The Princess (and sometimes Purveyor of Fine Art) wishes to announce a stunning addition to the castle's art collection, which was discussed previously in this blog. It has been determined, upon expert examination, that a wood rafter in their basement somehow escaped any shaping tools and remains in its natural loglike state, rounded and with bark still on it. The Hero and Princess are delighted with this discovery, and are already making plans to include special mention of it in their open houses, and perhaps a special fee as well.
As exciting as that discovery has been, we must occasionally return to the real world, and discuss actual, serious issues. Such an issue has recently occurred in my position as editor, despite my best efforts to avoid issues of a serious nature at work.
In reviewing an eighth-grade math test, I came across some word problems. A key feature of word problems, you will doubtless remember from your own student days, is that they provide extraneous information, which you do not need in order to solve the problem, and -- at least it always seemed this way to me -- not enough information to solve the problem, such as access to the answer.
This particular test that we give to eighth-graders contains two problems that clearly require much more information to answer. Perhaps eighth-graders would be able to solve the problems as stated. Adults, however, who have spent considerably more time in the real world, many without meaning to, are likely to have quite different answers, examples of which are given here.
Problem 1: Samantha is going shopping. She would like to spend no more than $85. She buys a book for $15, a video game for $22, and a CD for $16. She finds some shorts she really likes for $13.50 a pair. How many pairs of shorts can she buy?
Answer: First, what traumatic events have convinced Samantha that she "would like to spend no more than $85"? This is not a typical female emotion. It must be concluded that somewhere behind this irrational thought is a male.
Second, Samantha is obviously an adolescent, as shown by her ability to "find some shorts she really likes." No female over the age of 19 has experienced this sort of shopping occurrence. This may have nothing to do with the problem, but why set up a significant part of the student population to face a math problem that will in no way resemble their future life?
Problem 2: At the home improvement store, Al bought a hammer for $14 and nails for $6 per box. Al spent $68. How many boxes of nails did he buy?
Answer: Clearly there are some missing factors that could affect the outcome of this problem. Did Al buy anything ELSE that he did not need, such as a new Amazing Saw of Death, because he wants to have cooler tools than his neighbor? Was there a food truck parked outside the entrance to the store whose hot dog aroma Al could not resist? Or did Al perhaps -- as one of our acquaintances did -- see a ferret for sale and decide he needed to bring that home as well?
As you can see, our adult experiences have given us a unique perspective on tricky word problems. And now if you'll excuse me, I would like to go "spend more than $85."
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
"Come one, come all!"
As we mentioned last week, home renovations can be costly. If you are planning such an undertaking, you may need to be creative in finding funds to pay for your remodeling. Depending on the scope of your project, you may even need to sell some heirlooms, such as vases, jewelry, paintings, Aunt Millie's fruitcake, your hair, your right leg, etc.
If your experience is anything like ours, before any actual remodeling occurs, you will first have to pay professionals to destroy your house. But do not despair, because the result of their demolition efforts may actually lead to ideas for offsetting the costs of demolition and remodeling.
In our case, for instance, the work has left our ceiling a tangled mess of wires that appear to wind all around the basement and have no purpose whatsoever. Pipes have been installed in such a way that they cover the most amount of territory possible, like the Family Circus children's random paths. In short, the ceiling resembles certain art exhibits occasionally seen in great museums.
Which has given us an idea. When we have guests over -- if the county ever allows us to let people in without signing some sort of waiver ("I hereby understand that objects may, without warning, fall on my head while visiting this household. I accept that this is a natural and beneficial part of the process of experiencing "art," and do herein hold the owners harmless") -- we can bill the dangling wires and exposed pipes as an art exhibit:
"View this daring, thought-provoking art collection from everyday life, an interactive, ever-changing display with randomly falling debris that has been collecting in this household for over a century. Take a piece of history home with you! In fact, take several!"
This billing would allow us to charge visitors a slight fee for the privilege of viewing our great exhibit. And if nothing else, people would pay a slight fee for the privilege of leaving the house.
If your experience is anything like ours, before any actual remodeling occurs, you will first have to pay professionals to destroy your house. But do not despair, because the result of their demolition efforts may actually lead to ideas for offsetting the costs of demolition and remodeling.
