Deep Thoughts of a Common Household Mom

What does it all mean?

2012-02-10T22:19:00.000-05:00

What does it mean when you tell your daughter she will bealone in the house all morning, and she claps her hands together with glee andsays, “Then I’ve got work to do!” and rushes out of the room?

What does it mean when you are driving through a tunnel,with 5,000 tons of rock above you, and water drips from the ceiling onto yourcar?

What does it mean when the road sign says “No Turns” and thevery next road sign says “Left Lane Must Turn Left”?

What does it mean when you work for 12 hours straight to helpyour aunt pack for moving to a retirement home, but it hardly looks like youmade a dent in the mountains of stuff?

What does it mean when your husband comes home withprovisions (while you are away on your trip), bringing meatloaf, Doritos, andHo-Hos, and your son says, “Dad, I see you’ve been to the man store!”?

* * * * *

I drove 328 miles today, home from my aunt’s house, andI’m wondering what it all means.

What do you think it all means?

I think it means it's time for bed!

Bittersweet procrastination

2012-02-05T22:31:00.002-05:00

I have an overwhelming number and variety of things to getdone this month, related either to aging relatives or children who refuse to do homework. But I want to take the time to mentionthis book that I read last month: ABittersweet Season: Caring for Our Aging Parents and Ourselves, by JaneGross. 2011, Alfred A. Knopf. The author also started the NY Times blog TheNew Old Age. http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/

Here are just three of the many helpful things I read inthis book:

“Denial runs deep, andthe odds that you are reading this book to prepare for something that hasn’tyet happened are slim, no matter how much I wish otherwise. More than likely, you’re already in the thickof things, as I was, and have already made your share of panicky mistakes. There’s little to be gained by going backdown the pointless highway of second-guessing yourself. I, you, most of us do the best we can,just as our parents did the best they could with us when we were children,getting tons of things wrong, or just a few, some because of omission and somecommission but guided, except in rare instances, by good intentions.” P. 56

“You can judge thequality of geriatric care from hospital to hospital by how they managedentures.”

One of the mainindicators that a person is reaching a state of dependency on others is whethershe can rise from a chair without pushing off with her hands.

As soon as I read that last one, I panicked and had to tryit myself. No, I haven’t reached a stateof dependency yet, it seems, but I hope and pray when my turn approaches that I’lldo something about it before I reachthat point. Today I needed to actuallydo some paid work, but it was a rare sunny day here, so I bagged the work and insteadwent for a walk in the park with Youngest Daughter. I have not been getting any exercise. There are some times when procrastination isjust good for one’s mental health.

Leadership Lessons?

2012-01-31T21:24:00.001-05:00

Tonight’s dinnerconversation:

YoungestDaughter said, with excitement, “In band class today we watched a leadershipvideo. I learned that if you quicklyclasp your hands together with your fingers interlocked, then if you’ve got theleft thumb on top then you are right-brained, and you are a good kisser, butif...”

Me: You’re a good what?

YD: A good kisser. But if the right thumb is on top then you areleft-brained, and a good thinker.

Husband: Where did you learnthat?

YD: I learned it from the guy in the leadershipmovie we watched in music class. Theguy’s name was Tim.

Me: Why were you watching amovie in music class?

Son: Tim?! “There are some who call me Tim.”

(Husband and Son imagineMonty Python’s Tim the Enchanter starring in a leadership video. Teaching people to clasp their handstogether.)

Me: Wait a minute. What you’re saying is that if you are a goodkisser then you’re not a thinker? And ifyou are a good thinker then you’re a terrible kisser?

Husband: Why does the left thumb on top mean you areright-brained?

YD: Because the right side of the brain governsthe left side of the body.

Husband: Which side do you use to talk with?

YD: Well, what side of your mouth are you using?

Husband: I speak out of both sides of my mouth.

I’m glad my daughterlearned some good lessons about leadership from this video. By Tim. In music class.

No wonder theelection is going the way it is.

Prayer Room

2012-01-29T10:59:00.000-05:00

At the retreat

That’s me this morning before dawn, opening and closing thedoor (which makes far louder a noise than I intended), turning on all the hall lights by mistake,interrupting the few other early morning risers. I’m just bumbling around at 6:15 in themorning, wondering who Jesus is.

This year at the retreat we have an honest-to-God prayerroom. Some participants have asked forthis for years, but for whatever reason it didn’t happen until this year. I thought that simply an empty room with afew chairs would suffice. After all, onecan pray just about anywhere, right? Happily, somebody else, not me, is incharge of setting up the prayer room.

Early Saturday morning I decide to go to the prayer room tosay a quick prayer for my parents. I amalways saying quick prayers for my parents, so I’m expecting nothing special. WhatI find is different and better than a sparse room. The lights are dimmed and there are candles,a figurine of people standing in a circle holding hands, a mini-waterfall, andsome books. One is titled “JesusCalling.” Well, I guess Jesus is callingme to stay in this room a while.

For a while I just stand, contemplating the quiet and calm. Then,feeling too closed in, and I decide to open the blind. It is still quite dark, but the outsidefloodlights illuminate the steady snow, falling on the trees and the bushes, onthe road and the fields, on the just and the unjust, on the weak and thestrong, on all the children of God. Ithink of my father in Parkinson’s Land, of my mother in Caregiver’s Land, andall the others stumbling through life and the approach to death. The fallingsnow is too much beauty to comprehend.

There are paper and pens for writing prayers. This is helpful, as it makes me put my prayerinto intelligible words. I haven’t foundout this morning exactly who Jesus is, but I have found a place where I can write him a note, saywhat’s going on, bare my soul, cry my eyes out, and thank God for reminding me ofbeauty and sorrow so early in the morning.

A few minutes later I am heading to the exercise class,ready to start my day.

* * * * *

It is now a week later. I am not sure anymore exactly what I wrote in my prayer. Just asking God to help my parents throughtheir suffering, to give them joy and laughter as much as possible, and to bewith them always.

Photos were taken after prayer, just before exercise. I always find a way to stay busy.

Vignette from the Common Household

2012-01-27T17:34:00.000-05:00

Youngest Daughter is in the kitchen baking a cake, singingthe song “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” from Mulan with her own lyrics: “Missus, I’ll make a cook out of you!...Let’s get down to stirring... with all the strength of a raging pie crust, as seriousas the dark side of the cake!” Earlierthis afternoon, tired of her wasting her brain in front of Phineas and Ferb, Igave her a choice: “For dinner tonight you are going to make either a vegetableor a dessert. You pick which one.” She will not let me see the recipe she isusing. Maybe it’s carrot cake, whichwould qualify for both categories!

Meanwhile, Son is at the piano, pounding out John Williams' themefrom the “Superman” movie. It has a lotof octaves and loud chords.

I am in the office, agonizing over the date of next year’sretreat, listing the tasks my aunt needs to do to be ready to move to theretirement home, and trying to ignore my sore throat and impending cold.

Oldest Daughter is at college, doing who knows what, butprobably pining away for the care package that I have not sent to her yet. Sorry, sweetie! I didn’t get to it yet. But don’t worry, it will not have any singingrabbi dolls in it this time.

My husband is at work. Good thing one of us did some work today.

What's going on with you right now?

List for today

2012-01-24T11:38:00.000-05:00

A miracle occurred this morning: Youngest Daughter gotherself up for school on time!

Meanwhile, I overslept and didn’t get out of bed until7:20. Maybe it’s because I face a bigto-do list today. My singularlyuninteresting and suburban-housewifely list is below, for those of you who lovereading lists. It’s now 11:00 AM and Ihave gotten the groceries, made the appointment for the car, and started thelaundry. But it looks like there needsto be another miracle for any more of my list to get done. (Notice how ‘write a blog post’ was not on mylist.) I think I ought to add 'Be grateful for small miracles' to my list.

What’s on your list for today?

Doctor’s appt (annual checkup) at 2 pm –check address

Call Mom – discuss dates for familyconference regarding Dad’s medical treatment

Call Aunt – help her find someone to go to herbasement and sort stuff

Groceries

Get refill on asthma inhaler

Laundry

Wash sheets

Assemble and send care pkg to Oldest Daughterat college

RSVP for Saturday’s soup social

Scout Shabbat on Friday – what time?

Work – respond to request, continue 3projects

Take a walk?

