Speed of Light and Other Constants

First, I must apologize for the SNAFU with my 100th post; somehow, it's fitting, for me, to have such a dramatic 100th. Nothing I do is short in the drama department, I'm not exactly where this originates.. probably from my being very dramatic. Anyhoo, when I initially posted the Kevin Costner post, it was picked up by a couple fan sites that have major worldwide exposure and it quickly overwhelmed my sense of a 'private showing' to my loyal blog readers. Naive? Sure.

But the more important moment of clarity I experienced was the why. Why in the world was I prompted to post something I knew, deep down, would generate some attention? Even if I promised some readers, (so many posts back that there was no hope they'd remember) that I'd tell that story?

Because I'm an attention hound, always have been, and always working on counteracting this. I'm the youngest of three children, in fact..my siblings are seven and ten years my senior. Making me the doted-upon, attention-lavished, never taken seriously child that has always been viewed as "the baby" in my family.

Ever since I could remember, I would struggle to get a word in edgewise, in heated family dinner table debates (normally centered on physics, quantum mechanics, and other useless useful Laws of the Universe. I appreciate my Dad making us think. I really do, especially since he'd never give us the answer. He made you think.

If you're standing on the end of an accelerating train, and you have a flashlight, and there is someone out in space with another flashlight, shining the light towards you, and you both have a clock, and you look down and read the clock at the same time...

When I was mostly concerned with getting a boy to notice me, or keeping all my friends in middle school, I was hardly worried about what Einstein thought, or how he proved light as a constant. But that is what we talked about. Ideas. Theories. Everything is relative. It's hard to get attention as the youngest in that mix.

Even now, as a 30-something adult, lavishing my own attention upon my firstborn, my beloved mini-masterpiece of a Toddler, I see him hamming it up for the crowd when we're out to lunch. Or showing off in Hola Baby spanish class. Or parading around with the drum in music class. I see the twinkle in his baby eye when he gets the teacher to notice him, flashes his toothy grin for the camera.

I was the star in the school's 2nd-grade play, Peter Pan, when I was too little to understand showmanship (or, was I?) The entire family went berserk with the idea that I was bound to be an actress after that performance. And maybe I've been playing that role ever since.

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Big 100: Costner is Still the Coolest, Ever

I had to take the original post down. This in itself might make an interesting post at some point. But I felt the need to explain a litte.

For my loyal confused, misled readers of this blog, you have heard me yammer on about how great KC is for a while now. And he still is. I simply had to take down the post detailing all the reasons I think so. (Hours after initially posting it. Can anyone say "internet" and "fanatical?") For you all, just the basic facts: Yes, I did get to visit his place in Aspen (twice) with some fortunate others. That is still true.

(And sorry, to my previous commenters!) I had more hits on that post than.. well, than all other posts combined. I had included pictures of the inside of the house, other cool details like the hot tub pool, the snowmobiles.. you get it.

But, in an important moment of clarity, I'm going to grow my blog readership through my own content; not piggyback on someone else's. And thank you, SiteMeter, for letting me know how this here "internet" works.. connectivity abounds.

Still go out and Netflix EVERY Kevin Costner movie you can get in your queue.

The Guardian

Before you ask.. no, he was not there. It's way cooler that that .. at the time, he was off filming The Guardian ('06) with Ashton Kutcher.

And if this isn't all enough to make you click the link to buy the Guardian, then on to Netflix to get every KC movie into your possession, let me show you, my fellow bloggers, why he is the coolest celebrity alive. Really.

The Kicker
Now click here (do it! You'll be glad!). (Hint: it's a BLOG.)
Look closely, and I promise: you'll agree with me.

He's just the coolest.

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Tuesday's Random Thoughts: #99

This is my 99th Post!! Brought to you by Keely at the Superheroine blog, the Un-Mom. And brought to you by the letter 'R'. And the smiling cherub at the end.

I have completely lost my voice. This isn't a random thought, it's a random fact. I sound like a barking seal when I talk. The machine-like robotic grocery-checkout-gal did a double take. On the phone, my mom didn't know who I was. The worst part: it is physically impossible to sound threatening when every other word is a whisper. The dogs and toddler have completely lost respect of my authority. I saw my yellow Lab roll her eyes at me today. (But she is really insolent sometimes.)

