and toothbrushes, or they would want nothing to do with trick-or-treating anymore.
As for what sort of costume respondents would dress up in if they were to dress up, one person indicated that he (or she, but I doubt it) would dress as a dead celebrity pirate. If this respondent is who I think he is, this yearning was no doubt inspired by past visits to the Carolinas, which for some reason have a number of deceased celebrity pirates in the area.
Half of respondents said that their costume would consist of whatever they could create in three minutes with a sheet, glitter, a hairnet, a fanny pack, and gladiator sandals. This image is truly frightening. Equally frightening, one respondent said that he (or she, which in this case is 50-50) would dress as his (or her) mother. Actually the sheet, glitter, hairnet, fanny pack, and gladiator sandals could be a description of someone's mother, although it does not describe MY mother, because MY mother would NEVER be caught wearing a bed sheet in public, unless it was ironed.
And finally, the question that probed for the information we all want to know about our acquaintances: "Do you plan to eat more candy than you give away?" Based on the results -- 75% admitted right out, or less right out, that they do -- some Halloween re-education is clearly warranted. Perhaps the apple-and-toothbrush individual should be the one to carry it out.
This marks our last discussion of Halloween on this blog, leaving it but a distant, happy memory, except for those unfortunate children who came to our door looking for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and were sent away with low-fat granola bars. Hey, at least the granola bars weren't gluten free.
Let me assure everyone that the scientific integrity of this survey is in no way compromised by the fact that we had to bribe some family members, friends, little old ladies crossing the street, etc., to fill it out. And although 4 respondents does not seem enough on which to base conclusions that are representative of the population in general, we figure half of the general population needs to be bribed to go through life itself, so our 4 responses should be a good representative sample. It would have, of course, been much easier to report our findings if FIVE people had responded, because 5 lends itself to percentages very nicely, but at least 4 is easier to make percentages out of than 3.
By far the most popular activity on Halloween -- besides eating all of one's own candy, which unfortunately was not an option on this question -- was sitting in one's house with all the lights turned off. It is difficult to say what this finding means. Are these people afraid to answer their door? Why are they afraid to answer their door? Did they forget to buy candy? Did they eat all the candy and have nothing left to give away? Were they waiting to pounce on unsuspecting trick-or-treaters and scare them off, thereby not having to explain why there is no candy left?
(This brings up an important point that has nothing to do with the survey. Due to our own neglect to buy any candy this year -- a decision prompted by the total lack of trick-or-treaters at our home the past three years -- Joe, failing to find any secret stash of chocolate, was forced to rummage through the pantry and give the four costumed children who came to our door whatever he could find. I sincerely apologize to those trick-or-treaters for any mental anguish caused by being the only ones in the entire county to receive low-fat granola bars in their candy bags.)
But back to our survey. In contrast to the respondents who sit in the dark on Halloween, one person apparently openly welcomes trick-or-treaters, but instead of giving them candy, hands out apples and toothbrushes. Clearly, this individual is concerned about children's health and well-being and is willing to buck tradition to be proactive about it. Clearly this individual is also sorely in need of psychological help. It is not the business of our analysts to think up punishments for respondents, but in this case they could not help thinking of a few.
For the next question on the survey, the category of pumpkin carving respondents felt they were mostly likely to win, half indicated that they would probably win the "most likely to end up in the emergency room" category. One individual checked "most likely to use power tools" to carve his (or her, but likely not) pumpkin. We suspect that this person, too, is likely to end up in the emergency room, but as the survey allowed for only one answer per question, this cannot be ascertained for certain.
The next two questions on the survey concerned dressing up for Halloween. Seventy-five percent of respondents indicated either that they still harbor secret wishes of being able to dress up and go trick-or-treating, or that they indeed still do so. These individuals are likely endeavoring to recapture some thrill from their youth, or perhaps just interested in free candy. We can probably safely conclude that as children, they were never confronted by the respondent who gives out apples and toothbrushes, or they would want nothing to do with trick-or-treating anymore.
