Musings on getting older

(Relax -- this isn't a post about Muse.)

Things I hated as a child, but recently realized I now love:

1. Dark chocolate

2. Mustard

3. Going to bed

4. Wearing a coat and hat in cold weather

5. Having in-depth discussions.

I might be wrong, but are these pretty universal? Things that little kids generally don't like but adults are more likely to enjoy?

My review of The Princess and the Frog

"We need a black princess. Oh, and she'd better be a feminist, a Strong Woman, 'cause otherwise we'll be dealing with all that Cinderella crap again. And, umm, we've got our two-dimensional villain, right? OK, great. Now. What do we know about New Orleans black culture? Let's see...jazz...voodoo...and gumbo. Oh, and swamps. Make sure we get those in."


How would I rate The Princess and the Frog, as a waste of my time? Four stars!!

Granted, I wasn't really looking to be impressed, just going because I needed to get out of the effing house and there was no other movie all four of us would have wanted to sit through. Also, my husband inexplicably didn't mind it, so mine is definitely not the only perspective here. Me, I should've gone to see whatever was playing next door. I really wanted to punch this movie in the face.

I have two main complaints about this movie. The first is how vapid it was, and how it seemed to be written and animated by a bunch of pasty middle-aged white men enclosed in a stuffy room eating Hot Pockets who had never before encountered any of the things they were including in the movie (including black people, I'd guess). Everything felt second-rate and stereotyped, from the animation to the characterization to the ill-written script.

Making voodoo the main evil force was a strange choice. Actually, there was good voodoo and bad voodoo, and they sometimes called it hoodoo, but whatever. Just call it what it is: magic. Or a MacGuffin, since its existence doesn't actually matter by the end of the film.

It felt clumsy and shallow. The humor was, um, appalling and loathsome, but maybe they were targeting just the four-year-olds (I'm thinking specifically of the groan-inducing line spoken by the firefly: "Don't make me shine my butt!").

There is little emotional involvement with what's happening on the screen, except for one part near the end that managed to be forced and mystical and cynical all at once so that I wanted to jump up and shout expletives at the screen, curse the writers and animators who finally revealed their utter lack of humanity by allowing that part of the movie to make the final cut. The very young kid behind me was crying and protesting. I was very mad about it.

The second main complaint was that it was also so dull that my attention kept drifting away. Robert kept asking me, "What are you looking at?" I have no idea, but it wasn't the screen. I did watch the entire film - sadly, no napping for me - but I kept wishing I was elsewhere. It couldn't keep my interest.

Add songs written by Randy Newman, of Star Wars fame, and you've got a pretty vacuous evening ahead of you.

In fairness, I did like about five minutes of the ending. It was incredibly predictable, but I enjoyed it anyway. It just wasn't worth the dullness of the preceding 90 minutes. Definitely not a big enough payoff.

Oh, and I guess Oprah was in it somewhere, but I have no idea where.

Getting Santa-mental

I am in complete agreement with my friend Melissa. I can't stand Santa. Santa isn't welcome in our house. Our kids have always known where their gifts actually come from, and they are the ones telling other people's children that "There IS NO SANTA!" (In my defense, I try to temper that last part, out of consideration for the parents and their right to choose the moment of their children's realization of betrayal.)

In the spirit of that sentiment, I'm thoroughly enjoying the following:

Sketchy Santas

And, really, which Santas aren't sketchy??

On writing and not getting anything else done

When I look back over the past 7 weeks, I recall a blur, a frenzy, an unrestrained festival of writing. I am not certain I've actually slept longer than 5 hours on any given night, as I have woken at 4:30 or earlier every single morning and sat down in this very chair to write and write and write until my responsibilities (namely children) call me reluctantly away from my keyboard.

Sadly, not a word of what I've written has made it to this blog.

However, over 60,000 words of it is part of a novel I'm writing. I started doing NaNoWriMo, a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. That ended on November 30th, and I reached my word count goal, but my novel didn't manage to wrap itself up during those crazy days.

I am, as suits my nature, obsessed with it. I think about hardly anything but my characters and how they are going to respond to/maneuver out of their situations. I come up with details that will never enter in to the story and write them in a notepad I carry around with me. I build and flesh out and sit back while they talk to or ignore one other and tramp around in the world I've made for them.

