Bonkers Post: One Day Back in June...

Ready for the first blogging round of Bonkers? We're going backwards to go forward!

First stop -- this post about a zoo trip that took place back in June...

Bonkers

This morning I woke up with a jingle stuck in my head.

Apparently my brain is giving me a gentle little kick in the butt, urging me to put some things in this yawning gap of blog space. I stopped blogging for a bit -- unintentionally, really -- and then found myself unable to start back up. Do I explain my absence? Do I need to fill in the holes first? Can I use those old drafts now, even though they are from past months? Because then everyone will be so confused by the obvious chronological blips in my online diary and will therefore be unable to make sense of the world in which they live??

Heh. I might have been over-thinking it.

But you can just thank your lucky stars that a simple jingle running through my head this morning will allow all of humankind to release its collectively held breath and permit the earth to resume its spinning. (Whew! That was close, eh?)

Ready for the brilliant insight? It's this: BONKERS.

No, seriously, Bonkers -- that 70s board game? Do you remember it?

Now available in select online vintage stores near you! Only $39.95 + shipping.

The end of the commercial's jingle was:

"...You go backwards to go forwards in a Bonkers kind of fun,
You think that you are losing, when suddenly you've won!
Bonkers is fun,
Bonkers is nice,
Bonkers is never the same game twice!"

Does that ring a bell for anyone? We didn't watch much tv back in those days, so it must have been a fairly frequent commercial for me to remember it. (Though we did have the game, and I remember singing the jingle over and over while playing it, so maybe disregard that last sentence. Hmm.)

Anyway, I woke up with those lines in my head and realized that was the answer: I need to go backwards to go forward.

So here we go.....backwards! Hang on to your hats -- the next few posts will be a Bonkers kind of fun.

The Inner Workings of a Brilliant Mind. (heh)

I was thinking today about how great it would be if there were some kind of futuristic invention that could help get the ideas from inside my head into a concrete form outside of my head. And then I remembered....oh, yeah. That's called "a blog."

But what I really meant is some kind of invention that would help me keep those thoughts organized and sorted and illustrated with images that would help convey my thoughts. And then I remembered....oh, yeah. That's called "Blogger."

But I really meant, more specifically, that I don't always have the right photos or drawing skills to use for those illustrations, and even if I did, the images I have in my head aren't always a REAL item, but rather some concept I picture with things that are smooshed together or altered or exist solely in my imagination! THAT'S what I need -- a futuristic invention that can instantly replicate those mental images! And then I remembered....oh, yeah. Those are called "Google Images" and "PhotoShop."

So I guess what I really meant is that I need something to make using all those nifty inventions just easier or more frequent. And then I remembered....oh, yeah. That's called "Motivation." (Or, actually, now that I think about it again, it is also sometimes called "AdSense"....though that wasn't really the type of motivation I was originally thinking about. Perhaps one day...)

Anyway, this brilliant brainstorming session really helped me see precisely what I need in order to get more posting done: Motivation & PhotoShop! I'm pretty sure I can pick those on ebay. Ebay's got everything!

I felt so much better after working out this solution to my writer's block...

And then I got to thinking, really, it's not so much "writer's block" as it is "writer's detour." I have plenty of material. I have a folder full of drafts that I simply haven't published. Yes, the ideas are plentiful, but the actual typing and explaining and proof-reading and fixing and making sense to other people get me all bogged down. It's like a long, bumpy, unpaved one-lane dirt road that is unpleasant enough to travel that you sometimes choose not to go even though you really like getting to the other side. (simile!) It's road construction that goes on and on and on, and every time you drive past the workers are taking donut breaks or gathering on the shoulder while leaning on their shovels and admiring their past progress and discussing how to proceed. (metaphor!) And then there are all those distractions along the side of the road. It's sitting down at the computer to drive type, but then reading interesting news headlines and then being sidetracked by daily blog reading and interesting links and then getting some more coffee and -- shoot! I'm still thinking about donuts and I need to get groceries anyway and I could pick up donuts while I'm at the store, and then while I'm out and about I go right past Target and I wonder if that mirror I've been looking at is on sale today?, and then its almost time for the kids to get home and woah where did the day go and now it's almost supper time and it feels so good to sit down and put my feet up for a minute and please hand me the the remote because I wonder what's on Bravo tonight and I'll just check real quick and how on earth did those women not know they were pregnant?? and what? -- it's bedtime already?! (literal!!)

