Sick Day

Sometimes illness doesn’t seem like what it is. I was half a day into my head cold before I figured out I was legitimately sick instead of being lazy. The lethargy was strong, but I feel much better about it now that I can see it was convalescence. I only figured it out when I realized how often I was reaching for tissues. Judgement and decision making skills appear to be the first things taken offline when I don’t feel well. Today is better. The tissues-per-hour rate has dropped to a tolerable level and I got a few necessary tasks done. Hopefully my head will clear up tomorrow. I’ve got lots of convention prep work to do.

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Beauty Where I Stand

Sometimes I forget that I’m surrounded by beauty everywhere. It seems like I have to go someplace special, and away, to find lovely things. It is not true. Here is a shot I took from my car while my daughter was driving us along the freeway. There are some unlovely things in the photo, but look at that mountain.

Everywhere in Utah, there are mountains. Sometimes they are distant on the horizon, but where I live they are right there. You have to look up to see the tops of them. I can get to a mountain by driving for a mere 10 minutes. My world is full of small beautiful things too. This next week I’m going to try to notice more of them.

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Updates from the Tayler House

Three fourths of my kids are sick today. This is going to significantly change the tenor of my day. I’ve grown accustomed to having longish stretches to focus on work. There are still random phone calls, script aprrovals, and business meetings to interrupt my focus, but on the whole I can work. I was thinking about this the other day after reading a post from my sister who is potty training a toddler and thus having to orbit said toddler pretty closely. After reading the post I swiveled in my office chair and realized that I’d been sitting in that exact chair for over two hours. Such a thing never happened when my kids were little. I was up and around, feeding kids, cleaning messes, negotiating deals. So in some ways today will be a return to that. I expect to be paged for deliveries several times per hour.

LTUE begins one week from today. If you’re local in Utah it is definitely an event to consider. I’ve already begun compiling notes and thoughts for my four panels. The nice thing about pulling together notes for a panel is that the same notes can be used to write a blog post later.

In writing news: My short story “The Road Not Taken” was selected to be featured as a finalist during the Mormon Lit Blitz over on the Mormon Artist blog. This was a cheerful addition to yesterday. Subscribing to the RSS of that blog from Feb 15-29 is probably worthwhile. They’ll be posting one finalist per day. I’m looking forward to reading them. I hope you’ll join me and perhaps cast your vote for any writing you especially like.

To balance out the happy writing news, I got another form rejection on Stepping Stones. My only reaction to this one was the thought “of course” followed by a thin thread of “this is wasted effort. No one will ever want it.” Sometime in the near future I’ll pull up my boot straps and figure out where else to submit. Right now I need to focus on the primary February goals.

Good heavens, it is February. This is the month when I need to finish layout work on Sharp End of the Stick and I need to dismantle and reassemble our shipping system. In theory I’ll get some further work done on my office remodel, but truthfully that project is paused until I can allocate the necessary funds to pay someone for framing, electrical, and drywall. I have ongoing support for kids, homework, and household maintenance. The weather remains cold, but not really wintery. LTUE is a bright spot, but only lasts three days. Hopefully my participation in Letter Month will help me find small bits of happiness in a month that is looking sloggish from this end of it.

And now it is time for me to begin the work of today.

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Comparative Winters

Last year we were in the midst of one of the wettest winters I’ve ever experienced in Utah. This year we are in the middle of one of the driest. The contrast is striking. I keep considering stealing one of the 50 degree days to sneak outside and do some spring garden preparatory work. Then I don’t because half a dozen projects are more pressing. Gardening can wait until we’re actually in springtime. To remind myself of what winter really ought to look like, I have this photo from last year.

I admire the lovely ice, while being simultaneously glad for the lack of windshield scraping and driveway shoveling. Yet even this dry winter is more wintry than those during my growing-up years in California. Here is a picture I took while visiting California in January of 2010.

And I think I’ll stop there. This picture is far lovelier than the brown lawn outside my window.

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The Ferris Bueller Super Bowl Commercial Makes Me Both Happy and Sad

Honda shot an ad with Matthew Broderick which is a distillation of the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. If by any chance you haven’t seen it yet, click through and watch. I’ll wait.

