CollageMama's Itty Bitty Blog

Flipping fan failure

2008-10-15T20:04:00.001-05:00

Even if I could carry a tune in a bucket, I would never make it as an opera diva. Sad, but true--I can't flick open and flutter my folding fan in a flirtatious manner. Rats. I can't flick it open at all. I'll never sing the title role of Bizet's "Carmen" or flutter in "Turandot".

We had a school demonstration of Tai Chi with fans this week. Tai Chi is a slow, soft martial art best known for relaxation, meditation, and range-of-motion exercise. I'd never seen Tai Chi done with music and fans before. The children were anxious to get their hands on one of the fans. Some of them were instantly able to mimic the motion required to open a fan with an impressive, loud snap.

When it was my turn, I was hopeless. "It is easy," the Tai Chi master said, "just like using chopsticks!" Go ahead and rub it in. I'm just as inept with chopsticks as I am with a curling iron.

My great aunt gave me a fan decades ago. I got it out of the cupboard and tried to get a grip on the fan flip technique. The tricks seem to be in flicking down to open up, and letting gravity do the work.

Some interesting links about fans:

A Painting in the Palm of Your Hand: 18th-Century Painted Fans from the Wendy and Emery Reves Collection of the Dallas Museum of Art.

The Language of Fans--While use of this language is a forgotten art, when we see it in a painting or opera the meaning is usually obvious.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Blog Action Day--Poverty 2008

2008-10-14T20:10:00.002-05:00

I've been intrigued by Dallas Morning News reports of a project created by University of Texas--Arlington architecture students that received an award from the AIA of Dallas:

Holding House, Buildingcommunity WORKSHOP, Urban Edge Excellence in Sustainable Design Award and Community Award

Holding House is on Congo Street in a blighted, crime-plagued 62-block area of Dallas being revitalized as "Jubilee Park". The "Holding House" is a place for a family to live temporarily while their own home is being renovated and brought up to code. The house is a two-bedroom, one-bath, 698 square foot home with a front porch. The design allows the temporary residents to remain connected with their neighborhood.

The design is also energy-efficient and constructed of salvaged materials, and was built for $44K. It is aesthetically pleasing, and would make a fine design for a fishing cabin. Perhaps Buildingcommunity WORKSHOP could sell the plans to continue financing construction of urban improvement projects.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Mini mental vacation refreshes

2008-10-13T06:48:00.005-05:00

My trip to the symphony was a desperately needed break from my routine. I feel like my brain has been washed, dried, ironed, and hung neatly in the closet ready for the coming week. The conductor and the violin soloist both looked younger than my sons. Actually, the conductor was 32 and the violinist 26. Sitting in the choral seats behind the timpanist let me watch the conductor's interaction with the musicians. The Sibelius violin concerto was outstanding. Kimberly Hale Harris gave a very informative and entertaining preconcert lecture. Even riding the DART train and walking to the Meyerson Symphony Center was a refreshing change. Seems like I should be able to deduct the day as a medical expense on my taxes!

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Guilt by association

2008-10-12T19:26:00.011-05:00

Breaking news: Barack Obama has a supporter who drank beer mixed with lemonade back when she was a college kid, and debated the possibility that violent methods might be necessary and justifiable to end a war and provoke positive societal change. We discussed major issues of the day from every conceivable viewpoint because that was the purpose of higher education back in the Seventies. It is still the purpose of higher education, and don't forget it! True, we discussed it in unheated apartments while wearing goofy clothes and eating carob chips. We were young. There is a tendency, if not a statistical assertion, that college students change their minds and behaviors after graduation! I haven't knowingly eaten carob chips for a quarter century.

Our philosophy professor used to host "Large General Parties". He invited everyone interesting he knew, and they invited everyone interesting they knew. He filled his refrigerator with quart bottles of cheap beer and pitchers of lemonade. Everyone added lemonade to their paper cups of beer. At one of these parties a sociology professor showed a film about the Students for a Democratic Society and the Weather Underground. It was probably the 1976 film, "Underground" about Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn. None of the people at those large general parties became domestic terrorists. Nearly all of us got jobs, got married, had kids, and don't want to relive the Viet Nam Era. We mostly worked to improve our neighborhoods, our kids' schools, and the environment. We changed our minds sometimes, and had a tendency to stay informed about current events. We kept listening to philosophers while finding the most appropriate and practical way to live in the real world.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Nero fiddling in D minor

2008-10-10T20:20:00.003-05:00

Woke up from a hot sweaty nightmare with a vivid mental image of tiny technicolor reptiles running around on my floral skirt, and the word "liquidity" on my lips. In the background of this horror show, a military band played "Garryowen". Crap. It's Wall Street's last stand with Escher lizards at 2:42 a.m. CDT.