Order TheNext Christians for book discussion

Make dinner

Fill out and send Merit Badge Counselorregistration form

Find out time of SAT on Saturday

Look at May calendar and send piano teacherviable dates for recital

Make appt for car repair

Send refund checks for those who didn’t makeit to the retreat

Call retreat center to reserve 2013 date

Send e-mail to retreat participants askingfor photos

Pay qtly township taxes

On the menu

2012-01-20T14:52:00.000-05:00

I am outta here! I amretreating for the weekend to my church’s annual women’s retreat. There is a winter storm scheduled to startlate tonight, into tomorrow morning, but I plan to get out of town before the stormhits.

Last night at dinner we had this conversation in preparationfor the survival of the rest of the family, while I am gone.

Common HouseholdHusband: What should we have to eatwhile Mom is away?

Son: Obviously,we need Ho-hos, Doritos, nutter-butters...

Husband: What about the main course?

Youngest Daughter: Your hamburgers!

Son: We could have Twinkies, but they’re going outof business.

YD: Your hamburgers, Dad!

Son: How about Cheese Whiz?

Husband: I don’t think I’ve ever had Cheese Whiz. WhereI grew up, they have Hickory Farms. There’s nothing like a Hickory Farms portwine cheese ball! ... So, what do you wantfor the main course?

Son: How about Chicken Parmesan?

Husband: (glares at son, because Husband does not wantto cook this weekend, and doesn’t know where to buy Chicken Parmesan)

YD: Do you meanParmesan Chicken?

I am hoping, for the pizza delivery person’s sake, that theWintry Mix is all over with by the time the Common Household wants its dinnerSaturday night. And it’s too bad thatHostess Brands couldn’t have held off on the bankruptcy, because purchases oftheir products will likely increase this weekend.

If you were away for the weekend, what would your householdeat?

Guest Post: Soul Singularity

2012-01-18T20:16:00.000-05:00

Today I welcome to the blog Youngest Daughter. The opportunity to post here is one of two rewards she earned today by writing a page of math work neatly and correctly. The other reward involved chocolate.

¡Hola! Mi con mucho gracias! I don’t know what I just said,but I would like to let you know that the name that I will be using from nowon, Ailsa Roovene, is not a real name, but a pseudonym for another identity.Anyways, I have come onto this blog today to speak of an important topic: TheSingularity of the Soul. The singularity of the soul is a very interestingthing to speak of, and also can be very confusing to write about. So, please,bear with me as I tell you all about it.

The singularity of the soul is a person’s self-awareness,and the non-anyone-else-awareness. This may not be common among you grown-ups,but it is certainly common among my fellow children. We of this age do notunderstand the problems of the outside world, (at least, most of us don’t) anddon’t recognize others’ positions until they are described to us. And eventhen, we may not be entirely clear on the topic. For instance, I, until amoment ago, didn’t understand the difficulty of the teacher when grading 300test papers. And even now, I still don’t fully grasp the enormity of the taskset to those poor teachers. This generation doesn’t think of life beyond theirscope of experience, and doesn’t grasp the difficulty of those in other positionsthat we have not experienced ourselves.

In my opinion, this is because of the protected lifestylesthat most American children now lead. We don’t understand the situation ofstarvation, because we have no idea how that could be in the perfect world thatwe know. (Of course, some children actually do understand the difficulty ofthese people, and the problems of the world. These children are called “thosewho have the ability to step in to others’ shoes”.) Ahem. Anyways. We don’tunderstand how the world could have evil in it that isn’t pure evil, or goodthat isn’t pure good. Our life is centered around ourselves and our friends,not caring for those, say, in Africa or India. Even if we are told, we don’tcare, since it isn’t important to the lives that we lead currently. The onlyevil we are experienced with is the evil in movies and video games, and we knowthat these aren’t real. We can’t care about the difficulty of others in otherplaces, even if we are told about it, because we don’t have the scope ofexperience to understand their pain.

I hope you enjoyed my talk about: The Singularity of theSoul. ¡Adios!

Carpe Snowem!

2012-01-15T22:41:00.000-05:00

What’s a girl to do when there is a scant 2 inches of snowon the ground? Go sledding anyway!

Despite being in the final stages of planning the churchwomen’s retreat, I decided to brave the cold with Youngest Daughter yesterday.

We had a grand time. Playing outside eased the emptinesscaused by Oldest Daughter’s departure back to college. Trudging up the short hill kept at bay myfrustrating uselessness in the face of my Dad’s illness and my Mom’s franticcaregiving. The snowfall may have messedup somebody’s day, but it was right on time for me.

Common Household Mom engaging in her favorite winter sport

Youngest Daughter goes down backwards

Then today, Youngest Daughter was all, “I’m calling myfriends to invite them over!” She rarelyhas this idea on her own, so I was all for it. Soon we had four girls running around in the snow.

Enough energy to RUN up the hill.

Snowball fight!

Another creature had been out there in the night or early morning. Rabbit? Deer? Dog? Cat?

The girls stayed out there for a long time. Good thing, because it is forecast to raintomorrow. This snow will be GONE.

The Tenth Commandment

2012-01-07T23:11:00.001-05:00

X: “Thou shalt notcovet thy sibling’s outing, nor the restaurant meal she will eat.”

On Friday night, we had our Sabbath dinner. Oldest Daughter is home from college untilnext week, which makes the table feel complete. As part of the Sabbath celebration, we light the candles, say theblessing over the bread and the juice. The kids have juice and my husband and I have a glass of wine.

Near the end of our dinner, the conversation went somethinglike this:

Me, to YoungestDaughter: There are some leftoverspinach enchiladas, so you can have one for breakfast tomorrow.

Youngest Daughter: Actually, tomorrow I’m just going to wake upin time for lunch!

Me: Oh, yeah, that’s right. Tomorrow afternoonYoungest Daughter and I are going out for lunch and a movie about a horse.

Oldest Daughter: Why are you going to that movie?

Me: It’s by Stephen Spielberg.

Youngest Daughter:We’re related to him! (We are, distantly. At least 5 degrees of separation. Mr. Spielberg has never heard of us.)

Husband: Where are you going for lunch?

Me: Probably “Casual Italian Chain Restaurant.”

Son: Can I go?

Me: No, it’s a Mother-Daughter event.

Son: What?! How come whenever I go out to a restaurant with you, you force me to go to a Chinese restaurant, but when you’re going to anItalian restaurant I can’t go?!

(We went to a Chineserestaurant on Dec 21^st. Yes,during Hanukkah. Son ordered a mammothportion of Honey Chicken, which he devoured completely. He did not appear to be suffering as heconsumed his meal.)

Husband: Yes, Son, it’s a terrible injustice in yourlife. You have no idea what kind ofinjustice I experienced as a boy.

Son: Dad. We allknow that you had to walk 3 miles to school, with snow up to here, even thoughyou were only this tall...

Husband: First ofall, we hardly ever went out to a restaurant. When we did go to a restaurant I had to go with my Dad and my grandmother. She always ate off of my plate, instead ofordering her own meal. And if I orderedsomething and didn’t finish it, I got yelled at.

(At our house thisline of discussion usually deteriorates into the Monty Python skit “You werelucky!” but not this time. There was toomuch coveting of YD’s outing going on.)

Oldest Daughter:Can I go to lunch with you at the CasualItalian Chain Restaurant?

Me: No. It’s a Mother-Daughter event with some of YD’s friends.

Oldest Daughter: But I want to go to an Italian restaurant.

Son: So do I.

Me: You can arrange a Father-Son event, and aFather-Oldest Daughter event, and get Dadto take you to Casual Italian Chain Restaurant.

(It was about now thatOldest Daughter, aged 18, grabbed the bottle of wine, poured it into herplastic cup, and drank it down. I hadlittle time to realize what she was doing before she had swallowed.)

Me: What are you doing?!

Oldest Daughter: I was thirsty, and I didn’t feel like gettingup to get some water, and there wasn’t anything else to drink on the table.

So our attentionturned to other things, such as what the legal age for drinking is.

It turns outthat we didn’t see Spielberg’s movie about the horse. Instead we saw “We Bought A Zoo” in which,for me, the major feature is that Scarlett Johansson gets to kiss MattDamon. But since this is a post aboutnot coveting, I will have to stop here.

Subtle Hint

2012-01-04T21:15:00.000-05:00

Monday night was the night before school resumed after thewinter break. At bedtime, we discoveredthat the weather was doing this:

So I left this helpful hint by the front door, hoping thatat least the front walk would be shoveled before I got up.

When I got up in the morning I saw this:

My hint was not taken. Admittedly there was little snow accumulation overnight. It piled up a bit more during the day. In the afternoon, Oldest Daughter went andshoveled the neighbor’s entire driveway, refusing my payment for her kindness. The Son shoveled our driveway, but demandedpayment.

