Posts Tagged ‘friends’

Ten Pens

Monday, March 8th, 2010

Remember that lame thing everyone was doing on Facebook awhile back?  It was called “Twenty Things” or “Forty Things” or “A Whole Bunch of Unrelated Self-Centered Thoughts” or something like that.  Somehow it became undeservingly and wildly popular in a short amount of time.  (Which, normally, never happens on the Internet.)

Well.  I hereby present Ten Pens.  It’s way more fun, and just as free.

Take ten pens from around your house.  They must be free promotional pens.  If you’re short a few, I’ll lend you some: I rounded up 58 just by looking in the study.  They’re all going to school, in case anyone there wants to play (and because, seriously, they seem to multiply exponentially every 13 days or so.  I’m worried about the load-bearing capacity of my desk.)

Now, try to imagine how they might have entered your house.  Word limits are lame, but keep it short or your audience might fall asleep.  (All three of them.) Here are mine:

  1. Mini Cooper: Let’s Motor. This is one of those cool moving pens; when you tilt it, the little red car sliiiiiiides back and forth from the Hollywood sign to the Statue of Liberty.  And it was completely free!  All we had to do was buy a car.
  2. Revlimid capsules. Please see accompanying full prescribing information, including Boxed WARNINGS. I guess these prescription drug giveways must work, or no one would continue doing them.  I just have one question: “Boxed warnings”?  They don’t sound too bad.  Better than the free-roaming warnings that catch you by surprise, anyway.
  3. My school. Awwww. Actually, to be fair about 12 of the 58 were from my school.
  4. My school’s archrival school. What th–?!  I did tutor a couple of students from there, but I think I would have noticed this pen before now.  At the very least, I would think my school’s pens would be ostracizing it, but noooo, they’re playing nice and being friends.
  5. Best Wishes in the year 2003, Enslin & Son, Hattiesburg, Mississippi. My father’s family’s butcher shop.  We last visited there for my grandmother’s funeral.  It was a sad time, but wonderful to see them all, and I loved the tour of the slaughterhouse and my dad’s accompanying anecdotes from the summer he worked there as a teenager.  We also got married in 2003, so I think their best wishes might have helped a little.
  6. Mark & Anna’s Wedding: The Highlight of 2009. Most original wedding favor ever, from a very original couple!
  7. Sauza Tequila. Once again, what th–?!  We don’t own a bottle, and I’ve never even heard of that brand.  Tequila is not my scene.
  8. Microsoft. Steve, this means nothing to us!  We swear!  We don’t know how it got here or where it came from!  We’re burning it right this very instant and burying the ashes in the back yard under the Apple tree!  Isn’t that poetic justice?  Steve?  STEVE!  DON’T YOU WALK AWAY!
  9. Kone Elevators & Escalators. Courtesy of my husband, who goes to trade shows and can’t turn down a freebie to save his life.  Really, if he had to choose between certain death and a duffel bag of stuffed animals with building product manufacturers’ logos imprinted on their bums, I might have to raise Maia by myself.
  10. My high school alma mater. This isn’t technically a pen, it’s a letter opener — but it counts solely because of the number of times I’ve reached for it intending to pick up a pen.  A clever ruse, but I’m wise to it now.  Away, fiend!  Into the bag with the others!

Okay.  Your turn.  Comment here with a link to your Ten Pens post!  If it doesn’t go viral within a week, I’ll be personally offended.

Inescapable Irony

Saturday, December 19th, 2009

So this morning, instead of grading the last set of exams or baking the last batch of biscotti, both of which desperately need finishing, I decided to take an Internet survey about my procrastination habits.  Doesn’t that sound like a delicious distraction?

I scored high on the scale (75th percentile), but that’s no surprise.  I’m a terrible procrastinator.  The main reason is that I almost always get away with it.  Ever since grade school, I have been able to churn out high-quality work at the last minute.  It’s not my best work, but it’s good enough for an A or sometimes a B.  I’m disappointed in myself, but it’s such a relief to have the pressure gone that I don’t bother to change my pattern of behavior.