And, hey! Speaking of metaphors & similes, I just had another flash of insight: ideas are like meteors! They're sometimes brilliant. and always fleeting and sudden and unexpected and if you blink you might miss them and if you don't get to the computer fast enough to write them down they just vanish into thi

The Earliest Works of a Painter-To-Be?

Actual bit of conversation that took place while my daughter and I were painting Junior's room the other day...

Tootsie: (discussing a friend from school) ...So, yeah, she says she wants to be a lawyer when she grows up. A lawyer! I do NOT get that!! Why would anyone want to be a lawyer??

me: Well, lawyers usually enjoy arguing sides, and doing lots of reading & research, and trying to make sure things are fair. So if she enjoys doing those kind of things, she'd probably be a good lawyer.

Tootsie: Yeah, she does like to...WAIT, did you hear that?!? Listen!

me: (worried) What?!

Tootsie: The PAINT! Wait -- ok, don't move. Listen!

(she rolls the freshly-loader paint roller slowly up and down a patch of wall again)

Tootsie: Ooooo, I LOVE that sound! Don't you?!

me: (grinning to myself) Yeah, I like to paint. I love seeing an entire room change just like that.

Tootsie: But doesn't it sound so neat?? Do you hear it?!

me: I do. It sounds kind of...juicy.

Tootsie: Huh, yeah, it just sounds so cool! I love that sound!! And look at it -- doesn't that look so neat, how it just goes like that? Look at this!

me: (amused by her enthusiasm) I bought an extra thick roller because this wall is textured, and it holds a lot of paint to help get in all those cracks. It is louder than normal -- because there's so much paint soaked into the roller.

Tootsie: (continuing) Yeah, so my friend wants to be a lawyer but....Wait a minute...where am I?!? Oh! (chuckling) For a minute there I couldn't remember what corner of the room I was in!! Heh! That was so weird. I need more paint!

me: ...?!? (bemusedly turning to watch her take a few steps to the paint tray)

Tootsie: (finding the paint tray and rolling and rolling to reload again) ...But I just don't get why anyone would want to be a lawyer. Ooooo, listen to it now!! I would hate to end up being a lawyer!

me: (trying not to laugh) Umm...well, I don't think you should worry too much about that happening...

Tootsie: Hey!! (looking up) Are you laughing at me?

me: Well, I am a little...it's just that you kind of sound more like a painter than a lawyer to me! (grinning) And I think I also probably need to open up a window and try to get a little more fresh air in here now....

Oops, My Tendencies Are Showing!

Tonight I was looking up a recipe in my trusty old Betty Crocker's Cookbook (1990 edition). I grinned to myself as I skimmed over the section dividers, thinking how it's kinda funny that crazy Betty rank-ordered them in much the same way that I would put them!

You know, with the most important things towards the front?

She starts with Appetizers, Beverages, Bread, Cakes, Cookies, Eggs & Cheese, then a variety of Meats, and finally Veggies & Fruits as a chronically neglected afterthought (ahead only of Nutritional Information, which is essentially buried in the back)! I mean, seriously, in today's PC, health-conscious, nutritionally & ecologically responsible world, you just don't find a cookbook like THAT anymore!! I mean am I right, or am I right? But ol' Betty, she knows what's good!

...And then I realized that the whole thing was simply in ALPHABETICAL ORDER.

