Been quiet on the blogging front. Just thought I'd mention that the King of Men had to trim it back a bit this morning. Every so often, she (what I call me beard) gets into "Return of the King" range and must be brought back to the early stages of "Fellowship of the Ring." Hope all dudes are chillin.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Monday, December 27, 2004
Earthquake: Good God
It doesn't seem really in good taste to bring up any other subject today, in the wake of the mind-boggling disaster that struck southeast Asia's coasts.
The majority of my charity dollars these days I try to allocate at the beginning of the year, so I am not facing the situation of being "guilted" into giving to someone pressuring me over the phone, etc. But in instances like this, where there is a sudden, unexpected, and critical need for aid, I try to make an exception. I know there's a lot of really good organizations out there doing brave and incredible work, but I offer the two suggestions for giving below to anyone else interested (the first, because I admire the noble work being done by the doctors involved, and the second because they really know what the hell they're doing in cases like this):
Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières
P.O. Box 2247
New York, NY 10116-2247
888-392-0392
www.doctorswithoutborders.org
American Red Cross
International Response Fund
P.O. Box 37243
Washington, D.C. 20013
800-HELP NOW
www.redcross.org
The majority of my charity dollars these days I try to allocate at the beginning of the year, so I am not facing the situation of being "guilted" into giving to someone pressuring me over the phone, etc. But in instances like this, where there is a sudden, unexpected, and critical need for aid, I try to make an exception. I know there's a lot of really good organizations out there doing brave and incredible work, but I offer the two suggestions for giving below to anyone else interested (the first, because I admire the noble work being done by the doctors involved, and the second because they really know what the hell they're doing in cases like this):
Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières
P.O. Box 2247
New York, NY 10116-2247
888-392-0392
www.doctorswithoutborders.org
American Red Cross
International Response Fund
P.O. Box 37243
Washington, D.C. 20013
800-HELP NOW
www.redcross.org
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Great, Short Christmas Story I Leave You With
Last weekend, just after waking up for our early Christmas in Waterloo:
Daddy: Lucy, can you say "Merry Christmas?"
Lucy: "DON'T WANT."
Daddy: Lucy, can you say "Merry Christmas?"
Lucy: "DON'T WANT."
An Hour with Alyx
A freaky otherworldly experience. ALYX is actually a new procedure being used by some blood centers that is capable of taking twice the amount of red blood cells as a standard donation. They way they achieve this is by extracting your plasma from the blood in a cetrifuge and then actually returning it to your body on site and during the procedure.
The process actually involves four extraction/return processes, so you are never out the full amount of fluid at any time. But it was weird-both physically and psychologically. Physically, in that the plasma would be near room temperature by the time they were ready to pump it back in--which, of course, is far below body temperature. They had a heating pad over my shoulder to help maintain my temperature, but I still developed a chill. From a mental standpoint, it was crazy watching this mostly clear substance that was my plasma fill up a bag, and then watch the level begin to go down as it was pumped back in. Sort of like I woke up at an inopportune time during an alien abduction.
On a side note, I was eligible to donate cause the iron content in my blood was very high. The lady testing me said, "You must eat a lot of red meat."
The process actually involves four extraction/return processes, so you are never out the full amount of fluid at any time. But it was weird-both physically and psychologically. Physically, in that the plasma would be near room temperature by the time they were ready to pump it back in--which, of course, is far below body temperature. They had a heating pad over my shoulder to help maintain my temperature, but I still developed a chill. From a mental standpoint, it was crazy watching this mostly clear substance that was my plasma fill up a bag, and then watch the level begin to go down as it was pumped back in. Sort of like I woke up at an inopportune time during an alien abduction.
On a side note, I was eligible to donate cause the iron content in my blood was very high. The lady testing me said, "You must eat a lot of red meat."
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Shitting in the Stacks Vol 2
Over the past number of months, I have received a vast amount of correspondence from readers asking for a follow-up to my piece, "Shitting in the Stacks." It was not until last night, however; an hour and a half before my GIS class final, that I had a second personal experience from which to draw.
