Thing Two is 14, can you even believe it??

Back when I started this blog Thing 2 was 6 years old. 

 This Nutella devouring photo is a repost of one of the early pictures of him on this blog.

 Here here is as a pirate, awwwwa, such a precious little pirate.

Fierce, I mean, FIERCE!

Here Thing 1 and Thing 2 discuss the lack of mental stimulation available in your average coloring book. 

Daw, is he not cute???

Years went by, and he became a lacrosse player.

A rabbit joined Ariella as co-custodian of the family and here is Perry monitoring Thing 2 during an online grammar class.

Here is Thing 2 and a buddy in their Lego class.

Yes, that is right, Lego class, homeschooling is the bomb.

Lastly, here is Thing Two on his birthday modeling just how grown up he really is these days.

Golly, I like that kid!

Wow, I am getting really tired of this rain!

I can totally understand why people don't want to live in Western Washington. The weather here really sucks.

 Photo Credit: Sherrye Wyatt

In the Casa de Logophilia category of updates we have this, Thing One and his girlfriend, Cheesypickles.

He has been going to swing dance lessons for a while and it paid off. 

This is a photo of Thing One, Cheesypickles and her best friend. I am told this photo is representative of their relationship. I don't entirely understand that, but it is a cute photo. So here it is.

The cure for savagery, in beast or breast as the case may be...

But love the one you hold
And I will be your gold
To have and to hold
A lover of the light

Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender

Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train

Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer

Beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer

Beating like a hammer

The infinite rabbit hole

So....
Mr. Logo needed to look at something online and my laptop was up and running so he just used it. He politely expressed his amazement at the number of tabs I had open (I blame his use of IE for the surprise, his browser of choice starts to stall out if you open more than 3 tabs; however, my beloved Chrome does not).

See, the thing is though, I am a research junkie. So if, while looking up stuff for school, and work, and life, and whatnot I start listening to music then I want to see what else the band has done and when their song titles cause me to wonder about it I look it up. Then sometimes I get a little distracted.
I emerge glass-eyed and satisfied having lost track of time but having really enjoyed myself. 

The #1 least effective way to calm down anyone, ever.

Years of intensive research have shown that the least effective way to calm a person who is distraught, stressed, angry, hysterical, or otherwise disturbed in any way is to tell them,
"Calm down." In fact, this often further agitates the intended calm-ee.

Some of the most common responses are as follows:

"&^%$ off*!" or "@%^$ you*!"

Or sometimes, "Calm THIS, jackwagon*!"

" I AM CALM!!"

"You calm down, arrogant asshat*!"

"Shut up!"

In almost no cases know to science has the response been;

"Ah, I see that my response to this situation may not entirely rational. A more objective approach would no doubt be more helpful and appropriate. Thank you so much for pointing this out  to me; I deeply appreciate your concern."



*Under stress it seems some people have a serious potty mouth, shocking, I wish they would just calm down.

A few moments more (the continuation of the previous post)

After wanting a Yamaha V Star for quite some time, I finally got one. I remember taking the bike out and feeling the engine throb as I leaned forward and rolled on the throttle to open her up as we climbed a steep hill. Something about really cranking the engine up just made me smile... still does too. 

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013, I walk out of the ischool building and cross Red Square on the UW campus headed for a class for the very first time. Our preview class featured a faculty candidate presentation and then an ongoing conversation about the nature of information and the preservation of it. YAY! So cool. After our meetings are over I find an inconspicuous place to perch and watch. I can't wait until September.

a few moments

So... the ever-brilliant Jocelyn shared a personal example of micro-moments of significance. She did this as an example for her students as part of an assignment but wow, what a great read.
After reading it I thought idly to myself, Self, that would make a great idea for a post.
Then I read Lime's blog... and she did it too!

I am not sure I am capable of generating 10 whole significant moments at once so I am going to divide this into two parts. Here are moments 1-5.


In swelling Maryland summer heat I stand on the top of the pick-up shell of my dad's truck. My mom has been in the hospital for what seems a very long time and is not coming home for a while longer. My older sister is sitting calmly beside me while I bounce and pace, much to the discomfort of my 18 year-old, newly graduated aunt who has flown across the country to watch over us. Finally, the third-floor window opens on a building separated from the parking lot by a thin strip of grass, and I see my mom and dad's faces. Rules against children visitors in the hospital are not enough to keep us apart. Toxemia has no specific definition in my 5 year-old vocabulary— it just sounds scary. I am so relieved to see my mother through the open window. She looks normal, she sounds normal, and I want her to come home.


I am turning 10 and have decided to paint my room pink, Pittsburgh Paint Lady Pink to be exact. It is part of a concerted effort to be what and who I ought to be. I am a tomboy in an ultra-conservative Christian world. I am red-headed, left-handed, discomfited by the feeling of synthetic fabrics against my skin to the point of distraction, too fidgety, too dyslexic, too distracted, too rambunctious, too competitive, too loud, just TOO... and yet not what I ought to be. I am not what all good little fundy Baptist girls ought to be— quiet, calm, deferential, appropriate, graceful, gracious, etc. etc. etc. My efforts to remake myself are of limited duration and to no avail. Living in a pink room cannot make a Logo™ change her stripes.


After years of remedial work, low expectation, schoolwork-inspired tears, and nearly endless frustration I finally seem to be getting my head about the scholastic waters at about age 13. My studious and straight A student of  an older sister confides in me that she overheard a teacher we both deeply respected telling my parents that he thought it was possible I was even smarter than she was. Incredulous as it seemed, it was also inspiring.


Just before my 17th Christmas my best friend emptied my bank account. Using my bank card and the PIN she has seen me enter numerous times, she withdrew all but $1.78 and then returned the card to my wallet the following day. I had driven passed the shopping center where she used my card and spent the money as she was leaving and we had exchanged enthusiastic waves. I have wondered in the years since then about what she must have been thinking.


In 1994, still using a cane because of the last of the surgeries on my post-accident leg, I met Mr. Logo int Athens, Greece on my way to live on Crete for a year. We stayed in a hotel in the Plaka, and that first night, I looked up at the Parthenon alight and looking stately, timeless, and ancient, and then looked around the Plaka neighborhood and I felt, for the first time, a kinship with people of the past. The view up that hill hasn't changed much in a very long time. I love that!