Dotty Parker

smart ain't all

I was reading on of the papers I copyedit and I got to this sentence:

Thus, aerobic microsites for polyphenol oxidation in the rhizosphere could exist in an anaerobic soil matrix in which net methane production occurred (Table 1).

Man! Back in the day, I lived for that kind of thing, sort of. I’d feel so smart and fabulous. Look out world! I’m oxidizing polyphenols. The world is my rhizosphere, the anaerobic soil matrix was dug for me!

Yes, smart! Look at me understanding that stuff! Smart!

Now, however, I actually don’t understand all the words. I could guess at them all and probably get them right (rhizosphere’s the one that’s getting me…why a sphere?). But who cares, really? It’s not dazzling or sexy or fun. It’s most definitely not fun.

Here’s something fun, though. In the acknowledgments, there’s a very Prairie Home Companion little note: In the NSF Office of Polar Programs (OPP) we also thank Knute Heldersson.

It’s so fabulously Nordic and arctic and, well, Polar!

How much fun is it to have a guy named Knute work in the office of Polar Programs? It’s so much fun, that I can’t possibly express it!

Does that take smarts? To know about Knutes and their habitats? I hope so. That way I’m smart and fun and I’ve got plenty to put on my resume.

why do they hate the u.p.s. truck?

The dogs hate the UPS truck. I'm sure I've told you this before. Spring will bark crazily at the truck even when she's in my car and I'm in traffic. She really hates it!

I had once suggested taking the dogs over to the place where the UPS trucks go to sleep at night. I thought that maybe if they could go up to the trucks and sniff them and bang their paws on them, they might get over a little bit of the anger and fury that seems to drive them to KILL KILL KILL!

I haven't done that.

Today I had another dog and UPS related thought.

There's a woman named Temple Grandin. She's been on NPR a bunch and she lectures at universities quite a bit. She might even be at Cornell right now. At any rate, she's autistic and uses her autism to work with animals and interpret their behavior. She's also a serious and persuasive advocate for appropriate diagnosis and treatment of people with autism. She says that her autism heightens some sensations so that they're similar to sensations that animals experience. This helps her design animal containment facilities and humane transports vehicles and humane slaughterhouses. Yes. It makes sense when you hear it from her. She acknowledges that she needs to eat meat--that's what her body wants (I'm of the opinion that humans need to eat meat. That's why vegetarians are so sullen and pale, because in their hearts they crave flesh. It sucks the passion and blood right out of them.). So she wants to make sure that the animals are led like silent lambs to the slaughter rather than those who would be forced to run screaming and crying, kicking each other on their way to the slaughter. Maybe it's like the end times. Maybe.

At any rate, there's a woman named Temple Grandin. And I would like to go to one of her lectures. In her interviews, she's interesting, but kind of annoying. She seems to have a scripted answer to everything. I find that a bit irritating, although I recognize that it's necessary when you're on a lecture circuit.

Nevertheless, she damn well better pay attention to my question and acknowledge it as special! As I stand at the microphone, I will look up at her and give a shaky, fleeting smile. I'll say, "Yes, hi, um, why do all dogs hate the UPS man...and the mail man?...Or maybe they don't hate the mail women?" People will laugh a little. And then she'll have to answer my question.

And we'll know.

Ali was over tonight. She made a scrapbook page, I played with PhotoShop, we ate pizza, and watched cartoons. In all, a full and delightful evening.

As we sat at the table, the babies upstairs started howling. One of them did, anyway. She looked at me and said, "Are they always that loud?"

Oh my! That was the happiest I've felt about being disappointed in a long time. It's so nice to have someone agree. It's akin to yesterday's annoyance about talking about babies. It is only akin, however, because we didn't talk about it for hours at a time. That's why I'm cool and everyone else isn't. And Ali. She can be cool tonight.

And BellyRub. He can be cool. For now. He sent me his dreamed up and frustrated conversation. My favorite line from the conversation goes like this:

Tell you what. You go talk to your kids and I'll have a beer.