In our case, for instance, the work has left our ceiling a tangled mess of wires that appear to wind all around the basement and have no purpose whatsoever. Pipes have been installed in such a way that they cover the most amount of territory possible, like the Family Circus children's random paths. In short, the ceiling resembles certain art exhibits occasionally seen in great museums.
Which has given us an idea. When we have guests over -- if the county ever allows us to let people in without signing some sort of waiver ("I hereby understand that objects may, without warning, fall on my head while visiting this household. I accept that this is a natural and beneficial part of the process of experiencing "art," and do herein hold the owners harmless") -- we can bill the dangling wires and exposed pipes as an art exhibit:
"View this daring, thought-provoking art collection from everyday life, an interactive, ever-changing display with randomly falling debris that has been collecting in this household for over a century. Take a piece of history home with you! In fact, take several!"
This billing would allow us to charge visitors a slight fee for the privilege of viewing our great exhibit. And if nothing else, people would pay a slight fee for the privilege of leaving the house.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Beware coconuts and toilet bowl cleaner
Today we take a break from all the destruction the Princess is trying to pretend is not going on in her house, and look at some helpful statistics that should help us all sleep a good deal better at night. If not, at least we'll have something to think about while we lie there wide awake.
400,000 people are injured each year by their beds, mattresses, or pillows. If nothing else keeps you up at night, this will, wondering whether you'll be one of the lucky ones to make it through the night with no serious injuries. It is not known how many of these injuries are caused by individuals who, for instance, may be tired of their spouse's snoring.
During your waking hours, you may want to consider how much you are exerting yourself. You have a 1 in 1,428,377 chance of dying from overexertion. This seems quite remote, but who wants to chance it? Definitely do not overexert yourself making the bed, because then you join the odds of dying from overexertion with the odds of getting hurt by your bed. Not good.
Here is one comforting statistic, if you are concerned about your likelihood of being murdered: You have a slightly higher chance of being injured by toilet bowl cleaner than being murdered. Many people choose to avoid this risk altogether by never cleaning their toilet bowl, which of course puts them at risk of being overpowered by bacteria, but they appear willing to take that chance.
Reports of coconuts falling and injuring people appear to be greatly exaggerated, although it does happen. My advice, if you want to be on the safe side, would be to wear some sort of helmet if you plan to be in close proximity to coconut trees. However, you might also want to consider that a small percentage of people are injured by helmets each year. You must weigh the two odds very carefully, keeping in mind that getting injured by a coconut makes for a way cooler story than getting hurt by your helmet.
The odds of getting hit by other falling objects vary -- for hail, they are 1 in 5,000,000. Even more remote is the chance that you will be hit by blue ice, which is frozen airplane-lavatory waste that can unfortunately leak out and has been known to hit houses. To date no person has been hit by blue ice, but you never know.
In our house right now, with all the renovation going on, the odds of something falling have greatly increased, so that our chances of NOT getting hit by something falling from the ceiling is about 0. We are, however, probably safe from coconuts.
400,000 people are injured each year by their beds, mattresses, or pillows. If nothing else keeps you up at night, this will, wondering whether you'll be one of the lucky ones to make it through the night with no serious injuries. It is not known how many of these injuries are caused by individuals who, for instance, may be tired of their spouse's snoring.
During your waking hours, you may want to consider how much you are exerting yourself. You have a 1 in 1,428,377 chance of dying from overexertion. This seems quite remote, but who wants to chance it? Definitely do not overexert yourself making the bed, because then you join the odds of dying from overexertion with the odds of getting hurt by your bed. Not good.
Here is one comforting statistic, if you are concerned about your likelihood of being murdered: You have a slightly higher chance of being injured by toilet bowl cleaner than being murdered. Many people choose to avoid this risk altogether by never cleaning their toilet bowl, which of course puts them at risk of being overpowered by bacteria, but they appear willing to take that chance.
Reports of coconuts falling and injuring people appear to be greatly exaggerated, although it does happen. My advice, if you want to be on the safe side, would be to wear some sort of helmet if you plan to be in close proximity to coconut trees. However, you might also want to consider that a small percentage of people are injured by helmets each year. You must weigh the two odds very carefully, keeping in mind that getting injured by a coconut makes for a way cooler story than getting hurt by your helmet.
