I need books.

I no longer have a TV in my bedroom, which means I've been reading a lot more than I have in a long time. That's a good thing. But all my favorite already-read books are in storage so I've been scrounging around the IL's house for things to read. That's a bad thing.

MIL (the reader in the family) seems to prefer suspense (sure), crime novels (still with you), and romance novels (meh). She has a ton of super cheapy Walmart books in those genres, half of which I don't think she's ever cracked open; I bet they were impulse buys, or maybe the blurb convinced her but the first chapter or two turned her off. Because they're terrible. Oh my goodness, they are laugh out loud AWFUL.

And yet I keep reading them, because I don't have anything else.

Here's a sample from Bayou Justice, a murder mystery:

She stared at him with agony glimmering in her orbs. Then she shook her head, grabbed her cane and rushed, as fast as her disability would allow, down the aisle and out of the church.

Orbs. LOL.

There's an even better quote from one of the romances -- it brought me to tears, I was laughing so hard! -- but it's not family friendly. Please email me if you're 18yo or older and want to know. Holy cow, it's hilarious.

Anyway. I've got How I Became a Famous Novelist in my Amazon cart, but I'd like to add in a few more to keep me busy after I finish that one. Any recommendations?

I enjoy pretty much any genre except romance and sci-fi (and honestly, I might acquiesce to sci-fi / fantasy if the story were good enough). I like beach reads as much as literary fiction, as long as the beach read in question doesn't feel like it was written by a 7th grader in love with florid phrases like "glimmering orbs." I like non-fiction on interesting subjects (one of my all-time favorite books is The Design of Everyday Things because it's just fascinating). Anything else you need to know about my taste?

Please leave me a comment: What have you enjoyed reading lately? What are your all-time favorites? What do you think I should read when I'm done with Bayou Justice? ;-)


~RCH~

Pssssst! I have a new camera.

So, you see, my old camera (a lovely Nikon D70) somehow wound up with all sorts of dust and crap on the sensor; every single photo required painstaking effort in Photoshop to make it look half-way decent. I was afraid to attempt a fix, myself. The sensor is a very delicate piece of equipment and I didn't want to make it worse. I mean, sure it was dirty, but the camera was useable!

I inquired at a camera store months ago while visiting my hometown -- I remembered that once, way back in my film days, I'd had a similar problem and the camera store man just blasted the camera body with a very strong shoot of sanitized air; maybe they could fix a digital SLR just as easily? But no, the lady said; they'd need to send it off to their workshop for two weeks and beaucoup de bucks. I said no thanks; I wasn't local, and even if I were I wouldn't want to be without it for so long.

I figured I could take it in to a new camera shop when we moved. I mean, really, we were going to a land with stores! A Super Walmart! More than one grocer (where they presumably refrigerate perishables ... though that's another story for another day)! I thought that certainly there would be a camera shop to which I could bring my D70 for repair. After all this time, and all the pointless Photoshopping of dust particles, I'd even be willing to wait a couple weeks. But it turns out that there's not a real camera shop here or within a reasonable distance -- only generalized electronics stores that happen to sell cameras along with everything else. Hardly the expertise I'd hoped for.

So I bit the bullet. I tried to fix it myself. I don't think I broke the camera, so that's good, but I certainly didn't get the sensor cleaned, either. :-P

As a final option, I thought I could mail it somewhere. To Nikon itself, even. But as I browsed around the web, alternately researching camera repair and drooling over other lovelies (it's amazing how expensive they can get!), I stumbled into the refurbished section of Adorama.com. The Nikon D60s seemed cheap-ish (for a DSLR), plus they had the added bonus of a self-cleaning sensor! Just what I need, dirty girl that I am (lol). I read the reviews, which were overwhelmingly positive -- and not just for that particular model of camera, but for that model refurbished. No slap-dash, throw 'em back in a box hack job from Nikon U.S.A., no sir! The camera, most reviewers said, might as well have been brand spanking new. Just way cheaper.

