Yesterday, Kelly and I rode our bikes up to Lucky Peak and back. Afterward, Kelly looked at Google Earth and decided that that means we could have ridden to my mom's house and back, distance-wise. It is about 11 miles each way. The ride was awesome. It took an hour each way - an hour that had us traversing some of the valley's most beautiful sights. We found out new things about this path we'd traveled so many times by car and saw old things in a new way. With the sun above us all day, we pedaled and pedaled. We stopped at Lucky Peak, at lunch and ventured into the freezing water before heading home. It was quite the workout and so enjoyable in so many ways.
Oh, and the whole point of this was to say that there were more groups of non-American ethnicities than at any other place in Boise that I have ever seen. There were Spanish-speaking families, families from India, and one family speaking perhaps Portugese. There were people from all over the globe at Lucky Peak yesterday. It was so wonderful to hear so many different languages and see such varied skin tones and think "I'm still in Boise."
Monday, June 26, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Summer 2006
So far, I would characterize this summer as taking place at the shelter. I've been working so much that I'm starting to feel like I should just move in. I'm at a point with it, though, that I'm stressed out and have told my supervisor to cut my shifts back before I go looney.
Last week, Kelly and I went camping with Radley. It was our first official family camping trip. We camped in Stanley in the Sawtooth Mountains. It turns out that the night we were up there, Stanley recorded the coldest temperature for the entire nation. I suppose that's why the night was more about staying warm than sleeping and why our little shivering puppy climbed up between us to sleep. And why we let him.
I'm currently taking a class with teachers from across the state learning how to be better teachers. I'm the youngest person in the class, which is bizarre for me because I'm seldom the youngest anywhere I go. I'm usually in the same age group or I'm older. I grew up as the oldest sibling. I work with teenagers. In this class, the next oldest person is at least ten years older than me, and some people are 30 to 40 years older than me. It sort of makes me feel awkward, like they're all looking at me as though I'm one of their students, or at least in the same age group. I feel like they don't take me seriously and don't expect that I have anything to add to a conversation about teaching. Kelly says it's good for me to be out of my comfort zone a bit. I just want to learn and have the class be over.
Last week, Kelly and I went camping with Radley. It was our first official family camping trip. We camped in Stanley in the Sawtooth Mountains. It turns out that the night we were up there, Stanley recorded the coldest temperature for the entire nation. I suppose that's why the night was more about staying warm than sleeping and why our little shivering puppy climbed up between us to sleep. And why we let him.
I'm currently taking a class with teachers from across the state learning how to be better teachers. I'm the youngest person in the class, which is bizarre for me because I'm seldom the youngest anywhere I go. I'm usually in the same age group or I'm older. I grew up as the oldest sibling. I work with teenagers. In this class, the next oldest person is at least ten years older than me, and some people are 30 to 40 years older than me. It sort of makes me feel awkward, like they're all looking at me as though I'm one of their students, or at least in the same age group. I feel like they don't take me seriously and don't expect that I have anything to add to a conversation about teaching. Kelly says it's good for me to be out of my comfort zone a bit. I just want to learn and have the class be over.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Parents are big, fat liars.
I'm not just talking about my parents here – I'm talking about all parents.
First of all, parents tell their kids that a fat, happy man in a red suit will bring them every material possession their little heart desires if they behave. Yes folks, I'm talking about Santa Claus. The idea of it all is a little scary, if you think about it. There's this old man who watches all the children of the world, ensuring that their behavior warrants such gifts as remote control cars and Barbie mansions. Does that make Santa a pedophile or God? And the stories parents create surrounding the jolly fellow! When I was about five or six we lived in an apartment building. This created problems for me, since in our apartment building we had no chimney and in every single Santa story, he lands on the rooftop and slides down the chimney with his bag of goodies. My father, always quick on his mental feet, concocted a tale to calm his stressed and worried daughter. He told me that those stories were written a long time ago before apartments existed and that with the development of time Santa had to be more proactive about getting to children in places where chimneys were not installed. And so, Santa started carrying keys to everyone's apartments. Then I asked him how Santa knew which key went to which apartment because that is a LOT of keys to keep straight, even just for our complex. This is when my father ceased to be logical about it and resorted to the cure-all answer for kids: the keys are magic keys.
Skipping over the lot of the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and all Disney-reincarnated princes and princesses with magic springing eternal, here's another big parent lie: hiccoughs mean you're growing. I remember growing quite stressed when hiccoughs came to afflict my spasming abdomen because I did not want to grow that much. I had fearful daydreams about being this incredible expanding woman whose height would rival that of the Eiffel Tower. I would stomp around the world a complete anomaly, as people ran for their lives a la King Kong films and the media guys would scramble for a good shot of me eating men in three-piece business suits or trying to nestle myself length-wise across the Golden Gate Bridge for an afternoon nap. It didn't dawn on me until later - probably when I was about six or seven - that adults hiccough too and that if hiccoughs actually meant you were growing, we would all be gargantuan, making my crater-causing exploits around Europe a completely normal event.
