LifePundit

The Science Project

(Photo is of my state of mind, not Lily's science project.)

The phone rings, and I'm almost afraid to answer it. The caller ID says it's the mother of one of Lily's friends, and although she is an interesting and nice woman, she seems to have more time on her hands than I do. Or you do. Or anyone else does.

She seems to have more time on her hands than my mother does. My mother has Alzheimer's and is bedridden. Yes, some of us are busy. And others of us are looking for something to do.

This woman is a bit too involved in her daughter's life. She's calling to find out "how we're coming on our science project?"

"I don't have a science project, and Lily is watching TV," I say. I feel like a negligent mother. I'm not sure I remember what the science project is about. Then I remember. I've already finished eighth grade. I don't have a science project, other than what's growing in the refrigerator.

"Are you splitting the (FORGOT WHAT SHE SAID) into different pages or doing it together?" she asks. I have no idea what she's talking about, but I have the urge to be helpful.

"I haven't even looked at it, but I think I'd put things on separate pages. Make the whole thing look longer," I say.

"You aren't working on it? My daughter has been working all day (Saturday) and will be working on it all day tomorrow," she exclaims.

The drama comes from the fact that the science teacher forgot to tell them all until the last minute that they need to include a major part of the project that hasn't been mentioned before -- a booklet -- when they turn the project in on Monday.

Though this shouldn't have happened, I figure it's Lily's problem. Lily seems unconcerned. So when I (finally) get off the phone with her friend's mother, I feel the need to check to be sure that there isn't some adolescent slip-up slipping up right under my nose.

"Your friend and her whole family are scrambling to get her science project finished by Monday. Why are you watching TV?" I quiz Lily.

"Because I like this show, and it's Saturday," she says.

"What about your science project? Why aren't you foaming at the mouth?" I say. "Have you looked at everything you're supposed to turn in?"

"Could you move out of the way of the TV?" Lily says.

"Not until you tell me about your science project." I'm not going to be the negligent mother I feel like I am.

So Lily gets her scrawled notes. "It's supposed to have a title page, a contents page, a summary, research method..., Mom, why am I reading you this?"

"I'm just making sure there's no Sunday night surprise when you go to put it together," I say.

"There's nothing to this," she says. "All I have to do is reformat what I've already done."

"Then why is your friend's family working all weekend?" I ask.

"Because they're not us," she says. Then, "Thank you, Mom, for not getting so involved in my stuff."

"You're welcome. As long as you're getting good grades and acting normal, I won't."

What she doesn't realize is that at this point, I probably couldn't pass eighth grade, so that's why I'm leaving it to her.

Me Mores

A lot of people, including my mother-in-law, have been inspired to write their memoirs. This is a good thing for family history. For instance, if you wanted to see where dysfunctional behavior entered the family tree, a relative's memoir might be a good place to start.

And grudgingly, in my mother-in-law's defense, her memoir is about growing up in war-time England and it is an interesting story that should be preserved though the memoir doesn't need to be spoken about weekly.

Other relatives have interesting stories to tell and I wish that they would tell them. There's so much that doesn't get told in a family, and while these stories wouldn't necessarily be interesting to an outsider, they are treasures to family members.

For example, it wasn't until a couple of Thanksgivings ago that I heard the story of Saintly Brother's daring scuba diving adventures and how he and his friends were almost swept to sea. His own children had never heard the story and we all sat fascinated as he told us how he and his friends had started off their "scuba" adventures by trying to swim underwater and breathe through a hollow reed like they do in the movies (can't be done) and progressed to an elaborate home-made diving rig that used a paint compressor and some hoses to supply air to a modified diving mask. They mainly saw murky water, but they also were nearly swept to sea. None of the parents ever knew. He was a smart kid with a good imagination and access to equipment of all sorts. I wish he'd write a memoir. It would be a good one.

While many of us have interesting life stories, most of us do not. Yet the trend to write one's memoir gets stronger. A friend who just returned from a writer's workshop said that there is a term for this "writing-one's-memoir-even-though-one-hasn't-done-anything-interesting": these are not called memoirs, but "Me Mores."

Just doing my job to keep you informed.

It's 50 Degrees and Cloudy, So They Cancelled School

I love South Carolina. Right now it's 50 degrees and cloudy. I just got an e-mail, a text-alert on my cell and an automated voice-call on the land line: School is canceled tomorrow because it might snow.