As for what sort of costume respondents would dress up in if they were to dress up, one person indicated that he (or she, but I doubt it) would dress as a dead celebrity pirate. If this respondent is who I think he is, this yearning was no doubt inspired by past visits to the Carolinas, which for some reason have a number of deceased celebrity pirates in the area.
Half of respondents said that their costume would consist of whatever they could create in three minutes with a sheet, glitter, a hairnet, a fanny pack, and gladiator sandals. This image is truly frightening. Equally frightening, one respondent said that he (or she, which in this case is 50-50) would dress as his (or her) mother. Actually the sheet, glitter, hairnet, fanny pack, and gladiator sandals could be a description of someone's mother, although it does not describe MY mother, because MY mother would NEVER be caught wearing a bed sheet in public, unless it was ironed.
And finally, the question that probed for the information we all want to know about our acquaintances: "Do you plan to eat more candy than you give away?" Based on the results -- 75% admitted right out, or less right out, that they do -- some Halloween re-education is clearly warranted. Perhaps the apple-and-toothbrush individual should be the one to carry it out.
This marks our last discussion of Halloween on this blog, leaving it but a distant, happy memory, except for those unfortunate children who came to our door looking for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and were sent away with low-fat granola bars. Hey, at least the granola bars weren't gluten free.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Happy Soggy Halloween!
Halloween celebrations often have a theme, such as the 50s, cartoon characters, dead celebrities, etc. The theme of our Halloween this year was: rain.
It rained not a bit the whole day until my pumpkin nephew and angel niece stepped foot outside to begin their adventure. We discovered, among other things, that rain and angel wings do not mix. The angel was down one wing right out of the house, and the other wing sagged sadly until, weighed down with water and despair at not being able to properly do its job, finally collapsed to the ground in a heap.
As we slogged along, the kids happily skipping in the rain while the adults all tried to huddle under one umbrella, the six-year-old remarked on the lack of trick-or-treaters out.
"It's probably because of the rain," we told him.
He stopped, astonished at this thought. "Why would that make any difference?" he said.
We also discovered that trick-or-treaters should be encouraged to travel as lightly as possible. The more accouterments they are lugging around, the more likely they are to ditch them in a neighbor's yard, use them as weapons, or -- worst of all -- make you carry the things. Such was the case with a young grim reaper among us, who soon grew weary of carrying his plastic ax. It got passed from person to person until it came to me, who had never met the young man before that evening, and who regarded the skull on the end of the ax as highly distasteful. I tried to look as if I were unaware and unconcerned that I was carrying a weapon with a highly distasteful skull on the end.
After some time, it dawned on Grim Reaper that I was carrying his ax. "Hey, that's my ax," he said pleasantly.
"It is," I agreed. "Would you like it back?" I held it out to him encouragingly.
He thought for several seconds. "No, thanks, I'm good," he said politely. "You can keep carrying it."
And so I soldiered on, drenched, with a skull ax in one hand and a bedraggled angel wing in the other. Next time, we bring a wagon. For all the accouterments, and for me.
It rained not a bit the whole day until my pumpkin nephew and angel niece stepped foot outside to begin their adventure. We discovered, among other things, that rain and angel wings do not mix. The angel was down one wing right out of the house, and the other wing sagged sadly until, weighed down with water and despair at not being able to properly do its job, finally collapsed to the ground in a heap.
As we slogged along, the kids happily skipping in the rain while the adults all tried to huddle under one umbrella, the six-year-old remarked on the lack of trick-or-treaters out.
"It's probably because of the rain," we told him.
He stopped, astonished at this thought. "Why would that make any difference?" he said.
We also discovered that trick-or-treaters should be encouraged to travel as lightly as possible. The more accouterments they are lugging around, the more likely they are to ditch them in a neighbor's yard, use them as weapons, or -- worst of all -- make you carry the things. Such was the case with a young grim reaper among us, who soon grew weary of carrying his plastic ax. It got passed from person to person until it came to me, who had never met the young man before that evening, and who regarded the skull on the end of the ax as highly distasteful. I tried to look as if I were unaware and unconcerned that I was carrying a weapon with a highly distasteful skull on the end.