Shitting in the Stacks Vol. 2
With rasters, vectors, and interpolation crowding my weary head, I was testing the law of diminishing returns with respect to fact-retention in the last couple of hours prior to this final test. The weather was bitter cold; 1 degree above zero with a biting wind, and without warning, a sudden, butt-crippling urge to take a shit was upon me. Without hesitation, I headed for Wilson Library (built 1961).
I glided through the level-one turnstile and jogged left a step or two into a familiar torchere-lit hall to the men's room. It was an hour prior to the last slot on the last finals day of the semester. Nobody was around. Banks upon banks of empty, iron-wrought stalls lined the back room of the two-room facility. In each was a marvelous, ivory-white porcelin stool that were made from a Time of Craft, with brass plungers and a curious, vaguely odd shape that brought to mind notions of antiquity, not unlike those old bathtubs with feet. I breathed a sigh of anticipation that echoed off multitudinous surfaces and entered the third one from the left. It crammed full of shit and toilet paper, so I exited and went to the stall on the far right.
Sitting down, I noticed fancy light fixtures above that sent beams of golden incandescence down to reflect off the water's surface, then back up between my thighs to dance upon the intricate, relief-filled walls and ceiling. Whatever turds emerged I do not remember. They must have descended quietly in turn, almost reverently, to the bottom of the bowl. Whatever smell there may have been I also cannot recall, for I was taken with the dusty smell of tomes that worked decades to find its way through cracks and vents. My task was rendered academic with thoughts of scholars that have filled incalculable number of bowls preceding me.
Finishing, I left to find a quiet place to get my mind ready before the test.
Shitting in the Stacks Vol. 2
With rasters, vectors, and interpolation crowding my weary head, I was testing the law of diminishing returns with respect to fact-retention in the last couple of hours prior to this final test. The weather was bitter cold; 1 degree above zero with a biting wind, and without warning, a sudden, butt-crippling urge to take a shit was upon me. Without hesitation, I headed for Wilson Library (built 1961).
I glided through the level-one turnstile and jogged left a step or two into a familiar torchere-lit hall to the men's room. It was an hour prior to the last slot on the last finals day of the semester. Nobody was around. Banks upon banks of empty, iron-wrought stalls lined the back room of the two-room facility. In each was a marvelous, ivory-white porcelin stool that were made from a Time of Craft, with brass plungers and a curious, vaguely odd shape that brought to mind notions of antiquity, not unlike those old bathtubs with feet. I breathed a sigh of anticipation that echoed off multitudinous surfaces and entered the third one from the left. It crammed full of shit and toilet paper, so I exited and went to the stall on the far right.
Sitting down, I noticed fancy light fixtures above that sent beams of golden incandescence down to reflect off the water's surface, then back up between my thighs to dance upon the intricate, relief-filled walls and ceiling. Whatever turds emerged I do not remember. They must have descended quietly in turn, almost reverently, to the bottom of the bowl. Whatever smell there may have been I also cannot recall, for I was taken with the dusty smell of tomes that worked decades to find its way through cracks and vents. My task was rendered academic with thoughts of scholars that have filled incalculable number of bowls preceding me.
Finishing, I left to find a quiet place to get my mind ready before the test.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Shit, Man
The longest commute I have ever had going into the Best Buy office this morning. We had a very unique type of freezing rain that only comes around once every few years-it instantly freezes & becomes ice upon hitting your window. I had parked in the garage, so my car was totally clear when I pulled out. By the time I got out of the alley and around the corner, there was a thick layer of ice over my window over which my windshield wiper was bumping. I made it three blocks down the street, barely able to make out the intersections and praying there were no pedestrians out and about, and pulled up to the coffee shop. I stayed there till 8:45, studying for my final tomorrow night, with the idea I'd wait for the ice storm to pass and for rush traffic to subside a bit. The weather let up, but my drive was so slow and so slippery, I didn't get to work until 10:30. Shit, man.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Monday, December 13, 2004
Sunday, December 12, 2004
I am Taking "The Acting Challenge"...Are YOU???