The odds of getting hit by other falling objects vary -- for hail, they are 1 in 5,000,000. Even more remote is the chance that you will be hit by blue ice, which is frozen airplane-lavatory waste that can unfortunately leak out and has been known to hit houses. To date no person has been hit by blue ice, but you never know.
In our house right now, with all the renovation going on, the odds of something falling have greatly increased, so that our chances of NOT getting hit by something falling from the ceiling is about 0. We are, however, probably safe from coconuts.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
I want my house back
Renovating your house is expensive, and there are always more costs than you planned on. For instance, the shopping bills you run up because you can't stand to be home and look at the mess.
At least that is what is happening at our house. Not content to knock holes in the walls of our basement by himself, Joe has brought in a cadre of professionals to do it, with the result that certain military personnel being deployed have ended up at our house, mistaking it for a war zone.
Long-neglected brick and stone walls are slowly coming into view -- what's left of them. The dust has seeped, like a rising mist, throughout the whole house. 170-year-old dust. The dust is black, except that wherever we sit, a ring of white forms itself into a perfect outline on our posteriors.
But Joe will not let me see the progress in the basement. When I come home from work, he greets me at the basement door with "Hey, honey, how are ya? -- Go around to the front."
"Why can't I come in this way?"
"You can't."
"But you came in that way."
"See ya at the front."
This has nothing to do with the fact that the first day after the work started, he very unfortunately got home after I did. He found me in the middle of the basement, "Rachel weeping for her beloved fireplace, which was no longer." He was unable to stem my wails at the sight of what the workmen had done to the house. And that was the best day.
So now I am heartily encouraged to be out and about in the evenings, until the stores close and I have to come home, but not through the back door.
"I spent lots of money today," I say.
"Great, great!" he says. Spending money is incompatible with crying.
Because of the money being spent on this project, and the money being spent to keep me from slipping into depression, we are quickly coming to the realization that the trip we were planning to take to Hawaii this year may have to be scaled back. For instance, instead of a luau on a romantic beach in the shadow of a gorgeous sunset, we may have to hold one in the shadow of brick and dust. Instead of an open fire, our new cast iron stove. And a white ring around our posteriors.
At least that is what is happening at our house. Not content to knock holes in the walls of our basement by himself, Joe has brought in a cadre of professionals to do it, with the result that certain military personnel being deployed have ended up at our house, mistaking it for a war zone.
Long-neglected brick and stone walls are slowly coming into view -- what's left of them. The dust has seeped, like a rising mist, throughout the whole house. 170-year-old dust. The dust is black, except that wherever we sit, a ring of white forms itself into a perfect outline on our posteriors.
But Joe will not let me see the progress in the basement. When I come home from work, he greets me at the basement door with "Hey, honey, how are ya? -- Go around to the front."
"Why can't I come in this way?"
"You can't."
"But you came in that way."
"See ya at the front."
This has nothing to do with the fact that the first day after the work started, he very unfortunately got home after I did. He found me in the middle of the basement, "Rachel weeping for her beloved fireplace, which was no longer." He was unable to stem my wails at the sight of what the workmen had done to the house. And that was the best day.
So now I am heartily encouraged to be out and about in the evenings, until the stores close and I have to come home, but not through the back door.
"I spent lots of money today," I say.
"Great, great!" he says. Spending money is incompatible with crying.
Because of the money being spent on this project, and the money being spent to keep me from slipping into depression, we are quickly coming to the realization that the trip we were planning to take to Hawaii this year may have to be scaled back. For instance, instead of a luau on a romantic beach in the shadow of a gorgeous sunset, we may have to hold one in the shadow of brick and dust. Instead of an open fire, our new cast iron stove. And a white ring around our posteriors.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Free the skunks!
Today's post was intended to be about the diligent visits we have been making to the Y to work out, but since we have been there a grand total of two times (if you count running in merely to use the restroom and shower when our bathroom was unusable), and since my personal workout at the Y has thus far consisted of exhausting trips back and forth from various pieces of equipment whose function I know nothing about to the Sanitizer Station, we must look elsewhere for inspiration today.
