Be Careful What You Read

The other day my son Jacob asked me to proofread a paper before he went to class. I said, “Sure.” After I read it, I said, “Uh, Jake, what’s this all about?”

Turns out, Jake had to read an essay in his rhetoric textbook and write a paper on it. As he read, he became increasingly skeptical—it seemed to him that in spite of the author’s inflammatory rhetoric, the author’s quotes were weak and he made several logical fallacies. So, Jake decided to google the author….wow!

Subsequent to the publication of the textbook, the essay’s author was stripped of his journalism awards. Turns out the author not only plagiarized, he invented quotes. Then, when the truth came out, he attacked his critics, etc. Jake mentioned this in the conclusion of his paper.

My hope was that this essay assignment was a “trick” from his professor, that the prof used this as an exercise in always being vigilant—just because something is in a textbook doesn’t mean it’s right.

So Jake took the paper to class for peer review. As the students in his group read his paper, they pulled out their phones and googled the author. Jake said, “They started muttering and swearing.”

Then, during the class discussion after peer review, no one from Jake’s group said anything. The other groups talked about how great the article and author were. Jake felt increasingly awkward. Finally, he raised his hand, shared his opinion, and explained what he found out about the author.

When Jake got home, I said, “So was it a set-up by your professor?” Jake said, “I don’t know, Mom. When, I talked about the article and the author, the professor looked surprised—I don’t think she knew.”

Hmm…I wonder how she’s going to grade this paper.

Update: Jake just had a meeting with his professor--she did know all about it. I guess she was just surprised that any of the students caught it. :)

Image courtesy of Wikimedia

The Pot of Gold

When your kids are little, they seem to go from one thing to the next making messes. A knocked over plant here, and spilled orange juice there. Not to mention the laundry, the toys strewn everywhere, and fights. You tell yourself that eventually, they’ll be helpful. But you’re not sure if you believe it.

I’m here to say, “It’s true!” While Luke and Ariel had summer jobs doing research, Jake and Matt were part of the unemployed masses. (Gone are the summers when jobs for teens were available to anyone who applied.) So Jake and Matt worked for me. And even though they didn’t get paid, they worked hard. I even heard, “Is there anything else I can do for you?” I almost passed out when I heard that.  (Of course, the quid pro quo between computer game time and chores done might have contributed to their willingness.)

Here’s what Matt and Jake did. They mulched, replaced bathroom caulk in two bathrooms, washed mildew from wallpaper, cleaned bathroom ceiling, raked and bagged yard waste, sanded and painted trim, cleaned/organized tool shed, scrubbed and repainted the deck, scrubbed and repainted back porch, and washed blinds. Thanks, boys! (Yeah, they’re glad the summer is almost over.)

Out of thirty projects I put on a list, they’ve finished all but three. Weeding, pressure washing the carport, and painting the carport.

So there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Just seize it while you can. Before you know it, they’ll be gone.

Games Closet

Yesterday, I announced to Matt and Jake that it was Clean-Out-the –Entry-Closet Day. Since our house was built in 1940, it has only one storage area. A walk-in entry closet. So you can imagine what happens. And you’ll understand why the boys’ smiles became tight and their eyes narrowed. Suddenly, they thought of chores they needed to do.

But to no avail. To understand the boys' chagrin, you need to know that the closet currently houses two sewing machines, three sleeping bags, three sewing boxes, a stereo, winter coats, baby books, boxes of CDs, a tripod, three boxes of piano music and games. Out of all those things, it was the games that the boys didn’t want to deal with.

We are game people. It’s a nice cheap way to spend time with your kids that isn’t mind numbing. Of course, there are the inevitable squabbles. But when the kids were little and they showed “unsportsmanlike behavior” we made them pay the “idolatry tax.” They lost money, points, whatever was valuable in the game because they were making winning an idol. It worked really well until we had an adult visitor, who was a bit “intense” and the kids told said visitor that he had to pay the “idolatry tax.”