Which leads me to the crucial question. What is your method of snow removal?

a) shovel it yourself

b) get your spouse to shovel

c) get your kids to shovel for free

d) pay your kids to shovel

e) pay a professional

f) hope the snow fairy shows up at your house

g) we don’t get no snow!

Searching the past

2012-01-03T21:06:00.000-05:00

It seems to be the time for reviewing the past. So here’s a brief review of this blog’shistoric past.

Oddly, quite a number of people come here seekinginformation about chipmunks. The most-clicked-on post is Perils in Suburbia from two summers ago.

A few of the search terms that have led people to this blog:

Subcategory:chipmunks

- chipmunk facts

- angry christmas chipmunk

- a questionable chipmunk

Subcategory: Momentousthings I wrote about

- passover ham

- round earth birthday cake

- home made calorimeter

- deep thoughts, clean bathroom

Subcategory:Things I don’t remember writing about

- women wearing men's clothes in the bible

- are pumpkin spiders poisonous

- easy right triangle solvingslogans (I did mention this, but offered no solutions and no slogans)

- cleverbot jesus of suburbia

In the Year 2512

2011-12-31T12:11:00.002-05:00

A writing challenge: How will people celebrate New Years 500Years in the future?

The Common Household’s responses are below. Feel free to participate with your own ideas.

Maybe you will have a more cheerful outlook than ourexpectations, which include the obesity epidemic normalized, nuclear war ascelebration, and global warming bringing on new traditions. What can I say? New Year’s is not my favoriteholiday. At least the United Federationof Planets plans on having a good time 500 years from now.

Happy New Year!

Oldest Daughter wrote:

“You excited to jump into the Giant Pudding Cup?” Blobbyasked his friend, Fat Jones.

“Yeah, dude. I can’t believe we finally get to go thisyear!”

“I know.” Blobby belched and wiped a greasy hand on his mouth.“Where’s the rest of the pizzas?”

“We only ordered 39,” Fat Jones said. “That’s 13 for you, 13for me, and 13 for Burrita.”

As if on cue, a harsh voice called from the other room“Don’t you go eating my pizzas! I’m saving a few for New Years!”

Blobby rolled his eyes. “Did you find the New Years ButterBalls?”

“Yeah, they’re all loaded into the cannon.”

“I call shooting them!”

“As long as you actually aim for my mouth this time.”

“You boys can’t shoot cannons until we go over to theneighbors and finish off their Root Beer Pool!” Burrita screeched.

Blobby and Fat Jones smiled at each other.

“I just love New Years Eve,” they said together.

Youngest Daughter wrote:

They will launch two huge nuclear bombs into the sky, sendthem onto their enemies, and then ooh and aah as their enemies are destroyed.Then, they’ll AAAAAH! as the nuclear radiation takes effect. Then, they’ll go underground until the 4th ofJuly.

Son wrote:

“Captain Picard, we need you at engineering. And bring Data! It’s an emergency, sir.”

Captain Picard tapped his communicator andreplied, “Very well. Data, come withme.”

In the elevator, Picard wondered what the problem couldbe. “It’d better not be thatmetal-eating slime again,” he thought. He stepped out of the elevator and approached the doors withtrepidation. As they slid open, he heard a great clatter of pots and pans, andthen the entire crew shouted, “Happy New Year, Captain!”

Common Household Mom wrote:

“Optimus! Come downhere! It’s time to get ready for the NewYear’s celebration.”

“Aw, Ma, do I have to?”

“Yes, you do, young man. Put on your jet pack right now.”

“But Ma, I hate jetting south to Newfoundland for NewYear’s. It’s so hot and swampy there.”

“Now, Optimus, you know it is the tradition to jet to the swamps,find 3-legged frogs, and throw them in the air for New Year’s. There is no better way to celebrate thearbitrary passage of time.”

“But why does it have to be frogs? Why can’t we throw something interesting likenuclear grenades?”

“Optimus, stop arguing and eat your recycled food pellet orwe’ll be late.”

“Ma, who cares about the year 2512 anyway? We might as well do something really bizarre,like bang a steel rod on one of those ancient cooking vessels, drink copiousamounts of stupor-inducing substances, and sing schmaltzy songs at the top ofour lungs. At least that would besomething new for a New Year’scelebration.”

Jesus' Middle Name

2011-12-25T08:39:00.000-05:00

Everyone knows that Jesus’ middle name begins with theletter H. As in, “Jesus H. Christ, youtracked mud all over the house, and I’m having company over thisafternoon!” Or “Jesus H. Christ, whycan’t Congress get something done?!”

I don’t know what that ‘H’ would stand for. Holy? Handsome?Heliotrope?

I’ve been taught that “Jesus” is English for the Greek forthe Hebrew (Aramaic?) Yeshua, meaning “God saves us.” But right now I’m thanking God that Jesus’other name (although it seems no one actually called him by this name) is“Immanuel” = “God with us.” It’scertainly more satisfying, in one’s anger, to say “Jesus H. Christ” than “JesusI. Christ,” so maybe that’s why Immanuel never caught on.

This Advent I’m finding it very comforting to consider Godwith us. Maybe that’s because I see thatGod does not save us fromunpleasantness and difficulty, such as the decline in a loved one’s health, thestubbornness of a child getting bad grades because she refuses to takeresponsibility, or the machinations of Congress. (The only thing that can be said aboutCongress is “Oy vey” with a sad shake of the head.) Listing these difficulties that I face makesthem seem petty, as I know that there are far greater difficulties in life thanthese. I’m so grateful that God is withus as we struggle through these parts of life. The idea that God is with me makes thesethings bearable.

It’s a good thing that God being with us doesn’t depend on

- how much or how well you have decorated your house

- doing your homework

- whether or not you stayed for the entire aerobics class

- obeying the speed limit

- buying the perfect gift

- Congress

- a whole host of other things

Thanks, God, for Immanuel, God-with-us.

Happy Hanukkah!

2011-12-21T17:21:00.000-05:00

Hanukkah: the most low-key and most fattening holiday ever invented.

All the essentials, plus some of our favorite Hanukkah stories from past years.

Homemade potato latkes! Oil, more oil!

I found these in the grocery store - they were labeled "Santa Bucks". Oh, well.

Dad lost the dreidel game. The dreidel just would not land on gimel.

Gift Suggestions for the Budding Physicist

2011-12-13T10:18:00.001-05:00

I have all kinds of thoughts brewing around in my head: how the“God with us” message of the Christmas story is more meaningful to me right nowthan the “God saves us” part of it; how I love Christmas cards but haven’t sentany yet; how music restores the soul; how I wish my printer were workingproperly (so that I could send the Christmas cards); and more.

But I can’t formulate those thoughts coherently right now,and of course, there’s no guarantee that they should appear here. So instead I will give you this wordlydiscussion I had the other day, in the hopes that you, like my son, will seehow to aim high in your requests.

My son and I were talking about toys. He said, “The slinky, for instance, is veryinteresting.”

I said, “I find the slinky to be not so interesting. It never works the way it is supposed to.”

He said, “The slinky is veryinteresting. It demonstrates lots ofphysics principles. You could get me onefor Christmas. Or... maybe you could getme an elevator! That would be great forphysics experiments.”

Me: “An elevator with a scale in it?”

Son: “Yeah!”

The Island of Misfit Cookies

2011-12-04T22:23:00.001-05:00

Last night Youngest Daughter and I made Christmascookies. This was partly therapy for me,as I was still regretting my bad behavior on Friday night at the synagogue familydinner. Sometimes I should just keep mymouth shut. I should realize that I’mnot the only one tired and stressed out.

Youngest Daughter also needed this cookie-makingsession. The pangs of adolescence weresharp for her this past week. We neededsome calm Mother-Daughter time.

So we got in the kitchen and made a good mess. She got creative and decided to meld thedifferent cookie cutter shapes. She usedthe 5-pointed star and the 6-pointed star together, and decorated them with redand green for Christmas and blue for Hanukkah. “Look! Christmas and Hanukkah areholding hands!” She started singing oneline of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” then a line from “Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah,Come Light the Menorah,” alternating back and forth. That drove me batty, but she was determinedto sing through all 12 days of Christmas and all 8 nights of Hanukkah in thatmanner.

Then the cookie shapes got a little more bizarre. She had the little-person shape melded to thebell, a tree with a reindeer head stuck to it, an angel flinging the littleperson around, and the front of the donkey with the back legs of thereindeer. We got covered with flour, but we didn’t have to look presentable. She took great care indecorating each cookie, but we had plenty of time. When I was taking the reindeer cookie off thetray, I nearly severed its neck, but nobody was judging our baking skills.

