d-day minus 8: recontextualizing

It might be even longer. I suspect that it will be longer.

Because of all the wonderful hormones that are peaking at this final moment, there is pretty much no way I am going to feel good until after the hormone-factory (known as the placenta) leaves my body to normalize itself. So, feeling good is several weeks away.

To add insult to injury, there is this nasty cold.

I don’t like being uncomfortable. But I also don’t really like complaining.

So here’s my plan: the goal of each day is to reach the end of it. Not to accomplish tasks or learn things or even to ‘have a nice day.’ The goal is to get through the time.

Time is weighing very heavy on my hands. As well as everything else in my body. But maybe this is sort of like an 8 day plane ride. Just have to get through the uncomfortableness in the most dignified way possible.

D-Day -10: more fun with cat and dog

What with being pregnant, and the pregnancy-related discomfort (carpal tunnel is making my hands unable to hold a book while laying down–the only position I can maintain for long, and having a cold going on 10 days, I am finding what entertainment I can.

Here is my first movie. I should find a way of adding it to the “Animal Tongues” collection:

I sniffed the tuna hard to see if my sense of smell was beginning to return. It is not.
Chris gave me a pained look, and said it was just as well for the moment
 

 

Baby update–still a girl

So yesterday the doctor peeked in on my child and it appears that she has flipped over. Glad to hear that she is not waiting untilthe last minute to get ready to find the exit.

He commented that her legs are long, and her tummy is a little large. “But it’s in the normal range.”

He pointed out her spleen and liver but the picture on the screen just looked like a round sponge and her guts looked like the holes. But Dr. seemed pleased with the state of her organs.

No looking at the heart this time, though. I guess since she is such a wiggler, we’re not worried about her heart anymore.

Then we looked at her face and her head WHICH IS ENORMOUS NOW. Doc said “Look, she’s frowning.” That I could sort of see. He went on “She doesn’t like us looking at her.”

“No, she’s thinking,” I said. Her frown had nothing to do with us! She didn’t know anything about us!

“You’re right! Look, her fist is up by her forehead.”

Yeah, no kidding. I know my kid already.

He moved the wand around, and said “Let’s make sure nothing started growing.” He looked between her legs, “Yup, she’s still a girl.”

 

I thought halloween was over…memories of profane horrors

So someone hooked me up to some facebook groups regarding the Christian culture of my youth. Some skeletons are stored much more comfortably in the closet.

But the doors were opened and out rattled the dusty (or not so dusty) bones.

The first one was, of course, A.C.E.- Accelerated Christian Education. That was where it all started. Here is a nice quote from the journal Phi Delta Kappa I found on Wikipedia regarding that initial horror:

“If parents want their children to obtain a very limited and sometimes inaccurate view of the world – one that ignores thinking above the level of rote recall – then the ACE materials do the job very well. The world of the ACE materials is quite a different one from that of scholarship and critical thinking”[18]

‘Cause really, I prize the abandonment of critical thinking above most things. (where is the irony emoticon when you need it?)

But Facebook is demonstrating it’s wide range of people. There’s more!

HOMESCHOOL

That was lighter reading, perusing the groups of homeschoolers who reminisce about staying in their pajamas all day and finishing the day’s homework in 2 or 3 hours. And all this while testing 2 or 3 or 10 grades above their ‘schooled’ peers.

The homeschool groups were cheerier. But then they dipped back into the dark. Someone mentioned being schooled by ATI, the homeschool program developed by Bill Gothard

Bill Gothard…*shudder*… and the Institute for Basic Youth Conflicts. Hard to get more hard core stupid…I hesistate to use the word ‘stupid’ because it’s more damaging than that, but I want to be derisive and dismissive.

Gothard’s week-long seminar in Basic Youth Conflicts was a hitler-youth like winnowing of impulses and life choices into sin and salvation–and salvation always lay on the side of submitting one’s free will and personality to the authority of God. And the authority of God was not represented by an internal understanding or relationship with God…It was corporeally represented by the Church Leader. My pastor quoted Gothard almost as frequently as scripture.

Bill Gothard developed a highly structured Home School curriculum. THANK CHRIST I was spared that. I suspect it’s because it was expensive. But I would love to hear about what it was like from those who were subjected to it.

Facebook has a group for that, too. I found it through the “Bill Gothard is quite possibly the Anti-Christ” group.

 

Slog

I will tell you, this post has very little thought put into it.

