Archive: April 2008

Last Friday, I accompanied JG to his school to be a spectator at the coolest fund raiser ever: a dodgeball tournament! There were over twenty teams competing in a double-elimination bracket, and JG was on the teachers’ team. The kids were so hilarious and cute with their uniforms. There was a team of Planeteers with visors that said, “The power is yours!” Another team wore orange t-shirts emblazoned with “The Orange Ninjas” (although one girl was a “ninga”). There were kids who wore dress shirts and ties with their athletic shorts. One team sprayed their hair red, white, and blue, and their shirts read, in stark permanent marker, “You can’t beat Team America!” The actual dodgeball was fast and intense, and I was immediately plunged into memories of being pelted by insensitive middle school boys. I felt sorry for all of the kids who were the last ones left standing on their teams. The teachers got pummeled by a team of varsity soccer and lacrosse players, but they pulled out three victories before being eliminated. Despite groaning about being “too old for this kind of thing,” everyone seemed to have a good time, and no one got hurt, thankfully.

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JG’s mom and grandmother, Mimi, came to visit for a night this week for really no reason at all. They’re both ladies of leisure these days, and Mimi had never seen our house, so that was just cause to take a gander at Kennett Square. After I got home from work, Mimi gushed to me about how she loved our house, and Ted bothered her dog, Sam, in his puppy way. We walked around the downtown area before having dinner at the Half Moon, where a yak burger and an ostrich fillet were on the specials list. The four of us demolished the mountain of crab nachos, and I thoroughly enjoyed my blue moontini and maple-glazed pork tenderloin. Oh, and Mimi left us a container of chocolate chip cookies. Ah, yes.

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Whenever JG and I drive south on 95, we pass a tourism sign in Maryland for something called Skipjack Martha Lewis. We’ve passed this sign several times, and I always lapse into a fit of giggles. Skipjack Martha Lewis? What is this random collection of words? Is a skipjack like a lumberjack? What could this tourist attraction be? JG raises an eyebrow as I dissolve into laughter in the passenger seat — yet another reason I should not be driving — and we resolve to look up whatever it is when we get home, but we never do. Well, this week, I finally did it. Look, Skipjack Martha Lewis is a boat! With a blog, apparently. Now, I kind of want to take one of their cruises on the bay to see what the deal is. I have my eye on Margarita Night or Havana Night…

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One of our friends gave me a potted gerbera daisy for my birthday, and I brought it to work for a little office cheer. I am the Angel of Death when it comes to plants, so I wasn’t sure how long I could go before killing it. I had a bumpy start by forgetting to water it on the Friday before we left for spring break, and when I came back five days later, the plant was not too sprightly. Nevertheless, I persisted in watering the daisy every other day, just like JG recommended, and — I’ll be darned! The daisy is still alive, a month later! With three whole flowers! Maybe my black thumb is lightening up to be a tiny bit green. I think I’m ready to take on another plant, albeit a hardy one. Maybe a jade plant? Or some bamboo?

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When I started this job, one of my first orders of business, with the consent of my manager, was to clean out the supply closet. I isolated supplies that I figured we used regularly, categorized them (filing, shipping, fasteners, printer supplies), and labeled the sections with bright green sticky notes. The rest of the stuff, including an ancient adding machine, rolls of adding machine paper, rubber approval stamps, and piles of floppy disks, filled up a large cardboard box, which has been gathering dust on a bookshelf ever since. At the time, I told my manager that I suspected that we wouldn’t need these supplies, but if we did, I’d hang on to them for six months before throwing them out. Well, friends, the time has come, and we have not touched even one item in limbo. I triumphantly lifted down the purgatorial box this week and set it out for the housekeeping people. I consider it a moral victory.

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Yesterday, Whoorl’s Gmail status message was something to the effect of, “Very Important Publication coming to MY HOUSE!!!” On an impulse, I sent her an IM saying, “Wha?? That is crazy!” I didn’t expect a response at all, especially since her little activity button was yellow for Idle, and I figure that IMs are for asynchronous communication, so it was fine. Then I saw the box blinking orange and —

Whoorl: YES!!!!!!!!!! to take my photo! what do i wear???!!! ACK!

My jaw just about hit the keyboard. Whoorl was asking me what she should wear for a photo shoot? What kind of alternate universe was this? My mind swirled and I threw out the “pocket-y Gap dress” as a suggestion, referring to a recent purchase Whoorl had posted on Flickr. I was so taken aback to be having this conversation that I was hardly aware of what I was saying, much less truly considering what Whoorl would end up wearing. Besides, that dress was probably the tip of the Whoorl wardrobe iceberg, so what did I know? Then, this morning, I got a e-mail from Whoorl, who felt it was her duty to inform me that she wore the dress after all! I have no idea if my suggestion was any direct factor in that decision, but that doesn’t matter. Is it sad that I think this is a high point in the fashion-oriented segment of my life, limited though it may be? Whatever, I’ll take it!