Oh yes. That's what the world's about, right? I have no idea what that means, what the world might be about in this context. But I don't think I care right now.

And THAT is indeed what the world's all about.

um

At work tonight BoPeep taught a class.

There was a woman there who was a stay at home mom. The child is less than a year old. The woman is very smart. She can talk a lot. And she talks about babies and children. Anybody's babies and children.

It's irritating to me. Why doesn't she stop talking about that? I lie around on the floor all the time and look at my fingernails while I think about other things. I don't talk about that. I watch the squirrel in the back yard. I do talk about him, but not a lot.

I know why she doesn't stop talking about it. It's her child and she loves her baby. Her little bundle of joy is fascinating to her and fascinated by her. Every day something new and different happens and there could never be enough people to share this beautiful, joyful life that's developing while she watches.

You know, though, I have a hang up here. I don't want to hear everything and I don't want to hear the amazing insights into the behavior of every single child on the planet. It's so strange to choose to derive individuality from the near union with someone else and then to take away the individuality of other children's development by instantly recognizing as something that your own child already did.

This is not limited to babies, I realize. I do the same things in lots of situation. And it feels good to do it. Recognition and sympathetic feelings.

But, unless I'm the one experiencing the recognition and sympathy, I just don't care.

Which often leaves me without much to say.

Um.

here's to your health

Health food. I'm not sure what that is. It could be granola and sprouted grain bread or it could be steak and chicken and fish (to the exclusion of granola and sprouted grain bread) or it could be a "balanced diet" containing fruit and meat and bread and cheese.

I often know what good food is. I find that regular food can become good food if I'm hungry. And good food can become great food if I'm just hungry enough, but not too hungry.

I know, also, that Hershey's syrup is good food. I suggest that you drizzle it over your healthy raspberry yogurt. I highly suggest that. You can put granola in it, too, if you want. That addition might make it more healthy. Crunchy, chocolately, and tasty.

I'm thinking of healthy food because, as I went to work, I realized I was hungry and had limited time to get and eat food. I thought about McDonald's and their grilled classic chicken sandwich with no mayonnaise. I like that. But it's a little pricey. And then I realized I had a Lean Cuisine Chicken Caesar pasta bowl waiting in the freezer at work. It probably cost $1.50 less and I could spend that $1.50 on part of a strawberry milkshake another day.

So it's healthy, right? Lean? And it's food because it says Cuisine. Health food?

Whatever it was, it wasn't good food. It had the "garlic that overwhelms the bad smells" smell. It had the potential to be good, though. Perhaps if I'd been hungrier, it would have been good. I wasn't, though. And it wasn't.

And how healthy can it be if I'm feeling hungry (since I didn't finish it since it was gross) and wanting to eat more now? I already had my yogurt and Hershey's syrup. Now what?! My father would tell me to have an apple. And I might. But then what? Apples don't fill a person up.

Hershey's syrup, though. That's untested. That might make me full. And that would be healthy, to not want to continue to feed myself constantly.

Hershey's syrup: health food?

train this

Here's a story about how job training goes wrong. It's also a story that, while infuriating to me, does one of those literary things where the situation mirrors the group of people it's about. Mmm, very interesting, except that it's exasperating.

I went to substitute teacher training--training us how to use the new computer system so that we’re called in using it, rather than the guy who’s retiring. Not that we used him, I mean, he called us...you know.

It’s strange to be in the midst of a human to computer transition. It’s comforting that I know the person isn’t being fired; strange, though, since I know the fellow who did the job was competent and kind. I’m not likely to find a computer who is understanding that I had a bad day and couldn’t stay at work.

Another thing I am, apparently, unlikely to find, is an intelligent group of people. The schedule for the training had been slightly mauled and, thus, I was in a training with teachers, not just substitute teachers. There were substitutes there, but we were the minority.

To start, a woman stood at the front and said, “Okay, I’d like to get started……to get started.” The room started to settle down. A number of “Shhhhh” sounds were heard. That made me smile. It’s funny to hear adults shushing each other. It’s funny to me, anyway.