So we have some ordinary Christmas cookies, some weird cookies, and some partially repaired souls.

Common Household Proverb: The Door

2011-11-28T20:23:00.001-05:00

For lo, Children, the door has two functions: to be opened, and to be closed. After passing through the door and holding itopen for your elders, be certain to close the door, lest the flies,neighborhood children, and other undesirables enter the house. Yea, even a raccoon once entered the basementwhen you were camping in the back yard and neglected to close the basementdoor.

Truly, truly, I say unto you that when you are leaving to goto the school bus and you neglect to close the front door all the way, a coldand mighty wind enters the house, raising the heating bill and depleting yourcollege fund like chaff before the wind.

Beware, lest you attempt to enter the basement door without turningthe door handle. For if you break theglass thereof by pushing on it instead of turning the handle, sorrow shall stirwithin me at the thought of purchasing a new door.

But then I shall be clothed with shame, as I remember that I did a similar thing when I was a child; lo, I even required stitches on my arm for my iniquity. Therefore shall I offer you mercy and be thankful that you did not require stitches. For behold, I will forgive your iniquity, and the door shall be made new, at a cost equal to the cost of several small televisions. And the new door shall be a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

Common Household Thanksgiving Proclamation

2011-11-24T11:00:00.000-05:00

And here is the Common Household's Thanksgiving Proclamation from 2010:

One note: I hate mayonnaise. I abhor it. My family knows this and persecutes me mercilessly about it.

Last year on Thanksgiving, I posted this on the fridge, thinking that the family could have fun writing their own proclamations:

ThanksgivingProclamation

By Our Family

Whereas...We are grateful to God for all the bountiful blefsings which God has bestowedupon us,

Therefore...We will stuff ourselves with turkey and all the trimmings.

Whereas...

* * * * * *

In response, my brother wrote this, lapsing about half-way into the fake "changing S to F" found in the traditional proclamation:

Whereas...we are grateful to God for providing turkey far in excess of what we can eat in one meal, and...

Whereas...turkey sandwiches are known to be the most delicious sandwich ever concocted, and...

Whereas...no turkey sandwich is ever complete without a thick slathering of the Hellmans, and...

Whereas...the compleat fandwich confifts of the trinity of turkey, cranberry and mayo

Therefore we hold thif truth to be felf evident that the Common Houfehold must never be lacking, from thif day forthwith in having a large jar of

MAYONAIFE

The other dunning comments were added by the teenagers, my brother's daughter and my own daughter.

National Thanksgiving Proclamation

2011-11-23T21:22:00.001-05:00

Last year at Thanksgiving I found this version of George Washington's Thanksgiving Proclamation of 1789. I thought it would provide us with some sense of history, so I posted on the wall at Thanksgiving. But I thought the changing of "s" to "f" in this version was fake.

If you want to see the whole text in modern spelling, click here.

Among the things that Pres. Washington urged Americans to be thankful for:

- the "opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness"

- for The Great Being's "kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation"

- for "the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness"

- "for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed"

Happy National Day of Thanksgiving, everyone.

Helpful? Thankful?

2011-11-21T21:08:00.001-05:00

Recent Common Household Conversations about

Being Helpful and Thankful

Me: Son, you’re a fine person. Thank you for being a fine person.

Husband: You would be even finer if you knew brickpointing.

Son: Well, Dad, you can’t have everything.

* * * * *

Me: Ineed to understand the entire Medicare system by Monday.

Husband (trying to be helpful): Well, there’s this doughnut.

Me: Yeah?...

Husband: And if you eat the doughnut, you’re in a lotof trouble.

* * * * *

Me: Howshall we give thanks at Thanksgiving?

Son: By eatinghuge amounts of food!

Me: What words shall we use to give thanks?

Son: TheGettysburg Address?

Youngest Daughter: (softly and sweetly): We should write a poem.

Son: How about “Is this a dagger I see before me?”

Me: (frown at Son)

Son: Or“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace.”

Youngest Daughter: Is that from Macbeth?

Son: Yeah. My English teacher says that it is the scariest speech in the Englishlanguage. And if you read through theentire play that far, you can tell that it’s true.

* * * * *

Me: Willyou unload the dishwasher while I'm gone?

Youngest Daughter: I can't tell the future! A meteor might hit the house.

* * * * *

If a meteor is going to hit the house it would be helpful if it could hit before tomorrow,when I plan to start my Thanksgiving cooking. I’d hate to do all that cooking and then have a meteor hit.

My son showing appreciation for Shakespeare is, in some small way, like a meteor hitting the house.

But Iwould be very grateful if there wasno meteor. I mean, I’ve got guests coming. And I’ve already cleaned out therefrigerator. Alas, I haven't yet figured out Medicare.

Rub-a-Dub-Dub, Thanks for the Grub

2011-11-17T17:16:00.001-05:00

At a church retreat I went to this fall, we had thisquestion during an ice-breaker: What isyour favorite holiday? In my group, allten of us said Thanksgiving was our favorite. That might simply mean that all ten of us have tolerable family memberswho won’t cause trouble at a big family gathering.

For me the best thing about Thanksgiving is giving thanks toGod for the gathering of the family, for bringing us to this season, and, yes,for the delicious traditional food.

Which brings me to my Thanksgiving survey. If someone asks what we are truly thankfulfor, we often will say family and friends, as those are the most precious tous. Nobody ever says “indoor plumbing”or “the library,” but I think we have to recognize that we are thankful forthose things, too.

This survey is focused on and limited to Thanksgiving food. Because I am an American. Here is my question, which I also posed to myprospective Thanksgiving dinner guests:

Thanksgiving survey

Please complete the following sentence with a food item. One entry per person.

It just wouldn't beThanksgiving dinner without _______________________.

Please answer in the comments. If you want a bigger platform than this humble household blog gives you, you can go toCNN’s site.

Reading glasses... what every Thanksgiving table needs.

Capitalist opportunity

2011-11-13T15:26:00.001-05:00

Dear Fellow Capitalists,

I have discovered a glaring gap in the greeting cardindustry.

Here’s the story. One of the adult scout leaders in my son’stroop was ill. As a part of my ongoing project to raise my children to be politeand respectable adults, I suggested to my son that it would be appropriate tosend the scout leader some get-well wishes. My son’s idea was this:

1.Type on the computer:

DearMr. B,

Getwell soon.

From,

CommonHousehold Son

2. Print it out on a plain white 8.5x11 sheet of paper.

3. Hand it to me to put in an envelope and mail.

4. Play on the Wii.

But I insisted that he had to send an actual card. I got out my stash of Get Well cards and foundsome with lovely pastels, flowers, and swirly words of cheer:

Those clearly wouldn’t do for a Boy Scout. I looked some more and found this one,without flowers:

I handed it to my son. He looked at me, and said, “Ducks?! Mom!”

I tried this one:

“CHICKENS?!” he guffawed. “Don’t they make cards with pictures of people hiking, or tents in acampground? I can’t send a card withducks or chickens to Mr. B.”

I spent a few hours and the grocery store, the drug store,and the Hallmark store, looking for masculine get well cards. I found ONE get well card labeled, “For Him”with a portrayal of tools and gears on it. I bought it, and every other get well card I found that did not lookfeminine or crude.

So, capitalists, here is a market niche that you canfill. Because there has got to be a hugeuntapped market, worth millions, of Boy Scouts and other manly men out therelooking for respectable masculine get well cards to send to their male friends.

I asked my husband about this, and he said he doesn’tbelieve in greeting cards. Sigh.

Things which are not as good as

2011-11-09T20:42:00.000-05:00

Things which are not as good as the thing they are trying to imitate:

Pumpkin pie Poptarts vs Pumpkin Pie

Wonderbread vs Homebaked Wonderful Bread

Bagel Thins vs Bagels (bagel fats?)

Stuffed Turkey vs Stuffed Turkey

Beat it with a stick

2011-11-07T17:21:00.000-05:00

In October I visited my parents. I got back home on Sunday October 23rd, andthe next morning I went to aerobics class. The routines included lots of punching, which normally I don’t like, butI found it therapeutic this time around. Not only did I sorely need exercise after 5 days sitting around at theOld Folks’ Home, but I needed to punch something.

I have mentioned before that my father has Parkinson’sdisease. The doctor who saw him in thehospital said that the only way to treat Parkinson’s is to “beat it with astick.” Sixteen years ago, my Dadstarted out fighting it with Darth Maul’s light saber. But now it seems his weapon is reduced to atwig.