So we will talk about a little-known yet important environmental hazard, one that is every bit as dangerous as plastic soda pop rings to wildlife: the potential hazards of peanut butter to your local skunk. According to news reports, a skunk in Colorado was observed wandering around a concerned citizen's front yard in an erratic manner. Wildlife officials, after exhaustive analysis, determined that the animal's strange behavior was possibly, though not conclusively, due to the fact that its head was stuck in a peanut butter jar.
Officials tried a number of methods to try to free the skunk, including the Hokey Pokey Method, in which the skunk was coaxed to "put its head in and shake it all about." In this effort several officials attempted to show the skunk exactly how to do the Hokey Pokey, which nearly prompted another concerned neighbor to call for backup help.
In the end, one official -- being careful to remain out of range of the end of the skunk NOT stuck in the peanut butter jar -- tied a noose pole, or choke stick, to the jar and pulled for several minutes, yanking the jar free and throwing it several yards right toward Mrs. Hoskins's front window. Per department regulations, the official has been placed on administrative leave while he is investigated for possible cruelty to peanut butter jars, and whether "unnecessary force" was responsible for the broken window.
Officials have no idea how many skunks, or other animals, are affected by discarded peanut butter jars each year, but they suspect the number "could be in the millions." They were careful not to vilify human eaters of peanut butter, however, saying that "it could just as easily have been a pickle jar" that trapped the skunk, although privately most believe that pickles are not as attractive to skunks as peanut butter.
In other environmental news, those who live in our row of homes recently received an e-mail from a neighbor entitled "LB Row Car Washing," which made us very excited as we envisioned a personal car wash service -- performed by a local troop of eager Brownies, perhaps -- coming to our very doorstep. But it turned out to be a plea from a neighbor to NOT wash our cars in the parking area, because the soap and grease eventually finds its way to the waterways and can harm fish and other aquatic animals. Joe heartily concurs with this suggestion, not so much out of concern for the fish as out of thankfulness for an excuse to not expend his energies upon washing the cars.
Now, if only we could teach skunks to wash the cars. "You put your left hand, and you wash it all about..."
So we will talk about a little-known yet important environmental hazard, one that is every bit as dangerous as plastic soda pop rings to wildlife: the potential hazards of peanut butter to your local skunk. According to news reports, a skunk in Colorado was observed wandering around a concerned citizen's front yard in an erratic manner. Wildlife officials, after exhaustive analysis, determined that the animal's strange behavior was possibly, though not conclusively, due to the fact that its head was stuck in a peanut butter jar.
Officials tried a number of methods to try to free the skunk, including the Hokey Pokey Method, in which the skunk was coaxed to "put its head in and shake it all about." In this effort several officials attempted to show the skunk exactly how to do the Hokey Pokey, which nearly prompted another concerned neighbor to call for backup help.
In the end, one official -- being careful to remain out of range of the end of the skunk NOT stuck in the peanut butter jar -- tied a noose pole, or choke stick, to the jar and pulled for several minutes, yanking the jar free and throwing it several yards right toward Mrs. Hoskins's front window. Per department regulations, the official has been placed on administrative leave while he is investigated for possible cruelty to peanut butter jars, and whether "unnecessary force" was responsible for the broken window.
Officials have no idea how many skunks, or other animals, are affected by discarded peanut butter jars each year, but they suspect the number "could be in the millions." They were careful not to vilify human eaters of peanut butter, however, saying that "it could just as easily have been a pickle jar" that trapped the skunk, although privately most believe that pickles are not as attractive to skunks as peanut butter.
In other environmental news, those who live in our row of homes recently received an e-mail from a neighbor entitled "LB Row Car Washing," which made us very excited as we envisioned a personal car wash service -- performed by a local troop of eager Brownies, perhaps -- coming to our very doorstep. But it turned out to be a plea from a neighbor to NOT wash our cars in the parking area, because the soap and grease eventually finds its way to the waterways and can harm fish and other aquatic animals. Joe heartily concurs with this suggestion, not so much out of concern for the fish as out of thankfulness for an excuse to not expend his energies upon washing the cars.
Now, if only we could teach skunks to wash the cars. "You put your left hand, and you wash it all about..."