Click here to go see the commercial

This ad makes me happy because it perfectly embodies the nostalgia of the film. I loved the film. I recently re-watched it with my kids and they loved it too. As an ad, it doesn’t work so well. I feel inspired to go watch the movie, not to buy a car. On the other hand, perhaps it works really well because here I am blogging about it and lots of people are sharing links to the commercial

However, I also come away from the commercial with a sadness. If the ad makes you happy and you want to stay happy with it, feel free to stop reading.

One of the most wonderful things about Ferris Bueller is that he thought big. Lots of high school seniors sluff school, but Ferris didn’t just go to the mall or stay home playing video games. He did a dozen things that wouldn’t even occur to most teenagers, a fine art museum, a fancy restaurant, dancing in a parade, etc. His horizons were broad, he reached for the sky, and he dragged his friends along with him. I’d expect an adult Ferris to figure out how to get two weeks off of work so that he could travel the world, draw street art in Paris, dance in Portugal, earn a million dollars and give it away to villagers in Africa. That one guy who did his silly little dance all over the world is doing exactly the sort of thing I’d expect Ferris to do. This car commercial shows me Matthew Broderick doing the adult equivalent of hanging out at the mall. Not only that, but Broderick is all alone. Where are his friends? Ferris didn’t just free up himself for a brilliant day, he gave one to others as well. It makes me sad to picture Ferris growing up to be so very ordinary.

I’m off to go see if Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is available for streaming.

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Antelope Island: January

When I went to Antelope Island last October, I knew I had to go there again. I wanted to bring my daughters, who I knew would love the place as much as I did. The park is open year round and the brochures list things to look for by month. Today we packed ourselves into the car along with lots of warm clothes to go see how the animals fared in winter.

Kiki drove. She is trying to get the last few hours of driving practice which are required before she can test for her license. She loved driving across the causeway and around the island. She could drive at a leisurely pace which she found relaxing. There were some people on the island, but not many. Most people seek out indoor recreation midwinter. I was fascinated to see that the water on one side of the causeway was frozen in a solid sheet. The other side was liquid.

We began our visit by driving down to the south end of the island to the Fielding Garr Ranch. We were greeted there by a volunteer who gave us a quick orientation to the ranch buildings. They ranged from over 150 years old to a mere 30 years old. All the eras in between were represented in various machines, tools, and implements. These things were arrayed for us to look at and to touch. The whole place was completely hands-on. Gleek was in heaven. She particularly loved the blacksmithy.

Kiki got cold after awhile and returned to the car, but Gleek wanted to look at every inch of the small homestead and barn. My favorite place was the spring house. It was this little rock building half buried in the ground right over a spring. Food that needed to be kept cold would be wrapped and placed in the icy spring water. We were able to walk inside and look around. I particularly liked the view toward the door.

The one thing about Garr Ranch we all loved were the owls

One of the volunteers led us into a copse of trees and showed us where to look. There they were, glaring down at us for waking them up. Unfortunately my camera wanted to focus on the branches in front of the owls instead of them. The same guide pointed to some distant trees where Bald Eagles hang out, but we opted to take our frozen fingers back to the van.

We did some sight seeing from the van and saw lots of buffalo. We even sighted a coyote out wandering by himself across the ice of a bay. Our next stop was the same beach that I photographed last fall.

In October silence was the first thing I noticed about the island. This time I had chatty company, but on the beach silence returned. We walked across frozen sheets of ice, noticing that salt water ice is springy-er than normal ice. It clumped in unexpected ways. Gleek liked to walk on sheets and use her toes to chase the air bubbles under the surface.

Once again the beach encouraged photography.

We spent a lot of time admiring the glass-smooth surface of the water, or looking out to the sand bar filled with seagulls.

On our way back to the van we took a side trip through the tall reeds. We were obviously not the first to do so. A trail of sorts wove through the clump. When I exited the beauty of the sun touched reeds against the blue sky caught my attention.