The financial crisis will impact me in indirect and potent ways. Bobby Dylan tells me I've got nothing to lose, since I've got nothing. Seems like the economy has been slapping me with a wet towel in the junior high locker room for many months already. I march out each morning like some poor enlisted fool in Custer's 7th, about to be shot full of arrows because of arrogant, short-sighted commanders. Boys and girls, can you say "Greasy Grass"?

As a mental health expense, I purchased a package of buy four/get one free super cheap seats above and behind the orchestra, with the performances scattered out over the year. Thank heaven for that brief splurge. I've been hanging on to the prospect of a Dallas Symphony Sunday afternoon concert for weeks now. The newspaper review says the Sibelius Violin Concerto in D minor will be moody and challenging. Sounds like my preschoolers, or perhaps the markets. Children, can you say, "volatility"?

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Good News Flash

2008-10-09T17:26:00.007-05:00

(And couldn’t we all use some good news!)

Here in Plano, TX, we can put plastic containers with the numbers 1-7 in our recycling carts now. We still don’t put any plastic bags in the carts, and no Styrofoam, or “packing peanuts”.

My condominium complex is getting two more recycling carts to handle the added items. We are filling nine 96-gallon carts to the brim every week now as we enter our fourth year of recycling.

Just what do the different plastic numbers mean?

1
PolyethyleneTerephthalate (PET)
Soda, beverage and mouthwash bottles, food jars

2
High DensityPolyethelyne (HDPE)
Milk and water jugs, detergents, cleaners, oil bottles, toys

3
Polyvinyl Chloride(PVC)
Cooking oil bottles, garbage cans, salad dressing bottles

4
Low DensityPolyethelyne (LDPE)
Food storage containers

5
Polypropylene (PP)
Most bottle tops, video cassette cases

6
Polystyrene (PS)
Clean food trays. Plastic cups, throwaway utensils, plastic toys, garbage cans.
--------------NO STYROFOAM

7
Other
Plastic containers, plastic plates

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Adler Planetarium

2008-10-08T20:05:00.008-05:00

There's always a point in the campaign debates where I just can't take it anymore. Tuesday it was the third time McCain referred to the Zeiss planetarium projector as an "overhead projector". Whether McCain can't discern the difference, or if he is that disingenuous with the American people, it's alarming and annoying. I wanted to Ralph Cramden him to the moon!

Saturday's workshop about teaching "stress-free" preschool might have been stretching the truth a bit, too. Teaching preschool has built-in stress. The presenter was terrific, and she used a real overhead projector with transparencies.

The Field Museum, Adler Planetarium, and Shedd Aquarium in Chicago are some of my very favorite places. The Adler was the first planetarium in the western hemisphere. Every forty years or so, the projector that displays the stars on the dome wears out.

This is not the night sky. It's my rust-dyeing experiment. The rust results weren't dramatic, so I tie-dyed the ochre fabric with RIT black, then discharged the fabric with a mist spray of bleach. Think I'll dress as a black hole for Halloween.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Rooftop alien or houseguest?

2008-10-07T20:35:00.004-05:00

The kid with the really loose tooth was the first to spot our playground visitor. The praying mantis was sitting right there at the peak of the playhouse roof.

After trying to stare us down, the mantis began roaming around the roof. Rather than trying to avoid the paparazzi, it seemed to be testing our mettle and preparing to charge the photographers! For the students this was as good as a circus.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Good roots at the Gross Clinic

2008-10-06T18:40:00.016-05:00

What a gift! A gloomy, rainy day in North Texas is precious, and especially wonderful on a day off from school. This was "Fair Day," allegedly an opportunity for children to visit the State Fair of Texas, but equally important, a day for teachers to schedule doctor and dentist appointments. The unfamiliar rain sounds made hitting the snooze button seem extra luxurious at 6:15 a.m.

Spent the morning at the dentist's office having my teeth cleaned, and a full set of x-rays made. The good news is I have "great roots"! I think this could be a real asset on an AARP online match-making site. The dentist removed an old silver filling that wasn't doing its job, and replaced it with a sexy composite filling.

There's no way to explain to students why "gross" and "floss" don't rhyme. The hygienist was pleased with the results of my New Years resolution. My brushing is much improved, so now it's time to get serious about flossing.

Which reminds me what I forgot to write before, but I'm now officially in an absent-minded phase of life, and can't be blamed for such lapses. A student brought a sealed medical pouch for Show & Tell. It contained six rotten teeth pulled by a dentist. Boys and girls, can you say "gross" and "floss"?