Soon, Aaron will be selecting a (hopefully) interesting and (hopefully) challenging movie monologue for me to perform in front of my vidcam. I am hoping to act the shit out of it. After I put my goods out on the line for all to see, I will select a scene for whomever it is that next steps up to the challenge. Will it be you? Or maybe You? Or perhaps maybe even YOU!!!
An interior shot of my Office Space: 1. My 8 x 10 color images of MN outdoors. Inspiring me on a daily basis. 2. Some of my Lucy photos. Also inspiring me on a daily basis. 3. My mini-globe, alerting passers-by that there is a geographer at work in the vicinity. 4. My new 21" monitor (yay!) 5. My Maxwell House instant crystals. This demands an explanation. I am attempting to not spend a buck and a half on good coffee every single day. Part of my attempt to watch my budget. Maxwell House costs me about 3 cents a day. 6. One of the fruits of my production. 7. My headphones. I'm usually on headphones, listening to music or left-wing radio. 8. My hot plate. This is technically illegal at work, but I like to nurse a cup of coffee through the day. If the hot plate goes, I go. All the vice presidents know this. If I leave coffee in it over the weekend and forget to turn it off, the inside bottom looks like the surface of Mercury when I come in on Monday. 9. Caffeine-free Mountain Dew. Don't ask. 10. My "Sir Maps-A-Lot" award certificate. Don't ask. 11. My boss' cube. The reason why I respond to your profanity-laced phone calls, Cory, with curt, monotoned one-or two-word phrases. 12. My view to the outside (the very view from which the picture in the previous photo was taken). 13 My CDs. If there is anything remaining that requires explanation, let me know. Or if these pictures from the "work series" float your boat, let me know. It's not hard to take digital pictures. Lata.
Friday, December 10, 2004
What Does Dan Have in Common with Paul Simon and Billy Joel?
I'm dropping out of school.
Leaning strongly towards it, anyway. This last summer, when I had a sudden "scare" that my company would no longer cover the tuition costs, I was kind of surprised how free and happy the idea of quitting my program made me feel.
The main reason this has cropped up again in my mind is that I am increasingly aware that I am not as motivated in my studies as I was hoping I would be, going back to pursue this grad degree at my Advanced Age. A lot of that comes from many aspects of the program not meeting my expectation. I am finding that the roots of the professors (and, thus, the curriculum) at a research grant institution run deep, and there is a tremendous amount of focus on "peer-researched" academic studies, most of which I do not see directly benefitting the knowledge base I need in my career. Obviously, I understand that part of the program is to teach us to think critically and conceptually. But the MGIS program is a professional program, and I find that as I continue to study that which has little practical application, I get more and more of a sense I am wasting my time. The most glaring example of this is how, upon receiving my syllabus for next semseter (just yesterday), I see that I will be required to write a research proposal. This would be my 4th out of 4 classes so far that require that exact item. The notice I would once again have to dive into academic journals and manufacture an interest in a study area I will never touch after my college career nearly sent me reeling. Thinking about a class you are about to take should not fill you with dread.
Other main considerations are the constant pull of the need to study against the considerations of my family; in particular, Lucy, whose rapid growth and development puts me at risk of not being the father I want to be throughout her earliest years. There are so many things I long to do all those evenings and weekends when the pull of class or studies puts me out of commission. Generally hanging out with Lucy and Sharon; actually enjoying the two most exciting seasons in Minnesota (fall & spring--when I am currently in class); my various music projects; and home improvement, which continues to sit on the backburner.
Many other things swirling around and playing into the decision, but those are the top ones.