Don't buses have the most unusually unique braking sound? They do. When you hear it coming, careening around the corner, you just know it's a big yella' school bus.

Is it just me, or does it seem like most technological innovation has stalled in the U.S. for a time? Let's not count the iPhone, or Wii. Those are fun toys. We're still behind in cell phone banking, unlike Western European countries, and nearly all of Asia. Social networking/media seems to be the most significant innovation stateside in some time.
My husband insists that I include his addendum to that last point: do we really need to BANK on our cell phones? Can that transfer really NOT WAIT, that we have to do it on our PHONES?

Speaking of lightening fast banking needs, hip, hip, HOORAY for the market rally today! And hooray for me selling my winner (BAC two weeks ago: $3.65; BAC sold today: $7.40.) I do NOT recommend putting any capital at risk that you can not risk losing. At least short term.

Grocery store chains seem to be doing more lately to win my business. I have my pick of at least 10 major stores within a 2-3 mile radius, and each time they have new and innovative ways of winning my loyalty. I got five bucks off my bill today, for some Safeway game they were playing!

He did this himself. Then let me know how pleased he was with his innovation.

I think we're going to have to suck it up and buy a minivan. END OF POST. END OF YOUR LIFE. THANKS FOR PLAYIN'.

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Spin on My Quirks

Quirks, not Quarks. We'll leave physics and math for another post.

You may not have noticed my being MIA from your comment fields (or maybe you have!) But I got sick. Then, taught my kid yoga class anyway, took a 2-hour nap, got a little better, went to a friends' going-away party/stayed out too late, fell a few rungs on the wellness ladder, napped, got better, went to brunch, fell some rungs, you get the pattern. Oh! Then my laptop decided to crash.

But I'm back to Spin on my own quirks, because I have so many. Not all of them are funny, so I'm warning you now. Check out the other quirky Spins while you're at it!

:: I once bought new underwear in college, because I ran out of clean and wasn't doing laundry often enough. I was traveling on the weekends for the college drinking ski team, and our apartment didn't have a washer/dryer. Worse, I went to a CVS/Pharmacy to buy them.. discovering that CVS does not, in fact, sell undies. Don't ever tell undergraduate friends this, if you try it. (I still hear about this.)

:: I must remove my shoes and put on my slippers immediately upon entering my house. Not everyone else's house, just mine. We bought a 1949 Cape Cod house with no basement, which means it's close to the cold ground, which means it's a little like walking on a giant, flat iceberg. Not one of the melting ones, though.

:: I stand on one leg when getting ready for bed. I don't always know that I do this. Often, my husband will come in, laugh, and make a comment about my being a flamingo, before I realize I'm doing it.

:: I can only whistle by sucking air in. The toddler loves it. No, I will not be posting a video of this. Also, just one tone.

:: When cleaning up play-doh, I separate the colors out and try to find the corresponding top. For those of you that have been away from toddlers for a while, this is IMPOSSIBLE.

:: I prefer to have the radio news on (NPR) when I'm cooking dinner/feeding my son. I have to. Often I talk back to what it's telling me. Part of the conversation.

:: If my son gets a puzzle out, then his toddler A.D.D. kicks in before he does said puzzle, I must stop everything and put the pieces back in. I cannot walk away. Let alone put it back on the shelf incomplete. What if we lost a piece?!

:: When eating pancakes, waffles or french toast, I spread the butter and add the syrup, then cut the entire entity into 1,000 tiny bites before taking a one. This is the only example of cuisine for which I fail to cut five pieces of an item, pause, pass fork from left/cutting to right/eating (authentic American style) and polish off before cutting the next five. Pancakes bring out the worst in my table manners, it would seem.

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Spin on Creating: Flying Blind Pt. 2

Previously posted: [Her head was pounding. A thick, clouded pounding that can only result from days of dehydration, being elevated several atmospheres above the Earth, and some mind-numbing alcohol. Not that she really drank that much. It was just hard when you went all day eating nothing but pretzels and chewy granola bars, and an occasional half-can of diet Coke.

:

The 5:00 AM Charlotte flight was bound to be on time, so she indeed had to wake up to the first alarm. Struggling through her dark blue polyester pants, she tried to clear the clouds from the two previous evenings. When she got to the precipice of her memory, where she might jump off the cliff, and, in falling, suddenly remember all the various horrid things she had done on the stage, in the spotlight, and under the table, she decided to hold back. Hang on to the edge of that cliff, too scared to look down and too strong to let go.