Hospital neurologists were able to stop his hallucinationsand dyskinesia (uncontrollable, random, violent body movements) by changing hisParkinson’s meds regimen – smaller doses given more frequently. Within 24 hours of this new regimen he wasrestored to sanity and was no longer at risk of throwing himself out of bed. By the time I arrived in town, he was able tocarry on a conversation, which meant that I had a good visit with him.

But that doesn’t mean that all is well. Reducing the dosages decreases hismobility. I’ll spare you all thedetails, but it’s not at all easy for him, or for my Mom. I can't even begin to say what effect all this has on my Mom. Also, it seems practically impossible for themedicine nurse in the nursing care unit to stick to the 3-hour pillschedule. The system they have in placeworks fairly well for all the patients, but does not work excellently for anyone patient.

So at aerobics class that day every punch was destined forParkinson’s Disease. I want to beat itto a pulp.

Today Dad is back in the hospital with more of the samesymptoms. I feel trapped – I want to gothere but I would have to either leave the kids here and come back beforeFriday or take them with me. Eitheroption is horribly complicated. So Istay here, and wring my hands, and go to aerobics, and punch the air.

D.I.Y. Biological Halloween Costume

2011-11-05T15:42:00.006-04:00

As a service to humanity, or at least parents of childrenwith a scientific bent, I present the Common Household home-made scientificHalloween costume: the cell.

A cell lurks in the neighborhood

From my perspective, this costume was great. Youngest Daughter bubbled with enthusiasm atthe possibility of being a cell for Halloween. So I handed her an old sheet andsome fabric paint, and said, “Measure twice, cut once. Don’t get paint on thecarpet. Go for it.” That was the full extent of myinvolvement. She did all the workherself.

The first task was to cut a hole for her head. She got out the measuring tape, the stiff metal kind that is useful for measuring rooms and furniture, and measured herhead. She said, “Mommy, do you reallythink that my head could be 2 feet around?” Her brother said, “If you want to get an accurate measurement, use astring. Wrap it around your head, and then take the string off and measure itslength.” She bounded off in search ofstring. She remembered to figure outwhere the center of the sheet was before she cut the hole. Whew!

Then it was just a matter of painting the various parts ofthe cell. When I was in school, a cellonly had a nucleus. Nowadays a cell ischock full of all kinds of stuff, including endoplasmic reticulum, which is funto say but difficult to explain. Mydaughter picked the paint colors herself, and outlined everything inglow-in-the-dark clear fabric paint.

Okay, bio majors, what's missing here?

Answer in the penultimate paragraph.

This costume had a bonus. The 7^th grade science classes are currently learning aboutcells, so my daughter took her costume into class, and explained it in detail. Theteacher gave her not one, but twohomework passes which can be turned into extracredit at the end of the quarter. Halloween candy plus a bettergrade – there are no losers here.

I have been informed that this cell model is missingsomething. When I called my daughter to come downstairs and explain the endoplasmicreticulum to me, she came half-way down the stairs and said, “I can do thatfrom up here.” To encourage brevity Isaid, “I’ll bet you can do it standing on one foot” (just like Rabbi Hillel). So she stood on the stairs on one foot andtold me what the endoplasmic reticulum does. She revealed that her cell does not include the smooth endoplasmic reticulum, because she didn't have room for it. I didn’t retain much of her explanation, except to note that there is anawful lot that goes on inside a cell.

What is your favorite home-made Halloween costume? Or do you prefer store-bought?

The benefits of being a cell for Halloween

Just in Time for Halloween

2011-10-30T22:27:00.001-04:00

Guest Post by Youngest Daughter - her own recipe for Witch's Brew. Happy Halloween!

Witch’s Brew

By Youngest Daughterof the Common Household

Whatyou need:

a cauldron

anIsraeli coffee pot

3hand presses of moss (shredded)

1ladleful of dirt

3coffeepots of tap water

12wet leaves (oak is the best)

1pinch of ground bark

2pinches of pencil shavings

2coffeepots of secrets ingredient

1 large stick(not over 1 ½ ft. long)

What to do: Line the bottom of yourcauldron by sprinkling it with the moss. Add the tap water.

Add the rest of your ingredients in the orderabove, except for the pencil shavings, secrets ingredient, and the large stick.Add the pencil shavings slowly, sprinkling each pinch around the top of yourbrew.

Add one coffee of the secrets ingredient, sayyour magical words, and add the other coffee.

Stir slowly with your large stickcounter-clockwise 10 times. Stir clockwise 7 times. Allow your brew to sit for20 seconds, then rest your stick against the cauldron in a 6:00 position.

Immediately clear away the rest of yourthings, and leave your brew to stew under a maple tree. The next day, your brewshould have stewed long enough for it to be done. Add more water at this timeif necessary.

DO NOT EAT UNLESS YOU ARE A WITCH! If you area witch, serve cold.

Word of advice: Sittingwater is better than tap water, because it has had more time to collect magic.However, if your mom won’t let you get sitting water for your brew, like mine,then you can just use tap water like in the instructions.

Science at Dinner

2011-10-25T21:21:00.000-04:00

I was away for five days at my parents. My Dad is stable for now, in the nursing careunit at the retirement place. More onthat another time, perhaps. I got back on Sunday, and was able to participate in this dinner-time science lesson.

Youngest Daughter (plaintively): Mommy, why do we have to grow up?

Son: Technically speaking, you don’t have to grow up, but the experimentalprobability of not growing up is incredibly small.

Me: If yougrow up but your body doesn’t grow up, that’s not too good.

Son: Then you’re just pretentious.

Me: ??? Pretentious?

Son: Yeah. That’s on our list of 100 SAT words.

Me (after much thought): Perhaps you mean ‘precocious?’

Son: Yes. Somethinglike that....

Myson went on to talk about chemicals, and mentioned phosphate. Youngest Daughter said, “What are the twothings about phosphate?” (She meant ‘What are the elements in phosphate?’)

Son: “Phosphorus andoxygen.”

YD: “Phosphorus and ostrichen?”

Heexplained that phosphorus is used to make fertilizer. Youngest Daughter was inspired to write thissong about phosphate. It is sung to atune she learned at Girl Scout camp, more like a cheer than a song.

P-H-O-S-P-H!

A-T-E spells phosphate, phosphate.

It’s the only decent kind of compound, compound

The guy who found it must have been run to the ground,to the ground

P-H-O-S-P-H!

A-T-E you see,

It’s inside your manure,

It has phosphorus for sure,

It’s phosphate for me!

Sonsaid, “Why don’t you write a song about an interestingcompound, such as nitrogen tri-iodide?”

YD: “Because it had to have 9 letters.”

Wetried to think of another chemical compound with 9 letters in it, but failed. And I never got to find out why nitrogen tri-iodide is interesting.

Raking

2011-10-18T20:50:00.001-04:00

An hour's work

It is that time of year when we must remind ourselves why welove deciduous trees. And we do lovethem, for their bright hope in spring, leafy shade in summer, brilliant colorsin early fall, and bare branches in winter. But maybe we wish they could be on a schedule for the release of theirleaves in the fall. The maple in thefront yard could let loose the week of Oct 7^th, then the red maplein the back the week of Oct 14^th, and so on. Alas, they do not.

It is also the season when we need to remind ourselves whywe have teenagers. Because the teenagerscould be useful when it comes to raking leaves. Alas, they are not.

I spent one hour today raking leaves. It was a gorgeous day, the neighborhood wasquiet, and the work was aerobic. I had agood time, working hard by myself. I wasrejoicing because my Dad is doing better, with a change in his Parkinson’s meds. I am expecting he will have another one ofthese episodes sometime soon, but for now he is stable and might even get outof the hospital tomorrow.

Working in the yard today gave me a rare sense ofaccomplishment. Raking leaves is hard on perfectionists because it isimpossible to do a perfect job and get every leaf. But still, I much prefer raking to using oneof those obnoxiously loud blowers, or the lawn mower, to move the leavesaround. By late afternoon, the men ofthe neighborhood were home, and doing their version of raking leaves with theirnoisy, manly machines.

The township comes by every week or so and sucks the leaf pilesinto a giant truck that looks like an elephant, and takes them away to makemulch. Then in the spring, everyone inthe township can go get free leaf mulch. A great system! Except for thatpart where we have to get them to the top of the hill.

It took me a long time to figure out how to write that degree symbol.

This evening at dinner, my husband said with admiration, “HOWdid you get all those leaves to the top of the hill?!”

Wanting to impress further, I said mysteriously, “With my mind.”

He replied, “Good. I wouldhave thought you had to use your armsto do that.”

Before next week, more leaves will fall. Maybe it will be the teenager’s turnthen.