It is an interesting exercise in photographic lighting. I was able to completely change the effect of the reeds and sky by facing the setting sun instead of shooting away from it. This shot was taken simply by rotating from the one above.

When we left the island, it was understood that we need to come back. In the spring. When we can go on some of those hikes that we drove past because our fingers were still numb from the two trips out of the car that we’d already taken. I tucked some of the silence of the island into my heart. It’ll have to last until I can go back again.

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Getting Older

“So does 39 feel any different than 38?” Howard asked the morning after my birthday.
I paused a moment, searching my mind for any reaction. “Not really.” I answered. The day itself passed with no particular fanfare other than Howard and I splurging on a nice dinner. I don’t feel any particular angst about getting older because I greatly value the experiences I have gained. That said, I do feel a growing awareness that I am probably near the best possible intersection of wisdom and energy. I know enough to make good plans and I still have the energy and time to carry them out. Later in my life I will have even more wisdom, but at some point energy is going to ebb. With luck this particular intersection will last me a decade or two. If I’m really lucky, it will last three. I still have time to accomplish many things. Yet I am beginning to be aware that I am near the point where I have less time ahead of me than I have behind. Howard says that the first 15-20 years don’t really count in this particular math. Those years are all about growing up and that this equation should measure adulthood. In that case, I have another decade before I cross the line into less-time-ahead land. Or it is possible that a medical diagnosis or accident will show me that I crossed that threshold some time in years past. All of it is merely a thought experiment. No matter how much time I do or do not have, my real task is to decide what I should do with today. If I fill my life with well-chosen todays, then my life will be good; no matter how long or short it may be.

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Preparing for College

Kiki came home from school with four colorful brochures. They extolled the virtues of an art college with campuses in Georgia, Hong Kong, and France. Kiki flipped through the pages and rattled on about how good it would be for her to get out where she can really be grown up and how nice it would be to surround herself with other students who loved art the way she did. My response was to ask the question pounding in my brain.
“How much does this school cost?” The response, $30,000 per year, led us into a discussion about cost and benefit. Then into talking, once again, about advantages that are available to Kiki because of the quantity of working artists with whom we have business contacts. Then I looked over at Kiki. She was closed down, clutching the brochures to her chest. I remembered the light in her eyes when she’d first unfolded them. Howard and I back-tracked.
“Show me the page about the horses again.” I said. Kiki flipped open the brochure and described the things that the college representative had explained to her AP Art class. This time I listened.

Now is the time for Kiki to be excited about the possibilities for her future. She needs to picture dozens of paths for her life. There is no choosing to be done yet, just the growing process of possibility. All the years before this Kiki’s life has been dictated by others. Adults have guided her path, told her where to go and what to learn. The realization that she can choose for herself is both exhilarating and frightening. The very process of picturing herself in Georgia, or Hong Kong, or France changes the way she thinks about who she can be. Next year, after applications, acceptances, and rejections, will be plenty of time for us to talk about specifics and logistics. Then Kiki will be ready to begin narrowing down and weighing which path is most likely to take her to a destination that she wants.

This year is also a learning process for Howard and I. We’re beginning to imagine a future in which our oldest is launched out into the world. Rather than just generally knowing that at some point college expenses will come, we’re beginning to view our financial picture to evaluate what is possible. We have to make careful decisions about the level of financial support we are able to extend, because whatever we do for Kiki will set a precedent for three children to follow. We need to choose something sustainable across four college educations, some of which will over lap each other. A friend has decided to sever all financial ties once her kids hit college. Other friends support their children all the way through. We don’t know what our balance needs to be, but we are beginning to picture possible choices.

All three of us are learning about the emotional processes involved with the launch into the college years. For one thing, we need to let Kiki dream as big and as far as she wants this year. A week after the brochures, Kiki returned to saying that perhaps she wants to go to the local college and live at home to save money. She is alternately thrilled by adventure and wants to stay comfortably close. Sometimes the impending application process makes her stressed, other times she is calm and confident.