:

She sighed, brushing her teeth. Thank goodness she had packed herself last night; the silver lining in the midst of a solidly dreary morning. Soon that would change, and she hoped her outlook would change with it. But it was doubtful.
:

Stepping across the threshold onto the Boeing 747, her hair was still slightly damp, something the airline had made clear was not acceptable in its latest internal “grooming” memo, and she tossed it back over one shoulder as she quickly loaded her carry-on into the attendants’ space. This was going to be a long day.

:

Nineteen hours ago, she was blissfully caffeinated, and five hours after that, blissfully drunk. Drunk on liquor, drunk on love, and not knowing where the two blended. This was typical in her secondary profession. But she rarely admitted it to herself. Nobody else in her life knew about her dual worlds, and there was no reason to change that now.]

She flitted among the seats, among the suits, never losing her stride or allowing herself to jump off that mental cliff. A tune was playing somewhere in the background of her mind, which she had chosen to finish her set with two nights ago. Dusty Springfield, "Son of a Preacher Man." Benny had turned it up as loudly as the system would go, and the blur of tequila and limes stung her lips now, memory defiantly reminding her.

Benny had been threatened with a trademark-infringement suit on two disparate occasions, over his naming of the establishment "The Hardrock." Apparently, the real Hard Rock didn't like a "gentleman's" club being of similar vestige. But he ignored them, and, after pursuing a visual inspection of the aging, nondescript white cinder block building, the law firm representing the real Hard Rock dropped it. Apparently they were satisfied that their restaurants were not "so similar that it was likely to deceive or to cause confusion or mistake on the part of the average purchaser."

She paused and looked up at the man requesting an apple-cranberry juice. His face was familiar; he traveled this route frequently, and she'd smiled at him before. And been smiled at.

"We have apple. And we have cranberry. I could .. mix them for you," she said breezily.
"Please. That would be refreshing." He had dark, serious eyes. Probably an attorney. Maybe a consultant. But they looked kind when he smiled.
"Sure," she elevated her voice above the noise of the jets. Her mind was reaching, farther back into her memory. Was it just from this flight that she recognized him? She passed him the drink, and his eyes met hers one more time. He was having the same struggle, and her heart leaped, unexpectedly. Surely he wasn't one of her regulars, down at the Hardrock?

"Miss?" A man was motioning from two rows down. "Miss, I need help." Her thoughts shifted, attention re-focused, back on auto-pilot. Her mystery man would have to remain that for now.

:
* "flying blind" has been continued as part of the weekly Spin Cycle, over at Sprite's Keeper. Check her out!

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Writer's Workshop: Keep it Clean!

This is a perfect day; this has been on my mind to write, and it fits perfectly into Mama Kat's third prompt for Writer's Workshop this week;

3.) Describe a time you allowed your child to do something that you normally would not let slide.

I work in my son's co-op preschool classroom once a month or so, and Tuesday was my last day as "lead", which means two things, 1) I cherished this last little nugget of time being his "teacher" and observing how he interacts with the other toddlers, and 2) I'm FREE, FREE, FREE and FREE for the rest of this session. Next Fall, he'll go to a 'traditional' 2's program, no co-oping.

We Moms do the curriculum, and the suggested craft activity for this, my teaching Tuesday, was fingerpainting! "Oh, crap," I thought as I read the suggestion to get out the smocks, the finger paints, and have each very busy, very unsteady set of toddler fingers paint a Rainbow.

"Go for it," said the unaffected, will-be-far-away-at-work husband, with a grin.

Always the under overachiever, I announced to the permanent teacher my intention for the craft that day. She gave me a long look. Then, as if resigning herself to not roll her eyes, got out the table cover, smocks, large sheets of paper. We started with 2-3 kids at a time, quickly whittling it down to 2, while the other Mom watched the balance of the kids.

The result amazed me. Each kid was tentative, at best, to the idea of smushing his/her hands into some kind of paint, and getting messy! Before my disbelieving eyes, each child reluctantly dipped one finger, or two, into the gloppy paint, then delicately put the finger to paper and wiped it around a bit, as if to rid the clean finger of said gloppiness. We encouraged, we incented, we even demonstrated. My own mess-loving toddler took a moment to verify I was "okay" with his fingers (and subsequently, clothes) getting completely bamboozled with bright red, yellow, blue and green.