Thanks be to God for doctors who know what they are doing,for sunny autumn days, for arms and legs that work, and for teenagers. And for deciduous trees.

Mortal Joins Mighty Chorus on Piano

2011-10-15T22:25:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow morning during the worship service I am playing thehymns on the piano, accompanying the organ. I am excited and humbled to participate in the music in this way.

It is one of those tasks which I am utterly surprised I everget asked to do again. It’s a good thingthe organ is a lot louder than the piano. Even if I have enough time topractice, and even if I get all the notes right and play ultra-musically duringthe week, invariably I mess up on Sunday morning. To plagiarize Paul: I have the desire to dowhat is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not play the good note I want, butthe evil note I do not want to play is what I do play. (See Romans 7:18-19.)

So for me, playing the hymns in church is an exercise inasking forgiveness in advance. I ask Godto redeem the foul notes and turn them into heavenly harmony.

I have extra praying to do for tomorrow morning, because thefirst hymn, “Make Us One,” does not fit with my classical music training. It starts in the key of C. Easy – no sharps or flats! But right there in the second line, itchanges up and tricks my fingers. Thekeys I’m supposed to play produce beautiful, if unusual, harmonies. But the keys my fingers find produce harmoniesthat are just way too unusual. And then, just when I had gotten used to itin the key of C, it modulates up a half-step to the key of D-flat, which has five(5), count them, five (5) flats. This isa challenge which my neuronal connections are not quite ready for. But the music must go on. Sing loud, folks! Don’t listen too closely to see if I play thedouble-flats correctly.

The last hymn is, by contrast, an old favorite: “Joyful,Joyful, We Adore Thee.” This arrangementalso has a grandiose final-verse finish, with a modulation from G to A-flat,lots of gigantic chords and nifty moving bass lines, but the music directorexcused me from playing that. The musicdirector is very wise.

Playing the hymns this week has been a particular comfortand challenge for me. My father is veryill. I am glad to be able to turn tothese hymns, both for their lyrics and music. The challenge of playing them has given me something else to think aboutbesides Dad’s illness and Mom’s despair. I especially like the 4^th verse of “Joyful, Joyful”:

Mortals, join the mighty chorus

Whichthe morning stars began;

Lovedivine is reigning o’er us,

Leadingus with mercy’s hand.

Eversinging, march we onward,

Victorsin the midst of strife.

Joyfulmusic leads us sunward

Inthe triumph song of life!

So thanks, Mr. Music Director, all y’all hymn writers, HenryVan Dyke, and Louie Von Beethoven, for letting me play along this week,mistakes and all, struggling to be a victor in the midst of strife.

Anniversary and Fast

2011-10-11T19:06:00.000-04:00

As far as I can remember, this is the first time that ouranniversary has fallen on Erev Yom Kippur. So this year we got each otherflowers a day early. Here are thoseflowers, with a bonus ‘self-portrait’ included in one of the photos.

Now it’s Tuesday already, and I’m still recovering from theweekend. A 25-hour fast is not to beundertaken lightly. I participate in thefast partly because I feel it makes fasting easier for those around me. I once tried a fast on Good Friday, when noone else in the family was fasting, and it was a complete failure. It’s hard to abstain from food when everyoneelse isn’t.

The Yom Kippur fast is also a spiritual exercise forme. In a certain sense, I find this holidaysatisfying because it allows me time to spend concentrating on prayer. It’s amazing how much less I have to do when(a) I have already cleaned the house and (b) I don’t have to prepare meals foranybody.

This year it was not the fast itself that was difficult forme, but other things about the weekend that don’t have anything to do with ouranniversary or with the Jewish holiday. Thingsthat won’t be posted here, to preserve the privacy and sanity of people I love.

But the weekend is over now. In order to dissipate my tension I did what many self-respectingAmerican suburbanite mothers would do: Ibaked chocolate chip cookies. I talkedwith friends. I also went to the dentisttoday, which turned out to be an excellent psychotherapy session. And.... no cavities!

And so we move on. Onto the beauty of fall, the pressure of PSATs, the mailing of care packages tocollege students, the horror of 7^th-grade math homework (actually it’snot the homework itself that is a horror, but the reaction of the 7^thgrader to the homework).

So, dear reader, what have you been up to? Anything satisfying, difficult, orcookie-related that you would like to share?

Have some cake, honey

2011-10-06T22:13:00.002-04:00

Yesterday’s post-prandial dialogue:

Son: What’s for dessert?

Me: There is honey cake.

Son: The samecake as we’ve had for the past 5 days?! When will that cake go away?

Husband: Hey,that cake lasted for 40 years while our people were wandering around in thedesert.

* * * * *

On Rosh Hashanah it is traditional to have honey cake. It is meant to go along with wishes for asweet new year. I researched honey cake recipes extensively, and found that 78.4% of all honey cakerecipes include coffee as an ingredient. The coffee bitterness would automatically cancel out the honeysweetness, thereby disqualifying it as a recipe I want to make. And what wouldsuch a cake say about our New Year wishes – have a bittersweet year?

I guess if I were actually Jewish, I would not have a problem breaking with tradition entirely, and serving, maybe, dirt pudding. The sentiment there could be, “Have a dirty year!”

This year for Rosh Hashanah I tried a recipe for orangehoney cake that I found on the internet. I thought thisorange cake was pretty good, although I disobeyed the recipe by using 2 8x8 pans, and thenoverbaked it. Fortunately for me, theDay of Atonement for Baking Disobedience and Other Sins is upon us.

I added a lemon glaze to one of my cakes, and that renderedthe cake very tasty indeed, for those of us who like lemon. But that does not include the CommonHousehold Children. They will have towait until 5773 for me to try a new recipe.

Below are the recipe and photos of the honey cakes and a few other Rosh Hashanah traditional foods. Happy 5772!

Honey cakes!

Apples 'n' honey!

It just wouldn't be a Jewish holiday without Manischewitz wine!

Honey Cake

By Int R. Net

Prep Time 20 Min CookTime 45 Min

Ready in 1 Hr 10 Min Originalrecipe yield 1 - 9x13 inch pan

12 Servings

Ingredients

1 cup white sugar

1 cup honey

1/2 cup vegetable oil

4 eggs

2 teaspoons grated orange zest

1 cup orange juice

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

3 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour a 9x13 inchpan.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, saltand cinnamon. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine sugar, honey, oil, eggs and orangezest. Beat in the flour mixture alternately with the orange juice, mixing justuntil incorporated. Pour batter into prepared pan.

Bake in the preheated oven for 40 to 50 minutes, or until atoothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Allow to cool.

The glaze I added was simply this:

1 ½ cups powdered sugar

½ cup lemon juice

Mix together. With a fork, poke holes in the cake about every 1 to 2 inches. Spoon the glaze over the cake, letting it soak into the cake.

Physics and other lessons

2011-10-02T15:39:00.001-04:00

My son has several big tests coming up, so Saturday night’sactivity was to have a jovial study session. Isn’t that what every family does for fun? The main entertainment value came fromrecognizing how little this Mom and her Youngest Daughter knew about physics.

Most physics problems involve moving objects. The first problem we were given wasthis: A plane flies 200 km due West from City A to City B. Then it flies 300 km 30 degrees north of westfrom City B to City C. Along a straight-linedistance, how far is City A from City C?

My son said it would be much easier to solve if I drew apicture. So I did, but I immediatelyadmitted defeat because the points did not form a right triangle. Instead I drewa picture of people waiting in line at the airport, because waiting in linedoes not involve moving objects, but stationary people, and therefore nophysics problem to solve.

As you can see, the solution does involve forming a righttriangle eventually. I will leave it toyou people who remember trigonometry to find the solution on your own.

Next question. If a body is moved from sea level to the topof a mountain, what changes: its mass, its weight, or both? After some discussion of what “body” means inphysics class (it means “an object” not “a dead human body”), we determinedthat the weight changes, because the body is further away from the earth’scenter of gravity, but the mass does not change.

Then came the clincher. He asked, “What metric units do we use to measure weight?” YoungestDaughter said, “Grams.” No, thatmeasures mass. She said, “Pounds.” Nope, that’s mass in the English system. Folks, you will never believe this, but theanswer is that weight is measured in newtons! I thought the only thing measured that way was figs.

Next question. A stack of books is placed on a scale in anelevator. The scale reads 165 newtons. The stack’s true weight is 165 newtons. Can you tell if the elevator is moving at aconstant velocity of 2 m/sec up, 2 m/sec down, or not moving? Once I was able to stop thinking about bar cookies, I judged Youngest Daughter’s answer to becorrect: “Who would ever put a scale inan elevator?” Clearly, this elevator isin the physics department at a major university. My son told me later that no one in his physics class questionedthe idea of placing a scale in an elevator.