So our trainer was talking and there were other people talking. Teachers were talking to each other while this training was going on. The were talking during class.

!

What the hell is that? What kind of teacher talks during class? This kind does, I guess.

Then they asked questions that I couldn’t believe they would ask.

Question one: “Could you repeat that number?”
Sure. That’s a normal question. But once you ask it four times (I’m not exaggerating.), don’t you think you should have been listening or have been able to ask your neighbor to look at his or her notes? Hm? Don’t you?

Question two: “Do I call that number or do I call someone else?”
Well, now we’re getting into territory that is infuriating. Who else would you call? And why? It's a little sad, yes, to realize that you're going to have to do just what everyone else does. It means that you're not any more special than anyone else .It means that you have to follow the rules. The answer is this: You call that number.

Question three: “What if, now this doesn't apply to me, what if I have a situation that makes it so that I don’t have to get up so early or work so hard, like what if I don't have a class until second period so that it wouldn't be necessary for the substitute teacher to get there right on time and then I wouldn't have to get up in the morning so early and it would be easier if the rules were different for that particular situation that doesn't apply to me, but if it did, what do I do then?”
Oh, honey, don’t make me beat you. “What-if” questions are extra-annoying. (They’re annoying when I ask them of myself and equally unhelpful.) And if they don’t apply to you, they’re extra extra-annoying. And shall we refer back to question two? You’re not special. You’re like everyone else. You have to do exactly what they have to do: You call that number.

Question four: “If your kids are sick and you need to stay home, but you can still come in for the beginning of the day, like half of first period, and the substitute teacher could come in late, should you call in the morning, even if it’s really early, or can we call that other number so that we don’t have to get up and call so early?”
See question two.

I left early. I think I had absorbed enough training. I am that special.

origami light

Yesterday I wrote that I'd like to see what origami light would look like. Today I began making a picture of what I thought it would be. Then I looked up "origami light" to see what I'd find.

I found these things:

A light that's called "origami light". It's a light with origami around it. Not quite my dream, however.

Paper around light.

$335 folded polypropolene light fixture What is a "natural" color for polypropolene, anyway? I guess it's whiteish.

I want someone to be folding the damn light! But the info I can find about folding light is all sciency and lame. Booo. I want a laser crane. Forget paper! And I want it to lead the way home. Oh yes.

fold

At work tonight there was a fellow who was speaking loudly. I bet, if I had been with him, I would have felt like saying, "I've got a little headache. Would you mind speaking a little more softly?"

He wasn't too, too loud. Perhaps he wasn't loud enough. I think he was talking about theatrical design. He talked about wrapping paper around wire forms and angles and puddles and all kinds of things that, when mixed with other things he was saying, things like, "light the..." or "shimmers up from the floor", makes me think that's what he was about.

But I swear I heard him say Origami Lighting.

And boy do I want to see that.

heart

It's Valentine's Day!

I'm sure it's also St. Valentine's Day!

I don't know the details of St. Valentine and that's great because I'm also skimming over the details of Valentine's Day!

In this world of angry people, including me, perhaps it's best to know it's all going to be okay and hold that in your warm, chocolate flavored heart.

I got a fun and funny valentine from my friend TheGirlWithTheHair. She sent me a Hallmark e-card. I will send it to you, too. Sort of.

You do this:

1. Go to http://www.hallmark.com

2. Choose "Free E-Cards" under the "Our Products" section.

3. Click the link that says "Pick up an e-card."

4. Use this address friendodot @ dottyparker.com (no, there isn't really a space, but it's my arm flailing attempt to evade the soul sucking, email nabbing bastards who suck scum and nab email)

and this secret number EG5547471744170

I heart hoops and yoyo. And, speaking of Valentines, do you know who introduced me to hoops and yoyo? Another fab woman with amazing hair: ChillyLily.

Heart.

whaddaya mean, angry?

I don’t get angry very often. I get irritated. I call people “bastards” and mean it. I get frustrated. But not angry.