Leaning strongly towards it, anyway. This last summer, when I had a sudden "scare" that my company would no longer cover the tuition costs, I was kind of surprised how free and happy the idea of quitting my program made me feel.
The main reason this has cropped up again in my mind is that I am increasingly aware that I am not as motivated in my studies as I was hoping I would be, going back to pursue this grad degree at my Advanced Age. A lot of that comes from many aspects of the program not meeting my expectation. I am finding that the roots of the professors (and, thus, the curriculum) at a research grant institution run deep, and there is a tremendous amount of focus on "peer-researched" academic studies, most of which I do not see directly benefitting the knowledge base I need in my career. Obviously, I understand that part of the program is to teach us to think critically and conceptually. But the MGIS program is a professional program, and I find that as I continue to study that which has little practical application, I get more and more of a sense I am wasting my time. The most glaring example of this is how, upon receiving my syllabus for next semseter (just yesterday), I see that I will be required to write a research proposal. This would be my 4th out of 4 classes so far that require that exact item. The notice I would once again have to dive into academic journals and manufacture an interest in a study area I will never touch after my college career nearly sent me reeling. Thinking about a class you are about to take should not fill you with dread.
Other main considerations are the constant pull of the need to study against the considerations of my family; in particular, Lucy, whose rapid growth and development puts me at risk of not being the father I want to be throughout her earliest years. There are so many things I long to do all those evenings and weekends when the pull of class or studies puts me out of commission. Generally hanging out with Lucy and Sharon; actually enjoying the two most exciting seasons in Minnesota (fall & spring--when I am currently in class); my various music projects; and home improvement, which continues to sit on the backburner.
Many other things swirling around and playing into the decision, but those are the top ones.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Daniel Guitarra: Back for More
More feedback, that is. I heard a couple comments on "Here Lies Daniel Guitarra," but would welcome any other thoughts. More than that, though, is anything on the Daniel Guitarra CD Release Party 2-Disc Live Set. I've heard nothing on that, though it is the first opportunity for Pat & Cory to have heard me play live in years and years. Any comments at all?
On a side note, it is SHAMEFUL that I have not gotten a copy of that performance to Aaron & Krista. Will do soon.
On a side note, it is SHAMEFUL that I have not gotten a copy of that performance to Aaron & Krista. Will do soon.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Holiday on 44th and Crunch Cruch
Friday night we did our 2nd annual trip to my neighborhood's "Holiday on 44th" event with Lucy & her cousins (ages 2 1/2 & 4). It's a really cool coming-together with all the local merchants & neighborhood groups working to create this festival with puppet shows, storytellers, roasted chestnuts, Father Christmas, ethnic dancers, hayrides, etc. etc. etc. A lot of fun--too much to fit into one evening with the kids this age.
We waited quite a while in line for pony rides for the boys, but when we got to the head of the line, they asked if we wanted to put Lucy up there, which was something we hadn't even considered, due to her age. She was a natural--sooo funny, watching her little round body move in perfect motion along with the little horse as it trotted. The line for the rides was within sight of our favorite coffee shop. While waiting in line, Lucy saw where we were and immediately started asking about "Sue...Sue...Sue..." (the name of the proprietor). We stopped in there afterwards for hot chocolate and--also very funny--our "coffee" was not in the ceramic mugs to which Lucy is accustomed. She was very concerned. Her world was not right until we sat down at a table and let her take a look into the mugs to verify the brown liquid inside. That's my girl.