In the past few months, Ted has discovered that hopping onto the furniture gives way for all kinds of mischief, but he is generally obedient and jumps down when we scold. Neither JG or I were overly concerned about his climbing aspirations until he perched on top of our old sofa with his front paws placed dangerously on the half wall. One overambitious leap would mean a fall straight down the stairwell, which is at least a ten-foot drop. Our warnings and admonitions became even more menacing, but no amount of shushing, finger-snapping, or domination tactics would make Ted retain that the top of the wall was Not Where Doggies Should Go.

A couple of weeks ago, when Ted was at the groomer’s for the day, I had the notion to switch the furniture so that the couch would be against the main wall and the half wall would only have the armchair and the recliner. Hopefully, Ted wouldn’t immediately grasp that he could get to the half way by climbing up the armchair, and even if he did, the opportunity for a flailing descent would be sharply decreased by simple lack of surface area.

At first, Ted wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He kept sniffing around and pausing, as if he knew there was something different, but what was it? I congratulated myself on being sneaky and resourceful, and simultaneously saving Ted from the danger of falling into the abyss. He eventually pawed over the armchair, but he avoided the wall for the most part, so I was satisfied. Well done, me.

Just recently, however, Ted has taken over the couch. At first, I thought it was cute. I mean, look! He settles down on it to survey his kingdom, right?

Well, sure. Until he finds a particularly threadbare part of a cushion and starts pulling out stuffing like there’s no tomorrow. Even when I flipped over the cushion, a tiny portion of the tear showed, and Ted nosed his way in. Groan. I have a few schemes about patching it, but we have a crafty dog, and I suspect that any loose thread or edge of the fabric will catch his eye. At worst, I will invest in a slipcover to guard our faithful couch against Ted’s attacks. I am determined that this sofa will last us until we move out of this house, darn it.

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My interview, posed by Nancy Pearl Wannabe, continues today!

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You use initials for both you and your husband. Did you originally do it to keep your identities secret, or do you really refer to each other as RA and JG?
Both, kind of. We really do call each other RA and JG, though more so in writing (i.e., e-mail, IMs, cards) than aloud. I’ve been called RA for so long that it’s completely natural for me to answer to it and sign it to e-mails, so when I thought about starting a blog, it was a natural choice for an alias. I never considered using my real name because I’m so fond of this nickname. In the infant days of my blog, I wrote about a week’s worth of posts with JG’s real name, but I ended up switching over because he wasn’t a huge fan. Since JG is a high school teacher, online anonymity is pretty important. Also, I have a unique name and I’m Asian, so I kind of stick out in the realm of public school teachers’ wives, and you never know what kids (or their parents) will dig up online. Until I got my camera, I hemmed and hawed about posting pictures on the site at all, but I’m comfortable with the decision to stick with initials in writing and refrain from publishing pictures of JG online. I hope it doesn’t come off as aloof and mysterious, but I think it’s for the best. (#34)

You and JG got engaged and married when you were relatively young, and you seem very confident in your relationship. Do you have any words of advice for other couples out there who might be wondering if marriage is right for them?
Ooh, tough one, NPW. When JG and I were going through marriage counseling, our pastor asked us if we thought the other person was the only person with whom we could have created a long-term, loving, so-called successful marriage. Of course, with our eyes full of stars, we both emphatically said yes. But, ha! Trick question! Our pastor gently taught us that compatibility is dependent on circumstances, but the commitment that’s necessary for a successful marriage needs to be stronger than that. If we were counting on being “right” for each other, what would happen when we seemed wrong for each other? When we would inevitably say hurtful things, be inconsiderate, and act selfishly? Or, superficially, when I want to tour a city on vacation and JG wants to lie on a beach? What, then? Well, then commitment, sheer determination, or stubbornness (whatever you want to call it) kicks in. Sometimes, even though I love JG, I don’t like what he says or how he acts, and I’m certain that it goes the other way, too. Because we’re just flawed human beings, trying to cobble together a strong relationship, our commitment to each other has to override our unavoidable gaps in compatibility. It’s not to say that we’re completely incompatible; we just don’t depend on that sense of being “right for each other” to carry us through.

For any couples who are wondering about marriage, I would pose the question: does your commitment to each other outweigh your compatibility with each other?

