Posted on February 7, 2015
There is a new app out there that tells parents when their college aged students are absent from class. They get an email saying that Johnny didn’t attend English 101 or Sociology 320 today.
Really? Do we need this?
The universities and colleges who promote this app seem to think we do. And, in order to prove their point, they provide iPads to every enrolled student with this app already installed. The unspoken motto must be, “If you use our iPad, your parents keep tabs.”
Personally, I am appalled. I realize many parents pay for their offspring’s education, but there comes a time when they should no longer “spy” on their children. Most of them are eighteen or older; if they don’t have their values sets by then, how will monitoring class attendance change that? Besides quarterly or semester grades already provide a bellwether as to financing the next session of schooling or not.
I’ve always been a good student. When I was an undergraduate, I assessed if the professor added anything to the course. And if all he did was read the text I’d paid dearly for, I didn’t think it was necessary to attend class. According to a formula that I learned, one could miss a certain number and still do well. So the pragmatist in me played this game.
At the same time, there were classes I wouldn’t miss because they really added something to my education. I don’t think this attendance app takes this into consideration at all.
And had I been a student who struggled I would hope my parents would have instilled in me the notion that I needed all the help available, and attending class was one more way of getting it.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances, Things to Ponder
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Posted on February 6, 2015
At first I was elated to learn that author Harper Lee of To Kill a Mockingbird fame had written another novel and squirreled it away. Mockingbird was originally published in 1960 in the genre of a Southern Gothic novel. It won the Pulitzer Prize for its portrayal of rape, racial inequality, and patriarch Atticus Finch’s stoic determination to address both and do right in a Southern town.
Since then, Lee has been reclusive, but now there is flurry about a second work featuring Scout, Atticus’s daughter in Mockingbird, returning as an adult to the locale of the original book.
As I said, I was elated at first. But I’ve been delving into this story in the Internet and have begun to wonder if it’s as clean-cut. Ms. Lee is now eighty-eight years old and lives in an assisted living facility. According to some reports, she is “increasingly blind and deaf. According to others, she is still sharp. Both assessments could be accurate.
The publishing world is also divided. Some say Harper Collins should publish the manuscript; others don’t think so. The latter are concerned that Ms. Lee’s wishes are not really being considered in the face of a literary and financial windfall.
The question comes down to “Does Ms. Lee have control of the situation or are others manipulating it?”
I’m not as elated as I was before.
See more 10 Minutes in category Writing
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Posted on February 4, 2015
I’m the type of person who learns the rules and then decides what the standard deviation is. It’s my nature to do just what has to be done to stay under any official organization’s radar.
Which is why I took myself to the Benton Harbor Post Office yesterday to inquire about how to send a paring knife to my son. I was sure such an item is considered a “weapon,” and I didn’t want to jeopardize my freedom by sending it without the proper research.
Why, you ask, am I sending a paring knife to Keith? Well, I gave him one in person at Christmas that he loves, and he wanted another. Without thinking of postal regulations aimed at terrorists, I volunteered to get the back-up knife.
Went to Perennial Accents, a local Williams-Sonoma in miniature, and purchased a bright blue version. In fact, I also purchased a bright purple version for myself.
Then I realized that sending the knife to Keith is different from his opening it here and putting it in the car for the return home. What to do? At one time I thought I’d put the knife in a cake mix (a la prison breakout stories) and send it on. Instead I visited the Post Office for information.
Turns out one can send a knife through the mail as long as one declares it, agrees that it should go ground and not air, and testifies that it isn’t a jack-knife. I could do all of these things. So today I packaged the knife in a book I wanted to send Keith (instead of a cake mix) and trundled off to the Post Office one more time. The entire adventure cost me less than four dollars.
He’ll get the book and the knife by the weekend. Case closed.
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Posted on February 2, 2015
I got my wish. Today was cancelled due to yesterday’s blizzard. Even our local mall is closed, although I had no intention of heading there. I’m still in low gear (See yesterday’s post.)
So what did I do to pass the time? You’ll shake your head.
I cleaned our self-cleaning oven. Played piano. I wiped finger prints from our switch plates. Played more piano. Took Session 16 of my builder’s class. Paid bills. Played even more piano.
Muzio Clemente and I are becoming fast friends. So are my rubber gloves and I. And, no, I don’t use them on the piano. I used them on the kitchen floor and the entry floor.
My cleaning lady comes tomorrow, weather providing. I’m ready.
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Posted on February 1, 2015
Earl and I are hibernating today and waiting for the Big Game later this afternoon. It’s not unusual for us to hunker down on Sundays, but twelve inches of snow has made it mandatory.
Me? I’m moving into low gear. Drank coffee and played piano in my bathrobe. Didn’t dress until almost noon. Watched the snow, which I find fascinating. Beautiful. Enchanting.
That is, until I have to drive in it tomorrow to the health club and yoga. Maybe tomorrow will be cancelled.
See more 10 Minutes in category Special Events
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Posted on January 31, 2015
There are five of us who mall walk regularly in various combinations. Sometimes there’s two, sometimes all. In this latter case, we usually split into two groups.