I’m angry right now. I don’t know what to do. I want to break something that isn’t mine and I want to feel good about it. I want to kick a hole in something and not have to paste it back together. I want to yell at people and have there be no repercussions. As I write this, I think, “You know if you did any of that you’d just be sorry you did it and then you’d be even angrier because no one’s going to understand why you’re so frenzied anyway.”

And then I think, “I really want to break something.”

What do people do with anger? There’s nothing to be done with it. I’m angry, for one thing, that I have had a cold for a week. What am I going to do about that? Nothing. How is it helping me to get angry? It isn’t. It isn’t helping. Yet I’m angry.

Another thing, when I go this particular meeting, there’s a guy there who’s very nice. He’s very involved in things. He has his heart in the right place. But I hate his voice. He sounds like Winnie the Pooh inside a metal drum would sound if I were wearing ear muffs. And he’s saying annoying and repetitive things. And I start to wonder, “What the hell do you know? You’re a bear in a can.” And then I get angry because we’re talking about nothing and even when I distract myself, I can still hear him banging around in there. “Oh! It’s dark in here. Hmm, let’s talk about the utility bill. You know, they use coal in that plant down there. There’s a usage fee and there’s a handling fee. This cooperative association…works with small governments and cities and non-profits and organizations and community centers…” Yeah. I’m rolling you down the hill if you don’t shut up. Silly old bear.

Another thing, I got some stuff online from a company I used to like. Right now I hate them. I hate their stupid returns personnel who didn’t read my email. I hate their restocking fee. I hate that they’re in Utah and I bet they’re Mormons and I bet they have all of their little Mormon friends nodding and saying “Latter Day Saints” and I bet they’re all working hard and making money and delivering value to all of the people they have yet to save and some who they have and they should feel bad for treating me like I’m an idiot and I want them to feel really, really guilty for making me so angry, but I’m even angrier because I know they don’t care and they aren’t going to care.

Sons of bitches.

So my anger comes down to a simmer. It feels like there’s a pot boiling in my gut with the chimney piping the heat toward my back and then up my spine until it stops right at my voice box. Whatever all this angriness is made of, it’s burning and expanding and making me want to scream or yell or cry.

Rereading this (and refusing to make changes), it’s clearer to me that futility triggers me. I get angry and then want to do something and think, “but what difference do it make?” Then I get angrier and then the cycle continues and continues. And what I’m angry about doesn’t really add up to much of anything. What’s really there to be angry about? Then I get angrier…

And I still want to scream. But I’m so insightful now. Perhaps I’ll put that insight in a jar and go smash it somewhere. Smash it against the drum containing the bear. But what difference would it make?

Oh. I am so angry.

a new dog learns old tricks

I was reading last night and found this stuff in Harper's magazine. Some of it made me laugh out loud. That's always a good thing. Unless you're trying to be quiet. Which I wasn't. Hooray for that, right? At any rate, these are the same mistakes people will likely always make. They're still funny, though. At least I think so.

[Hypotheses]
DARK MATTER
From a collection of errors and malapropisms by junior-high, high-school, and college students, submitted h their teachers to Richard Lederer, a syndicated columnist. Many of the following appeared in his book The Revenge of Anguished English, published this near by St. Martin's Press.
When a planet first forms, it is like a big ball of mucus.
Gravity is a pulling type thing that makes sure that the planets don't fall or hurt anything.
The law of gravity says no fair jumping up with out coming back down.
Copernicus's theory claimed that the sun was on the center of the earth.
Galileo showed that the earth was round and not vice versa.
Most books say the sun is a star. But it still knows how to change back into the sun in the daytime.
Before Galileo, no one could see the moon.