Every so often I check the Curious Expeditions blog. Today I found a post about an early Pennsylvania operating clinic. I'm not sure if its the famous clinic of Dr. Samuel Gross. Thomas Eakins painted Dr. Gross in the surgery theatre. I grew up pondering Eakins' "Portrait of Jennie Dean Kershaw" at the Sheldon Gallery on the UNL campus.

Gross c.1347, from O.Fr. gros "big, thick, coarse," from L.L. grossus "thick, coarse (of food or mind)," of obscure origin, not in classical L. Said to be unrelated to L. crassus, which meant the same thing, or to Ger. gross "large," but said to be cognate with O.Ir. bres, M.Ir. bras "big." Its meaning forked in M.E., to "glaring, flagrant, monstrous" on the one hand and "entire, total, whole" on the other. Meaning "disgusting" is first recorded 1958 in U.S. student slang, from earlier use as an intensifier of unpleasant things (gross stupidity, etc.). Noun sense of "a dozen dozen" is from O.Fr. grosse douzaine "large dozen;" sense of "total profit" (opposed to net) is from 1523. Gross national product first recorded 1947.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Elwood Goes to Lewisville

2008-10-04T06:06:00.001-05:00

What would have happened if inpatient V. Van Gogh had been scheduled for twice daily rabbit therapy? Could Vince have gotten his act together while petting a nonjudgmental animal in his room at the Saint-Remy asylum. As a starving artist, Vince must have filled out applications to qualify for the sliding fee payment scale.

I can see Jimmy Stewart and Harvey doing hospital volunteering--you know, chatting with the inmates, helping them mark their meal menus. Elwood P. Dowd has some grand pookah rabbit healing powers.

This afternoon I get to go to the "bunny farm" to get supplies for the classroom pet. Or maybe I just misunderstood when the nice young men in the clean white coats said, "funny farm".

They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Chicken Little and Curious George

2008-10-03T18:35:00.000-05:00

The U.S. House of Representatives voted to approve the ridiculozillion dollar bailout package today. Ah, yes. Again the fools rush in where angels fear to spend.

"They didn't know it was GEORGE. They thought it was a real fire." This line from the classic picture book, Curious George, has been lurking on the edge of my mind the last week or so.

Maybe there really is a crisis. Still, it seems we, and our elected representatives, should be getting a bit more suspicious when the Bush Administration declares another Impending Destruction of All Life As We Know It Unless We Act NOW. This time around it's Wall Streets of Mass Destruction. Colin Powell has been replaced, but the Administration has proven intelligence to know exactly where the WSMDs are hidden.

Maybe I've just been hanging out with preschoolers too long. If you tell a preschooler to hurry up and wash his hands, he will drag out the process as long as possible, annoying his classmates, and watching his reflection and your reaction in the mirror to see if you will flinch.

I wish Congress would have dilly-dallied a bit to see if Dubya and his crew would flinch. I'm afraid the new administration will be sworn in, and Curious George and his cronies will be riding off with their golden gazillion $ balloons.

October Open House wreath

2008-10-02T18:52:00.001-05:00

This was my dream. In the beginning there was a giant corrugated cardboard circle with the middle cut out. Then children began making orange and ochre paper rings like they do at Christmas for tree chain decorations. But they were gluing the paper rings onto the cardboard circle. When the whole cardboard circle was covered in rings, the children began thinking about initial sounds and prefixes, to make a wreath of October work for the school Open House.

Now in the musical, "Fiddler On the Roof," Tevye tells a dream like this:

All right, This was my dream. In the beginning, I dreamt we were having a celebration of some kind. All of our beloved departed were there. And the musicians...Even your great uncle Mordichai was there. And..and your cousin Rachel was there. In the middle of the dream in walks your Grandmother Tzietal, may she rest in peace.

Golde: Grandmother Tzietal? How did she look?

Tevye: Well for a woman who's dead 30 years she looked very good. Naturally, I went up to greet her.

Now in no way am I comparing meeting the families of my students at Open House Night with greeting Grandmother Tzietal, but the song did pop into my head. These things can't be helped. I'm not even thinking about Orack Borama.

But back to the October wreath, I dreamt that all the students made prints of an owl or an octopus, and each hung one print on the wreath. Then we could add some of our overwhelming okra harvest. We could take funny photos of the smallest students turning the lights or faucets ON or OFF, and let them trace those letters to add to the wreath.