In a related note, though, Sharon & I have so thoroughly enjoyed our tradition of morning coffee & conversation that we have gotten to the point that we are doing that every morning we're together & not on vacation. Actually, come to think of it, we usually find coolest coffee shop in the vicinity of where we stay on vacation, as well...Anyway, as much as we enjoy the tradition, we've started to wonder if maybe we're missing out on some morning opportunities for adventure, as we often end up hanging out there for quite some time, and not getting back home till near noon. We decided to cut back to only Saturday mornings, leaving Sunday mornings open for getting out and doing something fun as a family--probably usually a hike, but possibly something else if the mood strikes us or the weather is too crappy. We ended up going out Sunday morning to this really out-of-the-way Wildlife unit in Crystal that is owned by the MAC (Metro Airport Commission), but that no one seems to know about. Had a lot of fun with Lucy, who was trying out some new snow pants. She was tired for the 2nd half of the walk and I carried her. One of my favorite things-she put her head on my shoulder and Sharon & I narrated a recap of all the cool things she did while she drifted off to sleep (Dan: "Did we see cattails?" Lucy: "Heah..." Sharon: "Did we see ice and did the snow crunch?" Lucy: "Heah..." etc. etc.). Actually inspired a new children's picture book idea in me. Wouldn't it be cool to have a momma, daddy, & toddler walking through a nature area and have each page be a new sound that they are making. "Swish" through the long grass. "Crunch" on the snow. "Thump" on the wood-chips. "Crack" on the ice. "Crackle" on the leaves, etc. etc. with the little girl falling slowly asleep the whole time, finally ending with "kiss kiss on the cheek." Sharon & I discussed the idea of partnering (Sharon doing the illustrations--she's got a knack for that) on some sort of cafe-press book...
We waited quite a while in line for pony rides for the boys, but when we got to the head of the line, they asked if we wanted to put Lucy up there, which was something we hadn't even considered, due to her age. She was a natural--sooo funny, watching her little round body move in perfect motion along with the little horse as it trotted. The line for the rides was within sight of our favorite coffee shop. While waiting in line, Lucy saw where we were and immediately started asking about "Sue...Sue...Sue..." (the name of the proprietor). We stopped in there afterwards for hot chocolate and--also very funny--our "coffee" was not in the ceramic mugs to which Lucy is accustomed. She was very concerned. Her world was not right until we sat down at a table and let her take a look into the mugs to verify the brown liquid inside. That's my girl.
In a related note, though, Sharon & I have so thoroughly enjoyed our tradition of morning coffee & conversation that we have gotten to the point that we are doing that every morning we're together & not on vacation. Actually, come to think of it, we usually find coolest coffee shop in the vicinity of where we stay on vacation, as well...Anyway, as much as we enjoy the tradition, we've started to wonder if maybe we're missing out on some morning opportunities for adventure, as we often end up hanging out there for quite some time, and not getting back home till near noon. We decided to cut back to only Saturday mornings, leaving Sunday mornings open for getting out and doing something fun as a family--probably usually a hike, but possibly something else if the mood strikes us or the weather is too crappy. We ended up going out Sunday morning to this really out-of-the-way Wildlife unit in Crystal that is owned by the MAC (Metro Airport Commission), but that no one seems to know about. Had a lot of fun with Lucy, who was trying out some new snow pants. She was tired for the 2nd half of the walk and I carried her. One of my favorite things-she put her head on my shoulder and Sharon & I narrated a recap of all the cool things she did while she drifted off to sleep (Dan: "Did we see cattails?" Lucy: "Heah..." Sharon: "Did we see ice and did the snow crunch?" Lucy: "Heah..." etc. etc.). Actually inspired a new children's picture book idea in me. Wouldn't it be cool to have a momma, daddy, & toddler walking through a nature area and have each page be a new sound that they are making. "Swish" through the long grass. "Crunch" on the snow. "Thump" on the wood-chips. "Crack" on the ice. "Crackle" on the leaves, etc. etc. with the little girl falling slowly asleep the whole time, finally ending with "kiss kiss on the cheek." Sharon & I discussed the idea of partnering (Sharon doing the illustrations--she's got a knack for that) on some sort of cafe-press book...
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Abstraction
New term, new term paper. Stayed up all night last night working wrapping it up (finally finished it at 5:01, then went out for a very cold run). Today staying awake should be an adventure and a half.