We went on in this vein, until Youngest Daughter, who wastrying to stand on her head on the couch, said to her brother, “I have aphysics question for YOU. If I fall offthe couch at 3 meters per second, and I hit the ground in 13/10 of a second,how long is the ground away?”

Son: “How LONG is theground AWAY? Three weeks? In California?”

But he set to work, saying, “It’s more complicated than youthink. Because, unbeknownst to you, youare accelerating!”

Youngest Daughter: “Iam?!”

After much calculating, he said, “This is a pretty big couch– it’s 4.381 meters high.”

Youngest Daughter: “So, did I break my neck?”

Son: “Probably.”

Then we moved on from Physics to English. He showed me a 55 page single-spaced typedpacket entitled “Concision” (meaning ‘leanness of words’). ’Nuff said.

On to American History.

Son: “Who was thefirst man in space?”

Youngest Daughter: “Louis Armstrong?”

Son: “No! There are two famous Armstrongs, and LouisArmstrong is one of them.”

Me: “Lance Armstrongis the other.”

Son: “Well, there are threefamous Armstrongs.”

Me: “Yuri Gagarin.”

Son: “Right. Who was the first American in space?”

YD: “LanceArmstrong?”

Son: “Where was theBerlin Wall?”

Me: “Who is buried inGrant’s tomb?”

Son: “What are twocivil rights laws passed during the Eisenhower years?”

YD: “Thou shalt notshoot...”

Son: “I don’t thinkthere are any American laws that begin with ‘Thou shalt not.’”

I doubt this study session left my son any better preparedfor his tests, but he did prove that I am NOT smarter than an 11th grader.

An alarming trend in marketing

2011-09-27T22:32:00.000-04:00

America does not need to go in this direction. Cover up, America; we don’t want to see it.

Backin May, my husband was thrilled to find these pita chipsin the store, and insisted on buying them. I have to admit that they are better than the other, cheaper brand ofpita chip. I don’t know if this isbecause they are unclothed.

A few weeks after we found the unclothed pita chips, afriend came over (this was when the basement steps AND the deck were stillintact). She brought with her some unclothed orange mango juice. I was very intrigued, but didn’t want tofreak my friend out by taking a photo of her drink. So I went and bought some of my own.

In preparation for this post, I googled “naked foodproducts”. Once I got over my fear ofclicking on the results, of which there were only 21 million, I found agoldmine of naked food: granola, confectionary sauces, chicken nuggets, soup, and even an entiregrocery store somewhere in Chicago.

There is unclothed pizza, which purports to be made of 10whole grains, agave fiber and probiotics. Despite its nakedness, I don’t think I would be able to get my teenageson to eat such pizza. It sounds morelike a biology textbook than food.

I also came across something called “Magic HealingCupcakes.” Their main ingredient ischocolate. Now we’re talking.

Coming home

2011-09-25T20:48:00.000-04:00

I just got back from a trip to help out my aunt. Six hours isa long drive for me to do by myself. Iam profoundly glad to be home from four days of difficult and tedious tasks.

Looking on the bright side, here are a few of the manythings about this trip that I am grateful for:

- Light traffic on the highway,both ways

- Not being too horribly allergicto my aunt’s house.

- Staying with my high schoolfriend. I’m finding it hard to expressin words how good it felt to reconnect with her, and to be so welcomed at herhouse, and how therapeutic it was for me to have her to talk to. I enjoyed this part of my trip immensely.

- The mug which said “Keep calm andcarry on.” Usually I don’t pay muchattention to slogans on mugs, but these words were just exactly right for theoccasion.

- My aunt’s willingness to work onthe tasks we had to do. We accomplisheda lot. There’s still more to do, but I’mgrateful for the progress we made.

- Pumpkin muffins. One of the many reasons I love fall.

- Old-fashioned popcorn – made in apot, not in the microwave!

- Time to pray and think.

- Managing to not trip over the twocats, who always seemed to be underfoot.

Some things in lifeare bad

They can really makeyou mad

Other things just makeyou swear and curse.

When you're chewing onlife's gristle

Don't grumble, give awhistle

And this'll helpthings turn out for the best...

And...always look onthe bright side of life...

Always look on thelight side of life...

-by Eric Idle

Cats underfoot. Ah, ah, ah CHOO, I say.

For your safety

2011-09-18T19:47:00.000-04:00

This is an update on my post of a few weeks ago, in which I avoided a broken ankle. My husbandcleverly fixed the offending basement step. Yay! But now the whole staircasesuspiciously makes a squeaky chirp with every step, so when I walk up or downthe basement steps it sounds like a tiny aviary.

Then a few days ago, in the course of the followingconversation, I found out that another part of our house is architecturallychallenged. Oddly, my discovery stemmedfrom a discussion about Scout merit badges:

Son: Dad, did you hear aboutthe chess merit badge?!

Husband: Yes, I heard about it. Will it enable you to repave the driveway?

Son: No. There is no driveway paving merit badge.

Husband: Will itenable you to clean the gutters in the fall and the spring?

Son: No.

Husband: Then I see no practical purpose to the chessmerit badge. But I saw in your Boy’s Life magazine how one scout built a deckfor his Eagle project.

Me: Yeah, that was in Angie Dilmore’s article! (She ismy friend and is an actual published writer!)

Husband: Well, wecould use a new deck.

Son: Dad. TheEagle project is not allowed to benefit yourself.

Husband: Youcould at least learn those skills while doing your Eagle project. There is already a loose board on the deckthat needs to be replaced before someone puts their foot through it.

Me: What?! Which plank is it?

Husband: I’m not telling you. Just take a BIG step when you go out on thedeck.

Me: I would like not to put my foot through arotting board. I already nearly broke myneck by going down the basement stairs when nobody BOTHERED to tell me the stepwas broken.

Husband: But if I tell you which plank it is, you’regoing to put up all kinds of warning signs and tape which will strangle people.

* * * * *

It is true that I may have slightly overreacted to thebroken basement step issue by putting up several spider-webs’ worth of freezer tape across the staircase, asa warning to myself and other hapless mothers who might mistakenly use the brokenstep.

This time I have not posted anything to warn people awayfrom the faulty plank on the deck. So whenyou come over, be sure to use the front door. When I suggest that we go out back to the deck, you should insist onstaying in the living room.

Parade and Pie

2011-09-16T23:29:00.000-04:00

What better way to celebrate the Common Household’s 200^thpost than with a parade and a pie?!

Roughly 76 trombones led this big parade.

There were, like, a thousand reeds

springing up like weeds;

Horns of every shape and kind.

Petite Ponies in the Parade:

Something just wasn't right about the placement of this sign.

And back home there was peach pie.

This is Youngest Daughter’s first attempt at a lattice-crust top. Next time I hope we’ll have more time and won’t have to downgrade our home-made crust with canned filling.

In celebration I've also added two blog rolls, for those of you who still have more time to putz around the internet.

Pie is one of our favorite celebratory foods. How about you? What's your celebratory food?

In Memory Of

2011-09-11T14:10:00.001-04:00

In memory of

Zoe Falkenberg and Dana Falkenberg,

and their Mom and Dad,
Leslie Whittington and Charlie Falkenberg.

I did not know them, but they were dear friends of my brother.

Flight 77

Friday Five: Work Space

2011-09-10T10:32:00.000-04:00

As usual, I am late. Thiswas supposed to be up on Friday. After Isaw this challenge at SheRev, it took me a day to decide to bare all and showyou my work space. This is my desk, after being cleaned up. The pile of papers (seen on the left, under red folder marked "Papers to be seen/signed by parent") is usually much taller.

So here are five (out of many) things in my workspace:

1. The empty spacewhere my work computer (laptop) usually resides. The laptop is where I create statistics, andthe computer you see in the photo is where I create everything else, except dinner.

2. Reading glasses. These are now crucial to my survival inthe business world. I am glad for theexistence of cheap reading glasses.

3. Precious anduseful storage items crafted by my children and nieces. If it weren’t for that one labeled “MOM” I wouldnever know where to find my staple remover or rubber bands.

4. Bil Lepp CD. Bil Lepp is the funniest story-teller in theuniverse, and multiple winner of the West Virginia State Liar’s contest. Plus he's a fully certified Methodist minister.