I have fallen for my characters, and often their experiences between 4:30 and 7 am affect my mood for most of the day. I was floating on a cloud when two of them unexpectedly found a little romance, and have been grouchy for a few days as they lost someone they cared about to a terrible injury.

To say "This is fun" is a wretched understatement. It is THRILLING.

Will anything actually come of all of this? I honestly don't know.

The NaNoWriMo process does not allow for extensive editing along the way, and so I'm just cruising ahead and writing my ideas down. My plans have changed several times, and now the beginning of the novel does not agree with what is currently happening. It's a mess. It's going to take a while to edit, even if only to make the plot make sense.

When it's done and polished, perhaps by this time next year, and if I feel it's worth sharing, I will seek publication. Right now, though, I'm still in the throes of giving birth to this adorable, time-gobbling creature.

Stragglers

Halloween night!

Elizabeth had her face painted by Aunt Susie:

Unbelievable...

OK, I'm done with Cake Wrecks.

I have a deep love for the site, and the recent Majestic Coiled Crap Hound cake truly affirmed it. But I will never be a Wreckporter; I just can't find disasters like these anywhere. I have to live off the wrecks found by others.

Then I stumbled upon pure, unadulterated genius. Photoshop Disasters is a log of shameful, careless, unrealistically altered, and somehow still published, work. I set out to find some examples around me.

One of the biggest repeat offenders is Victoria's Secret. So I went to their site to see if I could find any examples of really bad photoshopping jobs. Within moments I found several.

This might be the only time you see girls in their underwear on my site, but I'm convinced it is totally worth it.

After all, I'm not sure they're actually human.

Check this out:

Do you see it?

What is wrong with her right leg?? And it looks like they tried to add a buttock. It just looks...creepy.

Well, apparently leg atrophy is a big problem among VS models:

Once you see a few of these, you start noticing them everywhere. There are extra arms, missing legs, vanishing navels, and lots of other serious problems.

So keep your eyes open. And realize that those unbelievably thin models don't look like that, either.

The originals are here and here.

Happy Halloween!

Crazy hair day:

At school on Friday:


I really like this picture; I love dropping off the kids on Halloween.


Our own 'ballerina dancing fairy':


Then back to the other school, for the parade:








Carved pumpkins:


Elizabeth's:




And Angela's:


The Mad-Eye version:


And mine!


I may or may not be posting more pictures after today. The stroke of midnight kicks off NaNoWriMo, and while I will be here, right here in this chair, for most of November, I will probably not be blogging a great amount. Well, we shall see -- I am a first-year WriMo, and I don't know how much I'm in for!

Every interaction should make society better

Rob and I have had several conversations about economics. One principle that has stood out to me is the idea that all transactions are good if they benefit both parties, because they are making the entire society richer.

I think the same about interpersonal relations. If people come away from the interaction feeling good, it is a benefit to the society at large.

A couple of years ago I became involved in a scorching online blog debate. The other party was an accomplished but stubborn person who had a habit of dismissing those who didn't agree with her and not backing up her arguments. She got to be quite mean. The debate drew a crowd, but it seemed to feed her unpleasantness, and she never apologized nor made any concessions whatsoever. I withdrew rather than engage in what I finally realized was a pointless and one-sided debate.

I recently found this among her writings:

Conflict drives the comments section and makes the post “sticky.” People come back to see what nasty accusations others have flung at me this time and to see whether I tolerate the accusations or make the accuser look foolish. I give as good as I get, and people find that entertaining.

Am I alienating my audience? Certainly I am alienating some people, but, frankly, I’m amazed that people think I am being mean when I respond to ridiculous assertions and vile comments with demands to supply proof. One thing I know for sure, though, is that my audience increases.

And those nasty posts written about me? They are free advertising. I’m surprised that people don’t understand that. Every post written about me is not an insult, but is a small victory. It shows that what I write has hit the mark, has elicited strong feelings, has made people think. And of course every post written about me increases my readership.

Valid points, to be sure. I think that if your goal is to be read by lots of people, and you don't care about how you accomplish it, this is definitely one way to approach it.

But, thinking about how a good transaction benefits all involved, and realizing that the world is indeed short of kindness and warmth by a considerable amount, I have to object.

When coming up against this person, both parties are not edified. There's a good chance that one will leave the interaction angry, frustrated, and feeling unheard. Being provocative is not a status achieved without consequences. Making people feel is not the same as making them think.