Anyway, I worked so hard on it, my hordes of listeners might appreciate a glimpse, so I present to you....MY ABSTRACT:
An In-Between Census Year Study of Human Migration Using Geographic Information Science(GIS)
Abstract
In this project, I intend to develop a population dataset from in-between Census years, and use it to investigate whether inter-and intra-state migration patterns are as expected, according to previous US Census estimates.
My first literature consideration was to look for other instances in which mid-Census period data sets had been incorporated into human population GIS. Second, I was interested in what other methods researchers have used to investigate these "off-years." Third, I was curious as to how one could integrate such data seamlessly into an existing Census data set. And finally, I investigated the more general notions of population migration geography data and methods.
Upon completing my review of literature, is my determination that sufficient methodology exists to create the data set in which I am interested, and integrate that data with an existing GIS. As state agencies take a greater interest in control over "out-migration," knowledge of residential preferences of workers and consumers will become increasingly more important. An atypical approach, such as the one I propose, may serve to uncover valuable information heretofore hidden in the nebulous muddle that is the period in between Census years.
Anyway, I worked so hard on it, my hordes of listeners might appreciate a glimpse, so I present to you....MY ABSTRACT:
An In-Between Census Year Study of Human Migration Using Geographic Information Science(GIS)
Abstract
In this project, I intend to develop a population dataset from in-between Census years, and use it to investigate whether inter-and intra-state migration patterns are as expected, according to previous US Census estimates.
My first literature consideration was to look for other instances in which mid-Census period data sets had been incorporated into human population GIS. Second, I was interested in what other methods researchers have used to investigate these "off-years." Third, I was curious as to how one could integrate such data seamlessly into an existing Census data set. And finally, I investigated the more general notions of population migration geography data and methods.
Upon completing my review of literature, is my determination that sufficient methodology exists to create the data set in which I am interested, and integrate that data with an existing GIS. As state agencies take a greater interest in control over "out-migration," knowledge of residential preferences of workers and consumers will become increasingly more important. An atypical approach, such as the one I propose, may serve to uncover valuable information heretofore hidden in the nebulous muddle that is the period in between Census years.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Nightmare Before Christmas
The ghost of Fremont Ave has struck again.
Perhaps a little background. I think everyone remembers the deal about six months ago, when I heard Sharon come down the stairs, saw her (out of the corner of my eye) go into the back room, and queried her as to why she wasn't turning the lights on back there, only to get no response. Moments later, the real Sharon came through the door at the bottom of the stairs. My heart leapt to my throat and a set of goodbumps arose on me that would have made a plucked chicken blush.
So we're dealing with a ghost, that much we know.
Here's the situation tonight: I'm working at the computer. Planning on pulling a near-all-nighter, actually, in an attempt to get a term paper done. This is freaking me out a bit, but about half an hour ago, I heard the closet door (which I can see out of the computer room door by looking back over my shoulder) click open. Understand, I realize there is that state a door can be in when it's not fully latched and friction just kind of gives way. It wasn't quite that. Though I do not recall hearing a door knob turn, I distinctly hear two "clicks" in succession. The click of the latch lifting over the strikeplate, and the click of it snapping back into place as the door swung open. If it was any sort of a natural sound, I don't think my blood would have froze like it did. I looked back. The hallway is somewhat darkened, and I could see nothing. A few minutes later, I went out into the hall and noticed a towel on the ground right on the floor at the base of the inner side of the open door. Not only would the the door have had to unlatch and swing open, but apparently a towel would have had to have been stacked so badly that it fell off the stack and down onto the floor.
Merry Christmas
Perhaps a little background. I think everyone remembers the deal about six months ago, when I heard Sharon come down the stairs, saw her (out of the corner of my eye) go into the back room, and queried her as to why she wasn't turning the lights on back there, only to get no response. Moments later, the real Sharon came through the door at the bottom of the stairs. My heart leapt to my throat and a set of goodbumps arose on me that would have made a plucked chicken blush.
So we're dealing with a ghost, that much we know.