Friday, March 19, 2010
Like State Farm and good neighbors, we are there
Spring is traditionally a time when people start looking for a new house. This is because they begin their spring cleaning, and then suddenly realize that no amount of scrubbing or airing or muscle is going to change certain things about their house, and so they hit upon the bright idea of leaving it all behind and starting over somewhere new, preferably in a house whose owner has had more luck with such things.
The house next door to us is for sale, and we have noticed an increase in showings lately. In what is a totally unrelated coincidence, many, many homes in our row have been for sale or rent during our few years here, and the home on the other side of us is now occupied by the fourth tenants since we have been here. Of course this does not have anything to do with us.
But as neighbors to a house that is for sale, Joe and I feel it our obligation not only to keep our yard tidy but also -- perhaps even more importantly -- to offer commentaries on the prospective buyers. Not to the sellers, of course, although if they ever asked us we would be happy to furnish them with a spreadsheet of all the pros and cons of the various people who have come through their house, and our modest suggestions for proceeding with one of them.
In the absence of this sort of request on the part of the sellers, sometimes it becomes necessary to help encourage, or discourage, certain prospective buyers. This task falls to you, the neighbor, because the seller does not particularly care who buys the house. As long as a buyer has the money, and the credit, feral dogs could move in and the seller would happily turn it over.
But in a house like ours, with adjoining walls that are paper thin, the neighbors are going to be part of your life. You will hear their vacuum cleaner. Their hair dryer. Their stereo and TV. Their toaster popping up. Their breathing. A slightly raised voice when one of them encounters the other one eating the last peanut butter brownie. So you must weed out the ones you do not feel would be compatible. For instance, here are some examples of notes we have created on various prospective buyers visiting the house next to us:
First prospective buyers: Con: Noise created while ascending and descending stairs exceeds the threshold set by the Homeowners' Association Stair Climbing Commission. Pro: None identified.
Second prospective buyers: Pros: Look mature, seem very nice upon "accidental" meeting outside. Con: Own a small dog of the variety that feel it their duty to engage in continual yapping.
Third prospective buyers: Con: Own a truck that is longer than the house. Pro: Own a truck that perhaps we can borrow when we need to get rid of extremely large objects.
As for acting upon these observations, one must of course act with caution and wisdom. With the prospective buyers who clumped loudly on the stairs, we debated opening our back door as they were leaving and, in a nonchalant manner, saying something like "WHAT TIME DID YOU SAY ALL THOSE PEOPLE WERE COMING OVER? GOOD THING WE JUST GOT THE NEW STEREO!"
All in the name of being a good neighbor.
The house next door to us is for sale, and we have noticed an increase in showings lately. In what is a totally unrelated coincidence, many, many homes in our row have been for sale or rent during our few years here, and the home on the other side of us is now occupied by the fourth tenants since we have been here. Of course this does not have anything to do with us.
But as neighbors to a house that is for sale, Joe and I feel it our obligation not only to keep our yard tidy but also -- perhaps even more importantly -- to offer commentaries on the prospective buyers. Not to the sellers, of course, although if they ever asked us we would be happy to furnish them with a spreadsheet of all the pros and cons of the various people who have come through their house, and our modest suggestions for proceeding with one of them.
In the absence of this sort of request on the part of the sellers, sometimes it becomes necessary to help encourage, or discourage, certain prospective buyers. This task falls to you, the neighbor, because the seller does not particularly care who buys the house. As long as a buyer has the money, and the credit, feral dogs could move in and the seller would happily turn it over.
But in a house like ours, with adjoining walls that are paper thin, the neighbors are going to be part of your life. You will hear their vacuum cleaner. Their hair dryer. Their stereo and TV. Their toaster popping up. Their breathing. A slightly raised voice when one of them encounters the other one eating the last peanut butter brownie. So you must weed out the ones you do not feel would be compatible. For instance, here are some examples of notes we have created on various prospective buyers visiting the house next to us:
First prospective buyers: Con: Noise created while ascending and descending stairs exceeds the threshold set by the Homeowners' Association Stair Climbing Commission. Pro: None identified.
Second prospective buyers: Pros: Look mature, seem very nice upon "accidental" meeting outside. Con: Own a small dog of the variety that feel it their duty to engage in continual yapping.