Slightly older students could cut out red octagons and make STOP signs to hang on the wreath. Some of these students have been doing work about opposites. They could draw OPEN & SHUT, OVER & UNDER, INSIDE & OUTSIDE, and OLD & YOUNG, or do math work about ODD & EVEN numbers. Young observers might consider OPAQUE & TRANSPARENT. We could hang their drawings on the wreath, or weave them in and out of the paper rings.

We have been studying occupations since the semester's onset. Some students would be happy to draw opera singers, oceanographers, organists, Olympic athletes, opticians, astronauts in orbit in outer space, baseball outfielders, ornithologists, orthodontists, mommies and daddies working at "the office", and surgeons performing operations.

Montessori students love studying animals, so they would be glad to draw an okapi or ostrich, an otter or ocelot, an orangutan, oryx, or ox. A teacher might share her photos of Phil, the patio opossum.

The music teacher must surely have some ideas about ocarinas, octaves, opera singers, and orchestra conductors. The art teacher could contribute outline drawings and Georgia O'Keeffe orchids to the olio. The elementary teacher might offer students some opportunities for studying Ohio, Oregon, Oklahoma, Oahu, Omaha, and Odessa, TX. Her assistant would contribute original recipes with oregano, olive oil, or onion.

I hope an octegenarian great-grandparent will attend Open House to observe our community of learners. "Our" is a very important word for the school. Students come from diverse backgrounds, but at school we are one community.

Parents at Open House could hang other "O" words on the wreath--oxygen, opals and obsidian, ovens or ogres, omelets at one o'clock a.m., Oman, ounces or orchards. Sure, someone might need to oversee and organize the project, but there are some outstanding options.

I've obviously gone overboard. I'll start my little outboard motor and putt-putt offshore.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Renewing raindrops

2008-10-01T19:27:00.002-05:00

I like this fabric, too. It reminds me that the anticipated storm brings the needed moisture to the soil allowing growth. The storm is not just a sky show.

The brown doesn't work with all the car window blocks. I'm a bit concerned about the fabric fading.

While I was waiting for the clerk to measure and cut the fabric I was subjected to Neil Diamond's 1971 "I Am, I Said." I'd have preferred B. J. Thomas singing "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head," from 1969. Thank heaven it wasn't the 1968 Richard Harris version of "MacArthur Park." I don't think that I could take it, as it took too long to bake it--Even longer than this project has taken!

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Flying Purple People Quilter

2008-10-01T18:58:00.002-05:00

It's a challenge trying to get a true color in a series of photos from different distances. My camera and photo software have both "helped" me until you wouldn't think this purple batik fabric is the same in all three views.

I bought a little end-of-bolt piece, and the color does work with the car window blocks. The pattern has a rainy feel to it.

I'm just not sure if I'm a purple person!

Sure looks strange to me!--Sheb Wooley, June 1958.
Well bless my soul, rock and roll, flyin' purple people eater
Pigeon-toed, undergrowed, flyin' purple people eater
I like short shorts
Flyin' little people eater
Sure looks strange to me (Purple People?)

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Into the Wild

2008-10-01T06:46:00.004-05:00

Awake at 4:42, I made the pot of coffee (with no bats), and wrapped in my "vision quest" quilt to watch the rest of "Into the Wild". Something made me check out the dvd when I worked at the library Saturday. Since then I've watched a bit of the movie each evening. Several times I discovered tears sliding down my cheeks.

The movie is so beautiful, so well played by Emile Hirsch and Hal Holbrook. I'm am trying to recover my limited understanding of "aesthetic distance" from Nelson Potter's philosophy class of thirty years ago. The story seems only an onion skin away. Finishing my viewing left me with a raw, scraped feeling, and again the tears.

We each want for our children happiness, of course. I hope they find wisdom, as well, and enjoy self-motivation and self-discovery and great contentment, as I do for myself. Still, as a mother, I can't imagine the pain if one of my sons felt he needed to disappear to find those things.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

$295/yard

2008-09-30T20:00:00.000-05:00

The air is just faintly crisp. Fall has officially arrived. My creative energy is coming back, but sadly, the hummingbirds have left the patio.

Back to the design problem of the Kansas car window storm quilt blocks. I have decided to use two or three of the blocks as stand-alone wall-hangings to work out design and technical questions. I received some great input on fabric and color options, including using headliner car fabric or trying a batik pattern.

Although I've worked near Kay's Fabric Center in Richardson, Texas for a long time, I'd never visited the store. I don't sew clothes for myself any more, and no longer make childrens' theater or Halloween costumes. Still, I felt like I'd entered Aladdin's cave when I found the incredible designer fabrics in this thirty-eight year-old, family-owned store at 518 W. Arapaho Rd,. Suite 113, Richardson, TX 75080.