Once they understood that this kind of atrocious messying-up of their fingers was allowed, they got into it. Really into it. The youngest one, at only 14 months, wouldn't STOP once he got going, and kept sneaking back over to our half of the classroom to begin getting brightly colored again. With joy, I saw my own toddler's independent use of the "handprint" style.

But...One child in particular wouldn't do it. He was the oldest, at 2.5 years, and said, "No, Thank you," when told it was his turn to make a picture. We sat him down and convinced him that Mommy might truly enjoy a picture, or at least a little handprint. He dipped one finger, no more, and slide it across the paper to get it off. When he was done 4.5 seconds later, he popped up, hands straight out in front of himself so as to not touch anything, to get his hands washed. His face, clothes and psyche stayed relatively unmarked. Well, I can't vouch for his psyche.

The thing is, kids are supposed to get messy. And we, as parents, are supposed to clean them up. But I saw first hand how much they have been trained, encouraged, educated, prompted and threatened, to stay clean at all costs! We wash their hands to prevent germs. We wash hands after coming in from outside. Touching someone else's toys. Sneezing. Petting the dogs. Farm animals. Our own butts.

I'm the worst offending OCD-Mom there is. I wash my hands just after I've washed them. The point is.. how much are we stifling our kids' creativity? By just... keeping them clean, at all costs?

Now. If you'll excuse me. I need to finish scrubbing the dirt out from under the dog's paws.

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Riddle Me This Pt. 2

Jenners is at it again, Fun and Games with Jenners, except THIS time, she got the idea from this very blog. Since we here at Fingers & Paws are so easily swayed by flattery (try me,) I must immediately participate in said game. Go check her very cool riddles out, make your own, and link up!

The game is a riddle. I post pictures, forming a riddle. You guess in comments. I'm going to make this one a lot tougher than LAST time though, because everyone got it right away.

Photo credit

I don't think this is any more tough than last time. I'll keep working on it. I'll stump you guys one of these days.

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Random Tuesday Thoughts

: I'm guest posting over at What It's Like to Be Mie today, so go check her me us out! Happy St. Patty's! It's her Terrible Two-Versary. Wish her luck.. Terrible Two's are YIKES. (And my son is 22 months old.)

: Everyone knows about those "My Child is an HONOR Student at Superstupendousamazing Elementary School." I've been wondering lately, what is the checks-and-balances system behind this bumper-sticker distribution? If a class slips through where she/he just couldn't quite cut it and got a 'B', God forbid, do they come through the parking lot and remove said stickers off the offending vans? Do the parents protest the removal, or hide shamefully in the bushes? Are there fights? Teacher on parents? Principal on parent? B.F. Skinner on Homer?

: I really love Random Tuesday Thoughts. It allows my brain to act naturally. For example. Ben Bernanke is kind of cute, in an erudite sort of way. I'm going to pretend he doesn't resemble my Father-in-Law.

: After teaching my kid yoga class Sat., I was starving. My husband I agreed to meet out for lunch near the house, he'd bring the toddler. (Lest he fend for himself at home.) Chipotle near Home Depot. Ok. So, I'm sitting at the Chipotle near Home Depot, waiting, by myself. Ordered, sitting, still waiting. Problem is, he's at THE OTHER Chipotle near THE OTHER Home Depot, across town, waiting. At a TOTALLY different restaurant near a totally different Home Depot.
This is how the phone call went:
"Are you at Chipotle?"
"Yes! Are you here?"
"The one near Home Depot?"
"Yes!"
"Which Home Depot?"
"The one near our house!"
(Sigh)

: Chocolate chip cookie dough, frozen, is quite possibly the most addicting food that exists.

: My yellow Lab's butt is starting to stink. Because of the blogosphere, I think I need to have her anal glands checked. She will be absolutely furious with me for telling you all this.

: I asked my husband for a completely random thought, as he was extending his hand to me, in a loving pitch to get me to come to bed. His response: "Yesterday was Monday."
(I'm typing this today. As far as I know, today is Monday. He's way ahead of himself.)

: Happy Random Tuesday! Go check out more Randomized Randomness at Keely's place.