After some time, it dawned on Grim Reaper that I was carrying his ax. "Hey, that's my ax," he said pleasantly.
"It is," I agreed. "Would you like it back?" I held it out to him encouragingly.
He thought for several seconds. "No, thanks, I'm good," he said politely. "You can keep carrying it."
And so I soldiered on, drenched, with a skull ax in one hand and a bedraggled angel wing in the other. Next time, we bring a wagon. For all the accouterments, and for me.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Halloween wisdom
This Halloween we were determined not to make the same mistakes we made last year, one of which involved neglecting to sneak through the little people's bags of candy before they did, resulting in not getting the choice pick of goodies.
Another error that was important to rectify was losing children in the darkness. It does not seem within the realm of possibility for two children to scatter in sixteen directions, but somehow they managed it quite well last year. This year we were better prepared, having put two tricks to our advantage.
First, it is extremely advantageous if children are dressed in brightly colored costumes so that they can be easily located in the darkness by lost parents or, in our case, lost aunts. We, for instance, had a pumpkin among us. It was very easy to find him, particularly since all his friends were dressed in black, and when they all ran down the street it looked as if the pumpkin was alone, the others blending into the darkness.
But if a child objects to parading about in a brightly colored costume on the grounds that it is not cool (and be aware that ANY costume you suggest to a child is not cool), you can simply place a variety of glow sticks about his person. The glow sticks can be bent into a ring and placed about the child's wrists, neck, arms, ears, etc. If the child is dressed in all black, this will give the effect of glowing rings moving of their own accord through the darkness, but at least you will always know where the child is. Unless all his friends are wearing glow sticks, too.
A second easy solution for keeping track of your child in the darkness is to teach him or her a Halloween song, and to tell the child that singing it at the top of one's lungs will keep the Candy Monster at bay. This works best with younger children, who do not yet realize that YOU are the Candy Monster, and that no amount of jolly Halloween songs will keep you from plundering the child's loot later on.
Your child may even be inclined to make up his or her own song. The four-year-old in our care showed great imagination when it came to inventing a song, as she was not bound by any beliefs that a Halloween song need have anything to do with Halloween, but liberally threw in references to puppies, sunshine, and Santa.
Between the bright orange pumpkin and the song-belting angel, we had no difficulty in locating our charges this year. Or in locating our favorite candy in their bags.
Another error that was important to rectify was losing children in the darkness. It does not seem within the realm of possibility for two children to scatter in sixteen directions, but somehow they managed it quite well last year. This year we were better prepared, having put two tricks to our advantage.
First, it is extremely advantageous if children are dressed in brightly colored costumes so that they can be easily located in the darkness by lost parents or, in our case, lost aunts. We, for instance, had a pumpkin among us. It was very easy to find him, particularly since all his friends were dressed in black, and when they all ran down the street it looked as if the pumpkin was alone, the others blending into the darkness.
But if a child objects to parading about in a brightly colored costume on the grounds that it is not cool (and be aware that ANY costume you suggest to a child is not cool), you can simply place a variety of glow sticks about his person. The glow sticks can be bent into a ring and placed about the child's wrists, neck, arms, ears, etc. If the child is dressed in all black, this will give the effect of glowing rings moving of their own accord through the darkness, but at least you will always know where the child is. Unless all his friends are wearing glow sticks, too.
A second easy solution for keeping track of your child in the darkness is to teach him or her a Halloween song, and to tell the child that singing it at the top of one's lungs will keep the Candy Monster at bay. This works best with younger children, who do not yet realize that YOU are the Candy Monster, and that no amount of jolly Halloween songs will keep you from plundering the child's loot later on.
Your child may even be inclined to make up his or her own song. The four-year-old in our care showed great imagination when it came to inventing a song, as she was not bound by any beliefs that a Halloween song need have anything to do with Halloween, but liberally threw in references to puppies, sunshine, and Santa.
Between the bright orange pumpkin and the song-belting angel, we had no difficulty in locating our charges this year. Or in locating our favorite candy in their bags.
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