Here's the situation tonight: I'm working at the computer. Planning on pulling a near-all-nighter, actually, in an attempt to get a term paper done. This is freaking me out a bit, but about half an hour ago, I heard the closet door (which I can see out of the computer room door by looking back over my shoulder) click open. Understand, I realize there is that state a door can be in when it's not fully latched and friction just kind of gives way. It wasn't quite that. Though I do not recall hearing a door knob turn, I distinctly hear two "clicks" in succession. The click of the latch lifting over the strikeplate, and the click of it snapping back into place as the door swung open. If it was any sort of a natural sound, I don't think my blood would have froze like it did. I looked back. The hallway is somewhat darkened, and I could see nothing. A few minutes later, I went out into the hall and noticed a towel on the ground right on the floor at the base of the inner side of the open door. Not only would the the door have had to unlatch and swing open, but apparently a towel would have had to have been stacked so badly that it fell off the stack and down onto the floor.
Merry Christmas
Monday, November 29, 2004
Daycares & Worries
We're discontent with our current daycare. Nothing serious to the point of being concerned for safety or anything, but just an environment that has slowly been fostering a growing discontentment of Sharon's & mine over the last number of months since we've started.
The circumstances of our daycare search, if anyone recalls, were not ideal to begin with. After spending the first three months of her life with Momma and the next three with Grandma, Lucy was in a situation where we went through two home daycares (both of which were really, really good situations for her) in the next seven months, as the proprietor of each moved out of town. In the end, the whole experience was more traumatic for Sharon than for Lucy, but nevertheless, consistency is one of the most important things for an infants (and toddlers), and the changes were certainly not what we envisioned for her first year. We were facing a desperate 11th hour search last May before we came up with the place at which we are currently.
There are simply not open lines of communication between us and the providers, which leads to us not getting the information about what's going on day-in and day-out that we want to and, as a result, putting us in what has become an awkward position of prying around, trying to get information every night. We get the idea that other people who use the daycare (none of them really peers) have never really had an expectation that is on par with ours, and it has led to this culture that is really not conducive to parents being involved in and informed on the caregiving. There's other minor little things that we'll notice from time to time that don't sit quite right; none of them very big, individually, but adding up to be a problem, overall.
Anyway, this morning, we had a couple of interviews with new possibilities. The first, a followup visit from a very fortunate reference, was a woman who was really passionate about caring for kids, has been doing it for 20 years, has a really neat set up in and around her house, and is just a lot more generally great than the place we've been (in addition, a little closer and cheaper, which doesn't hurt). After that, we checked out this Montessori school for toddlers and preschoolers that was amazingly cool; the Montessori philosophy is definitely in line with our values (respecting children as thinking people, no TV, lots of construtive, wooden toys, etc.), but not quite in line with our budget. As in, over twice as expensive as the home day care. Montessori is definitely something we'll consider as Lucy approaches school age, but for now it looks like we're going to switch her over to this other lady.
Perhaps more later, but man....such a big, BIG deal, the day care. Needless to say, I'm very excited about the prospect of her being in a better environment.
The circumstances of our daycare search, if anyone recalls, were not ideal to begin with. After spending the first three months of her life with Momma and the next three with Grandma, Lucy was in a situation where we went through two home daycares (both of which were really, really good situations for her) in the next seven months, as the proprietor of each moved out of town. In the end, the whole experience was more traumatic for Sharon than for Lucy, but nevertheless, consistency is one of the most important things for an infants (and toddlers), and the changes were certainly not what we envisioned for her first year. We were facing a desperate 11th hour search last May before we came up with the place at which we are currently.
There are simply not open lines of communication between us and the providers, which leads to us not getting the information about what's going on day-in and day-out that we want to and, as a result, putting us in what has become an awkward position of prying around, trying to get information every night. We get the idea that other people who use the daycare (none of them really peers) have never really had an expectation that is on par with ours, and it has led to this culture that is really not conducive to parents being involved in and informed on the caregiving. There's other minor little things that we'll notice from time to time that don't sit quite right; none of them very big, individually, but adding up to be a problem, overall.
