Parentally Devious

This time of year brings out a lot of memories. Every Thanksgiving I think about the year we ate at a cousin's still partly unfinished house. I don't remember many details, except that they had a lot more snow than had fallen at home, and the unfinished portion upstairs seemed much larger than it actually was, and full of potential. I have a permanent image in my mind of my uncle emerging from some mysterious place behind a wall (and by wall I mean frame without drywall). I'm sure it was actually quite ordinary, but in my mind I am still in awe of whatever went on there.

Some of the fondest memories involve decorations. For three months, our house was adorned with all sorts of extra holiday novelties. Among the October knicknacks were a wax ghost-in-a-pumpkin that smelled like happiness, and a spider that I can only describe as sharp. November included a pair of squirrels dressed as pilgrims and a cornucopia. December, of course was the most ornate month of all, with trees and lights and candles. Putting up decorations--especially Christmas decorations--was always the greatest thing imaginable. Once I came home from a friend's house to find all the Thanksgiving trinkets already in place because someone important (probably grandparents) was on their way. I still feel the heartbreak some 2 decades later.

There was one thing I never understood about the decorating process however: my mom always made us clean the house first.

Why, if we are putting a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, do we have to clean the kitchen? It was a baffling riddle. Nevertheless, it happened pretty much every time. Today, at last, I fully realized the beauty of that arrangement.

Mogli was (is)  desperate to get Christmas underway. He began begging to get the tree out before he had even had breakfast. I explained to him that we needed to clean the family room so we had a place to put everything while we rearranged furniture and sorted through lights and decorations. About 5 minutes later it was done. Not wanting to lose any momentum, I told him he needed to get his room clean before we could do anything fun (standard practice). He went right to it without so much as a "whyyyy-uh?" (anything but standard).

In fact, he barely complained all day. I just had to find some way to connect a request to the prospect of a Christmas tree, and he couldn't get it done fast enough. He vacuumed Captain Hook's mess of muffin crumbs three times, the second and third without even being asked.

I shamelessly exploited that kid's desire to have a Christmas tree all day long. As a result, there is a tree in my house almost a week early. And I'm okay with both of those facts.

Politics

I used to be way into political debate and stuff. I was also very certain I was right. I've come to realize though that "right" is a relative term, and quite subject to change. I still like a debate, at least in some contexts. As long as it is friendly, and constructive. As long as the participants are there to learn and further understand the issue, and enhance their beliefs, not prove them. As long as it doesn't get in the way of our relationship.

Here's the thing:  I don't care who you voted for today. Whether or not our ideologies match all the time (hint: they probably don't), I still want to be your friend. If that means we only talk about bands or science, that's cool. Bands and science happen to be two of my favorite things to talk about. If, at some point, you'd like to talk about politics, I'm cool with that too; as long as you know that I value your opinion, and you value mine as well.

At some point I realized that my relationships with certain people who I respect a great deal were strained. It took me a while to figure it out, but in the end I realized it was all politics. Their beliefs were different than mine, and as a result, there was this friction all the time. It may have just been me. I really hope it was. I hope that if I asked them, they would wonder what I was talking about. But I suspect they felt it too, even if I was the only one generating it. If you have ever felt that way with me, please accept my apology.

Finally, if I ever say something you hate, know that it's not personal. We may have to agree to disagree sometimes, but I'd like to disagree with you in a friendly, informed manner.

Aura

Today I had my aura read. (Is "read" the right way to say that?) I am a red amber with amber overlay. Red amber is a mental/emotional combination, and amber is very analytical. Overlay means I am both at the same time or switch between them or something.

The process used muscle testing, which I've seen work in the past, but I can only trust so far. I purposely kept myself ignorant about what the colors mean, because I didn't want to subconsciously rig the test, which I think is sort of common with muscle testing. It's easy enough for your subconscious mind to manipulate you without giving it such an easy opportunity.

I was actually a bit surprised how well the descriptions fit me. I think I was expecting more platitudes and broad, all encompassing statements. I'd like to investigate the psychology associated with the whole thing. Because I'm an analytical amber.

Daylight Saving

I hate daylight saving time. It's an archaic system that doesn't really do any good. Making all those adjustments to my bio clock twice a year is just a pain. It's really only good for one day in the entire year.

Fortunately, that day was today. And I loved that hour this morning.

NaBloPoMo

This morning I read something about NaNoWriMo. I don't wri nos, but it reminded me of something I do like to do: po blos.

So I decided that, despite the fact that I already missed the first day, I'm going to participate in NaBloPoMo.
My sister does it every year. At least she did for several years. I think she still does. I just realized it has been several weeks since I've visited her online domain, so for all I know she has abandoned the entire institution.

Regardless, I'm going to say something every day for the rest of the month. It will likely be a lot of complaining about homework and other such trivialities, but I'll try to find something interesting to say, for Cassie's sake, and in case anyone else happens to stop by.

So go ahead and stop by.

P.S. For those of you who were concerned, I stopped by my sister's blog to optain the URL for that link up there. She's still there, but she NaBloPoMo'd early this year.

Break

It's fall break. You'd think that would mean I have a bunch of spare time to do things like write blog posts. I feel like I have even less time than usual. My fall break to do list is about as long as my arm. But at least I'm saying this much. Who knows, maybe it will be the start of a new era of blogging.

We'll see.

Bad Bosses

College is great for people watching. I've made an effort not to let all the stupid kids get under my skin, and found that there is an endless supply of humor in their stupidity.

It can be very entertaining to watch the twenty year old smoke his tobacco pipe pretentiously outside the student building, feeling smugly confident that everyone who passes by wishes they could be him.

Another good one is the dude trying to get to know the girl who is doing everything short of slapping him to let him know she isn't interested. He takes a step closer, she takes two steps back. He asks her what classes she has, she answers with a non sequitur about how she really needs to get going to meet someone for lunch.

Sometimes though, it still just drives me crazy. Just now, I overheard a girl telling her friends how dumb her boss is. She asked for time off to go to a job interview. His totally inappropriate response was "do you really think its a good idea to ask for that?" This brought on a series of exclamations from her friends: "WTF!?" "Of course, it's totally worth it!" "That's a way better job!" Not one of them seemed to realize the problem. The story ended with the protagonist putting in her two week notice.

You go girl, that idiot boss will think twice before questioning your commitment to your job again!

Torture

Captain Hook got this toy for Christmas:

He likes to keep the animals safely behind (under?) closed doors. Actually, a more apt description would be he needs to close them. It is an intense, driving need. Even now he is hurtling across the room at top crawl because he heard me open them up to take a picture. Sometimes he'll notice it during his play, and drop everything to ensure proper closure.

We like to play a game with him. He closes the doors and we pop them back open. He will play this game as long as it takes for us to get tired of it and leave them closed in peace. Quite the opposite of how most games with him end.

One of my favorite variations is when I let him get them all closed. He will look suspiciously at the toy and at me for a moment or two, then proceed to another toy. Just as he gets there I pop one open again.

I almost feel guilty, but so far he's always met the challenge with a smile.

Psychosomatic

I'm currently working on a site for a zinc medicated soap company. Each of the skin diseases it is meant to treat has a section of the site, and today I'm writing the content for those pages. As I've been researching the symptoms of these various conditions, I've become very aware of a dreadful itch. All over. It has been a rather uncomfortable day.