We try to stay in “Calm and Confident” land as much as possible, but there is so much frantic urgency regarding college applications. School teachers, counselors, and other advisers all hand out lists. They give long lectures on what colleges look for. Students and parents end up with the impression that everything must be started right now and done exactly right. The truth is that anyone who and figure out how to pay for college education can have one. The high pressure is only necessary if the student hopes to enter a career for which an Ivy League college is required. Along Kiki’s educational path we’ve made decisions based on her current educational needs first and how it will look on a college application second. It is possible that will affect which colleges she is accepted to attend. I still think all the choices were the right ones.

We attended a scholar’s night which had sessions about standardized testing, college applications, financial aid, and a host of other post-high school possibilities. I noticed that the representative of one college pointed at the list of recommended classes and emphasized that they were not required for acceptance. He told us that GPA, SAT/ACT scores, and the quantity of AP classes had more effect than whether a student had two years of language classes. He said that the recommended list was simply there because it was this sort of a balanced academic curriculum that was most likely to help students be prepared for the sorts of work they would be expected to do in college. Yet if you talk to the average school counselor, they will get quite intense about the need to get every class on that recommended list. It is fascinating how the drive to give students every possible advantage creates stress where it need not exist.

It helps me see that the application process is actually a useful tool for students. If you are not accepted at a particular school, it is possible that you simply aren’t prepared for it anyway. It takes a certain sort of academic focus to thrive at Harvard, and it may be a kindness to keep out the ones who are not ready. I find this thought calming. If Kiki is accepted at a college, it is because the registrars believe that the education paths we have chosen have suited her to succeed at their school. We’ll continue to make our best choices at every step, because that is all we can do.

Our next college preparation step is almost upon us. Registration for her senior year will start in a week or so. We’ll have one last opportunity to choose classes which will be on her transcripts for college applications. We’re also beginning to look up college websites and request more information. Standardized testing looms as well. Each of these things is new, but none are worth the level of stress which is often attached. Yes they have an effect, but none is the make-or-break point for her entire future. As long as we can continue to see that, we’ll do fine. In the meantime, we’ll be flipping through more brochures and picturing what is possible.

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Getting It Wrong

I always cringe just a little when the caller ID reads “Public School” in the middle of the day. No matter what the reason for the call, it means that my day is about to be rearranged. This particular call was no different.
“I’m trying to give Patch his reading test, but he is just sitting there not working. Can you come down?” My heart sank. It was one of many interactions with Patch’s teacher. She was trying her best to help my son. We’d attempted several strategies to help him engage more, participate more, and get his work done in school hours. Yet here we were, faced with a state mandated test. He’d passed it with flying colors in the fall. I knew he could pass it again, but not if he wouldn’t pick up his pencil.
“Yes I’ll come.” I answered and then rearranged my day. While I was at it, I also rearranged the following day. It was time for me to observe Patch in his classroom. We needed better solutions and, to figure out what they might be, I needed more information.

I had a lot of information already, of course. I’d been observing the teacher since September. I’d paid attention every time I was in the classroom. I watched Patch do his homework. I sat with him every time he brought home unfinished class work. Like Patch’s teacher, I’d watched him gradually freeze up and lose confidence. In the face of a question for which he did not know the answer, he would stop. I began to recognize that he was terrified of getting things wrong. He was also not asking questions if he was confused. Speaking up is hard for Patch, particularly when it will focus group attention on him. I think it ties back to his fear of getting things wrong.

I walked into Patch’s class. He sat alone at his desk. All his classmates were gathered on the floor for a group activity. Patch looked up at me with wet eyes. The teacher kindly and wisely moved all the rest of the class into the music room to practice for an upcoming performance. Patch and I had a private space. I had to begin with scolding. When a child reaches the point where a parent has to be called down, scolding is in order. Three sentences later, Patch slumped into a repentant heap on his desk. It was enough. He knew he’d made a poor choice, so I gave him the opportunity to make a right one.
“I have to be here and you have to take this test. For every minute that I have to sit here and you don’t work, we’ll have a consequence at home. If you keep working, you can avoid adding to your consequence.”