Penny-Pinching Quote of the Day

(a snippet of actual conversation between my husband and daughter)

Him: "...I want you to be cognizant of that, and also aware!"

Her: (blinking) "Dad, why do you always like to use those big fancy words?"

Him: "It's important to have a good vocabulary....plus, it's a cheap way to look smart!"

Invisibility Theme, Part IV: Dalai Mama Has Left the Building

(Alternate title -- "Hello & Goodbye: A Long, Impassioned Ode to Catherine Newman, Blogger Extraordinaire...With a Few Ramblings and Pithy Comments Along the Way")

The Dalai Mama, one of my all-time favorite blogs, is undergoing a major change. Catherine Newman, the blogger behind it all, explains everything in It's Not Goodbye -- It's Bon Appetit! *

Have you discovered this amazing blogger yet? I've had her links on my sidebar all these months, though I've never singled her out for recognition. I certainly hope that some of you have wandered over there at some point and had a look around. It's a place so comfortable and warm, you'll probably want to go back and visit regularly. It's the kind of place you can sip a warm drink and spend an amiable afternoon without even realizing what time it's gotten to be. Where it's nice and nest-y, though you're constantly inspired to remember that you, too, can fly.

I think of Catherine as the mom I thought I would be...before I got too tired, or cynical, or just...took too many shortcuts. (Well, minus the vegetarian co-op part, and the loving-the-family-bed part,...and the husband-is-a-masseuse part, because THAT is something I didn't even think to dream of!) It's not that she's perfect, though, either. (Which makes her all the more wonderful, in my opinion.) She's not a robot or Stepford Wife, not Bree Van de Kamp or Martha Stewart. She talks about feeling overwhelmed & wondering if she's doing it right, but -- and this is key -- she remains mindful of these things. She somehow manages to maintain her focus on the big picture while simultaneously zooming in to note the microcosms along the way.**

She's a great writer, too. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is that makes her writing so wonderful. She's sincere, thoughtful, focused (mostly) -- in both her writing and her mothering, tender & funny, but it's more than that. She has that special something, that umami writing, that strikes a deep, rich chord beyond the bitter/sweet/salty components. Each post is something to savor slowly, and is uniquely satisfying.

So that blog, which I have eagerly read each Wednesday morning (although in reading her goodbye comments I discovered the new post was up on Tuesday afternoons, actually, and I could have read it 8 hours earlier!), that blog is now GONE.

Well, sort of.

She will still be there writing, only now she will be writing about recipes (mostly). I say mostly, because as she herself points out, it's not really about the pear cake.

I will be missing her old column greatly -- though of course, technically she is still there, both in archives AND in the new Dalai Mama Dishes. And of course I will keep visiting weekly, browsing through recipes and planning hypothetical feasts (much like flipping through an IKEA or Pottery Barn catalog), while reading between the lines for glimpses of Ben & Birdy and fall melancholy and pants and undies falling down.

So far, I've been surprised at how much I'm enjoying her new blog, and by how lovely her recipes sound -- they really are more than pear cake! And, because, let's face it -- I'm not the wholesome, unprocessed foods, & barrels-of-granola kind of mom that she is. (Read the otter pop post to read see why we differ...and why we mesh.) Her pot roast recipe with accompanying photos and comments actually had me giggling aloud. (How someone can take such unappetizing photos, then sprinkle the paragraph liberally with the words "placenta", "severed torso", "stool softener", and "barfing" and STILL make you want to try the delicious pot roast recipe tomorrow night -- ?? Well, that, my friends, is precisely why you should be reading her.)

But, now that I think about it, perhaps you should actually read the plum cake recipe first. Because that is the kinder, gentler, crunchier version. No bodily emissions or organs there! (Although there are reminders of motorcycle boots & fierceness layered with the wholesomeness of baking & motherly love that goes into the Catherine Newman parfait, so to speak.) And once again, while I can truly say that plum cake has never even occurred to me, I was moved to want to try the recipe. Both because it looked so tasty, and, simply, as a nod to Catherine. A sort of sweet goodbye -- and hello! -- to the blog(s). Plus? Butter. Real butter and sugar and simple goodness. I will overlook my usual chocolate bent and give plums a chance.