So I got it.

Yay!

I'm not entirely clear on how Nikon names their models; you'd think that going from a D70 to a D60 would be a step back. It's true that my new camera is more advanced hobbyist than professional, but it has more pixels than my old one, it has that newfangled self-cleaning sensor technology, and while the interface is slightly different than my D70 it doesn't lack any of the D70's features. It feels like a step up (without being a step way up to the $2k models I would looooooove but probably don't need). I also think the D60 must be a newer release, because while Photoshop CS2 had no trouble recognizing RAW files from my old camera (RAW files, for you who are uninitiated, are like digital negatives that you can develop in your digital dark room, rather than .jpg image files which just are what they are) CS2 couldn't open the files from my new camera. So (*cough!*) I upgraded my version of Photoshop, too.

I didn't tell DH any of this. He knew I was looking for solutions to my dirty camera problem. He knows that solutions to camera problems are not free. He knows that I, as the family treasurer, have a good sense of what we can and cannot afford in elective purchases. And really, I wouldn't have done it if we couldn't afford it or if it were even cutting it close, but we're fine! The new job came with a better salary -- and yeah, sure, he's the one making the money but I'm living with the ILs. I love them, don't get me wrong -- but I'm living with the ILs. I've earned a new (used) camera, lol. He was there when the package arrived. "What's that?" he asked. "My refurbished camera," I said, a statement which was 100% accurate but which he may have construed to mean "that's my trusty old D70, back from repair." Or he may have known it was new. Or he may have since figured it out. :-P

I don't think he'd care either way, honestly. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea that he's controlling about money or begrudges me my creative outlets so far as we can afford them (which is why there is no $2k camera in my future) or that he belittles my lack of salary for the very real work I do of taking care of his children (and living with the ILs). His paycheck is our money, together; it's family money. He would probably even consider my purchase, elective though it is, a legitimate expense. But we used to be poor -- fairly recently, even. Poor enough that I'd have to agonize over the impulse buy of a tube of chapstick at the checkout line; I never spent money on myself. We got paid only once a month, a ridiculous, measly amount that we had to stretch thinner than tissue.... I'm good at frittering away small bits of money here and there (which then add up to large bits), but I still balk at the big purchases. Especially big purchases that mostly just benefit me. It's my own issue, not his.

But I still haven't told him more explicitly about the new camera. D'oh.

Anyway! So yeah, long story told long, there you have it. I love my new Nikon D60. It takes beautiful, clean photographs. I haven't done a real honest-to-goodness photo shoot with it yet (Mary, we need to get back on the Challenge wagon!), but here are a few pics I've taken:







Maybe I can convince the girls to do a real photo shoot with me sometime soon.

(Though I like the kids-in-the-wild photo style -- tromping through fields of tall grass, or chilling on a fallen tree, that sort of thing -- but DH has me terrified of chiggers and ticks with their Lyme disease and mosquitoes with their malaria and West Nile virus. How do kids ever play outside in humid places? We had bugs in the West, but mostly just icky ones, not life-threatening ones! Eeew, eeew, eew. I can hardly stand it. I'd love to photograph them in flowy dresses, but to get them outside in the wild flowers and weeds I'd have to put them in long pants and duct tape the ends of their jeans to their legs. Which is not a suggestion DH has made -- in my neurosis, I carry everything too far -- but still. It seems reasonable, right? Lyme disease, if not caught early, is incurable and can mess you up for life! And those ticks are small little buggers who like to hide in hair, so what if I missed one? Waaaah! Nature. Pleh. I know I need to get over it -- or at least save this rant for a completely other post, lol. *Sigh.*)

Welp. Yeah, that's the story. Expect to see more pictures here again (and/or on my attention whoring plog Wherein I Post Photos). Time for bed now. :-)


~RCH~

My picture of cheese. MY PICTURE OF CHEESE!