Maybe a more timely analogy would be Howard Carter telling Lord Carnarvon that he could see "wonderful things" as he peered into Tut's tomb in 1922. These were fabrics fit for pharoahs, fairy godmothers, overpaid professional athletes, and Mozart's Queen of the Night. King Tut's treasures will be on display at the Dallas Museum of Art beginning this month.

When I reached visual stimulus overload, the store's staff led me on a tactile tour of luxurious wools. Like a tasting of fine wines, this experience took me far beyond my station in life! These fabrics were finer than those sewn for the Emperor's New Clothes. Even my inexperienced fingers could tell the difference between $150/yd. wool and $295/yd. wool. Three and a half yards would make a suit for a normal-sized captain of finance. It could take six or more yards to create a suit for a Dallas Cowboy or Dallas Maverick.

Sadly, I had to admit I was looking for a flat-fold remnant priced near $1.99/yd. to test color and construction techniques for my Kansas blocks. My price range is closer to Laura Ingalls Wilder's dugout on the banks of Plum Creek than Aladdin's jewels or Michael Irvin's closet. It was on up the trail to the sewing/craft chain store for me.

This gray quilting cotton could pass fairly well as the interior of a slightly rusty '96 Buick. It wouldn't detract from the intense colors of a July thunderstorm over lush green Kansas fields.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Well, we're back in business, boys and girls, just like the old days.

2008-09-29T19:44:00.005-05:00

Last week I went meandering in the garden store down the street for a little change of pace. A slow afternoon in the greenhouse, so an employee came over to spend time with me. Is it too late to plant this? Will that come back in the spring?

Whenever I plant a little rosemary, I told the woman, it's a goner. She disagreed, proclaiming anybody can grow that herb. I bought a little rosemary, just to be an optimist, along with a mint plant and two brussel sprout plants. Maybe I could exorcise my childhood brussel sprout trauma by growing some of my own!

"Of course," I told the garden store woman, "the white butterfly will find these brussel sprout plants before you can say, 'Butch and Sundance." She gave me a look that said she was too darn perky to poison her mental outlook by prolonging her exposure to me, and went off to water ornamental peppers.

Am I a pessimist? Or am I a realist? I'd like to think I'm just in awe of the abilities of Mother Nature's creations to find their favorite food source. Don't mark me down as a party pooper on my cosmic permanent record!

So it was no surprise when the white cabbage butterfly arrived on the patio this afternoon to do an Isadora Duncan version of egg-laying on the little brussel sprout plants. I hadn't seen her for months, but she was back in business, boys and girls.

I'm thankful to Paul Newman for his gift of precious cinematic moments that color my take on life. It helps to imagine old Butch entering a heavenly Union Pacific boxcar to chat with Woodcock, aka George Furth, who is still in the employ of Mr. E. H. Harriman.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

If you brew it, they will come

2008-09-28T18:48:00.000-05:00

Dateline: Iowa--This could be the best Halloween story of the year. The economy, presidential campaign, and natural disasters have given us so many terrors that we've reached catastrophe overload. We are desensitized, and feeling pretty helpless to make a difference.

Enter the field of screams from stage right. Can't you see Mrs. Olson with those Folgers' fangs? I vont to dwink your coffee and hang upside down all night until my brains are cooked. [Not that this resembles any college student sons.]

Each morning I drink several mugfuls of coffee, then add my used filter full of grounds to the worm bin. I'm not all that awake, and I've never checked for boiled bat brains in the filter.

Cedar Rapids, Iowa used to seem like the safest place on earth. Powdered non-dairy creamer seemed like one of life's most frightening aspects.

Sending my best wishes to this unfortunate woman who had to endure rabies shots. I hope she got to watch one of Kevin Costner's better movies in the treatment room.

CEDAR RAPIDS, Iowa (AP) _ It wasn't just the caffeine that gave an Iowa woman an extra jolt after she had her morning coffee. It was also the bat she found in the filter.
The Iowa Department of Public Health says the woman reported a bat in her house but wasn't too worried about it. She turned on her automatic coffee maker before bedtime and drank her coffee the next morning.

She discovered the bat in the filter when she went to clean it that night. The woman has undergone treatment for possible rabies.

Health officials say that the bat was sent to a lab but that its brain was too cooked by the hot water to determine whether it had rabies.

Practicing 5s

2008-09-27T21:24:00.001-05:00

A small student is struggling to write the number five. I feel her pain! Next to eight, five is the most difficult number. Making a handsome 5 was a huge endeavor for me back just after the dinosaurs died out. This was slightly before I learned to zip my jacket, and well prior to my struggles spelling "kitchen" and "squirrel".