Back to the closet. So, uh, we have a lot of games. A lot of games. After I culled the horde yesterday and made a Goodwill pile for the games we don’t like, we had one hundred games. (Cringe. I know that’s a lot of games. But we have four almost adult kids, so that’s a lot of birthdays and Christmases.)

The nastiest problem, besides fixing the boxes, is sorting the “orphaned pieces box.” Every game piece, card, faux money, dice, and timer that I find, which didn’t get put away, ends up in the OPB. And we didn’t empty the OPB last summer. So imagine 100 games and two years’ worth of orphaned pieces. Yep, there were enough Risk soldiers to form an army, enough dice to make Las Vegas happy, and enough faux money to pay off our mortgage.

But we got the whole closet, including the games, done in three hours. But I know that’s not why you’re reading this blog post, you want me to tell you what the top ten games are.

So here’s my list.

1.      Settlers of Catan. (This is my favorite. And it even makes it into the Screwing Up Time sequel.)

2.      Killer Bunnies and the Quest for the Magic Carrot. (I hate this game. But apparently, male high school, college and graduate students find this game addictive. I think it’s the cards: Ebola Virus, Kitchen Wisk, Terrible Misfortune card—a bunny pulls a pin out of a grenade because it would make lovely jewelry. Enough said.)

3.      Lost Victory. (Only Luke loves this game—it takes weeks to play. It’s a historical battle between the Russians and the Germans.)

4.      Set. (Ariel’s favorite game. It’s a Mensa game, and the only one who will play this with her is Jacob. I liked the game until Ariel began consistently doubling my score.)

5.      Quelf. (The boys think this game is hilarious. It involves barking like a dog and wrapping people in toilet paper. I don’t understand why this is fun.)

6.      Louis XIV. (You get to be a member of the Sun King’s court. There’s tons of intrigue, manipulation, influence peddling, and multiple ways to win. I love those domination games.)

7.      Guillotine. (You collect heads. Literally. Sorry. But I think it’s really fun.)

8.      Power Grid. (You build power plants across Germany, trying to dominate the industry and become cost efficient. Hmm. That sounds lame. But it’s fun.)

9.      The Farming Game. (You are a farmer in Washington, trying to earn enough money from farming that you can quite your other job. This game was actually translated into Russian and given to Russian farmers when the farms were de-collectivized so they'd know what to expect.)

10.  Zeus on the Loose. (It involves Greek gods and goddesses and speedy addition and subtraction. Weird combo, but it works. Our dog Jezebel hates the Zeus character. One day, she finally got him. His head is now…mangled.)

What about you all? Any game recommendations?

Graduation

Yesterday we had a high school graduation party for my son. Yay, Jacob!!
(He's our third high school graduate.) And I thought I'd share some photos. Jacob plans to study electrical  engineering in college next year.

Some of Jake's friends. (All the red shirts--there were even more of them--are actors in the Shakespeare troupe that Jake participates in. Jake's playing Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing this summer.)

Jake, Cal, and a New York-style cheesecake. (I made it.)

The graduate and his parents.

My Week Of Relaxation

Last Friday I finished the first draft of the sequel to Screwing Up Time. This week was supposed to be my week of relaxation. Week of Relaxation. I may have said those words, but I didn’t really mean them. What I meant was “my week to catch up on all the things that I slacked off on when I was writing.” (See this post.)

So did I get the yard work done? No, I didn’t even get Round-up sprayed. Instead, precious child number three, Jake, had a midterm in Calculus 2 (he’s taking a dual enrollment class—college and high school credits at the same time). Now you’d think that child one, Luke, and child two, Ariel, who are fulltime students at the university would be able to squeeze Jake into their schedule and transport him to review sessions/office hours. You’d be wrong. Luke and Ariel have jobs with weird hours. I drove Jake back and forth, even one time when guess what—the prof wasn’t available. I just love those car trips with no purpose.

Did I get the ironing done? Sort of. I got a pile finished, but not the one I wanted. I wanted to get Cal’s winter dress pants/shirts out of storage, washed, and ironed. (Our old house has miniscule closets.) I didn’t even get the clothes out of the basement. Child four, Matt, was taking the PSAT this week and needed help with the bizarre writing section—I had to explain that “B” was the right answer because the clause was modifying the correct noun even though it broke a grammar rule. I hate defending bad writing.