Anyway, this morning, we had a couple of interviews with new possibilities. The first, a followup visit from a very fortunate reference, was a woman who was really passionate about caring for kids, has been doing it for 20 years, has a really neat set up in and around her house, and is just a lot more generally great than the place we've been (in addition, a little closer and cheaper, which doesn't hurt). After that, we checked out this Montessori school for toddlers and preschoolers that was amazingly cool; the Montessori philosophy is definitely in line with our values (respecting children as thinking people, no TV, lots of construtive, wooden toys, etc.), but not quite in line with our budget. As in, over twice as expensive as the home day care. Montessori is definitely something we'll consider as Lucy approaches school age, but for now it looks like we're going to switch her over to this other lady.
Perhaps more later, but man....such a big, BIG deal, the day care. Needless to say, I'm very excited about the prospect of her being in a better environment.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Sorry, Wrong Number! And Standing Above Where You Lay
Saw "Sorry, Wrong Number!" (1948, starring Barbara Stanwyck and Burt Lancaster) over the last couple of nights. I was really tired during the first half of the movie and had a lot of trouble following what was a pretty complex plot, but the filmmaking was so spectacular that near the end of the movie I was drawn completely in, even not knowing exactly what was going on. One of the most thrilling and suspenseful ends to a movie I have EVER SEEN, bar none. So much so that I just got Gibb's "sprinkles" as I typed the previous sentence. I WHOLEHEARTEDLY recommend this film. Simply incredible. First movie where Sharon has ever had to cling to my arm and bury her head during the climax.
ALSO--landmark day at work. No, not because it's retail's "Black Friday" (1st shopping day after Thanksgiving), but because I (being pretty much the only guy around in my area) took a big honking long coffee break and finally FINALLY finished my first set of lyrics for the insurgent-country SECRET OF HIM. Song about my departed grandparents called "Standing Above Where You Lay." Question though, Mixdorf. Is that correct grammar? Or should it be "Standing Above Where You Lie?" If it's that, I might have to change the title, since it wouldn't work quite so well for me, artistically, the latter way. Perhaps I should just not care, though. After all, this is rock n roll (or, more specifically, rock-country). And grammar really shouldn't matter all that much.
Anyway, I would post the lyrics (and still might), but I'm a little hesitant, not knowing if they stand completely on their own merit, as happy with them as I currently am. Perhaps an .mpeg version will be emailed out or posted to my geocities page if I get a recorded version done in the next few weeks.
ALSO--landmark day at work. No, not because it's retail's "Black Friday" (1st shopping day after Thanksgiving), but because I (being pretty much the only guy around in my area) took a big honking long coffee break and finally FINALLY finished my first set of lyrics for the insurgent-country SECRET OF HIM. Song about my departed grandparents called "Standing Above Where You Lay." Question though, Mixdorf. Is that correct grammar? Or should it be "Standing Above Where You Lie?" If it's that, I might have to change the title, since it wouldn't work quite so well for me, artistically, the latter way. Perhaps I should just not care, though. After all, this is rock n roll (or, more specifically, rock-country). And grammar really shouldn't matter all that much.
Anyway, I would post the lyrics (and still might), but I'm a little hesitant, not knowing if they stand completely on their own merit, as happy with them as I currently am. Perhaps an .mpeg version will be emailed out or posted to my geocities page if I get a recorded version done in the next few weeks.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
...And the whole extended clan of Jack & Lois. From L-R: Lindon's boy (Cody), Lindon, Taylor, Amy (who's lost a TON of weight), Me, Sharon, Lucy, John (Laurie's husband), Sean, my Mom, Jared (who's gained a ton of weight), my Dad, Natalie (Laurie's girl), Laurie, and Neil (Laurie's boy who's gained some).
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