Thus sayeth Tres as she ran through the house with MIL's camera, trying not to get caught or forced to give it up.

"MY PICTURE OF CHEESE!!!"


~RCH~

All that and cookies, too.

Life is moving happily along here in our new (to me) hometown. The girls are enjoying school, and now that Labor Day is past they're done with the hot weather schedule; they finish up at 2:40 now instead of 1:40. Every school in the district has air conditioning except for the high school -- a beautiful old castle-looking building that DH's grandparents (on both sides) attended -- so I'm not sure why they needed a hot weather schedule (or how a single hour makes that much difference), but whatever.

I've signed Uno and Dos up for Girl Scouts. They'll be daisies! ("Daisies," Dos reminded me when they brought home the paper and begged me to let them join, "are your very most favorite flower, Mom.")

I had reservations at first: I am not a joiner (but the girls are, so I need to get over that and let them live their lives). I worried about the time commitment (but they only meet once every two weeks, so that's already better than twice-weekly karate last year). And the cookies! Don't get me wrong; I loves me some Girl Scout cookies. But how will I ever lose weight if I have cookie-pushers for daughters? (No response yet for that one, lol.)

My very wise parents wouldn't let me be a Brownie, I remembered, so might there be something unseemly about the organization? I reached back 26 years to reconstruct the context of that decision. I think (feel free to correct me, Dad) that aside from the time commitment, they objected to the Girl Scouts' feminist agenda; that would have been, after all, right at the height of the brouhaha over the Equal Rights Amendment (to which they were opposed). But then I remembered that I self-identify as a feminist anyway, so the Girl Scouts ought to be the PERFECT place for my daughters! :-)

I relented (DH had said yes without a second thought). We took the girls to the school cafeteria on a Tuesday evening, got some brochures, and filled in all their paperwork. Before I signed on the parent consent dotted line, I read to them the Girl Scout law and asked if they'd be willing and able to keep it:

I will do my best to be
    honest and fair,
    friendly and helpful,
    considerate and caring,
    courageous and strong, and
    responsible for what I say and do,
and to
    respect myself and others,
    respect authority,
    use resources wisely,
    make the world a better place, and
    be a sister to every Girl Scout.

I have to confess: I got a little misty-moisty eyed on that last line. I don't know why; maybe because I believe so strongly in the universal sisterhood of women, or because I love how close my girls are to each other, or because I miss my own family so much. But that phrase -- be a sister -- yeah. (*Cough!*) My allergies flared up.

They haven't had their first meeting yet. Apparently, it's a new group and it took a while to find a troop leader. (They asked me -- I'm sure they asked all the moms -- and I felt guilty saying no, but believe me when I tell you that I am not troop leader material, lol.) They finally did find someone, though, and we met her this morning before school when we dropped off our money for troop t-shirts to wear in the homecoming parade. (The girls are very excited about that, let me tell you!)

I think it will be good. The organization will nicely supplement the world view I hope to instill in them anyway; it'll give them something fun to do; it'll be a good place to make the right kind of friends. I think we're all excited -- even DH because, of course, there are those cookies....


~RCH~

Snapshots of Uno

Born for the Stage

We went to a fish fry / barbecue yesterday at the home of FIL's good friend Larry (who, apropos of nothing, speaks with an impossibly thick accent and a mumble). Larry has a big above-ground pool that the girls swam in last summer when we visited, but this year our bathing suits are in storage -- and besides, it was an uncharacteristically cool day.

Uno and Dos were devastated -- nay, heart broken! -- that we wouldn't let them swim. Never mind that Larry also has a huge yard for running around in. Never mind that he has a killer swing set, much better than the rusty, rickety thing we left behind at our old house. Never mind that he has a basketball hoop. Never mind that there were about 15 other children present whom Uno could have rallied for the game or adventure of her choosing.