How about the good ol' Your Face Will Freeze If You Make That Face Again ploy? Or my personal favorite, the Be Nice To Your Brother Or One Day He’ll Grow Up To Be Bigger Than You And Then He’ll Be Able To Beat You Up And Then You’ll Be Sorry warning? And I'm sure that, if polled, the majority of people my age would remember being told to eat the heels of the loaf of bread because "they're good for you. Those two pieces have the most vitamins." Which is a load of crap, by the way. The ends of the loaf of bread have no more or no less vitamins than the rest of the loaf of bread - including the crusts on the outside of the inner, most delicious part of the bread. Besides, to all parents who thought that telling kids to eat something because it has more vitamins would make that food item more delectable: You're nuts. The ONLY thing that makes vitamins at all appealing to kids is when they come in pastel colors and are shaped like Flintstones characters. In which case, give me a Betty Rubble any day. But the browned outer part of a loaf of bread? Come on. You can be more creative than that.
If anyone reading this has some examples of Lies Parents Tell, please share them here - whether you’re remembering your parents' lies or you're a parent coming clean on some of your own lies. I'm not a parent yet, but I'm sure I'll tell my future kids plenty of lies. I'm a big fat liar today as it is. I won't tell my children the lies around holidays (Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc.) or about religion (down with Judeo-Christian righteousness) or about vitamin stores in bread crusts, but I'm sure I'll develop a few good ones. Maybe I'll tell my children they were adopted and that they should start looking for their birth mother. Or maybe I'll tell them that if they ride a bike too fast they'll hit the speed of light and find themselves on Mars and that the people who live on Mars are evil cannibals who like to feast on the eyeballs of earthlings. I don't know...Just a start.
First of all, parents tell their kids that a fat, happy man in a red suit will bring them every material possession their little heart desires if they behave. Yes folks, I'm talking about Santa Claus. The idea of it all is a little scary, if you think about it. There's this old man who watches all the children of the world, ensuring that their behavior warrants such gifts as remote control cars and Barbie mansions. Does that make Santa a pedophile or God? And the stories parents create surrounding the jolly fellow! When I was about five or six we lived in an apartment building. This created problems for me, since in our apartment building we had no chimney and in every single Santa story, he lands on the rooftop and slides down the chimney with his bag of goodies. My father, always quick on his mental feet, concocted a tale to calm his stressed and worried daughter. He told me that those stories were written a long time ago before apartments existed and that with the development of time Santa had to be more proactive about getting to children in places where chimneys were not installed. And so, Santa started carrying keys to everyone's apartments. Then I asked him how Santa knew which key went to which apartment because that is a LOT of keys to keep straight, even just for our complex. This is when my father ceased to be logical about it and resorted to the cure-all answer for kids: the keys are magic keys.
Skipping over the lot of the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and all Disney-reincarnated princes and princesses with magic springing eternal, here's another big parent lie: hiccoughs mean you're growing. I remember growing quite stressed when hiccoughs came to afflict my spasming abdomen because I did not want to grow that much. I had fearful daydreams about being this incredible expanding woman whose height would rival that of the Eiffel Tower. I would stomp around the world a complete anomaly, as people ran for their lives a la King Kong films and the media guys would scramble for a good shot of me eating men in three-piece business suits or trying to nestle myself length-wise across the Golden Gate Bridge for an afternoon nap. It didn't dawn on me until later - probably when I was about six or seven - that adults hiccough too and that if hiccoughs actually meant you were growing, we would all be gargantuan, making my crater-causing exploits around Europe a completely normal event.
How about the good ol' Your Face Will Freeze If You Make That Face Again ploy? Or my personal favorite, the Be Nice To Your Brother Or One Day He’ll Grow Up To Be Bigger Than You And Then He’ll Be Able To Beat You Up And Then You’ll Be Sorry warning? And I'm sure that, if polled, the majority of people my age would remember being told to eat the heels of the loaf of bread because "they're good for you. Those two pieces have the most vitamins." Which is a load of crap, by the way. The ends of the loaf of bread have no more or no less vitamins than the rest of the loaf of bread - including the crusts on the outside of the inner, most delicious part of the bread. Besides, to all parents who thought that telling kids to eat something because it has more vitamins would make that food item more delectable: You're nuts. The ONLY thing that makes vitamins at all appealing to kids is when they come in pastel colors and are shaped like Flintstones characters. In which case, give me a Betty Rubble any day. But the browned outer part of a loaf of bread? Come on. You can be more creative than that.
If anyone reading this has some examples of Lies Parents Tell, please share them here - whether you’re remembering your parents' lies or you're a parent coming clean on some of your own lies. I'm not a parent yet, but I'm sure I'll tell my future kids plenty of lies. I'm a big fat liar today as it is. I won't tell my children the lies around holidays (Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc.) or about religion (down with Judeo-Christian righteousness) or about vitamin stores in bread crusts, but I'm sure I'll develop a few good ones. Maybe I'll tell my children they were adopted and that they should start looking for their birth mother. Or maybe I'll tell them that if they ride a bike too fast they'll hit the speed of light and find themselves on Mars and that the people who live on Mars are evil cannibals who like to feast on the eyeballs of earthlings. I don't know...Just a start.
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