So anyway, once you've said hello to Catherine's new blog, go back and read the old blog archives. They are gems. Diamonds sparkling from the depths of an old mine shaft. An old mine shaft that is being deserted because it's getting unsafe. Or it's no longer environmentally sound. Or it's got some new owners. Or something. Whatever the metaphor, they're down there. Those posts are treasures waiting to be discovered, but they are going to be invisible from the surface. Look for them.

Each post is a lovely stand-alone essay, but taken as a whole they speak volumes. In between the great things and gulag days, there are summer fevers and gymnastics classes and dozens of other posts, each with moments or metaphors or individual sentences that take my breath away. I think nearly every week I was moved to laugh AND blink back a tear. And while that might simply say something about how I'm typically fairing mid-week, I think it really says more about Catherine's ability to witness the events in her life, to sift through them with an uncannily sightful eye, and to create such powerful written records of the meaning she finds therein.

The pear cake metaphor has been on my mind all week. "'It's not that I want pear cake, Mama. It's that I don't want you to leave.' Indeed." Indeed! I can't tell you how many times during this last week I've whispered "pear cake" in my head, as a gentle reminder to myself.

And it's often this way -- Catherine's words stay with me. They're filling. She's the fiber in a sea of bloggy junk food. I crave both, delight in both, savor both...but know that the fiber is what will keep me going. Or...not. (heh, heh.) (Which then makes me recall the stool softener pot roast recipe.) Perhaps she's the protein. She's meaty; gives you lots to chew on. Or a complex carb? Energizes you for the long haul. Meh. Either way, we're back to the power of Catherine's words. And food!! And --Ta Da! -- I neatly brought it all back full circle!

So back to the point I was starting to make, which is how her words have staying power. For me, one of the most powerful posts in the old blog was The Invisible Woman. I remember this description well, all this time later, because it's just so accurate for me. I feel myself blanking intentionally, mentally exiting my body,...the building,...my life. And it's so shocking to have someone name it, to call me out on it, because even though it's accurate, I hadn't fully realized I was doing it. (And once I saw it, I was additionally ashamed to realize how much resentment and annoyance filled my invisible moments.) Thanks to that post, I have become more aware of my tendency to disappear. I do it less. And when I do still find myself really needing to slip away, I now try to do it more gracefully, floating off to a quiet place where I can reflect & recoup for a moment, returning ready for the next round.

I browsed through The Dalai Mama archives to find the link to the Invisible Woman post, and was surprised to find it all the way back in November 2006! And it had something to do with a copper cylinder, which I certainly didn't recall. And I was surprised to find it was much shorter than I remembered. (And, actually, much more positive than I remembered.) But the concept was there. The wanting to disappear during the mind-numbing moments of parenthood. So, I'm almost certain that's the post I'm thinking of. And, plus -- really, how many entries on INVISIBILITY can one person write? (cough, cough)

Which all just goes to show how meaningful blogs can be. (When you get deeper than fanny packs & crazy talk, that is.) How reading someone else's thoughts can open up your own. How finding the right words at the right time truly is "as if a hand has come out and taken yours," like she said (which someone else said). How a person you've never even met can inspire you to become a better you. How amazing this internet stuff really is.

But don't just take my word for it. Go. Read.*** You'll be glad you did.

