After this week, I feel the need to write about perspective. Our habits of mind, what we choose to focus on, and how we think about life and people with whom we interact filters everything. We all (myself included) can easily become warped into our own limited worldview, failing to acknowledge the true greatness of potential surrounding us.
Sometimes it is healthy to step outside of ourselves, then calmly and consciously dwell on what it is we fail to recognize because we are too hurried, stressed, jaded, closed-off, or solidified in the every day of our own existence. By letting our minds wander into spaces not normally considered, a certain peacefulness can set in. Maybe a revelation will take hold. Our way of being with others and interacting in the world can be altered--if even slightly--to push us towards a different, more fully nuanced understanding of living.
Astronauts are a selective few who have an opportunity to experience living in ways most never will. There is a very cool video called "Overview" documenting what they understand since they have looked upon the earth from above. The video comes from the Planetary Collective,
which is a group of people who want to explore the big questions and
ideas that face our planet. The synopsis about the video from the
website is this:
Astronauts who have seen the Earth from space have often described the
‘overview effect’ as an experience that has transformed their
perspective of the planet and mankind’s place upon it, and enabled them
to perceive it as our shared home, without boundaries between nations or
species.
The pictures from space are breath-taking. The accounts of the astronauts make me slightly envious. But mostly, after watching it, the video has me thinking how easy it is to have a blinded perspective.
The video is lengthy. But even if you have to pause it, walk away, and return to continue watching, you will find that it was a valuable use of your time.
Getting something new is nice, but it is oftentimes difficult to part with the old, comfortable things we have grown to love and rely upon. Charlie loves going into his kennel. It is his safe place when we have to leave him home alone or when we take him in the car.
Charlie has been putting on the pounds lately, becoming a bit too big for his current kennel. It works just fine, but he can't stand up entirely when inside. He has to crouch to move around or re-situate. I felt bad leaving him in there all day while I'm at work.
I made a trip to the pet store, purchasing the next size for his comfort.
I had a feeling that Charlie would be slightly cautious about this new addition to his life. He carefully approached the new kennel when I placed it down next to the old one. He had to smell and inspect it thoroughly. He refused to walk into the new kennel.
I decided to pull out his brown fleece blanket from the old home and put it into the new one. That seemed to be all Charlie needed to venture carefully into the upgraded home.
He stayed in the larger kennel for a minute or so and then carefully began dragging his brown fleece blanket out of it. He left it partially hanging out as he went back to the old kennel to sniff out the nostalgia of what he has come to love and know.
For a brief moment, I thought he would be accepting of this change. I was wrong.
Deciding he wasn't approving of this transition, Charlie proceeded to pull his fleece completely out of the new kennel and leave it on the kitchen floor.
Change is difficult. It requires an acceptance that the past is over and a willingness to embrace the unknown.
Charlie has come to love the larger kennel, his new home. Soon, with time, it will not be the "new" home, but his only home.
Facebook truly is one giant, digital time-suck. I'm often addicted to endless scrolling through statuses and pictures that, while sometimes interesting, is mostly just a replacement for other things I should be doing. Occasionally Facebook (and the people posting on it) has redeeming value with some inspiring, thought-provoking, or unique content that makes me feel a little better about myself for spending so much time on it.
Today was just one of those days.
I should have been focused on the productive to-do list I made the night before, and instead found my way to Facebook. And then I was stopped by a post from Hy-Vee:
What do you do when a kid named Henry points out your mistake and laughs? You make his day. With donuts. Thanks, Henry.
I had to click the link. For multiple reasons.
I love Hy-Vee. I love food. I actually love grocery shopping. And Hy-Vee is a company that I've worked for on and off again in a variety of capacities for many, many years. Hy-Vee will always be my company.
There is a kid named Henry who is engaged in literacy. I'm passionate about literacy development and education. No matter where I go or what I do in life, those two topics will forever spark my interest.
In all aspects of life and work, people make mistakes. There is no such thing as perfection. Yet, we all love to be the person to catch those mistakes, especially when they are glaringly obvious. And, honestly, props to people who catch mistakes because there is a great deal of fun and amusement in being the person to notice the obvious infraction. I have previously written about my own embarrassing written mistakes: Rules, mistakes, and considerate corrections.
Throughout my dedicated years working in a grocery store, I have countless stories of grammatical, spelling, incorrect word choice, and punctuation mistakes that have made it on signage, oblivious to the creator. Sometimes those mistakes are caught before they are displayed for all to see. Typically, they are never noticed until it has been broadcast to the world and overlooked by many.
I love donuts.
So, like I stated, I click on the Facebook link. Eight year old Henry was amused by the incorrect signage at Hy-Vee. His mom took a picture of it.
Then she blogged about the experience in the post Donuts & . . . on the blog Turn up the Valium. You must read what she wrote there along with the follow-up post The Tasty Typo.