I have 6 weeks of work left, and the things that I need to do are progressing nicely. There are a few more things that I have to do that I could be working on. But I’m not.

My motivation is low, and I’m scouting around for something to entertain me. No luck. The news is depressing, offering unsubstantiated expectations for the new president (euphoric, dire and cautious–covering the bases) and reports of massive massive layoffs.

pheh

Pop culture or other fluff seems silly and selfish in the face of this news, so no solace there.

The best place right now is in cute animal pictures.

I’ve been in the office for 3 hours now, and not getting much done.

Maybe I should unearth my iPod. A podcast would come in handy right now.

Contemplation

I was with a group of friends last night, and someone was unclear about what exactly a blog is.

Don’t throw ME in the briar patch!

But you know, I’ve been doing this blog thing for 6 and a half years. It is a container to hold the mind-matter that might otherwise jam up in my head.

I dont’ know if it begets further mediocrity or if it actually helps me hone my thinking.

I guess what I know for sure it does is save trees. I would be writing SOMETHING even if were on notebooks that would pile up and be in the way. I do have enough of those hanging around anyway.

If we didn’t have this new container for writing, communication, creativity, what-have-you, this receptacle that is the internet…I think we would probably write more letters.

Or maybe we would put on local dispalys of art–theater productions, paintings, music sessions, something. At the risk of sounding like Captain Kirk, I think it’s part of what makes humans great.

And yeah, there are a lot of stupid outpourings. This particular post would be one of them. But then, there is the occasional flash of something greater.  I have a category “Attempts at Profundity” that is for those little flashes.

I guess capturing them is worth the rest of the drivel.

Oscar the Orange Grower, or Why Wealth Redistribution Doesn’t Work

This story was inspired by the last presidential debate, starring ‘Joe the Plumber’, and by the many comments from small business owners who responded to this pajamasmedia piece.

Oscar had an orange tree in his backyard. One day, he put the oranges in the basket on his bike to sell them at the fruit market. He paid the ten cents to cross the toll bridge, and sold all his oranges that day. He counted his money and started making plans. Selling oranges became a regular thing, and Oscar set aside the money for the fares. The rest was pure profit.

Oscar kept thinking. He looked at the orange tree and saw its roots were in dry and dusty earth. He spent some money and did the work to water and fertilize his tree. Now he had so many oranges he had to make two trips a day on his bike to sell them all. So he bought a trailer to hold all the oranges. The time and toll money he saved soon paid off the investment in the trailer.

He bought another orange tree, and when it bore fruit he invested more money into his oranges. He needed more people to drive the oranges to the market, so he bought another bike and another trailer. When he had enough money, he hired someone to take the oranges to the market and now he had some real money.

He slowly added more bikes and more workers for his orange selling business. After time, he had paid ten people to sell his oranges and help tend his trees. He spent all his time overseeing the work.

But a new road commissioner took charge of the toll bridge. He wanted to change things. Currently, everyone paid ten cents to cross the bridge. But the commissioner thought that was unfair. He felt that ordinary people should not have to pay to cross the bridge. Only bikes with trailers—obvious commercial enterprises—should have to pay for the privilege. As he said, they are the only ones making money by crossing the bridge so they should be the only ones to pay. He wanted to take the extra money that he gathered and help poor people.

He bikes with trailers to pay a dollar for every crossing. Now Oscar had to start making plans. When he started out, he only had to pay bridge toll to sell his oranges. But as the business grew, he spent money on water, fertilizer, and a trailer. Now he had to pay his workers, collecting the money from the orange sales to cover all the expenses incurred by production and sales of oranges.

Oscar added up all the expenses with the new bridge toll. He thought about how hard he worked to keep everything flowing. He liked selling oranges, but it had been a long time since he himself had sold an orange. Now that the tolls were so much higher, he couldn’t make as much money with all his employees. Too much of his money would pay for tolls now; it didn’t make sense to work so hard for someone else.

He thought some more, and decided to live off the oranges from just one tree. He could go back to making two trips a day on his bike. If he didn’t use a trailer, he wouldn’t’ have to pay a toll at all. He would be quite comfortable.

He fired all his workers and went back to a peaceful life. His workers had no more money, so they went to the road commissioner. He’d said that he would distribute the new toll money to the poor, and they were poor now.

But without the bike trailer traffic there was no extra toll money, and the road commissioner turned them away.