-----

*I made a last-minute attempt at color-coding my quotes & links here, because I am referencing SO MANY and didn't want to send you off on so many wild goose chases, impelling you to click hither and yon only to find you had already been there. So...if the color is the same, the link is the same. Just trying to provide a few "footnotes" and to simplify. (any other spots that sound suspiciously lovely were probably supposed to be color-coded, too; not intending to plagiarize, just trying to get to bed)

**I deleted the following paragraph, because it is so over-the-top. But it kind of cracks me up, and it is sort of how I see her. So I'm pasting it here:

It's as if she's determined to put together a puzzle that she is absolutely loves -- not only because of the completed image it will make, but because of all the beautiful shapes and colors of each distinctly individual, vitally important piece. Some days she can't get many pieces to fit easily, or doesn't have enough time to work on it, and
gets frustrated. But she's able to say -- "Wow, this is a challenging puzzle! That took so much concentration & patience today, but I really just love this puzzle! Tomorrow I'm going to try to put another lovely piece in place. But if I find I still can't get very far, I'll just make a pot of tea and hum a tune and spend some time fondly gazing at
the amazing pieces!"

But me? Well, I'm more likely to have a small fit. To dramatically brush all the pieces to the floor with my arm. To break up the sections I already completed and throw them, hostilely, back into the box. To curse the ridiculousness and wrongness of certain pieces. To sigh and turn on the tv. So, yeah, she's a pretty great role model.

***Don't be put off by the baby-ish avatars accompanying the comments section on her new blog. It's an odd little quirk on that site -- and though I have never added an avatar of my own anywhere, I'm highly tempted to do so over there, just so everyone understands I'm not actually 5. Although that would require me to comment, which I have possibly done ONCE (?) over the years. I prefer to stay quietly hidden over here and then write long, rambling, gushing, then rambling again posts about how much I love her. Hmm. Again, one of the differences between her & me; she would TELL people she loved them -- or at least bake them a plum cake! -- where I would just crack a joke and then go check the local weather. So, ok. I'll leave a comment! (Because did I mention she's great? And a good influence?) I will comment and cook.

Harvard Schmarvard!

So I sat down to my computer this morning with my cup of coffee and scanned the news headlines. I nearly spewed it all over the screen when I read this one:

Violent Games Myth: The notion that violent video games turn kids into aggressors has been dispelled (Harvard researchers' findings)

Oh, Puh-Lease!! There are just so many things wrong with this that I can hardly stand it.

First of all, if that had been credited to a less-"impressive" source, say, George Bush, or Kathie Lee Gifford, or the producers of Grand Theft Auto, would it even have made the morning headlines? Ignore the status name there, folks, and read the article objectively.

I provided the link above for you to read, but just in case you are too lazy to click on it (trust me, I understand), here are some direct quotes (in blue) from the article, along with my two cents (in black).

Penned by Harvard Med School researchers Lawrence Kutner and Cheryl Olsen,
"Grand Theft Childhood: The Surprising Truth About Violent Video Games and What Parents Can Do" refutes common conceptions about the causal relationship between
violent video games and violent behavior.

In other words, playing a few hours of GTA IV will not result in your kid stealing a car, careening through traffic and gunning down civilians.
Uhm, no, actually this is NOT an accurate translation of that opening paragraph. I don't think they were talking about "playing a few hours" and "gunning down civilians." These are assumptions! Embellishments! Exaggerations! I can practically see the reporter smirking as he (or she? Why do I feel like it's a he? Ha! -- went back and checked. HE.) wrote this with one eye on the clock, anxious to get home and play his PS3. He was probably chewing on his lead-laced pen as he thought.

"What I hope people realize is that there is no data to support the simple-minded concerns that video games cause violence," Kutner told Reuters News Service in an interview.
Oh, really, Kutner? You're gonna go there? "Simple-minded"?! I admit that makes me want to read the actual research paper, because that's a pretty strong statement and I'm assuming he thinks he can back it up. But to my ears, it reeks of researcher bias. (can ears detect reek? I'm unfortunately fond of mixed analogies. You know what I mean.)