You can find memory devices and practice worksheets for 5 on the internet. Some lucky kids are able to master this fiendish numeral by remembering "straight neck, fat tummy, wearing cap". Forty-five years later, I can't recall if my beloved first grade teacher, Mrs. Erickson, helped me personalize the writing process, or if it was one of my schoolteacher aunts. Maybe I was inspired by the frequent sight of my dad sitting on a metal rocking lawn chair wearing his hat and counting the time between lightning flash and thunder boom.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Wednesday attitude adjustment

2008-09-24T19:16:00.001-05:00

This in from the You Just Thought Your Day Was Rough Department:

When I left work at 5:15 or so, I turned on the car radio. My NPR station was still in its fall pledge drive, so I switched over to WRR 101.1 for some classical music. But, no, my favorite soap opera was still on the air. The Dallas City Council convened today at nine a.m., and WRR was still broadcasting live from the meeting.

The Council was considering Agenda Item 55 at that moment, and Deputy Mayor Pro Tem, Dwaine R. Caraway, was calling for the men "with the motails in the back row to please stand up." Now Councilman Caraway from District 4 is best known for his anti-sagging pants campaign, and he once appeared on Dr. Phil's t.v. show to promote it. The slogan for that campaign is, "Grandma says: Pull 'Em Up!" That's why I thought a "motail" was likely either a fashion statement or a bad hairdo.

The Deputy Mayor Pro Tem was actually asking the men in the back to rise so he could commend them for their plan to build "an unseedly motail," an extended-stay hotel that "meant quality." Don't know about you, but just contemplating this Candlewood Suites in all its unseedliness brought a smile to my tired face.

Next, Agenda Item 54 was reopened for consideration. Seems there hadn't been a proper request for speakers opposed to a drive-through bank in Subdistrict B-2 of Planned Development District 749, aka the Baylor Hospital Special Use District, the first time around. The opposed speakers were even more agitated than they would have been if they were called the first time, if that is possible, and even further off the topic.

The first woman directed her fury at the Council for "sitting up there eating your grapes and your prunes and not letting us comment..." The next speaker went off about Baylor Hospital, and how "they are killing people up there with surgeries they don't even need and the security guards threw me in jail when I walked out the back door of the lunchroom with a plate lunch even though I had a paycheck in my pocket and $8000, so I didn't even need to cash my paycheck, like I couldn't pay for the plate lunch, and they're killing people in there, I know 'cause I worked there."

I spend a lot of time trying to get my preschool council members to eat their grapes and their prunes. They tell rambling stories that often have nothing to do with the agenda item. Some of them have a lot of trouble pulling up their pants and remembering to flush. Still, most of them can tell the difference between a drive-through bank and a hospital.

I'm humming a little WWI ditty:

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,
And smile, smile, smile.
Tuck in your motails, and smile, boys, that's the style.

And [Note To Self] next time, remember to buy the unseedly grapes at Albertsons!

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Small Hadron Kitchen Collider

2008-09-23T19:41:00.012-05:00

Recently received some granite counter-top samples from a remodeling friend who knows I'm incapable of throwing such stuff away. The granite squares have been surprisingly useful as teeny-tiny trivits, and particle colliders.

I gotta say that after a long day with preschoolers, it is very satisfying to smash a clove or two of garlic between cool, smooth, palm-sized blocks of stone. Haiiii-JYAH!!! Splat!

Saturday the CPR instructor explained that there is nothing to be done for a broken toe except to tape it to the next toe and hobble on about life. If you happen to be a karate student or even a black belt, don't whine to your wife about your broken toe. That only gets sympathy the first time. If your wife happens to be at home with three small children while you are off kicking and breaking boards with your foot for fun, you should probably send her a dozen roses and never ever mention your foot pain. Speaking from experience here...

We moved to Texas in 1990. The Superconducting Super Collider being built underground near Waxahachie was big news. I was vaguely concerned about a Big Bang occurring so close to my home, but the day-to-day realities of parenting three boys were more atom-smashing than particle physics.

The boys needed to get to school on time with their lunchboxes, homework, permission slips, and those darn fund-raising order forms each morning. They needed to have their clothes on right-side out, eat a healthy breakfast, and take their asthma/allergy medicines.

Getting to school on time is so important. If you are late you miss the announcements and instructions, and also the settling-down-to-learn part of the morning. This was brought home to me during a truly comic day in sixth grade.