I was intrigued to read about your gymnastics days when you were younger. Do you ever regret all the time you spent training when you could have been pursuing other interests, or do you think it was worth all of the effort?
When I was six, my mom signed me up for a recreational gymnastics program after I was bouncing around the house in imitation of the gymnasts from the 1988 Olympics. I started competing at age 9 and continued until I “retired” at age 13, and parts of my fledgling gymnastics career were awesome. I was constantly learning new things and challenging myself, and I got to play in a foam pit and a trampoline on a regular basis, so it wasn’t half bad for a ten-year-old. However, parts of the competitive gymnastics world that I would put in the category of “not very good for a ten-year-old” include:

• Dealing with pressure to make it to Olympic trials, even though I’d be pressing my luck at the ancient age of 17
• Knowing that the back-up plan to going to the Olympics was to get a full ride to Stanford and therefore do gymnastics until the age of 22 so that my parents’ investment of time and money wouldn’t have been for nothing
  
• Going through conditioning sessions so intense that I was unable to climb the stairs to my bedroom
• Climbing up and down forty-foot ropes and crying all the while because I was just so tired

Gymnastics is getting a lot of bad press recently, what with the reported numbers of kids going to the emergency room, and I don’t want to add to that. Kids pick their activities, and rather than soccer or softball, my choice was gymnastics. Every sport comes with a certain amount of risk, and gymnastics has physical and mental risks due to the type of skills involved and the concentration necessary. I want to be clear that gymnastics did not give me an eating disorder, train me to fight past the pain, or stunt my growth. It was tough, yes, but definitely not forced on me.

I would not encourage my hypothetical daughter to participate in competitive gymnastics (as opposed to recreational), and I regret that I was really stressed out as a pre-teen because I felt so much pressure. However, I am glad that I learned how to discipline my mind and train my body to do drills, although I’m not sure that I needed to learn those lessons at such a young age. Today, my gymnastics days provide me with a full understanding of conditioning exercises that use the body as resistance, in addition to a wide variety of stretches. In climbing, I owe my balance, flexibility, and muscle control to many hours on (and trying not to fall off of) a balance beam. If I had started climbing the year I stopped doing gymnastics, I’d be a beast. I’m just saying. (#7)

I often admire how organized and efficient you are. I feel as though you enjoy the actual organizing part as much as the end result and I am jealous. Nevertheless, do you have any quick tips for people who don’t love organizing things but would love to have a recipe binder as cute as yours?
You’re right — I do love the process of organization as well as the finished product. For me, the main challenge in organization is to fit the system to the objective: form follows function. If it looks cute while it functions, then that’s a plus, but function comes first. So, if we look at the recipe binder as an example, I had to make sure that I could flip through new recipes and store tested ones with ease. After I figured out how to do that, I added the labels and color-coordination to please the smaller, aesthetically-minded part of me.

If you’re not as hyped up about organization as I am, I would still recommend that you answer questions like, “What do I want this thing to do?” and “What is the easiest way for me to use this every day/week/month/year?” Then, armed with your objectives, go to a Container Store or Staples and try stuff out to see what you like. There are so many tools for accomplishing any number of storage or organizational tasks (in lots of pretty colors, too!), but you need to know what you want to accomplish before the tools will work for you. Give you new system a month or two to settle in, re-evaluate the effectiveness by using your objectives as a metric, and tweak accordingly. See? Wasn’t that fun?

As a fellow word nerd, I definitely have a few words I dislike intensely. “Panties”, for instance. What are a few words you can’t stand using?
I am with you on that one, NPW. I had a hard time with this question because I found that I simply avoid using words that are distasteful to me. There is a class of words, however, that I hate physically pronouncing: words that are linguistically percussive. All of the phonemes end up on the tip of my tongue and the back of my teeth, and I hate that feeling. You will not hear me saying words like “dirigible” or “Schenectady” if I can help it. “Connecticut” only gets by because I’ve been saying it all my life, so it doesn’t clang in my head as much. It’s weird, I know.

If you were forced to give up one of your favorite desserts forever, would you give up Twizzlers or root beer floats?
Oh, hit me where it hurts, why don’t you? I would give up root beer floats, if I could still eat the components separately. I just can’t imagine giving up Twizzlers, my perfect movie food. They don’t melt or make noise to grab them, and if you accidentally drop them, there’s no ominous scattering noise of your snack sliding underneath all of the seats in front of you. And I love me some Pull-n-Peel. Yes, indeed. (#72, 73)

If you were playing host to someone who had never visited your town, what would be the first thing you wanted to show them?
Depending on the time of year and the time of the day, I would take folks to walk around Longwood Gardens. It’s the most touristy thing in our area, but it is so fascinating to see how the gardeners cultivate all of the amazing exhibits. If this visitor was only in town for dinner, we’d hop over to the Half Moon for a Belgian beer or a moontini, crab nachos as an appetizer, and bison burgers, if I could convince my guest to take the plunge into wild game.