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My Letter to Jon Stewart and Jim Cramer

Jim Cramer (Mad Money, TheStreet.com and Jon Stewart of Comedy Central went head-to-head late last week, and here is my letter to both networks in response):
:::

I'm a huge fan of both shows. You entertain me. And I'm talking years here.

I'd like to think that both Jon Stewart and Jim Cramer are in this position, of collecting 2,000 comments on the blog immediately following the airing of their toe-to-toe battle interview, because they want to be. As willing, educated, brilliant and active participants in our democratic process and civil servants to the debate of the free market system. And, a little bit because they both love the limelight. As entertainers.

Certainly, both men have impressive resumes and historical measures of their respective brilliance. Big brains. There is no denying that. However, both of them failed to place blame on where Wall Street bumps into Main Street, and the Universe collapses on itself: Original Sin.

Isn't, to a certain extent, human nature to blame, in this current debacle? Aren't we all pleased when we find out a stock we bought yesterday went up 30% due to some unexpected news? And likewise, isn't a 7-year old selling lemonade just delighted when the heat index breaks 100 degrees and there is no other liquid to be found nearby? Aren't all of loyal Cramerica fans dedicated to the idea that with sane, thorough, fundamental analysis of stocks, you, too can profit handsomely with your investment dollars?

Don't we all like to laugh at Jon Stewart's brilliant rhetoric?

Yes, yes, and oh by the way--we're all a little greedy, too*. Who didn't appreciate their home increasing in value (an unsustainable) 20%, or their stock portfolio increasing four-fold over the same number of years? Nobody wants nothing for their work and labor. It's called Human Nature.

I believe that those who have more, should give more, and those who don't, can get help. I strongly believe Jim Cramer and Jon Stewart, deep in their hearts, feel the same way, ideologically.

However! There are very complex financial instruments out there, which beget complex financial markets. I only understand a tenth of it having worked on a trading floor in MARKET RISK MANAGEMENT. I was measuring Market Risk for equity derivative trading portfolios.. and.. guess what?! Traders are smart. Traders are sneaky. Traders like to WIN. And they like to make money. And.. add some overleveraged banks, not enough capital, mortgages defaulting and de-valuing assets across the board, credit seizing up, commerce halting, the People getting caught in the middle and... here we are.

Jon Stewart asked the excellent point-question: "What is our role as journalists, if not to reveal the very shenanigans going on behind the uninformed Public's back..if we know about them?"

Certainly, Jim Cramer is not the face of whom we blame. His network? Could they have done more?

One of my favorite quotes:

Integrity is what you do when nobody is watching.

What about when we are?


* Note: NOT that I blame what has happened in the current crisis on the People, per se, simply that it was too easy to allow current market conditions to be ripe for bankers/traders/etc. to reap the benefits of (us) it in the capital markets.

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Time to Be Honest

First, please offer up your prayers, your positive thoughts and your kind words to Braja in her time of healing.
:::

Let me be honest. I'm way too honest. To a fault.

I went back through my "Edit Posts" feature, and found that some posts that I had drafted had never actually been published; but they "count" in the post "count". Point? I'm more like nine or ten posts away from my 100th post. Some of you that are the very sharpest tacks in the drawer picked up on my late "makeup" posts that I posted deep in the Archives late last night. Good catch! I even made up my own meme because I'd said that I would (honesty thing again.) Examine your heart at your own risk!

It was my husband who said, "100 Posts? Really? Is that possible... already?"

Time does fly, my friends. Birds are starting to visit the new birdfeeder; my toddler has learned to say "I seeeeeeeeeee you," whilst hiding; my yellow Lab is not racing in a mad dash up the back yard steps to chase squirrels with her brother. Spring is trying desperately to sprung. My legs are still sore from the run on Thursday, so that I had to explain why I was adding extra stretches to my kid yoga kids this morning. (Embarrassing.)

Time marches on. Sometimes slipping by, unnoticed, until we look up from our intensely busy days. Sometimes with the exacting barometer of a child, who seems to transform into a new version of himself overnight...advancing his knowledge, language, and dramatic acting skills daily.

And, finally... this blog. Your blogs. Look over at the left-hand side of mine, and whichever side your archives are on. How much has been written! How much sharing has been done! How much time have I stolen from you while I riff about life? How many moments have flown by, while life is desperately beside us, trying to keep up!

Hold on, tightly. Savor those moments until they slowly dissolve, leaving a whole new flavor in your mouth.

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