One of my least favorite activities is judging the entries to these competitions. It's also a great joy when you find great ideas and you get to work with the kids and parents. But before that happens, you have to eliminate hundreds of entries.
And I really am a softie. I hate judging especially when the entries are bad. "Scale of 1 to 10 kid, you get a zero for commercial viability and one for originality. Thanks for the 4 pages of sketches and the pictures of the prototype you sent. You seem to have worked very hard on something that already exists. Well done."
So I end up dawdling about it. Doing one at a time. Giving kinder scores than they deserve. And then I go back and have to adjust sometimes (for the paper ones anyway) so I don't create a problem where an entry that has been done before and has zero chance of winning is scored 10 points below something that is actually exceptional.
In any case. Now that I have given myself 5 breaks from the 17 entries I needed to judge this morning, I'm done.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, December 6, 2010
Ode to Shelley
I've been thinking a lot lately about the nature of friendships - both mine and ChowderGirl's. Last week, I got an email from another mom that said ChowderGirl had told her daughter "I've been waiting for a friend like you since kindergarten." and it made me think about my own elementary school years because 3rd grade seems to have been a major year for me.
Until I was in 3rd grade (1), my best friends were the result of proximity and parentage. Which is to say that the location of my house combined with my Mom's friendships were the primary reasons I was friends with people. And I was so lucky that proximity came in the form of my doppelganger Liz. As for parentage, my mom was BFFs with a woman named Maria whose daughter Elena was my age, with a brilliant older daughter named Claudia and a handsome, Dorito hoarding son named Sergio.
Liz and I met before I can remember meeting anyone. She is one of my first memories, specifically of our matching nightgowns and spying on our younger siblings. She and I saw Donny and Marie together when we were 6 or 7. She is the reason I love hyacinths. She lived across the street from me and we were together as much as we could be. And then we weren't. I suspect it was just an age/grade thing but it was sad anyway. (2)
I also don't recall a time without Elena. Or her amazing mom. I am the oldest sibling in my family and she was the youngest of hers, with these dramatic and passionate older siblings who dominated our play and loved us like crazy. Sergio used to hide bags of Doritos in their basement. Elena's mom played guitar and spoke to the kids in Spanish with enough English mingled in that I could almost always follow the gist. They moved back to Columbia when I was in 3rd grade and while I was sad, my mother was more than sad, she was devastated at the loss. Maria died many years ago and my mother still gets tears in her eyes when she talks about them. (3)
And then there was Shelley. I don't remember being BFFs with her until 4th grade though she was at earlier birthday parties. I think it was 4th grade when she suddenly seemed like the best person I'd ever known in my life. I simply felt like she understood me. She thought all the same things were funny. And until recently, I wasn't sure why I adored her so much.
But I adored her. I loved her house, all clean and modern, with bright windows and big rooms and straight floors. And her parents were so kind to me. And they had better snacks and better dinners and better bathrooms (I think kids feel this way, right? Everything else is better?)
And then she went to private school and while we tried to stay friends, it faded out.
As I understand it, she came back to public school when I was at a different school and had already thoroughly detached from my hometown in favor of The Cape and my Cape friends, having formally decided that no one in the entire town of Framingham was reasonable or interesting.
I never had hard feelings until I met her again last year. I met her on Facebook and felt ripped off. I felt like it was so profoundly unfair that she went to private school and that we weren't friends in high school. At the same time, I am finding so much joy in seeing her again. Well, seeing her on Facebook anyway... Hopefully, I'll make it to actually seeing her in real life again someday.
She is so much like me. I mean, her interests, her kids, her sense of humor. I find myself fascinated by a nearly 30 year gap that seems to be irrelevant.
And now there's ChowderGirl, finding new best friends, losing old ones, and discovering how cool it is to meet someone who loves history or engineering or drama. I hope she can find herself a Shelley since her Liz has come and gone and her Elena has moved away.
Footnotes:
1 - I originally wrote this on my iPhone in the middle of the night allowing for all auto corrects. It is a bizarre little story that way, involving whores and dirty martinis.
2 - Liz and I reconnected on (where else) Facebook a while back and got to see each other a year ago. It was kind of surreal but wonderful to see her - and it felt as comfortable as it always did.
3 - My mother and I lost touch with Maria's kids for many many years. About 8 years ago, I found Elena. She and her siblings were back in the U.S. and not all that hard to find, thanks to the Internet. Mom and I are FB friends with Claudia and she looks so much like her mom it is crazy. It is a wonderful thing to see.
Until I was in 3rd grade (1), my best friends were the result of proximity and parentage. Which is to say that the location of my house combined with my Mom's friendships were the primary reasons I was friends with people. And I was so lucky that proximity came in the form of my doppelganger Liz. As for parentage, my mom was BFFs with a woman named Maria whose daughter Elena was my age, with a brilliant older daughter named Claudia and a handsome, Dorito hoarding son named Sergio.
Liz and I met before I can remember meeting anyone. She is one of my first memories, specifically of our matching nightgowns and spying on our younger siblings. She and I saw Donny and Marie together when we were 6 or 7. She is the reason I love hyacinths. She lived across the street from me and we were together as much as we could be. And then we weren't. I suspect it was just an age/grade thing but it was sad anyway. (2)
I also don't recall a time without Elena. Or her amazing mom. I am the oldest sibling in my family and she was the youngest of hers, with these dramatic and passionate older siblings who dominated our play and loved us like crazy. Sergio used to hide bags of Doritos in their basement. Elena's mom played guitar and spoke to the kids in Spanish with enough English mingled in that I could almost always follow the gist. They moved back to Columbia when I was in 3rd grade and while I was sad, my mother was more than sad, she was devastated at the loss. Maria died many years ago and my mother still gets tears in her eyes when she talks about them. (3)
And then there was Shelley. I don't remember being BFFs with her until 4th grade though she was at earlier birthday parties. I think it was 4th grade when she suddenly seemed like the best person I'd ever known in my life. I simply felt like she understood me. She thought all the same things were funny. And until recently, I wasn't sure why I adored her so much.
But I adored her. I loved her house, all clean and modern, with bright windows and big rooms and straight floors. And her parents were so kind to me. And they had better snacks and better dinners and better bathrooms (I think kids feel this way, right? Everything else is better?)
As I understand it, she came back to public school when I was at a different school and had already thoroughly detached from my hometown in favor of The Cape and my Cape friends, having formally decided that no one in the entire town of Framingham was reasonable or interesting.
I never had hard feelings until I met her again last year. I met her on Facebook and felt ripped off. I felt like it was so profoundly unfair that she went to private school and that we weren't friends in high school. At the same time, I am finding so much joy in seeing her again. Well, seeing her on Facebook anyway... Hopefully, I'll make it to actually seeing her in real life again someday.
She is so much like me. I mean, her interests, her kids, her sense of humor. I find myself fascinated by a nearly 30 year gap that seems to be irrelevant.
And now there's ChowderGirl, finding new best friends, losing old ones, and discovering how cool it is to meet someone who loves history or engineering or drama. I hope she can find herself a Shelley since her Liz has come and gone and her Elena has moved away.
Footnotes:
1 - I originally wrote this on my iPhone in the middle of the night allowing for all auto corrects. It is a bizarre little story that way, involving whores and dirty martinis.
2 - Liz and I reconnected on (where else) Facebook a while back and got to see each other a year ago. It was kind of surreal but wonderful to see her - and it felt as comfortable as it always did.
3 - My mother and I lost touch with Maria's kids for many many years. About 8 years ago, I found Elena. She and her siblings were back in the U.S. and not all that hard to find, thanks to the Internet. Mom and I are FB friends with Claudia and she looks so much like her mom it is crazy. It is a wonderful thing to see.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Randomly Pulling Kids from School
I'm sitting here, struggling with an impulse to call ChowderGirl's school and have her dismissed so I can take her to a 12:30 showing of the Harry Potter movie. It's not just because she read all 7 books last year. And that she continues to haul 2-3 of them (in hardcover) to school with her every day.
It's because starting around 5th grade, my father pulled me from school once or twice a year to go mid-week skiing. The way I remember it, he would sort of taunt us. Because the biggest question was "Do you have any tests this week?" Well, he'd start asking in September. But the question became loaded when it snowed.
Because it meant that some day that week, our mom would wake us around 4 or 5AM, send us down to the already packed car. My dad would be sitting there, warming it up, chugging a Thermos of coffee. My brother and I would get in the backseat and go back to sleep.
It must have been the same time of year because we would wake around dawn, just when we pulled off the highway to get breakfast at some random McDonald's in New Hampshire. There's a stretch of Route 8 in Connecticut that looks just like the off ramp and whenever we go by there, I get this content feeling.
We'd ski all day and all that jazz. And I am sure we fought. I am sure my dad snapped at us. I am sure we were cranky. And annoying. And whiny. I also know there were times of great teamwork, sunshine, snow tans, ease, and skill. And I remember how shocking it was (that first time) to be pulled from school and how great it was to spend that day with my dad.
So I'm sitting here thinking about how much my daughter loves Harry Potter. And I'm going to go get her now.
It's because starting around 5th grade, my father pulled me from school once or twice a year to go mid-week skiing. The way I remember it, he would sort of taunt us. Because the biggest question was "Do you have any tests this week?" Well, he'd start asking in September. But the question became loaded when it snowed.
Because it meant that some day that week, our mom would wake us around 4 or 5AM, send us down to the already packed car. My dad would be sitting there, warming it up, chugging a Thermos of coffee. My brother and I would get in the backseat and go back to sleep.
It must have been the same time of year because we would wake around dawn, just when we pulled off the highway to get breakfast at some random McDonald's in New Hampshire. There's a stretch of Route 8 in Connecticut that looks just like the off ramp and whenever we go by there, I get this content feeling.
We'd ski all day and all that jazz. And I am sure we fought. I am sure my dad snapped at us. I am sure we were cranky. And annoying. And whiny. I also know there were times of great teamwork, sunshine, snow tans, ease, and skill. And I remember how shocking it was (that first time) to be pulled from school and how great it was to spend that day with my dad.
So I'm sitting here thinking about how much my daughter loves Harry Potter. And I'm going to go get her now.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Struggling with Juggling
On the one hand, things have gotten much easier for me, between the shift to working at home and ChowderDad's new much more local job. I've got more ability to do things when I need to do them, have fewer work distractions in the office, and honestly, my responsibilities there have shifted where I'm no longer carrying the true weight of a VP of a start up. And that's all been good.
But I skimmed over a phrase or two in there - and they're pretty important. It's about my ability to do things when I need to do them.
I have a lot of trouble with that piece. Never been my strong suit. On my list of things to do, which now include more household stuff, more kid stuff, and the same work stuff (minus some burdens of ultimate power and responsibility), I don't always have a good sense of what is actually important.
Like getting the tree guy over here to give me an estimate. Or signing up to do the Mill River Guide program for ChowderGirl's class. Or revising 200 Power Points. Or painting the hallway.
And then the kids get home and I'm honestly not sure how to handle it sometimes. I need to work. But I need to be with them too.
I've started to figure out how to plan things better. I need to arrange a Monday-Tuesday Mother's Helper for after school so I can power through the bulk of my work early in the week. So I can feel good about Wednesday afternoons being hiking day. Or taking lunch with a friend on a Friday.
I'm getting there.One major recent step was NOT VOLUNTEERING to coach Odyssey of the Mind. I'm pretty proud of NOT doing that.
Also, I might be late to Mill River today. I have to finish this Power Point. And this blog entry.
(The best part about this entry is that I wrote it on Wednesday and totally forgot to post it.)
But I skimmed over a phrase or two in there - and they're pretty important. It's about my ability to do things when I need to do them.
I have a lot of trouble with that piece. Never been my strong suit. On my list of things to do, which now include more household stuff, more kid stuff, and the same work stuff (minus some burdens of ultimate power and responsibility), I don't always have a good sense of what is actually important.
Like getting the tree guy over here to give me an estimate. Or signing up to do the Mill River Guide program for ChowderGirl's class. Or revising 200 Power Points. Or painting the hallway.
And then the kids get home and I'm honestly not sure how to handle it sometimes. I need to work. But I need to be with them too.
I've started to figure out how to plan things better. I need to arrange a Monday-Tuesday Mother's Helper for after school so I can power through the bulk of my work early in the week. So I can feel good about Wednesday afternoons being hiking day. Or taking lunch with a friend on a Friday.
I'm getting there.One major recent step was NOT VOLUNTEERING to coach Odyssey of the Mind. I'm pretty proud of NOT doing that.
Also, I might be late to Mill River today. I have to finish this Power Point. And this blog entry.
(The best part about this entry is that I wrote it on Wednesday and totally forgot to post it.)
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Being Sick & Needing Whiskey
Roughly 20 years ago (okay, almost exactly 20 years ago), I studied in Ireland for a semester. While I was there, I caught exactly one cold. I was getting sick and was supposed to go to the Abbey for a show and I was worried I would miss it. My host mother took motherly concern and told me to go to closest pub to the Abbey and get an Irish coffee or hot toddy. So I did and it magically worked and I saw the play and managed to make it through the rest of the semester with no consumption, tuberculosis or bronchitis.
What is curious is this. 20 years went by. And I never thought to try it again. Until Monday night when I thought there simply must be some way to fix this incoming cold. I was taking Airborne. WHY? When I could be drinking hot whiskey? I should have been seeking the booze, not seeking some fake way to heal.
Like whiskey on a zit, it can't fail, right? But it did fail. It was tasty but it didn't kill off the cold.
In other news, I just need to say that I once had pertussis. ChowderDad seems to have entirely blanked this out. But I did. I had it when we lived in Tucson. CubicleGirl and I thought it was teh consumption but it was just teh pertussis.
I get sick a lot. Like, more than regular people, I think. Or maybe I succumb to the woe that comes with sickness. Or maybe I am just more vocal and annoyingly dramatic about my near-death experiences with coughs and colds. It's possible anyway.
What is curious is this. 20 years went by. And I never thought to try it again. Until Monday night when I thought there simply must be some way to fix this incoming cold. I was taking Airborne. WHY? When I could be drinking hot whiskey? I should have been seeking the booze, not seeking some fake way to heal.Like whiskey on a zit, it can't fail, right? But it did fail. It was tasty but it didn't kill off the cold.
In other news, I just need to say that I once had pertussis. ChowderDad seems to have entirely blanked this out. But I did. I had it when we lived in Tucson. CubicleGirl and I thought it was teh consumption but it was just teh pertussis.
I get sick a lot. Like, more than regular people, I think. Or maybe I succumb to the woe that comes with sickness. Or maybe I am just more vocal and annoyingly dramatic about my near-death experiences with coughs and colds. It's possible anyway.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
I Like It On The...
Truth be told, I like it if it is impactful and raises money. Wait. That came out wrong.
I have a problem. And I know it isn't going to be popular since I know it is easily misinterpreted and I know my rants can sound attacking of specific people. It's not intended to be. But my problem isn't with individuals. It is with the entire construct.
Now. Go get your mammograms. Or ask your wife if she's made hers.
I have a problem. And I know it isn't going to be popular since I know it is easily misinterpreted and I know my rants can sound attacking of specific people. It's not intended to be. But my problem isn't with individuals. It is with the entire construct.
- The bra meme of February 2010 was about our breasts. This one? Not so much the "I Like It" campaign, except in as much as our breasts are sexualized. But this coy tee-hee thing seems to dilute the seriousness of cancers (breast and otherwise).
- It does not connect to ACTION. Not "TEXT HAITI TO WYCLEF TO HELP" and not "I did a self-exam today, you should too". So awareness. Great. Now what?
- Breast cancer as being the domain of women is particularly irksome to me. When a man gets prostate cancer, it impacts the women in his life. Likewise breast cancer. So why hide it from men?
- It doesn't spread awareness of broader issues about women's health or even about little known issues with breast cancer and health.
Now. Go get your mammograms. Or ask your wife if she's made hers.
Randy Moss & (my) ADHD
I really like logical thinking. I need decisions to be overt. It really helps me with my own process. If someone is honest and things seem logical and straightforward, my brain doesn't have to go into 20 directions trying to figure out WTF was happening.
In the case of personal relationships, I hate having to guess at what is happening. If you have a problem with me, tell me. I can apologize or not, make it up to you or not, or whatever. But the sort of background drama of "she should figure out why I am mad at her" is just stuff I don't do well. And as I age, I don't do it at all.
At work, I struggle with the seemingly ridiculous. Which made corporate America a challenge because you don't get to know why everything is happening. Why did they just cut the sports marketing budget and increase the WWE? I don't actually need to know that to do my job - but when I don't get something like that, I get curious. I want to know why. I think there must be a reason. Is it financial? Do we have predictions that WWE will be a larger profit center? Is the NBA package going to increase in price and we assume it will drop subscriptions? Is it inside information that the NHL will go on strike and essentially ruin the league? Who knows? But I often struggled with these things because I just could not let it go. It would play out in my head over and over.
It's just part of who I am - and some of it I have realized has to do with knowing that thinking in theory will take up huge amounts of time and become a distraction. I used to LOVE it - in college, when I had a 4 year bubble, it was great to spend 4 hours thinking about whether or not Grant Holly's fascination with Freud and sexuality made his analysis of my dreams totally irrelevant - or fascinating. But now I don't really have time for it.
So you can imagine the shitstorm Bill Belichick caused in my brain today. Because it doesn't even start to make sense.
You've got Randy Moss:
And you trade him for a third-round draft choice.
For the potential for a great player...
I have come up with the only logical explanation. Belichick knows something we don't know. Something the Vikings don't know. Something even Randy Moss doesn't know. Like that Dr. Gill secretly implanted a small device in Moss' knee that is set to go off in a few months.
OR, maybe Belichick has some secret spy play up his sleeve. Maybe he's become Facebook friends with Jeff Gillooly and they've got it all under control.
But it is all illogical. So I seek answers - and until I get some semi-logical thing happening, I'll spend the next few days spinning over this nonsensical decision.
I've got a call in to Bill. I except he will get back to me by EOD.
In the case of personal relationships, I hate having to guess at what is happening. If you have a problem with me, tell me. I can apologize or not, make it up to you or not, or whatever. But the sort of background drama of "she should figure out why I am mad at her" is just stuff I don't do well. And as I age, I don't do it at all.
At work, I struggle with the seemingly ridiculous. Which made corporate America a challenge because you don't get to know why everything is happening. Why did they just cut the sports marketing budget and increase the WWE? I don't actually need to know that to do my job - but when I don't get something like that, I get curious. I want to know why. I think there must be a reason. Is it financial? Do we have predictions that WWE will be a larger profit center? Is the NBA package going to increase in price and we assume it will drop subscriptions? Is it inside information that the NHL will go on strike and essentially ruin the league? Who knows? But I often struggled with these things because I just could not let it go. It would play out in my head over and over.
It's just part of who I am - and some of it I have realized has to do with knowing that thinking in theory will take up huge amounts of time and become a distraction. I used to LOVE it - in college, when I had a 4 year bubble, it was great to spend 4 hours thinking about whether or not Grant Holly's fascination with Freud and sexuality made his analysis of my dreams totally irrelevant - or fascinating. But now I don't really have time for it.
So you can imagine the shitstorm Bill Belichick caused in my brain today. Because it doesn't even start to make sense.
You've got Randy Moss:
 |
| “Just everyday work. I don’t know. I really don’t have anything to say. It was just making a play.” |
And you trade him for a third-round draft choice.
 |
| "I’m just saying that I’ve seen him do that a number of times where he’s running full stride and the ball is out in front of him and he reaches out with one hand and grabs it, The first time it happened, it was like, ‘Oh, my God.’ Then you see it again. I’m not saying it’s a routine play, I don’t mean it that way. I’m just talking about those of us who are in practice and watch Randy. I’ve seen him make that play a number of times.“ |
For the potential for a great player...
 |
| "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what the fuck I was thinking either." - Imaginary Belichick quote |
OR, maybe Belichick has some secret spy play up his sleeve. Maybe he's become Facebook friends with Jeff Gillooly and they've got it all under control.
But it is all illogical. So I seek answers - and until I get some semi-logical thing happening, I'll spend the next few days spinning over this nonsensical decision.
I've got a call in to Bill. I except he will get back to me by EOD.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)