At Eastridge Elementary my sixth grade classroom windows looked out toward "L" Street. Two of my classmates, Ron and Dave, lived across the street from the school. They liked to shoot hoops on the driveway as long as possible before crossing the street for school.

When the first school bell rang, many students entered the school and sat down at their desks. As usual, we looked out the window at Ron and Dave shooting baskets across the street. The second bell rang, meaning students better hustle so they won't be tardy. Ron and Dave were still playing basketball, but they were known for cutting it close.

The tardy bell rang. The school day began. The roll was taken along with the lunch count. The sixth graders should have been sharing "current events", but we were all too mesmerized by the suspenseful drama taking place outside the window.

How long would Dave and Ron keep shooting baskets?
Would Ron's mom come outside and yell at them?
When would they realize that bell they heard was the tardy bell, not the first bell?
How stupid would they look when the realization kicked in?
How silly would they feel when they found we were all watching their personal blooper?

By now the entire fifth grade had figured it out too, and was staring out the window. Slowly, the awareness spread down the classrooms on the north side of the school to the fourth, third, and second graders. The awakening was everything we were hoping.

Suddenly dim lightbulbs flickered over the heads of the pair. Ron's mom appeared, hollering. Can you say "skedaddle" boys and girls??? Darryl and his other brother Darryl hitched up their overalls and came tearing across the street and into the school. They even bumped into each other while scrambling for their lunch boxes. Hinckley and Hadley were very, VERY tardy. The show was over.

It was a powerful, cinematic moment, right up there with "Gone With The Wind"-- like watching Harold Edgerton's strobe photography of a bullet hitting an apple--or seeing the Jellystone Ranger nab Yogi and Boo-Boo.

"Some think this Hadron project will create a black hole that will suck in the Earth." I read that in the "Points" section of Sunday's Dallas Morning News. A scientist who worked on both the Superconducting Super Collider project and the Large Hadron Collider answers:

It is not possible for the LHC to create a massive black hole. Massive black holes, which swallow everthing near them and are created by gravitational collapse, require enormous mass. Not even the sun's entire mass would be sufficient. Some theories speculate that the collisions at the LHC could produce miniature black holes. Even if they are produced, they will evaporate immediately. There is no possibility of gravitational collapse.

That's okay. There's no possibility of real science being heeded in a McCain-Palin administration, either. Just dress that moose, feed him a Pop-Tart and send him out to shoot baskets. The whole school is watching

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Rearing caterpillars & frass champions

2008-09-22T19:06:00.015-05:00

It's been a poopy hornworm day on both fronts--school and home. Hornworms are those ENORMOUS CAMOUFLAGED DEVOURERS wiping your tomato and pepper plants right off the map.

Caterpillar poop is called "frass", and hornworms are the Texas State Fair champions of frass. They would hold the Olympic World Title of frass if they cared about anything besides eating. They are so good at what they do naturally that it's frightening to consider the possibility of hornworms training with coaches named "Bela" and using performance enhancers.

Tomato hornworms [which are actually hawk moth caterpillars, not worms] are a major garden pest, so I went to the source for pest info, Insects in the City, for a factsheet. Scrolling down through the insect pests I found:

Caterpillars
Asps & Other Stinging Caterpillars
Rearing Caterpillars

This made sense in a confused super-cowgirl mindset. Hornworms do have those nasty pronghorns on their bezoozies. They rear up in a threatening manner then hold very tight when school kids are trying to pluck them off the tomato plants. I bet Slim Pickens could ride a rearing hornworm into a nuclear detonation, and it would still keep eating and creating frass.

Planning my week's lunches

2008-09-21T16:20:00.003-05:00

We're starting the fifth week of school. Not that I'm counting, but that's eighteen sack lunches so far. On Sunday afternoons I need a little personal pep rally to get psyched up for another week. A perky theme, a skit, maybe a few cheers and songs, then I do an impressive jump with pompoms. It doesn't resemble a herkie.

Herkie is a vocabulary word I didn't learn until my second half century started, being more word nerd than cheerleading type. A herkie is a jump where your [and your is definitely a hypothetical here!] weak leg is bent towards the floor and your strong leg is out to the side as high as it will go. Named after cheerleading legend Lawrence "Herkie" Herkimer.

This Herkie is not the same as the Herkimer who haunts the mixed up memories of the Captain Kangaroo generation. That Herkimer, depending who you ask, was Herkimer the Lonely Doll, Herkimer the Homely Clown, or even my off-base Herkimer the Homely Hound.

The homely bassett hound of my memory was probably the plastic walking dog named Gaylord, by Ideal Toy. That ugly "flesh"-colored hard plastic segmented pseudo-pet was of the same era as Marvel the Mustang, by Marx. Which is all beside the point.