Case in point: my class last semester.  I think I read a total of about 20 pages of the textbook, which is many hundreds of pages long.  I never started my assignments until the day before or the day of.  But I was always able to yank something out by deadline time, and it was usually pretty good by my professor’s standards.  I ended up with a perfect score, which may be a procrastinating record even for me.

And, if any of you were ever to show up half an hour early for a dinner party, you would probably find the table un-set, dishes piled everywhere, visible clutter on every exposed surface, and me in my pajamas.  Oh, and I’d be picking fights with Rob and trying to blame HIM for the fact that I am genetically unable to plan ahead.  But as soon as the guests walk in, on time or (as a special gift to me) a few minutes late, everything is dreamy and happy and fun — so fun that I forget all about the part before, and next time we invite friends over, do it all again.

The problem with trying to teach anything: People Never Really Learn.

A New Job

Friday, December 18th, 2009

A couple of days ago, I met with one of my husband’s classmates at MSU.  She is choosing a written thesis instead of a project, which is a little unusual for an architecture student, but her subject involves a lot of history and research, so it makes sense: she’s writing on Nature Deficit Disorder, a tongue-in-cheek term for the behavioral, intellectual and physical problems that result from a loss of creative, unstructured outside play during childhood.

So this lady mentioned needing an editor, and Rob mentioned he had a wife who kindly corrected his grammar in every turn.  (Just then his phone rang; it was me, sending him a text that read, “at every turn, honey.  Love you!”)  So, after that, she had no choice but to call me.

It’s tough to edit your peers’ work.  It’s much easier to edit your students’.  As a teacher, I can be firm, unyielding, even a bit harsh, and the students understand it’s for their own good.  But for someone your age — or, in this case, someone twice my age — it’s trickier, especially when it comes to style.  I don’t want to invade too much of what is really a very personal project.  I’m nervous (especially about learning a THIRD style of citations — I used MLA in high school and college, have been forced to learn APA for grad school, and now will have to become fluent in Chicago / Turabian as well.)  She has a lot of confidence in me, which makes me twice as nervous.  I hope I’m up to the task!

Three Down

Friday, December 11th, 2009

You knew it was coming.  So did I, of course, although it was fun to pretend that teaching would be like this from now on . . .

1. Two siblings are so rowdy and rambunctious that I have to hold their hands constantly to keep them from playing while their father and I talk.  Finally, he excuses them to the front porch for some good old-fashioned parenting.  They are quieter after that, though also pretty peeved.

2. Poor Brian again lets his emotions get the better of him when he can’t play the piece correctly.  I finally end the lesson early when it’s clear he can’t stop crying long enough to work with me.  His mom shakes her head: “I live with a drama queen.”

3. A sullen pre-adolescent is dropped off at my house by her parents, who have clearly Had Enough that day.  Within five minutes, she’s gotten into an argument with me about scales: “I HATE them!”  “Why?”  “I just DO!  They’re STUPID!”

Bonus: By the time my dear friend and her son enter the house, both looking like they’ve been crying, I’m practically expecting it.  We get through the lesson almost silently, and on the way out, I squeeze her hand.  “Why don’t you come back later tonight?”  She does, and we have a few Adult Beverages and talk about why children are so complicated and confusing.  Hearing her, I realize I definitely have the less frustrating end of the deal.  My students  may drive me nuts, but hey, at least I can send them home!

The Man Who Helped

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

“Down and around. Down and around. Down and around. A man was walking down a hill.

Some bad men saw him coming.  They hit him.  They took his clothes.  They took his pennies.  Then they ran away.”

So begins the story of the Good Samaritan as I first heard it: as The Man Who Helped, in a book I still know by heart.  It’s a simple story: someone gets into unexpected trouble.  The people who are supposed to help him, don’t.  Along comes a stranger who, literally and figuratively, gets him back on his feet.  Simple; extraordinary.

It was a gift to hear this story anew on Sunday morning as we began our 40-day fast in preparation for Christmas.  It’s easy to get caught up in the minutiae of fasting — scouring labels for whey protein and consulting the calendar eagerly to see if we are allowed a glass of wine with dinner.  We forget what it’s all about: being good people.  Supporting and loving others.  Imitating Christ.

May your holidays this season be true holidays — days filled with holiness.  Blessings to you all.