No, all she and Dos could think about was swimming. "Mom, please? Let's just go get our suits out of storage. Or I could swim in my regular clothes. Please? Huh? Or sometimes people swim in just their underpants; could we do that? Or what if you quick drive to Walmart and get us new swimming suits? Or--"

No. The first answer was no. The final answer was no. No, no, no.

Uno looked at me, horrified. "I don't even know who you are anymore!" she squealed, and then turned and ran away covering her face with her hands.

All this drama and puberty still to come! Wheeee!


Heart of Gold

Uno made a new friend at school last week (though she can't remember the girl's name, lol). She made a big show of their parting when I picked her up on Thursday: She hugged the girl, held her hands and said something I couldn't hear, then hugged her again before bidding a final goodbye.

As she walked out to the car she said, "Mom, that friend has a disease. Sometimes she gets too much sugar and it makes her act funny or sometimes she doesn't have enough sugar and then she might get shaky and you have to tell a teacher or the playground lady. She has to try to keep it right in between, but sometimes it's hard for her."

"That's called diabetes," I said. "It can be a tricky thing, especially for kids."

"Yeah, that's what she said. She has a diabeety."

DH came with me to pick her up the next day. "Dad!" Uno said first thing. "My friend has a diabeety! Can you get to work on a cure for that? I need to bring it to her on Monday."

Yeah, Doc, could you get right on that? :-)


~RCH~

Tangent

DH's parents were both public school teachers: His dad taught music, at all grade levels, for 35 years; his mom recently retired from her position as an aide in a high school Special Ed classroom. Last night, after DH indignantly read them the Superintendent's letter, the three of them got to talking about the olden days when all the really great teachers were still around.

This may be a had-to-be-there moment. Or maybe a have-to-know-FIL moment. In any case, it struck me as hilarious.

FIL is pretty old school; he believes in clear discipline and a firm hand in guiding the youth under his watch. For approximately half of his career, corporal punishment was allowed (though he only paddled a student once -- and after that, the legend of the paddling was a sufficient deterrent). This story isn't about him, but that fact will provide a little context.

"Hey," said DH, "remember Mr. SuchandSuch? He was awesome. One time Joe Schmoe forgot to bring his book to class. Mr. SuchandSuch looked right at him and said, 'Son, I want you to count the steps out to your locker. Get your book. Then count the steps it takes you to get back to class. Add those numbers up and divide by two -- I want to make sure you get a little math in! -- and that's how many times I'm going to bust your [butt]!' And that's just what he did."

Everybody chuckled. When the laughter died down, FIL sighed.

"Yeah," he said, smiling fondly and without a trace of sarcasm. "He was a really nice guy."

LMAO.


~RCH~

Back to School

Uno began her career as a first grader this week (Dos will start kindergarten on Monday). Her teacher seems nice; it sounds like Uno has already begun building her cadre of devoted followers; her last school seems to have prepared her very well for the curriculum here. Despite the butterflies and insomnia I suffered the night before her first day (it's as bad as if I were the one starting a new school! :-P), I have every confidence that she -- that both girls, actually -- will thrive.

Poor Tres, though. All day long she asks, "Where Uno? Where [cousin]?" When Dos begins all-day kindergarten next week, Tres will have nobody to play with! Except for me, of course. And Grandpa. And Grandma. Okay, so I guess she'll be fine. ;-)

The educational culture here seems quite different than what I'm used to. The girls attend a school that houses Pre-K through 2nd grade; another school in town handles 3rd-5th; then you have your traditional middle school and high school. First of all -- though I don't have a problem with it (it's probably good not to have great big 11yos playing alongside 4 and 5yos) -- I've never heard of dividing kids up in that way.