It reminds me of this:

The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined.

~Margaret D. Nadauld

We need to set about making the world better by making our interactions with others positive. If both people come away from a discussion feeling good, they will likely spread that goodness through their interactions with others. The entire society benefits.

What happens when beneficial interactions don't occur? Positive feelings are drained from the world. Perhaps that's a little dramatic, but you see my point.

My unexpected ER visit

Early on Thursday morning, I was talking to Rob, who was on a business trip in Chicago. My parents and sister were staying with me, for which I was profoundly grateful. I felt a sudden, sharp, jabbing pain in my stomach and told him I had to get off the phone. I couldn't focus on anything else. My first thought was that it was a really bad bladder infection, or maybe just really awful gas. But nothing I did affected it. The longer I stayed with the pain, the more it felt like my stomach was being eaten from the inside. Was it cancer? Ectopic pregnancy? I didn't know, but I couldn't move, it was just before 7 am, and I was the only one awake and downstairs.

My cell phone was close by. I called Rob back and told him that something was really wrong. He said, "Wake up your mom!"

I followed orders. I crawled to the foot of the stairs, looked up, and knew there was no way I was going to make it up to the second floor. I could hardly speak, but I gathered a few breaths and yelled. Josie came out first and asked, "What's wrong?" I was still obeying orders and said "Wake Mom up!" My parents came out, saw me, and started to get ready to take me to the hospital. Josie stayed at home to take care of the girls and get Elizabeth off to school.

I got dressed with help and got into the backseat so I could lie down. It hurt to sit. It was unbearable to move.

By the time we got to the hospital, the pain had subsided a bit, and that worried me. What if it really WAS gas?? ER copays are not cheap. And I would have felt tremendously guilty for causing everyone around me such worry and inconvenience.

Over a period of a couple of hours, they ruled out bladder infections, gallstones, and appendicitis. They put in an IV and gave me Fentanyl. Oh, Fentanyl -- it went straight to my brain. My thoughts were perfectly clear, but my head was spinning and I couldn't speak or open my eyes. Thoroughly unpleasant. It did nothing for the pain for about 20 minutes. Then, when the dizziness leveled off a bit, the pain was substantially lessened.

I was able to move enough to clamber into a wheelchair and go get an ultrasound. I couldn't see the actual ultrasound, and the tech must have been legally unable to tell us what she saw. She wanted me to lay on my side for a few scans, and that hurt quite a bit. Then back in the room to wait.

The doctor came in and told me that I had an ovarian cyst that had burst. It was 3 centimeters in diameter. He prescribed painkillers for the next few days and said, "We'll give you one more dose of pain meds and then send you home." Before I could say, "No, I don't need more Fent--" they had already put it in my IV. I felt the dizziness blossom in my brain, tempered a bit by the anger I felt at getting more of that awful medication.

I felt fine for the rest of the day -- just sluggish. A little pain, but nothing compared to what it had been. And every time I sat down I would fall asleep. But I got little sleep at night. The next day was the same, though I nearly fell asleep during Where The Wild Things Are. Saturday I felt a lot more tenderness, and I wondered if the Fentanyl had been in my system for that long. I tried not to take too many of my prescription painkillers; I would have, if I'd felt the need. But I was more interested in where I actually stood and how my body was doing.

I slept for 10 hours straight on Saturday night. By Monday I was just fine.

The doctor said that it was unusual for a woman who has never had cysts to suddenly get one and have it rupture -- strange, but not unheard of. I wonder, will this happen again? If it does, do I go to the ER? I'm not quite sure how to handle it.

Elizabeth's beauty...

...can't be obscured by apples:





Yes, she's posing. This is what happens when we break out the camera.

Angela dancing

Who needs classes?

Angela's party

Pictures from Angela's birthday party!

The decorations:

The cake:

The older sister:

Friends:

Elizabeth waiting for her turn to hold Holland:

Holland, with a monkey hanging...upside down?...over her:

Chief members of the Holland Fan Club:

What's THIS??

Oh, it's my neglected blog!

Where is the top of that ball again?...

Notes for Holland

My kids are obsessed with their new cousin Holland. Angela's prayers are pretty much, "We are thankful for Holland and please bless Holland, Amen." It is very sweet.