5. Cow finger puppet. This is representative of all the randomweird stuff that makes its way to my desk. I do not remember how I acquired this finger puppet, why I acquired it,or why it is still there. It would beappropriate to put it in the box labeled “MOM.” I wish I could think of a better use for it.

RevGalPals, thanks for letting me crash your Friday party,even though I am not a Rev, and even though I am late. I am counting on the assumption that part of your workspace includes forgiveness.

There Oughta Be a Manual

2011-09-07T09:02:00.000-04:00

I have detailed elsewhere someof my husband’s winning qualities. Inaddition to cooking ham during Passover, he is aware of other people’s needs,including mine. He is also a guy whogets things done, usually well ahead of the last minute. He is truly goal-oriented.

There is one thing thatperplexes him, as per this phone conversation, which we had a few days afterdropping off Oldest Daughter at college.

Common Household Husband: I called about that incorrect bill and got itstraightened out. I just wanted you toknow.

Me: Okay.

Husband: And thenI was dealing with this other issue and I think after several e-mails I goteverybody back on track so that we can reach our goal and set the policy forthis issue.

Me: Good.

Husband: How is Youngest Daughter?

Me: She went back to bed...(pause)... I’m very emotional today.

Husband, perplexed: Why?!

Me: It’s the endof an era.

Husband: What do you want to happen next?

Me: It’s not that I want something to happennext, it’s just that it’s truly the end of the Oldest-Daughter-as-a-Child era,and I’m mourning it.

Husband: You know, there should be a manual aboutwomen.

Me: Your job is to say, “Tell me how you feel.”

Husband: There should be a guidebook that tells youthat the women don’t want a plan, or goals, they just want to bask in theemotions.

Me: That’s right!

Husband: Okay, tell me how you feel. Only not rightnow.

Me: Okay. Thank you for your time. I’ll call you later. Is that what the men want to hear?

Husband:Yes! Bye!

It’s okay. I told himlater how I felt. And he listened.

Carpe Latinum!

2011-09-03T14:47:00.000-04:00

First day of school

As I was doing the Required Parental Quiz about the firstday of school, Youngest Daughter said, “The Latin teacher at my school isAWESOME!” My son, who was sitting in theother room and could easily have ignored this comment, shouted, “Yes, that istrue for ALL the Latin teachers in the whole school district.”

Youngest Daughter continued, “Today our Latin teacher juststarted talking to us randomly in Latin, until finally we figured out that whenshe called our name we were supposed to raise our hand and say, ‘Hīc.’”

Whowould have thought that a dead language could be taught by the immersion method?!

Second day of school

Youngest Daughter burst through the door after school. I asked, “How was school today?” She replied, “It was not male, but it was bene!”

(She pronounced it “MAL-lay” and “BAY-nay.”)

Third day of school

Youngest Daughter enthusiastically announced, “I have to domy Latin homework!” and she sang:

Mica, Mica, parva stella;
Miror quaenam sis tam bella.
Splendens eminus in illo,
Alba velut gemma caelo.
Mica, Mica, parva stella;
Miror quaenam sis tam bella.

Folks, it's "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" in Latin! Here the teacher has switched to the Suzuki method. I love it.

Our school system begins foreign language instruction in 7^thgrade, far too late for my liking. Even then, it is only a 6-week taste of twodifferent languages. At the end of 6^thgrade, the students choose two languages to try in 7^th grade. Youngest Daughter chose French andSpanish. I think she chose French as asign of her loyalty to me (I am a former francophone). But she was assigned Latin instead of French. She doesn’t seem to mind, and I don’t either. Her enthusiasm is remarkable, totally attributable to excellent teaching, I believe.

So I guess I can conclude that

LinguaLatina Non Mortua Est

How about you - did you learn a foreign language inschool? At home?

Writing Challenge Response: College Edition

2011-08-29T18:38:00.002-04:00

In celebration of the first day of classes, I am posting these responses to one of our recent writing challenges. Please remember that these are unedited first responses - there is no time to go back and revise.

Writer 2 is our new college student, our very own Older Daughter. If you would like to read more of her writing or keep up to date on what she's doing, read her blog!

1. What happens when Oldest Daughter moves into college and discovers that her roommate is a ______? (Fill in the blank and answer question.)

Writer 1 wrote:

“Ahhh,” Maria sighed as she put her stuff on the floor. “That feels better.” Maria was moving into college and would be seeing her roommate soon. I hope that we get along,” Maria fretted.

“I think we will,” said a voice from the doorway.

“Natasha! You’re here!” Maria said joyfully, while secretly wondering if Natasha was a cereal killer. (I mean what I say!)

Natasha came in, set her stuff down, and began unpacking. Maria noticed that a lot of spoons were in her luggage. “What’s with the spoons?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I’m notorious for losing them,” Natasha replied. So Maria asked no more questions.

Late that night Natasha got up, got a spoon, and walked over to Maria. She raised the spoon high over her head, smiled, and plunged the spoon into Maria’s heart! Or at least she tried to. Instead, the spoon bent, and skittered out of Natasha’s hand. Also, Maria woke up. “You are a cereal killer!” she cried.

Natasha shook her head, and said, “No, I’m not,” but looked very uncomfortable.

“You are,” Maria insisted. “Why else would you stab me with a spoon?”

Natasha sighed, then nodded. “Yes, I’m a cereal killer. Happy now?”

* * * *

Writer 2 wrote:

Other parents call the school asking to remove their daughters from their roommates. They complain and make stereotypes and fail to justify their actions. I, a tolerant human being, will do no such thing. My daughter has the smartest person in school for a roommate.

We were moving her into her dorm room on the third floor, each of us lugging heavy boxes full of things that would mostly be forgotten in dusty corners during the coming year. My box was full of shoes and books, so I was having a particularly hard time carrying it up the stairs. My daughter ambled along in front of me with her instrument.

“Hi,” she said casually to someone I could not see. “Mom, this is my roommate, Cheryl.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I grunted, still unable to catch a glimpse of her face. I would have shaken her hand, but both of mine were wrapped around the cardboard box. I set it down where my daughter pointed and turned with a big smile to face her roommate.

And screamed.

For standing – no, not standing, but really floating in a tank of green gel, or SOMETHING, was a disembodied brain.

“Hello,” said the brain (I’m not sure how). “Nice to meet you.” The accent sounded vaguely Chinese.

“Mom, don’t be rude,” my daughter commanded, rolling her eyes at me condescendingly as she went downstairs to fetch another piece of luggage. My legs seemed to be glued to the floor.

“I hope she didn’t bring a lava lamp,” the brain said worriedly. “Oh well. Excuse me, I need to go get the rest of my stuff.” I stepped back as the tank slid in a wide arc towards the door.

“What happened?” I managed choke out to my daughter when she reappeared.

“Huh?”

“To your roommate??”

“Uh… What do you mean?”

I blinked, dumbfounded. Unfortunately, I was prevented from finding out any more because “Cheryl” was right behind me. So I stumbled down to the car to recompose myself. “Bob, have you seen our daughter’s roommate?” I asked my husband, who was sitting in the car, refusing to do any work.

“Yes, she was very polite,” he answered without hesitation. “Apparently she had the highest SAT scores in the entire state. She was accepted into Harvard, but they didn’t give her any aid.”

“But she’s….”

“She’s what?”

Maybe I had been hallucinating. So when we pulled out of the parking lot I resolved not to call the school. I look at it from the bright side. My daughter has the smartest roommate in the entire school.

* * * *

Writer 3 wrote:

After the helpful frat boys had moved all of Maria’s boxes to her dorm room, Maria flopped on the bed, exhausted from the move. Aside from Maria’s three boxes, the room appeared to be empty. It was already 3 PM. Where was her roommate, Maria wondered.

As she hugged her parents one last time, and watched them as they walked off into the proverbial sunset, Maria had a feeling of foreboding. She pushed the feeling aside, and got up to put the sheets on her bed. She considered the choices, and plopped the sheet on the other bed.

“Hey! That’s my bed!” said a tiny voice. Maria’s heart skipped a beat.

“Huh? Who said that?!”

“I did. I’m your roommate. My name is Aurelia Spice, and I’m from Madagascar. I am so jealous that you had your parents to help you move in. Your Dad makes a really loud noise when he blows his nose. And the force of your Mom’s sneezes nearly knocked me over.”

During this speech, Maria followed the sound of the tiny voice, and finally found her college roommate. Standing on the bed was a tiny cockroach, waving one leg in a friendly way.

A thousand thoughts rushed through Maria’s mind. “I’m in a reverse Kafka story. I wish I had brought a magnifying glass. Is my roommate going to eat my food? Would she mind if I use all the closet space, since she’s not using any?”