Third prospective buyers: Con: Own a truck that is longer than the house. Pro: Own a truck that perhaps we can borrow when we need to get rid of extremely large objects.
As for acting upon these observations, one must of course act with caution and wisdom. With the prospective buyers who clumped loudly on the stairs, we debated opening our back door as they were leaving and, in a nonchalant manner, saying something like "WHAT TIME DID YOU SAY ALL THOSE PEOPLE WERE COMING OVER? GOOD THING WE JUST GOT THE NEW STEREO!"
All in the name of being a good neighbor.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Breaking a law of nature
There are several laws governing our natural world. There are the laws of motion, the law of gravity, the law of conservation of energy, Mother's Law of Washing the Hands Before Eating, etc. And then there is the Netflix Law, which says that the person who most strenuously argues FOR watching a particular movie will be the first person to fall asleep while watching that movie. Within the first ten minutes.
Some laws have corollaries, too. The corollary to this law is that the person who did not particularly want to watch the movie in the first place will be unable, no matter how awful the movie is, to fall asleep during it.
Let's look at an example of this law and its corollary. Few people know that Netflix can attribute its enormous success almost solely to Joe, who, as a bachelor, watched an unprecedented number of movies and documentaries. He saw no reason for this to abate once we were married, and the little red envelopes continued to arrive daily.
He was particularly eager to see a documentary about Einstein, admiring the man's great brain for math and science. My tastes run more to Pride and Prejudice ("Make haste, Jane! Make haste!"). But I generously agreed to watch Einstein, and when Joe promptly fell asleep -- somewhere around Minute 8 -- I continued to watch Einstein, mainly because at that point I was not on familiar terms with the remote control, and anyway we did not have a copy of Pride and Prejudice lying around.
Joe woke up while the movie was still in progress, and immediately wanted to know what he had missed.
"I can't believe it!" I said. "This is terrible! Einstein was married to this brilliant woman, but then he fell in love with his own cousin, and he divorced the brilliant woman to marry her, but he kind of liked the cousin's daughter for a while, and then he went after his friend's niece, and --"
Amid this rush of torrid details Joe said desperately, "But did they say anything about math?"
The rush of torrid details was replaced by a blank stare. "Math...?"
"Yeah. Einstein. Math. His discoveries."
"Well..." I said, "I suppose they might have.... I didn't really catch that part. But he wrote all these love letters to all these women...!"
Inadvertently, we had discovered a way to circumvent the law of falling asleep during movies. Joe now knows that if he wants to find out anything of consequence, he will have to stay awake himself. And we have Einstein to thank for it all.
Some laws have corollaries, too. The corollary to this law is that the person who did not particularly want to watch the movie in the first place will be unable, no matter how awful the movie is, to fall asleep during it.
Let's look at an example of this law and its corollary. Few people know that Netflix can attribute its enormous success almost solely to Joe, who, as a bachelor, watched an unprecedented number of movies and documentaries. He saw no reason for this to abate once we were married, and the little red envelopes continued to arrive daily.
He was particularly eager to see a documentary about Einstein, admiring the man's great brain for math and science. My tastes run more to Pride and Prejudice ("Make haste, Jane! Make haste!"). But I generously agreed to watch Einstein, and when Joe promptly fell asleep -- somewhere around Minute 8 -- I continued to watch Einstein, mainly because at that point I was not on familiar terms with the remote control, and anyway we did not have a copy of Pride and Prejudice lying around.
Joe woke up while the movie was still in progress, and immediately wanted to know what he had missed.
"I can't believe it!" I said. "This is terrible! Einstein was married to this brilliant woman, but then he fell in love with his own cousin, and he divorced the brilliant woman to marry her, but he kind of liked the cousin's daughter for a while, and then he went after his friend's niece, and --"
Amid this rush of torrid details Joe said desperately, "But did they say anything about math?"
The rush of torrid details was replaced by a blank stare. "Math...?"
"Yeah. Einstein. Math. His discoveries."
"Well..." I said, "I suppose they might have.... I didn't really catch that part. But he wrote all these love letters to all these women...!"
Inadvertently, we had discovered a way to circumvent the law of falling asleep during movies. Joe now knows that if he wants to find out anything of consequence, he will have to stay awake himself. And we have Einstein to thank for it all.
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