I do hope that it does. I could use some snow, so long as it doesn't hang around. Snow is best for one day or two. Not the whole winter.

Snow is a reason for a holiday. Outside will smell wonderful -- the air heavy with pine because our poor trees weren't made for snow. The snow will collect on the needles and in the branches and be too heavy for the tree. Snap! Down they'll fall. Which is all fine provided they don't fall on your power lines because then, in your all-electric, not-too-warm-from-the-heat-pump house, you'll be cold and in the dark. And if you live in the country and are on a well, you'll also be thirsty and stinky because your well won't work without electricity and you won't have water.

But sometimes it snows and the power doesn't go out. That, my friends, is a real holiday. A reason to cancel school, stay home with your family, and drink hot chocolate and marvel at the stuff floating down from the sky. Snow. That rarest of weathers.

Good Economic News

Yes, there is some good economic news. It barely squeaks by as good news, but I'll take whatever good news I can get. Fiction sales were up ever so slightly, with adult fiction sales up by 0.4 percent. Juvenile fiction (at my house that would be the Twilight series) had a 6.2 percent increase.

I heard at the Myrtle Beach Writer's Conference that the publishing industry slips into recession at a slower rate than other industries because people can't afford to do other things so they turn to reading.

Bad times can bring out good things. Reading, kindness to each other, simpler food, time together and prayer.

Then there's anxiety, depression, worry, foreclosures, skipped medical treatments....

Forget all that and go read a good book. It beats the news any day.

The Treadmill Desk

Here's my new desk. It's the brownish-tannish board clamped down on the arms of my Christmas present from Paul (I asked for it: one should not receive a piece of exercise equipment unless one asks for it). He really struggled building this desk. I can write with no trouble at 2 mph, but it's difficult to use the mouse because my hand is moving. For a while I was having trouble getting a little bit seasick while I walk because apparently there's a little bit of waddle thrown in with the walk. If you notice on the left wall there's a small calendar there. I get a gold star for every day I walk. It's called an Honesty Calendar, and I've found I'll do anything for a gold star. No, rather, I'll do anything to have a calendar filled with gold stars and no voids. Or few voids.

Here's a better photo of the desk part. The colored fabric (blue) covering the clamps so as not to scratch the treadmill arms is VetWrap (also called CoFlex), which is used to bandage horses. You can't very well use sticky tape on a hairy leg. The desk can be removed so other people can use the treadmill. I find that I while I can write creatively and sometimes answer e-mails and talk on the phone on the treadmill, I'm not so good at blogging, so blogging has been light.
I'll try to add that to my treadmilling skills, but forgive me in advance for the typos. Can't walk, chew gum and spell right at the same time.

I feel better and I'm getting a lot of writing done. But the poor dog isn't getting to go on as many walks. Better go take him now before it gets down to 10 degrees or whatever awful thing it's supposed to do tonight. He and Tiger get to sleep inside. Izzie, the indoor cat, won't like that. Ah me. It's kind of like the Middle East, only I'm in charge and I say that the dog and outdoor cat get to stay. So there.

Off to walk outdoors. What a concept!

Things I Think I Remember from 2008

I had this idea that I would post a list of books, movies, good food and other good things I remember from 2008. The only problem is, here on January 1, I can't remember.

I do remember reading an article many years ago in Harper's? The Atlantic? The New Yorker? that was entitled, "Books I Think I've Read." That's me. Except I can't remember which ones they are.

I did discover something this year that greatly surprised me. I really like Stephen King! I had read his book, On Writing, and thought it was one of the best books about writing I've ever read. I keep it on my desk and recently listened to him read it on my iPod. (www.Audible.com is a great source for books you can listen to on-the-go, though my library is rapidly overtaking them in titles that are free).

I decided to try out one of his books of fiction, and listened to Duma Key. Highly recommended. Then I read where Stephen King recommended The Story of Edgar Sawtelle (this was before Oprah, etc.) and I listened to that. Absolutely fantastic.

It's Hamlet set in Minnesota with a hearing mute boy and dogs. Riveting. And here's one of the things that made me laugh the hardest this year: one of the reviewers on Amazon panned it because she didn't like the ending. It's Hamlet! You're not supposed to like the ending. But even the ending was wonderful.

I'd recommend more but I can't remember. Here's to a more memorable 2009.