If you were going to write the story of your life, what would the title be?
Uh. For lack of a smart-sounding title with a colon and a subtitle, can I go with “Definitely RA”? This assumes that I will have amassed fame and fortune with this here blog, I suppose.

If you had to pick one movie to watch once a week for the next ten years, what movie would you pick?
I’m always ashamed to admit this, but I am not a movie person at all. I like watching them and I usually enjoy them, but I don’t seek them out. Can I just pick the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice for its sheer length and book-like quality? Because I would rather read than watch a movie.

If you could go back in time and give your 10 year old self some advice, what would you say to yourself?
Grow out that ridiculous bowl haircut! You are cute, but the hair is not.

Once upon a time, I eagerly signed up for Citizen of the Month’s Great Interview Experiment. I nervously sent off questions to my interviewee, Jen, and she answered them right away. It was very entertaining to read her responses, and I awaited my own set of questions with anticipation. Between two no-show interviewers, eight weeks passed before I whined to Nancy Pearl Wannabe in all-caps hysterics — I believe I asked melodramatically, “When is my moment in the spotlight?!” — and she volunteered to put me out of my misery. Thank you! Hooray! She sent me twenty awesome questions, which I have split into two parts. Enjoy!

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I know that Madeleine L’Engle is your favorite author. What is it about her writing that you enjoy so much?
When I first read the Time Travel series in middle school, I loved how the books were this odd, otherworldly combination of science and literature. I wanted to know where to find those quotations, and if farandolae really existed in my mitochondria. I felt like Madeleine (because we are on a first-name basis) was laying her smarts on the page, so she helped me embrace my nerdy nature. Later, as I included her contemporary fiction and memoir into my reading repertoire, I loved what she had to say about writing, faith, and the creaks that go along with life transitions. Madeleine didn’t just rattle off a litany of twelve steps to change my life; she kind of walked alongside me and bounced ideas around, feeling them out and seeing which ones stuck. Every time I re-read one of her books, it’s a comforting cadence of a strong vocabulary, interwoven themes and sources, and an underlying sense of hope, even when circumstances seem absolutely hopeless. She makes heroes out of flawed people, and I don’t perceive a hint of contrivance in her writing. I find her utterly inspiring.

When I read about her death last year, I had the strange sense that I had lost a wise aunt with whom I’d been exchanging letters for my whole life. I’m still not used to the idea that there won’t be a new book of hers for me to add to my Christmas list. My one enduring hope is that her death will result in the reissuing of some of her out-of-print works so that I can quickly snatch them up for my collection. (#25)

As a librarian, I always love to see what other people are reading, especially when I find someone who enjoys young adult literature as much as I. Does it ever bother you that people tend to ignore YA [young adult] literature as a valued genre?
Yes! In high school, I always got sideways glances when people thought I was reading a “kids’ book,” but they didn’t know what they were missing. In one of Madeleine’s books on writing (A Circle of Quiet, I think?), she talks about fielding a question that implied that writing for children is easier than writing for adults. She says, and I agree, that children require more consideration from their authors because they don’t necessarily have social or cultural constructs in which to slide the ideas of the book. I also think that YA authors have a greater responsibility to their audience because what they read is so important to forming views on the world and the people in it, so neither the author nor the reader should take accountability lightly. My blood boils when people characterize youth literature as a sort of cash cow that only includes serials like Goosebumps. Dig deeper, people.

Do you have any other recommendations for people who may be interested in checking out other young adult authors?
Because I’m not exactly plugged in to the YA world right now, I’m going to ride the Madeleine train one more time. Of course, there is the Time Travel series, with A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, Many Waters, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet. These are classics, and they never get old for me.

If you’ve already read those, I highly recommend the books that center around Meg Murry’s oldest daughter, Poly (short for Polyhymnia):

• Dragons in the Water
• The Arm of the Starfish
• A House Like a Lotus
  
• An Acceptable Time

These novels are less science-oriented, but they incorporate more of a typical coming-of-age storyline, in addition to some exotic locales.