Their findings are a result of a two-year study of over 1,200 middle-school students. Unlike most studies set in sterile lab environments using psychological triggers, much of their data was collected by -- brace yourself -- actually talking to their young subjects.
Ok, so we're supposed to be so impressed that you TALKED to your subjects? Like, dude, like, so, like NOT! How many of us actually see our own behavior accurately and don't bend the truth to our advantage now and then? Uh, huh. And how many middle-school students are able to do that? Especially when questioned by a potentially-biased researcher who is quite likely a fan of the games? Did they ask the parents or teachers or neighbors anything about these kids? Did they look at factual evidence or behavior reports or field notes or standardized questionnaires or anything that could be objectively measured? Is this entire report based on self-reports and subjective measures? And that's supposed to impress me??

The researchers did note a link between mature-rated titles and aggressive behavior, as a significant number of both boys and girls who played M-rated titles
reported getting into more fights over the past year than kids who didn't play
M-rated games.
Ok. Now we're getting somewhere. This "link", did anyone look into that a little more thoroughly? Is it possible that THIS is the type of thing (along with desensitization, normalizing effects, learned behavior patterns, etc.etc.ETC!) that we might be concerned about instead of only whether or not the kids are "gunning down civilians"?

However, Kutner and Olson point out that this simply demonstrates a correlation between violent games and aggression, not that one causes the other, suggesting the possibility that the kids attracted to mature-rated games were naturally aggressive to begin with.
Keep going, you two. Yes, correlation does not imply causation, but it often points to some possible, unknown relationship worthy of further study. And furthermore, they are very quick to point out their study did not find a direct, causal effect....BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN THE OPPOSITE IS, THEREFORE, TRUE. They didn't find a causal effect in THIS study. That's it! They can't make a blanket denial for any connection in general! The subject has not been thoroughly exhausted & laid to rest as the headlines seem to imply.

Yahoo! Headlines and Mr. Reporter, I'm ashamed of you. And, frankly, a little embarrassed for you. It is possible this study has more credibility than I'm giving it here...but you made it sound absolutely ridiculous.

I'm gonna go walk around the block. When I get back I would like to see a factually-based, reliable weather forecast on my homepage, also, if that's not too much to ask. Quit messing with us.

Say What??

Pop: I fixed your bedside lamp. The switch is broken.

Me: Great! Thanks! (after a slight pause) Wait -- what? The switch is broken?

Pop: Yes. I fixed it, and the switch is broken.

Me: Oh. So, you were able to fix the switch?

Pop: No. I fixed the lamp, and now the switch is broken.

Me: So...it's fixed?

Pop: (getting perturbed that I don't understand) The switch is broken.

Me: So did you fix it or not?

Pop: Yes!! I fixed it, just like you asked me to! And the switch is broken!

Me: But...the switch wasn't broken earlier. Did you break it?

Pop: NO, I DID NOT BREAK IT! I FIXED IT! And the switch is broken!

Me: Uh.....


Oh, hi, there Pop! Are you having a nice day at work? Hey, nice that you stopped in to read my blog today! OK, bye! Gotta run! Kisses!

A Google Named Yahoo!

So if you have kids between the ages of 5-12, you probably know that yesterday was the official Webkinz Extravaganza! Our local giftshop was offering a Buy-One-Get-One Webkinz sale, so Tootsie took her babysitting money downtown to buy a new one. She chose a Google Lil' Kinz (which is supposed to be a platypus), one of the more...uh, abstract critters. Then she announced she was naming him "Yahoo!", which was pretty clever since he is a "Google". My amusement continued to grow, however, with the following conversation:

Tootsie: Does Yahoo look like a boy or a girl to you?

Me: Well....

Tootsie: 'Cause for some reason, I just think of him as a boy!

Me: Really? (trying not to giggle...or wince as she strokes it)

Tootsie: Yeah, I don't know why. What do you think he looks like? Girl or boy?

Me: Uhm.....yeah...I'm gonna go with boy...

When I started this blog, I told myself I would try not to put anything too embarrassing to anyone in here. So....well....moving right along...