What’s interesting is that each of us measures our progress differently. I measure the distance in terms of mileage that we’ve covered in our laps around the mall. But S measures steps on her pedometer. A measures time. C measures laps. And I’m not sure what J measures.
But my point is made.
There is more than one way to tackle something.
See more 10 Minutes in category Things to Ponder
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Posted on January 30, 2015
Here’s an update on my efforts to qualify for a Michigan builder’s license. I’m one-sixth the way through the course, having completed 15 of the required 90 online lessons.
It’s a yin and yang sort of thing. Basically, the course is designed for the applicant to pass the state’s licensure exam; it really has nothing to do with building homes. It has more to do with the law.
At the same time, I’m learning a ton about all the various steps involved before one hammers the first nail. I’ve gutted rooms, purchased raw space and built it out, but I’ve never done a home from the bare ground up. Little did I know what comes before that point when the builder puts a raw home on the market.
He’s already reviewed plans, found a site, made sure the site was buildable, run into unexpected problems, dickered with subcontracts, and maybe had a second thought or two about the project.
I’m enjoying the classes and learning about different parts of the building process. At the same time, I’m thinking maybe I’ll get my license and then find some builder and drive him nuts.
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Posted on January 29, 2015
Earl and I went to a wonderful party last night. It had all the components that wonderful parties have: great friends, good food, sparkling conversation, and yummy chocolate rum cake for dessert. I had mine with double whipped cream.
But a gnawing feeling crept over me as we left.
I’d worn my new jeans, the ones that fit perfectly in the store. The ones that weren’t washed yet, so I couldn’t accuse them of shrinking in the dryer. The ones that felt as if I had put on some weight. It must have been the rum cake.
So I stepped on the scale this morning to learn the truth. It was ugly. I double-checked to make sure the pointer was on zero and then tried again. Still ugly. I weighed three pounds more than I did on New Year’s Day, and this was a mere four weeks later. That’s three-quarters of a pound a week.
I’m not one to launch a diet on the spur of the moment, but that’s exactly what I did. Earl and I are going to Europe mid-April, and I want to eat with abandon. Which means I better abandon my current pre-holiday, no foods barred ways. Now.
My refrigerator wasn’t stocked for this. So I quickly made a list and headed to the grocery store for provisions. It’s always easier to stay on a diet when you have the appropriate foods on hand. I hid the kettle chips and crackers, stowed the M&Ms, and swore off potatoes, rice, pasta, and bread. In their places, I’m planning to eat more protein, fresh veggies, and salads until I’m at a weight that can accommodate a European trip.
In the meantime, I’ll probably dream about that rum cake.
See more 10 Minutes in category Dining/Food
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Posted on January 26, 2015
I don’t understand it, although I suspect it’s driven by money. Some things have universal standards; others don’t.
Cases in point: Electrical outlets. They all accommodate various cords, regardless of the appliance in question. Bridges: They all accommodate trucks from different companies without taking the tops off some semis. Trains all use the same track. Those cup holders in cars handle Mickey D and Burger K even though they are rivals.
But there are annoying exceptions to this rule.
Cases in point: Charger cords. Why is it that the charger for my cellphone doesn’t work with my new iPod. Or that the charger for my previous cell doesn’t work with my current one, necessitating the purchase of an additional cord when I upgrade my phone? (Think money here.) Then there are headsets! The two I own don’t fit the new phone I have.
And child-proof caps. If you master one, it doesn’t mean you’ll have success on the next one. Or cottage cheese containers. Some have a plastic seal around their rims, others have flip top lids.
Or fizzy beverages. Schweppes Tonic is the worst. I need a pair of pliers and great determination to twist the cap in the right direction.
And then . . . there are women’s clothing sizes. Why can’t a size ten be a size ten be a size ten, regardless of the brand or manufacturer?
You don’t want to get me started on this last issue.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances, Things to Ponder
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Posted on January 25, 2015
I was practicing piano yesterday when Earl stopped by.
“You can’t possibly use the pedal when your legs are crossed,” he said. (I didn’t know he had that much musical knowledge.)
“I’m playing a sonata by Clementi. It doesn’t call for pedaling,” I replied. (At the same time, he’s right. Real pianists don’t cross their legs.)
“Clementi,” Earl repeated. “Is that Roberto?” I looked confused.
“Played for the Pittsburgh Pirates for seventeen years,” Earl rattled off. “Was an All-Star. He’s in the Baseball Hall of Fame.”
I couldn’t help it. I rolled my eyes.
“No,” I said. “It’s Muzio, born in the eighteenth century; composer, pianist, and piano manufacturer. He never held a baseball bat. Any serious piano student comes ‘round to playing his work.”
“Better not cross your legs then,” Earl the baseball aficionado replied as he returned to his office.
For the record, Muzio Clementi died at the age of eighty years old and is buried at Westminster Abbey. He has been called the “Father of the Pianoforte.” Roberto Clemente, born in Puerto Rico in the twentieth century, died in a plane crash while he was still playing for the Pirates. He was 38.
Each contributed mightily to his respective profession.
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