When you sit down to write a blog post, do you always have a definite idea in your mind of what you are going to write about?
Yes, I do. Whenever I’ve looked back to my archives and noticed a post that I don’t particularly like, it’s usually a result of trying to manufacture a narrative when it isn’t there. So I do my best to to write when I have something to say and I feel like the end result is something coherent and somewhat compelling. Sometimes, I’ve spent an hour or so chugging through what I think I want to write, but it ends up being worthless, so I don’t post it. If I think it’s a waste of my time to proof, then I know it should be deleted or at least sit for a while in the drafts folder.

Do you see blogging as more of an extension of the journals you kept when you were younger, or as a way to constantly better your writing (which, by the way, is already excellent)?
Aw, thanks, NPW! I view my journals of yore as mere vehicles for processing my teenage and college years, which were not very exciting, despite my propensity to underline and overuse exclamation points. I didn’t say anything profound or new, I just spewed out events and reactions onto the page. Journaling was more about the physical act of putting pen to paper than anything else, which helped me develop the habit of processing my experiences through words. In these parts, I try to write cogent pieces that are worth my time spent writing and others’ time spent reading. I want to have accomplished something from the first word to the last, even if it’s just getting a clearer idea of a hard time at work or why I love autumn. I like how the blog allows me to experiment with different formats and points of view to accommodate what I want to communicate. I hope to show, not tell, and I like to challenge myself to find the best possible words to describe what I want to convey. I know that I am not successful at this challenge every single time I post, but that’s the goal, nonetheless. I hesitate to say that this site exists solely for me to improve my writing, but that’s definitely my top priority. (#23)

I’ve always enjoyed your photographs and how they match the narrative of your writing. Do you like taking photos as a record of events, or more for an artistic type of composition?
I think that I take pictures more as a record-keeping device than an artistic expression, mostly because I don’t really know what the heck I’m doing. I’m totally tickled when people say I’ve taken a good picture because I just line it up how I think it should go, hold my breath, and press the button. I intentionally bought the camera I have so that I wouldn’t have to do a lot of book study on the technical aspects of photography, so taking pictures is 100% fun and 0% work. If anything, I might have an eye for composition, but I still take a million pictures before I whittle them down to the ones I eventually post on Flickr. I think I got the photos-as-documentation gene from my dad, who wouldn’t let us dig into the Thanksgiving dinner until he had shot it from all angles. I’m always that girl at events who makes people pose for pictures, and everyone groans at me, but guess what — they always want the pictures in the end, so what’s all the complaining about?

In the past you have mentioned that while you have a home in Pennsylvania, you are a New Englander at heart. If money were not an issue, could you see yourself moving back to the northeast?
I would love to have a small-ish Cape Cod house with dormers and window seats, a fireplace, a terrace out back, and a yard full of glacially-deposited boulders. Unfortunately, I fear that JG would feel terribly out of place and relatively Southern, and therefore, the target of good old Puritan disdain. Plus, I am very bad at driving in inclement weather. So, no, we probably would not move back to New England with boundless funds. I appreciate my homeland as a place to visit and a topic on which to wax poetic, and I don’t mind being the source of dissent here in Pennsylvania. None of those Philadelphia teams will ever get my support, do you hear me?!

If you could keep Ted but also had to adopt an additional animal that was not a cat, dog, fish, or bird, what would you choose?
I think I will go with a turtle, even though I’ve heard that they can smell bad. I’m allergic to cats, so I’m wary of any unknown furry animals, and rodents make me screech and jump up on a chair, so anything hamster-like is out of the question. So, yes, a turtle named Sheldon. Or maybe Testudo.

If JG decided to take you on your dream vacation tomorrow, where would he bring you and what would you do?
I would love to travel across Europe and take in all of the history, cathedrals, museums, music, and food. I would take millions of pictures and complain about how pedestrian life in the United States would be. Sigh. Thankfully, this type of vacation is not completely out of the picture; JG and I have decided that once we pay off our mortgage, we’ll go on one of those Mediterranean cruises and hopefully hit a happy medium between tourism and relaxation. Woo! Of course, if we end up selling our current house and buying a new one at some point, that cruise will be delayed accordingly, but I don’t care. The mere fact that JG would come with me as I geek out on architecture and food is enough for now.

If you had to choose between spending the rest of your life as either a CSI or a mortician, which would you choose?
Without a doubt, I’d be a CSI. Specifically, I think I’d like to work with Hodges in Trace because I love mass spectrometry and liquid chromatography. After all, one of my favorite courses in my chemistry minor was Instrumental Methods of Analysis; I am very good at writing up lab reports. Best of all, there would be no blood and guts, which would minimize the chances of me getting sick to my stomach. (#19, 75)