A vibration is a motion that cannot make up its mind which way it wants to go.
Some oxygen molecules help fires burn while others help make water, so sometimes it's brother against brother.
In looking at water under a microscope, we find there are twice as many Hs as Os.
Water is composed of two gins, oxygin and hydrogin. Oxygin is pure gin. Hydrogin is gin and water.
CO, is lighter than air because leaves absorb it, and they are on top of trees.
Proteins are composed of a mean old acid.
When they broke open molecules, they found they were stuffed with atoms. But when they broke open atoms, they found them stuffed with explosions.
Darwin's book stated that all animals evolved from primeval man.
Many dead animals of the past changed to fossils while others preferred to be oil.
Dinosaurs used to smell bad, but they don't any more because they are extinct.
The largest mammals are to be found in the sea because there is nowhere else to put them.
Men are mammals and women are femammals.

Clouds are high-flying fogs. I am not sure how clouds get formed. But the clouds know how to do it, and that is the important thing. Clouds just keep circling the earth around and around. And around. There is not much else to do.
Humidity is the experience of looking for air and finding water. We keep track of the humidity in the air so we won't drown when we breathe.
The cause of dew is the earth revolving on its own axis and perspiring freely.
To remove air from a flask, fill the flask with water, tip the water exit, and put the cork in, quick.
The wind is like the air, only pushier.
It is so hot in some places that the people there have to live in other places.

As the rain forests in the Amazon are shrinking, so are the Indians.
The Dutch people used windmills to keep the plants from sweating.
Mushrooms always grow in damp places and so they look like umbrellas.
The pistol of a flower is its only protection against insects.
The equator is an imaginary lion that runs around the world forever.

The union of the egg and sperm is called deception.
Women are reproducing too fast for mankind to keep up.
Heredity means that if your grandfather didn't have any children, then your father probably wouldn't have any, and neither would you, probably.
The three cavities of the body are the head cavity, the tooth cavity, and the abominable cavity.
The hookworm larva enters the body through the soul.
If conditions are not favorable, bacteria go into a period of adolescence.
Involuntary muscles are not as willing as voluntary ones.

The skeleton is what is left after the insides have been taken out and the outsides have been taken off. The purpose of the skeleton is something to hitch meat to.

Algebra was the wife of Euclid.
American time is behind British time because America was discovered later.
One horsepower is the amount of energy it takes to drag a horse 500 feet in one second. Momentum is what you give a person when they are going away.

I do so love reading. I learn so many things.

cuz yer gorp's broke

I talked to BellyRub this evening. He said he'd been feeling low. I sent him an email today that he said made him laugh really hard. It went like this:

It looks like she's wearing one of the pac man ghosts for a shirt. Very shapely and flattering.

If you're a barrel.

This is the ghostly sweater in question. I believe the wearer and location have been sufficiently obfuscated. Do note the resemblance to the little PacMan ghost who was blue. She wore a flirty little skirty in the cartoon. It reminds this girl of that little outfit.

And the barrels who would wear it.

So I called BellyRub. We had a good laugh about the PacMan thing. Then, as we were talking, we started to not be able to understand each other. It has something to do with laughing so hard we're coughing like old smokers. It has something to do with cell phone static. It has something to do with us often being unable to understand each other.

I was saying to him that something at the community center, the uh, "yeah, well, they're calling it a boiler...that's the same as a furnace, right?"

"What? What did you say? Gorp?"

"Boy-uh-lur. That's what I said."

"Oh! Boiler! I can see gorp out of that!"

I'm giggling like a fool now.

"Speaking of gorps..."

I'm giggling louder now.

He chuckles, "You know that car that mom used to have? That red Honda?"

"Yeah, how old is that, now?"

"It's a 94. Well, it's gorp's broken."

"Oooh."

"It's broken ON."

"Oh!"

"You can imagine me on those 23 days of ninety degree weather driving around with the windows open, radio blasting."

I'm giggling again.

"I was going to a concert with a bunch of guys. I said I would drive." He starts laughing like an asthmatic. "So five guys pile in the car."

"You did _not_ drive to the concert!"

"I totally did. I was such a jerk. And laughing all the way. With the gorp on high."

warning

Contents under pressure. Do not puncture or incinerate. Do not store at temperature above 120F as contents may burst. Avoid extreme cold. Do not immerse in water. Avoid prolonged exposure to water. Discard can upon rusting. Use only as directed. Keep out of reach of children.