Did I get the refrigerator cleaned and washed? No. (Though I did throw out the scary food.) Instead, I helped Ariel get information sent off for a summer internship. You’d think that getting a transcript would be easy. At UTC, she just walks into the records office and they print one up. At Chatt State, she had to submit a request form and wait up to TEN days. And they don’t allow you to call and ask if it’s ready. And you actually have to drive down to the campus to find out. Seriously. When it was finally done, we had to fax everything. Except the fax machine was down at the site Ariel had to fax it to. It was finally back up five minutes before Ariel and Jake had to leave for class—Jake had his midterm waiting. He was doing the “I’d better not be late to my midterm.” I was promising, “You won’t be late. You won’t be late.”

So I’m looking forward to next week and getting back to writing. I never get anything done when I’m “relaxing.” 




N.B. If you're interested in discovering which character you're most like in Screwing Up Time, click here.

Vacation Photos

I promised some vacation photos. Here are a couple.

Ariel doing computer work in the car on the drive to NC.

The boys and a friend at an artillery park.

A photo of the moon rise last night at the beach. It's beautifully pink because there was a controlled forest fire going on.

I hope you enjoyed the photos. We're having a relaxing time.

Living With The Bubble

When I work on a novel, I enter what my kids call “the writing bubble.” Once I’m in it, I’m physically present, but mentally gone. My kids have been known to abuse this*. For example, I’ve given permission for Matt and Jake to play computer games for the rest of their natural lives. Of course, I’ve rescinded this blanket permission. The current rule is that for every two minutes of piano you practice, you get one minute of computer time. You’d think that they practice a lot. They don’t, not more than the minimum requirement.

Yesterday when I came out of the writing bubble, I found them on the computer playing games.

Me: Hey, you don’t have permission to play computer games.

Jake: We’re not.

Me: How is that little humanoid-ish thing bouncing around the screen not “playing computer games?”

Jake: I’m doing a level editor, programming a game.

Me: I don’t see coding. I see the humanoid-ish thing bouncing around the screen.

Jake: I’m testing the changes that I’ve made.

Me (having no idea what to do about this loophole): Ah. Well. Set that timer. You’re done “programming” in 15 minutes.

Jake: Sure.

Hmm. I think I lost that round of parental authority/supervision. Oh, well, back to the bubble.

* Matthew and Jake think "bubble brain" is hilarious and test it out all the time. I've been asked if they can tattoo 666 on their forehead or change their name to "semi-colon."

Feasting on My Flesh

As of yesterday...all the summer projects are done!! WooHoo!!

However, there is a downside. Jake and Matt stained the deck swing. Don’t get me wrong, the deck swing looks fantastic. But, they ended up with as much stain on themselves as on the swing. And the stain is oil-based so it doesn’t wash off. Big splotches of reddish brown decorate their legs and arms and even their faces. Both boys look like they’ve caught a skin disease—reverse leprosy or something like that. And Jezebel must have tried to help. The fur on her rear-end is red brown. Not very cute for a black Lab.

Cal tackled another summer project, painting the siding. Being an adult, he had less spills. Though for some reason the inside of his ears were Software Gray. I didn’t ask how that happened; I’m not sure I want to know.

As for me, I scrubbed and stained the two park benches. And since I’m an adult and wore gloves, I came out pretty clean. No weird blotches of any kind. Unless you count mosquito bites. Why is it that I can spray myself with Deep Woods Off—uber-high amounts of DEET—and the mosquitoes don’t care? They still bite. I am covered with swollen itchy patches. No, “bite” isn’t what they do to me…they feast upon my flesh. I must be the equivalent of lobster bisque for mosquitoes. (If lobster bisque doesn’t do it for you, you’re free to imagine steak or Veggie Burgers for my vegetarian friends.) So what’s a girl to do? Scratch, slather on more Benadryl and pray for an early freeze. I’m sure I can feel a chill on the breeze already…oops, that was the air conditioner.