The main thing that concerns me is the approach to behavior. It may be totally standard; my perception of the differences between here and where we came from may be unfairly biased in favor of my home region. Who knows? But here's the thing: Where we used to live, the schools focused on positive behavior. Uno's old school had implemented Rachel's Challenge and all year long emphasized kindness, compassion, and inclusion. Good behavior was recognized and rewarded. At this new school -- which, remember, goes only up to the 2nd grade, so we're talking about 7 and 8yos at the oldest -- we parents were given extensive information on what constitutes inappropriate behavior: Bringing firearms to school; cyber bullying (with a list of what that entails) as well as the traditional sort; wearing clothes that expose your midriff; wearing clothes that depict or support gang or drug activity; etc.

Seriously? We're worried about 7yos wearing belly-baring marijuana leaf t-shirts and carrying their Glocks to school?

The children, too, have been thoroughly debriefed on these policies and their attendant consequences. I asked Uno yesterday at dinner how school had gone. "I didn't get detention!" she replied. Uh... good! :-P

Maybe I'm naive and idealistic, but I believe children will rise to meet the expectations important adults have for them. Not becoming a gun-toting, gang-banging, cyber bullying 2nd grader is a reasonable goal. But I want more for my girls. I want to inspire them to achieve and contribute and and uplift. I want them to make friends and be friendly to everyone. I want them to stand up for the Little Guy. I expect them to do the right thing, not simply avoid the wrong thing.

I'm not so concerned about academics -- I figure it's up to the student to get a good education, and I know my girls are motivated and excited to learn -- but DH is. We got this letter from the Superintendent in our packet of information:

Dear Parents,

Under the No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB) of 2001, the district is required to notify you that three schools in the district did not make adequate yearly progress (AYP) minimums on state testing in the spring of 2009.

The law entitles you the choice of attending another school but, at this time, there are no choice schools available or any intergovernmental agreements to receive [our town] students with schools in the area. It may interest you to know that it is the policy of our Board of Education not to accept students from other area schools not making AYP.

If you would like specific information or an explanation as to why your child's school did not make AYP and what the school is doing to improve test scores, or if you would like further information concerning the NCLB mandates, please make an appointment to meet with the school principal.

Sincerely,
the Superintendent

I'm not a big fan of teaching to the test (as the NCLB Act has required), so I take this letter with a grain of salt. And as I said, I think the responsibility for her education lies with each student. A motivated learner can get a great education in a crappy school; a lazy or indifferent student can leave the most prestigious academy as a functional illiterate. I've seen evidence of both outcomes. I do think the family educational culture can make a big difference, but I personally have no concerns about that.

Our new district has a high drop-out rate (a huge billboard on the way out of town shouts, "If I can, you can! Get your GED now!") but the high school does offer AP classes for the smarty-pantses; where we came from, nearly everyone graduated from high school but there were no AP classes and many (often the ones from farm families) chose not to go to college.

(Your mom goes to college!) (Sorry; I've been hanging out with DH too much.)

Anyway. Is it six of one and half a dozen of another? Failing schools that expect the worst but offer advanced classes vs. a positive academic environment that doesn't do enough to promote higher education? And why am I worrying about their prospects for college when (a) Uno is only 6yo and (b) I'm technically a college drop-out, myself (I graduated from a junior college, then worked a year toward my bachelor's degree before deciding I couldn't afford it)?

But honestly, it's more than just the schools. This whole town feels (to me -- and it probably is just me) like it has an anti-intellectual bent to it. Where I grew up, and where we most recently lived, people lived by the motto that the glory of God is intelligence. People valued education, whether in school or gleaned from a life of hard work and virtuous living. I don't sense that here.

Am I looking backward with rose-colored glasses, though? Is this evidence of classism on my part? I grew up in a white collar, middle class neighborhood; this town is decidedly blue collar and less well off. So maybe I'm just a snob...?

Ouch.

I don't know. But as I said at the beginning, I have no doubt that the girls will succeed and thrive -- and I, too, intend to bloom where I'm planted. I may experience some culture shock initially, but I will acclimate and soon I'll be posting glowing reports of our new town, our new schools, our new life. I just need a little time to adjust, I guess.


~RCH~