Patch picked up his pencil and the work began. I could not give him answers, but I could repeat the things I’d been saying at home for weeks. “If you don’t know the answer, skip it and move on. Come back to it later.” “Keep your pencil moving.” Patch did keep working. I watched him when the work was smooth. I saw his forehead crinkle when he was confused. But he kept working, right up until he finished and went back to the skipped questions.
“I don’t know how to answer this!” he pleaded. It was a question asking his opinion on a story character. I could tell the question was not looking for a specific answer, but was just checking to see if he had focused on the story enough to pull details from it.
I looked into Patch’s eyes and said “Then get it wrong. Write something about her pink elephant.”
Patch looked at me confused. “She doesn’t have an elephant.”
“Okay. Write something about her purple balloon. Or pick something that is actually in the story. Just read the question and write the first answer you think of. Don’t try to figure out if it is the best possible answer. Just get it wrong and move on.”
Patch looked at me for a long minute, then turned and began to write.

Get it wrong and move on.
Sometimes there is no perfect answer. Sometimes I am exactly like Patch in this. I plan ahead. I study all the angles. I fret about all the repercussions, trying to see how this small decision will fork into future possibilities. But sometimes the right answer is any answer. I need to get it wrong and move on. There is almost always a chance to fix it later.

Patch got his answer right. Once he stopped being so afraid of getting things wrong, he knew which words needed to be on the page. He finished that test in the allowed time. More important, he worked without stopping. We walked out of the school triumphant. Instead of continuing to wallow in misery I was able to praise his efforts.

The next day I observed his class at the invitation of his teacher. He had a pretty good day, possibly because I was there. Watching him reassured me that much of the time he was fairly happy at school. There were just these spots which were hard on both him and the teacher. By the end of the day my subconscious had absorbed enough information to toss out an idea. I shared it with the teacher and she agreed it sounded good.

I made a bingo card for Patch. The squares say things like “I raised my hand to give an answer” and “I worked during all of the assigned time.” When Patch does one of these tasks, he brings his bingo card to his teacher and she signs the square. The central square is the one that Patch is allowed to award to himself. It reads “I told myself ‘I can do this.'” Three in a row earns him a treat when he comes home. A black out of all nine squares earns him a big treat. The bingo card gives Patch small things he can be doing to stay engaged in class. He remains focused on the things he can do. It also gives the teacher several chances to interact positively and praise Patch throughout the day.

The day I was called in was last Wednesday. Today was Parent Teacher Conferences. Instead of having a concerned conversation about how to help him, the teacher and I were able to share smiles about how well things are going. This was our third attempt at helping Patch. Looks like we finally have the right answer. Either that, or Patch just solved the problem for himself. Doesn’t matter. “Get it wrong and move on” has brought us to a good place.

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Convenience and Hard Work

First thing this morning I tweeted “Today I will perform 12 acts of heroism ala Hercules. Only I’ll do it in a more modern and convenient way. #ModernQuests” I followed up that pronouncement with several feats.
First feat: de-ice my car and drive to staples to fetch a printer cartridge so that @howardtayler can print Schlock
Feat of strength: admitting that I need to find a clerk to help me lift the box of printer paper.
Feat of Wisdom: Stepping away from the internet to work on layout via shuffling pieces of paper around on a table.

When I began the listing, it was mostly a way to psyche myself into going outdoors in the cold. Then I enjoyed the humorous contrast between epic heroism and the simple things I was doing with my day. My amusement petered out and I stopped posting because I was getting actual work done. However I did find myself pondering modern societies’ fixation on convenience. We’d all be heroes if it was convenient. The surest way to adjust crowd behavior is to make the behaviors you want convenient and to make undesirable behaviors inconvenient. I see used to see this all the time on my college campus. Students made paths right across lawns despite all the signs. The only way the grounds keeper could prevent it was by planting bushes to adjust traffic.

I wonder what effects the predominant convenience culture has on our psychologies. What effect does it have on me. How often do I make poor food choices based on convenience rather than nutrition. Logically I know that hard work is the way to get the things I want, and yet I still find myself paddling around in pools of convenience. I guess I just have to do as the grounds keeper did and try to adjust my lift to encourage the behaviors I want.

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