So what is this thing in a can that must be kept neither too hot nor too cold? What is this thing in a can that shouldn't be exposed to water for too long?

Why, it's shaving cream! Shave gel, actually. Perhaps you can dunk shaving cream in water.

Here's another fun one.

WARNING: Accidental overdose of iron-containing products is a leading cause of fatal poisoning in children under six.

Under six what? I have a thought, but it's morbid. At any rate, these are vitamins.

My bottle of soda notes that it contains phenylalanine.

My can of all manner of crunchy nuts says that the contents were manufactured on equipment that processes other tree nuts.

My moisturizer is for external use only. Keep out of eyes. Rinse with water to remove. Stop use and ask a doctor if rash or irritation develops and lasts. Keep out of reach of children. If swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away.

Some of these things take me back to childhood where you had to be really sick in order to allowed to be sick. And it had to really hurt if you were going to say it really hurt.

I can't imagine going to my mom or dad and saying, "Oh no! I swallowed some moisturizer!" I can't imagine that at all. Then again, they wouldn't let me throw the can of shaving cream/gel into the fire. So they were very conscious of some things. It makes me wonder who reads the labels and if anyone takes it seriously. Were your child to lick his or her hand after being moisturized would you call the Poison Control Squad?

I'm betting that you wouldn't. If you would, however, do write to me. I have many questions to ask you.

slippery soap box

I was laughing to myself earlier today. I had gone to the dollar store to buy stuff to make Valentines. (I like making things, so Valentine’s Day is a great excuse! And it’s pink. Oooo, girly pink!)

A car drove in front of me while I was crossing the parking lot. It didn’t pause to let me go by. And the car wasn’t stopping nearby. It was going to the other side of the shopping center.

I was feeling snippy. I said, in my head, “Oh yeah, you drive right in front of me. You’re lucky I stopped! How would that be, huh? You finding out that your driving along let you crash into me, a helpless victim? Yeah, you drive that ancient BMW over to Walmart, stupidhead. What do you think you are, driving a BMW and then shopping at Walmart? Why are you shopping there anyway?”

By this time I’d already made it to the store and I was almost whisked away into the pink heartiness that I was entering. But I thought, “I’m shopping in the dollar store. Surely this isn’t helping the United States economy. Surely my arguments against Walmart apply here, too.”

Then I walked into the store and found some sparkly things.

Yes. Sparkly things.

Surely it’s worse when it’s called Walmart.

food porn

I was reading an article in October 2005's Harpers called "Debbie Does Salad".

With a title like that, how could I resist? I don't know how, since I didn't, and boy was it fun!

I learned some new words

prelapsarian, adj Theol. occurring before the Fall. As in, "Perhaps we could spit out that apple of knowledge and live in a prelapsarian paradise."

splanchnic (splangk nik), adj. of, pertaining to, or supplying the viscera or entrails; visceral. As in, "When it comes to television...the splanchnic response...the primal gut reaction--that's what hauls in the ratings."

In the article, a woman who works as a porn still photographer, Barbara Nitke, watches Food Network shows with the author. She says, "You watch porn saying, 'Yes, I could do that.' You dream that you're there, but you know you couldn't. The guy you're watching on screen, his sex life is effortless. He didn't have to negotiate, entertain her, take her out to dinner. He walked in the with pizza. She was waiting and eager and hot for him."

Then there's a quote from the VP for Food Network's programming. He says, "We create this sensual, lush world, begging you to be drawn into it. It's a beautifully idealized world. Who wouldn't want to be a part of that world?"

The article made me laugh quite a few times. It's a situation that indicates that sex is everywhere. It doesn't have to be about sex. Sometimes it is; sometimes it isn't about that. But there's something splanchnic about ourselves--we respond to most things in an earthy way. Certainly we may rise above all that visceral stuff when we see a beautiful sunset or hear amazing music or taste phenomenal food...but wouldn't you like to share it with someone, too? In a prelapsarian world, perhaps, we could have both.