Completely of her own volition, Elizabeth took some paper, scissors, glue, and letter stickers, and made this card:

On the inside it says:

That picture at the bottom is Holland with her long, flowing hair.

Also, Elizabeth drew the following at church last week:

If you can't tell, that's Eliz herself on the right, grasping a huge mug of hot cocoa with a snowman on the front and lots of marshmallows, while Angela looks on enviously on the left. Underneath is Holland, again with very long hair. "She's under the table!" explained Elizabeth.

Beautiful girl

I took these because I thought Elizabeth looked very cute with her hair curled:

I haven't been able to do it again since, because time is always so short in the mornings. In fact, I was looking at these pictures, taken a mere 2 weeks ago, and thinking, "Oh, THOSE were the days, when I had time to do this in the mornings! What happened??"

Elizabeth's first day of school!

Elizabeth is in first grade!

Before she left:

And when she came home:

I (finally) did it!

I hiked the Narrows!

Robert took some time off to enjoy his birthday week, so we decided to hike together. Neither of us had hiked the Narrows in the 4+ years we've lived here. We found a babysitter, put on our water shoes and grabbed some trekking poles, and took off.

I've long been intimidated by this hike and thought that the first few steps into the river would be difficult. It wasn't. This was the most fun I think I've ever had on a hike. Walking through the water was hard work ~ you have to watch every step, stay away from the green rocks, and there are times you rely on your walking stick for balance. I'm happy to say that I didn't fall into the water at all, though early on we came to a deep spot and I was in water up to my waist.

The hike was very crowded at first. Lots of people brought their expensive cameras (I didn't bring mine ~ none of the photos here are mine ~ I didn't dare bring anything I didn't want to either get soaked or lost downstream). Several more didn't even carry hiking poles, which is not very bright on this hike. It's slippery. The current moves very fast in places. You WILL fall without some support. Granted, that's not the end of the world, but it must be unpleasant, and of course not good for all that costly equipment.

It's strange to hike in the river. The water was cold, so my feet were nearly numb, and the sun overhead was hot, so my head and torso were quite warm. It doesn't quite balance out.

We stopped in this spot to rest (note: don't eat lunch here):

Both of us had blisters (mine showed up before we were even in the water, but I toughed it out, and I'm so glad I did!) and though I was exhilarated enough to go on, I was starting to worry about how much time we had already spent in the water. It was hot, our feet were weary (hiking through water is difficult work) and we were low on water. We turned back. It was a good decision.

This morning, I checked out a map of the Narrows, and I was pleased to see that we'd ventured a lot farther than I thought!

It's hard to tell when you're in the middle of the hike (little sense of time passing/length traveled), but we got at least to this point:

The crowds had thinned out considerably, and we were mostly alone for the last part of the hike.

There is much more to see in the Narrows. I can hardly wait to do it again, to hike farther in.

Holland Elise Johnson is here!

Yesterday morning, baby Holland was born.

The bare facts:

• 21 inches long
• 9 lbs 15.4 ounces
• Lots of dark hair
• Born on Friday 7/31/09 at 4:15 am

I was deeply honored to assist Than and Susie throughout labor and to be present when Holland was born. What I witnessed was profound. Susie is amazing, so tough and so kind. I have never seen a woman so concerned with and loving towards her spouse while she was in labor, never seen a husband so willing to give love and encouragement to his laboring wife. I am in awe of the two of them. And they are already amazing parents. What a lucky baby!

What I want them to know:

• They can call me anytime, day or night, if they need assistance of any kind, after family departs.
• I am anxious and very willing to help, because I know it can be tough at times. Sleep deprivation is the most difficult part of early parenting. I hope they take advantage of the countless naps I'm offering them.
• They can knock on the door if they don't want to call.
• I am more available now than ever before, with two kids starting school.
• They can also tap on our adjoining wall, if they don't want to leave their place or find a phone.

I am grateful they invited me to witness Holland's birth. I've attended nearly 30 births now, and I've never felt so moved by an experience. This little girl has taken root in my heart; I'm excited to watch her grow.

Haircuts!

I cut the girls' hair this morning.

This is how much I cut off (Elizabeth's on the left, Angela's on the right, pencil for comparison):

Here are the results:

(cringing from the flash behind her new favorite book)

Before we get back to our regular programming...

Check this out!

Come on, did you have any idea about this??