Now what was the point? Getting psyched for packing lunches for school, of course!

One Sunday I broiled chicken breasts. My lunches were either Caesar salads with chicken and grated Parmesan, or chicken and black bean soft tacos ready for the school microwave. These were lunches worth cheering.

Last week my theme was "healthy salad trio". Give me an H. Give me an S. Give me a T! I made coleslaw with caraway and yogurt dressing, watermelon and green grape ambrosia, and romaine with sliced broiled steak. That lasted three days, then the leftover steak was gone.

Taking its place was an easy substitute that took less than ten minutes to make. It would score a two-point conversion after touchdown:

Put frozen edamame in a microwaveable bowl with 3T water. Cover. Nuke for 3 min. Let stand 2 min. Drain and shell edamame.

While edamame is cooking, put frozen cocktail shrimp in colander in the sink and run water on it to thaw.

Slice some fresh red bell pepper. Cut ripe avocado.

Place everything in a plastic storage container. Squeeze juice of 1/2 lemon through a strainer into the mixture. Add shake of fresh black pepper. Season according to your tastes.

I added some of my friend Rosa's chili sauce. Her recipe is a concoction of peppers, garlic, and cilantro put in the food processor, then mixed with olive oil. Wish I knew the details, but it was delish with the shrimp!

Pack a serving of the salad in a thermal lunchbox with a frozen Blue Ice pack, or store in the school refrigerator until lunch.

I sure hope some spirited inspirations pop into my head soon for the coming week. It's going to take some Spartan cheers to get me pumped.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

No plagues for me, thank you

2008-09-20T15:31:00.005-05:00

My walking buddy is rarely so happy as when she has a juicy book about a plague, horrible medical condition, or natural disaster (preferably with egotistical males trying to prove they are smarter and stronger than Mother Nature). I cannot read these books. I shouldn't even read reviews of these books. Onset of symptoms is rapid.

Except for arterial bleeding, I could currently have every condition covered by the first aid/CPR instructor at our certification class this morning. Okay, maybe I haven't been poisoned by plants, snakes, insects, as we sort of skipped over them. I'm not actually choking, and the instructor helped me understand and feel confident about using the Heimlich. It was when he got to concussions and objects poked into eyeballs (don't pull them out) that I started to lose it! Instructions in using Epi-pens for severe allergic reactions hit too close to home. We still had to get through major burns (spray foam shaving cream over the entire burn area to prevent airborne infection--no gels), bones protruding through the skin, and seizures.

I did everything wrong when I suffered a back injury this summer. Asking a friend to lift him probably made my dad's hip breaks worse.

Am I sweating profusely and experiencing confusion yet? Is my smile crooked? Is there a great weight on my chest? Does your Kroger have a defibrillator?

Geez, the recommended way to treat a nosebleed has even changed. Lean forward, not back. Pinch the bridge of the nose. Fold a brown paper bag over and over until you have a tiny square, then place it between your top front teeth and inner lip. I kid you not.

After all that, the resuscitation and chest compression practice was comparatively easy, but the damage had been done. My head is throbbing. The usual restorative beef burrito did not help at all. It may be time to take the preventive measures of putting on my pajamas and hiding under the blanket until a new day dawns.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

2008-09-19T19:09:00.004-05:00

After this exhausting week of natural disasters and economic catastrophes, it is good to remember the day is beautiful if I'm paying attention.

I'm trying to remain a cockeyed optimist about the possible foundation repair to my condominium building. The water shut-off valves outside each unit were inspected to ensure they would survive a major building repair. The shifting in my part of the building is minor in comparison to the other half. Visualize wringing out a washcloth. That is the twisting that has occurred between the two halves of the building. The washcloth wring twist pretty much describes the current economic situation, too.

Still, the sky was a gorgeous pink and purple accented by the red neon Walgreens sign from the store across the street when I took my recyclables to the carts at six a.m. When I left for work an hour later, hot air balloons were floating above the city in advance of this weekend's Plano Balloon Festival. Arriving at school, there was a perfect sunflower open to catch the light of this lovely North Texas day.

Stopping by my public library after work to pick up picture books about occupations for the preschoolers, I was wowed by this fabulous angular-winged katydid sunning on the wall. Impressive in person, I'm even more amazed since I downloaded the digital photo and can notice details my human eyes couldn't see unaided. Isn't he a handsome dude!? Okay, he's got some green tattoos, but I'm still asking him would you be mine, could you be mine, won't you be my neighbor?

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder