Airport Musings

On June 28, 2017 By aftheadIn Uncategorized6 Comments

I’m heading out on a work trip, so was able to enjoy one of my favorite airport pastimes: random observation. Today the focus was airport shopping.

I have always wondered about the airport magazine displays featuring Playboy, Penthouse and, in this instance, 3 other unknown skin magazines. Who buys these magazines? What person thinks, “Ah, nothing will improve my four hour flight sitting uncomfortably close to strangers like some tits and ass.”

This is a neverbefore seen miracle of airport shopping. Three glass display cases filled with sparkle encrusted balls bearing logos from ramdom sports teams! “One gift will satisfy your sporty son and his high maintenance wife,” you mistakenly conclude.

When I was a kid I would spend a few weeks every summer with my grandparents. My parents would drive up from Denver and my grandparents would drive down from the mountains and they would meet roughly halfway. We’d have lunch at this little park and then we children would be transferred. Grandma would bring treats and one of those treats would be baseball gum balls. Here in the airport candy shop, is my childhood summer just waiting to be scooped up, weighed, and purchased. I’ll be the one blowing bubbles on the plane.

Unexpected Parenting Nostalgia

On June 15, 2017June 15, 2017 By aftheadIn childhood, Uncategorized16 Comments

Being a parent is weird. Everything is going along great. You love your kid and she is growing up, doing amazing things. Then unexpected parenting nostalgia hits. It snuck up on me after a doctor’s appointment that confirmed the ear infection I knew my daughter had two days before at the same doctor’s office, but whatever. The fateful question came as the physicians assistant was writing up the prescription for the magical antibiotic that would allow her and me to sleep through the night. “Do you want liquid or pills?”

I was surprised. My 8 year old could take pills? I mean, we had practiced swallowing M&Ms whole, preparing for this day, but it was really time for pills?

My daughter was ecstatic. She hates the “disgusting pink medicine” and chose pills. I, of course, played the part of the supportive mom. “Oh, wow, you are so big now. I’m so proud of you.” Inside my heart was breaking. The medication of her childhood passed through my mind. I remembered the tiny syringes of dye free cherry flavored Tylenol for late night teething. I recalled how the syringes grew along with her and provided antibiotics, or bubble gum flavored Motrin. The doses increased and we needed the big measuring spoons or cups. Moving to chewable Tylenol, well that wasn’t a big deal but pills? This was it. The final step. Once she took a pill she was effectively a grown up in the medicine taking realm. She’d reached the pinnacle. Sure, she might some day swallow down a handful of vitamins, but plenty of grownups take one pill at a time – like her dad. With no fear or hesitation my daughter swallowed the giant amoxicillin pill and I checked one item off my list of parenting to dos. For the rest of her life she’ll be able to take medicine without my help.

I’ve gotta admit, I cried a bit that night and then did a scavenging hunt through all the nooks and corners of medicine cabinets and closets and bins of random crap. I found all the medication tools from infant until now. I marveled at how far we’d come in 8 years. I remembered the horror of infant wails and never knowing what was wrong and the guilt when I gave her Tylenol. I remembered the endless ear infections. I marveled at how long ago all that was and how quickly time had passed. Finally, with pride, I put all the tools back in the bin of random crap, wiped my eyes, blew my nose, and thought, “Nice work mom. When your kid has a wicked hangover in college she’s not going to need you.” And that’s good.

Lula the Zombie Hamster

On May 28, 2017May 28, 2017 By aftheadIn Uncategorized17 Comments

Meet Lula, our hamster. Lover of grapes; loved by the cats who want to play-with-her-to death; and zombie. Lula came into our family three years ago and became a zombie last year. Thus, like Stephanie Plum’s hamster Rex, I expect her to live forever.

Lula is a Russian dwarf hamster and the worst pet ever. Hamsters are nocturnal, so she only plays when I want my child to sleep. Given that my kid is the worst go-to-sleeper ever they make a bad combination. Also, hamsters are smaller on the outside than they appear on the outside. (Similar to the Tardis, but the opposite.) Let me explain. The day we got Lula my daughter was playing with her in the locked bathroom while we parents got the hamster habitat ready. Lula squeezed under a smaller than a hamster sized space below the bathroom door and darted between the startled cat’s legs and under the smaller than hamster sized space beneath the refrigerator. Two hours later a feast of sunflower seeds lured her out. From that point on she was banished to her cage and only released into the clear ball of torture, which allows her to roam around my daughter’s room bumping into things and making us laugh. The cats watch the balled hamster snack through the crack under the door, which really is too small for cats.

Lula became a zombie on a fateful day last summer when she died. My daughter and I were watching her play when she toppled over on her hamster ramp, twitched disturbingly, hauled herself up to the hamster ledge using her functioning front legs while dragging her back legs limply behind her. She then collapsed had another twitching fit, and died. She lay motionless while I consoled my daughter, got her ready for bed and read her stories. When lights out came Afthead Junior cried that she did not want to sleep with the dead hamster. I agreed and put the dead creature’s cage on top of the butler’s pantry to be dealt with later.

After our normal 90 minute dance of go to sleep, go to sleep, GO TO SLEEP my daughter finally fell asleep. Ignoring the dead hamster problem, I went to the basement to watch some TV with my husband. Before bed I decided the dead hamster burial/freezing/whatever could wait until the morning and be a learning experience for the child.

The next morning Lula’s wheel squeaked with the running of an exuberant undead hamster. Lula, making a rare daytime appearance was animated.

Ever since her status changed from hamster to undead hamster Lula has been much more friendly. She’s almost always out before my daughter goes to sleep and runs to the bars of the cage to sniff my fingers if I put them up. She even races to the cats if they are in the vicinity: like on top of the cage trying to ~~eat~~ play with her. No doubt she is luring us humans and felines in so we will open her cage and she can leap out and feast on our enormous brains. In the meantime, I give her strawberries, cherries and blueberries to try and keep her at bay.

Toothpaste Magic

On May 25, 2017May 25, 2017 By aftheadIn Tickles my afthead, Uncategorized4 Comments

The Afthead family has a secret, and as a family of scientists and engineers you need know know we are a trustworthy source of this information. Toothpaste is magically regenerating. If you squeeze the tube hard enough each toothpaste molecules will split and create two toothpaste molecules. Do this enough and you will never run out of toothpaste. You can only really get enough force out of the squeeze when the toothpaste is almost empty, and, of course, even if you did squeeze the tube hard enough when it’s full you are just going to end up with toothpaste all over. But when you get to the end just keep squeezing. If you don’t you will be shamed and labeled a heretic for not believing in the magical toothpaste properties.

(I did not throw this tube away, but Mr. Afthead did. I’m so disappointed in him.)

My parenting mantra? Sit on your hands.

On May 14, 2017 By aftheadIn Uncategorized2 Comments

As the years progress I still think sitting on my hands is my best parenting path. I share this post with you again today in honor of all the moms out there who find their own method for raising their own children in the very best way they know how. Thanks for all the time you’ve sacrificed, prioritized and invested in your kiddos. Happy Mother’s Day!
***

Afthead

If you could hear inside my head you would hear the mantra repeated over and over.

Sit on your hands. She’s doing fine.
Sit on your hands. You already know how to sew.
Sit on your hands. She is feeding herself and who cares if there is applesauce in her eyebrows?

It takes literal physical restraint for me to let my daughter do it herself sometimes. I see her struggling and I just want to reach out and help her, to get her past the hard part, to do it for her, but I don’t. My hands start to move from my side toward her and I stop them. It is the hardest, most important parenting lesson I teach myself over and over: she will only learn to do it for herself if I stay out of her way.

Friday night she decided she wanted to learn how to knit…

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A Fishy Passover Tolerance Lesson

On April 17, 2017April 17, 2017 By aftheadIn Traditions, Uncategorized20 Comments

As a child I could get a little rambunctious at the grocery store. I clearly remember that when my brother and I got exceptionally crazy mom would threaten us. She’d point to jars filled with gelatinous covered white orbs and say, “If you guys don’t cut it out I will buy this and make you eat it.” We’d squeal and make faces and wonder what poor kids had to eat those creepy floating things. Into adulthood I’d walk through the Ethnic Food aisle and shudder a bit on my way to the pasta and salsa looking into those clear jars. Still I wondered who ate that stuff.

My senior year of college it happened. I met a boy, and one day he took me home to celebrate Passover with his family. The Seder began and we ate parsley dipped in salt water, raw horseradish root in an apple dish called haroset. All ceremonial foods, all different, but all edible. I enjoyed the readings and the novelty of the celebration and learning about a new culture.

Feeling moderately comfortable at the table the first course of the actual meal was served: gefilte fish. Someone set in front of me an albino patty with gelatinous quivering globules glistening on its surface cradled on a bed of lettuce. All around me strangers I wanted to impress covered their helpings with fluorescent pink horseradish and dug in with apparent glee. Here in front of me was the nightmare of my childhood and I had two choices: be “that disrespectful new girl” and shun this foreign food or face my fear and try a bite. There was not an option to run screaming from the room. This was before the days of smartphones so I couldn’t snap a picture and send it to my mom with an eww, like I did for this blog post. I had to put on my big girl shoes and face my fears if I wanted to be respectful. I don’t think I made it through half of the fish and I know I drank an entire tumbler of water but I ate enough to not make a scene. The rest of the meal followed without incident.

Twenty two Passovers now, give or take. I’ve watched guests come and go and seen the judgement passed down upon those who do not try. I’ve learned that no one thinks it wrong that I enjoy my fish with a piece of Matzo, which at least hides the horrible texture with a bit of a crunch. I bought the New York Times Passover Cookbook and with fear read the gefilte fish recipes only to learn that it really isn’t that scary. Just whitefish cooked in broth until the broth congeals. I could make it myself, but I don’t. I don’t buy it either. Instead I make the haroset, hard boil the eggs, make the dessert and bring the wine. I feel at home with the ceremony.

I also learned that my husband will always eat the second half of my patty. I push it onto his plate and yum yum he finishes it off and asks for another. No judgement, we are so cute sharing food. I always help clear away the fish plates and bring out the matzo ball soup, which I love. Before I sit down I refill the water glasses. It still takes me an entire glass of water to finish off my fish half.

This life we live, it’s filled with scary slimy fish isn’t it? Things we reject without a thought or a consideration for being different and gross, and really they might be different and gross to us even once fully understood and experienced. Things we threaten our children with because you’ve got to make them behave in the supermarket somehow. Every year at Passover I think my lesson is one of overcoming the fear of the unknown, different, and strange and while not embracing it – and certainly not enjoying it – at least learning to tolerate. For my husband’s Jewish family and their ancestors more tolerance would have changed history. And really, isn’t that an acceptable lesson? Maybe we can’t embrace each other and all join hands in unity, but a little tolerance – even if it requires a big glass of water – goes a long way in this world.

Happy Passover, happy Easter and happy spring to you readers. May you find tolerance for yourself, your beliefs, others, and other’s beliefs in your own little corner of the world.

The Whiteboard Litmus Test

On April 6, 2017April 6, 2017 By aftheadIn Uncategorized16 Comments

If you are a Washington news junkie, like I am, you’ve noticed the hearings for Supreme Court nominee Judge Neil Gorsuch are in process. The nominee has been peppered with questions trying to ascertain how he will interpret the Constitution, what his views are, and how he might rule on a variety of hypothetical cases. Always there is a discussion of litmus test issues: the big ones being gun control for one side and abortion for the other. Never do judges actually say how they would rule on such cases – Oh well, golly gee, I sure do hate guns and their propensity to kill innocent people or well shucks, I think if a girl gets herself knocked up she’s gotta face the consequences – but always the wily congressmen try to get a nominee to admit that he/she will take their guns away or eliminate a woman’s right to choice.

Recently I realized I have my own litmus test. During my writing class the teacher uncapped a whiteboard marker and began taking notes for the class. The marker squeaked, but no words appeared on the board. That’s when the defining moment happened. My instructor put the cap back on the pen and…. THREW IT AWAY.

I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward and said, “I love that you did that. Thank you for throwing the marker away.”

“Right!?!?” He replied.

“It’s not like it’s magically going to regenerate ink if you keep it.” I said.

So that’s it. My new test. If you get up to a whiteboard, find a marker that doesn’t work, then just leave it in the marker tray for the next real grown up to deal with, well, you are dead to me. That’s it. I’ve drawn my own personal line in the sand.

Don’t be a dried up marker keeper. Don’t be that guy.

Created in response to the WordPress Daily Prompt – Denial

A Story for MJ

On April 2, 2017April 2, 2017 By aftheadIn Uncategorized12 Comments

Some people we meet invoke an instant connection. We experience a sense of having known them forever and being jealous of their current or future relationships because of their potential as amazing life-long companions. Of course, we don’t tell these people about the connection we feel, because that would make us creepy.

For me, moments in the presence of such a person hold greater detail and richness than other memories. One person in particular is foremost in my mind today. I remember watching him dance at his sister’s wedding with a carefree exuberance that single female eyes – and some married eyes – followed. He interacted with everyone and embraced friends and new acquaintances with a complete lack of self-consciousness. Love seemed to exude from him.

MJ and I had a relationship hard to diagram – my husband’s brother’s wife’s brother – but easy to execute. He was someone who occasionally showed up at family gatherings, and when he was there I made a point to engage. He was fun to talk to and had fascinating things to share: his work with the UN and Mennonite Church in the Congo meant his life stories went far beyond my limited range of experiences.

With almost perfect clarity I recall one private moment between us. A conversation between MJ, my daughter, and me. My then first grader was explaining to MJ, in great detail, the amazing wonders of her class guinea pig Bert. The pig sat in a cage on the floor right next to her desk. It was her first year at a new school and she struggled with reading and friends, so Bert was a bright spot in her days. MJ patiently asked her questions, listened to her answers, and then shared that he had a whole pen of guinea pigs behind his house in Africa. Oh the wonder of a whole pen of pigs. They compared and contrasted her pet pig and his pen of pigs. He told her about the babies and she listened in rapture at the thought of little piggies. When she wandered away, having exhausted her six year old capacity for conversation, he leaned over to me and explained in quiet tones that his guinea pigs were for eating. They were a sure source of protein in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and were better than rabbits, because they both didn’t over populate and tasted pretty good.

What made this conversation memorable? First that he, as an adult, was willing to spend time talking with a kid. Not talking at a kid, but he got down on her level and had an engaging conversation with her. He brought my horribly shy child out of her shell and fascinated her with this African world he lived in by sharing a common bond. He didn’t break their bond by telling her why he had his pigs, but waited until she’d left before telling me. Until that moment I’d been secondary in the conversation, but in his own way MJ had been drawing me in by building trust with my daughter, who I adore. Then he explained the realities of his world to me in an engaging and thought-provoking manner. Throughout our conversation I wasn’t shocked or offended, but impressed with his ability to tailor a story to his audience and maximize understanding by finding common ground.

From this encounter I understood how he did his job in Africa. I could envision him building ties between warring factions, and encouraging diplomacy. I could see him gaining trust by sharing stories.

I share my own story today because MJ is no longer with us. Two weeks ago his family heard he had been kidnapped with a UN colleague and their interpreter. Monday they learned that Caucasian bodies had been found, and we now know that MJ died. Personally I mourn the family events where he won’t be present and the conversations we won’t have. But my loss is so small when compared to his family and friends. MJ wasn’t my brother, but I love his sister. MJ wasn’t my son, but I adore his parents. MJ was someone I really liked and was looking forward to seeing at inevitable family events over the years.

So often I gloss over news stories with a reaction of, “can you imagine?” Now I can imagine. This time I know a glimmer of what was lost. I compose this today because his family deserves prayers, and I don’t pray, but I do write.

I honor MJ by remembering the light he brought into my life.

I mourn for the nieces and nephews who won’t know or remember the hugs of their uncle.

I hope that he did not suffer at the end.

I grieve for his parents, his sisters, his family and his friends for their unimaginable loss.

If you are interested in knowing more about MJ (his full name is Michael Sharp) I’ve included some links below. I hope his too-short life shines a light on the issues he was dedicated to. Personally I wish I would have told him what a great guy he was, how much I liked him, and how inspirational his calling was. My heart goes out to those who were close to him.

Further reading:

A prayer for MJ from his parents: http://www.kake.com/story/35028097/kansas-parents-of-slain-un-worker-talk-to-kake

NPR has been covering MJ’s work since 2016 as part of their Goats and Soda feature: http://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2017/03/29/521962848/remembering-michael-sharp-he-risked-his-life-to-make-peace

The Washington Post explains the longstanding challenges in the Congo: https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/worldviews/wp/2017/03/29/courageous-but-not-reckless-the-tragedy-of-an-american-u-n-worker-slain-in-congo/

NY Times article on MJ’s role in the Congo and his last trip: https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/28/world/africa/missing-un-experts-congo.html?_r=0

TSA Ate my Laptop – the Analysis

On April 1, 2017 By aftheadIn Fiction, Uncategorized9 Comments

So now, let’s see which version of my character study was better. For those just joining, I left my laptop at TSA and on it was a writing assignment due the same day. Being an exemplary student, I quickly rewrote my homework before going to class, thus giving me an opportunity to compare my careful writing process and my quick rewrite process: something I would never do if the circumstances didn’t require it. Check out my posts about the slapdash version 2 and the original version 1 if you want to make your own judgement.

I think both versions have merit, but the hastily written version 2 is better. Why? Well at a high level, I have realized that I lose my voice when I edit. It’s something that I’ve been peripherally aware of for awhile, but this proves my process of making sure I vary sentence structure, use correct verb tense, and nitpick punctuation sucks the soul out of my writing. Now I wish that meant that I could just stop doing all that, but unfortunately that would leave behind basic issues making me look like a hack. So instead, I think I’m going to have to add a final round of editing to my work to reinsert the soul. Mayday, mayday! Soul reinsertion, stat! No idea how I’m going to pull that off, but this experiment gives me hope that such a process will work, because remember, I wrote the better draft second.

I’m going to start with what I like more about version 2, and then highlight what I liked better from version 1. If I was going to use this for something I’d make a mashup of the two and create perfection, but since it’s just an exercise I’ll probably skip that step. I mean, I got assigned new homework this week that I’ve got to get started on!

Why is version 2 better?

The guy has a voice. He is “missunderstood and undervalued.” His mom says he lacks “get up and go.” He got fired for “lack of initiative.” He asked the heart attack victim, “What do you want me to do?” He was told, “You saved this guys’s life, you are a hero.” (Shockingly that last quote is exactly the same in both versions.) The simple addition of real words convey the essence of him: showing not telling, right? I tried to do that in the first version by giving the guy a name, but he didn’t really need a name. He needed a soul.

The first three paragraphs are all better in the second version because of the good mix of showing and telling. Also, the character displays better internal conflict.

They wanted me to take some vague idea and magically turn it into something they wanted. If they weren’t so lazy I would be more effective, but I learned that people don’t want that kind of feedback.

is way better than

What they wanted was some person who was willing to go off and waste time solving vague problems because my bosses were too lazy to define what they really wanted, but I probably shouldn’t have told them that.

Let me tell you, that bottom one is totally me the writer deciding, “Oh, it is time for a long complex sentence now.” Ugh. It’s terrible. I also love the “magically” reference in the top version. It convey’s this guy’s frustration. He does not know how to take squishy ideas and turn them into reality, so it must be magic.

The hackathon paragraphs are where version 1 is better, until you get the the old guy’s collapse, then comes the sentence that makes version 2 the total winner. It’s the point that out-loud laughs occurred, which is better than gold for any writer.

Crouching next to him I asked, “What do you want me to do?” but he didn’t answer.

I mean, the guy clutched his chest and collapsed and this dingbat is so incapable of self motivation that he asks an unconscious body what to do. So much better than,

Crouching down next to the guy I asked what he needed, but he wasn’t able to answer.

Showing versus telling again. I bet version 1 wouldn’t have made people laugh. It doesn’t have the same impact.

For the character study, I think the version 2 ending is better, because it’s an actual ending. However, if I was going to use this for something else, version 1 leaves the story with somewhere to go.

Why is version 1 better?

In the first version I liked a few things better. I liked my consistent use of “clarity” and think that “total clarity” is more representative of what the character is looking for than “perfect clarity.” Also, I was inconsistent in my use of “clarity” in version 2. This is the most important value to my character so I like the cleaner presentation.

A few lines stood out as better in version 1 than version 2.

Life is made up of vague requests and other people spend their energy chasing after the right problem.

Is better than

People waste a great deal of time chasing after elusive requests. It’s more efficient to spend time really understanding what someone wants before you go into action.

Another line I really liked from the first version was:

But the best part of being a hacker was that it made me a hero.

This same idea in the second version is a disaster.

I won the first prize once – $5000 – but the best thing happened as a result of hacking was that they made me a hero.

Ugh. My eyes are bleeding reading that. Obviously a quickly composed sentence-like thing that didn’t get proofread. So. Much. Badness.

The last thing I liked better in version 1 was the character’s personal recognition of what he accomplished:

I saved a guy’s life doing exactly what I was told.

There was no creativity in his heroics. No thinking outside the box. He followed directions and the old guy didn’t die. That’s a win for his strengths. He should personally acknowledge it.

What was the point?

The whole point behind this exercise from 3 AM Ephipany is that “Writers who identify completely with their central character’s POV lack all sense of irony or detachment…A good story allows us to both like and dislike a character even if we are deep inside that character’s POV.” (POV is point of view.)

So my goal was to take a character trait I do not have – I despise being told what to do – and see if I could turn it into a believable study. I spent last weekend at a hackathon in the big thinker role – yes it’s a real thing – and there is definitely a “type” of participant that wants to figure out the right answer more then they want to jump in and start coding. For that particular situation it isn’t a bad strategy, although I found it frustrating since I was supposed to be helping everyone and the question askers monopolized my time. After my first day at the event, I contemplated why the question-askers were the way they were. I hoped to make my character annoying, but then convey that his lack of “get up and go” had it’s purposes. I hope I succeeded.

I thought version 2 was best because I was able to both like and dislike my character more. He seemed more real to me.

Now I’m off to go read all the comments everyone provided to see if you all agree with me. Thanks for going on this writing journey with me, and the big take away here is “do not leave your laptop at the TSA checkpoint, because it will cost you $50.” Also, “it takes more than double 600 words to critique a 600 word character study.” If you’ve made it this far, dear reader, I thank you.