While the mistake on the signage is amusing--along with being the true "hook" of the story--what I find most compelling is the important power of education and how one attentive, bright, eight-year-old applied something he is learning in school to his everyday life.
I now attribute Facebook to making me productive, leading to this blog post, and therefor have no guilt as I return for more endless browsing, craving some additional inspiration.
In my obsession with TED talks and YouTube, I stumbled upon a fabulous spoken word poem, "To This Day" by Shane Koycz. It is an insightful and personal video about bullying, which, apparently, has been getting great attention on the internet. The poem itself is quite powerful, but when you hear it set to animation there is a richer layer of added meaning. It is seven and half minutes long.
I don't mean to brush off the seriousness of bullying with some light-hearted story, but I have to share with everyone what happened yesterday with Charlie, the bully. For those of you who have read my other posts, you are aware that anytime Charlie is let out in the back yard unpredictable events are bound to occur. Yesterday morning was just one of those times.
Charlie and I were up early. He immediately wanted to go out back, so I let him outside and watched from the back door window (since the back door doesn't lead directly out to the backyard, Charlie has to walk nine feet to the open gate by the garage). I can be an impatient person and wanted to be doing something while waiting for Charlie to do his ritualistic rounds of smelling everything in the yard while finding the perfect spot to do his business. Just standing at the back door is boring.
Honestly, the decision to multitask was probably a poor choice on my part; I'm just not good at it. I began to make coffee, opening up a new bag of grounds given to me by Michelle's parents for my birthday. After I broke the seal, I realized that this particular coffee didn't have one of those twisty things attached to close it back up. I needed to leave the kitchen to get tape or something from the other room to seal up this bag. Keeping a careful eye out the window, I didn't see Charlie. He must have been behind the garage. I waited. Still, there was no sign of Charlie. I made a calculated decision that I could make it to the other room and back to the kitchen without Charlie knowing.
Quickly, I retrieved the tape I so desperately needed and returned to the back door of the kitchen. Even still, there was no sign of Charlie. Doubt entered my mind. Was I not fast enough? In that brief moment, could it be possible that I missed him, and he slipped from the open gate, down the driveway, and to the front of the house? It has happened before. As my confidence in my multitasking morning began to diminish, I put the coffee away, stayed put at the back door window, and waited. No Charlie.
Then, a mad flash of a black and white cat whizzed from around the corner of the garage, through the gate, Charlie sprinting behind it in full speed, and both quickly disappeared out of sight down the driveway. I didn't have much time to think, half amused and half pissed that this was actually happening. I opened the back door and pretty much screamed, "Charlie, get back here!" at the top of my lungs, hoping he would hear. I know the dogs inside the neighbor's house heard, because they immediately began barking. I'm sure my neighbors were pleased.
I waited. Charlie did not appear. I began to wonder how intent he was on catching that cat and how far he had run in the front yard. But I wanted to keep the faith. So I didn't dare take a step down, out of the house, onto the driveway. Rather, I just left the door open and yelled Charlie's name one more time.
That was when I heard the pitter-patter of paws hitting pavement up the driveway. Charlie rounded the corned of the house, stopped, looked at me, and just starred at me, communicating his dissatisfaction with me ruining his early-morning bullyfest. "Get inside," I commanded.
I'm just surprised the cat didn't put up more of a fight. It was just as big as Charlie.
This week is Teacher Appreciation Week. Do what you want with that. Enough said.
Yesterday was not a good teaching day for me. For those teachers out there, you know how terrible the bad days can feel. And I can honestly say, I haven't felt entirely appreciated going back into the classroom. You go into teaching knowing that teenagers generally are not going to appreciate you. Oftentimes they view teachers as obstacles, people to subvert, push up against, argue with, disrespect, and I could continue with the list of those not-so-fun descriptive words. As the adult (and teacher), you go to work every day accepting teenagers for who they are, and do the best you can. But the bad days can weigh on your being like no other.
Thankfully, that was all yesterday.
Today, I felt appreciated. The teenagers were still their normal selves in all their glory. The revealing moments that capped my day today transpired during after school club with Mr. Pernicek. It's not really a club. Rather it is when students show up for extra help in the basement of the school where my classroom is located. More than a handful of students voluntarily stayed over an hour to do academic work. They genuinely wanted to improve and do well. There were several impromptu lessons:
How to take a run-on paragraph and change it to a solid paragraph of sentences.
How to come up with vivid, descriptive words using thesaurus.com.
Where to put commas in a compound complex sentence.
How to connect opinions about a book to life in a short essay.
How to write and punctuate dialogue.
How effort, time-management, and focus in school makes life less-stressful.
Most of the teenagers said thank you on their way out of the room this afternoon, their grades rising, and their sense of pride and self-worth intensified.
On an unrelated note, TEDxYouth@Lincoln is coming together nicely. Check out this update.
There are many birthday cliches and traditions. Yesterday, I achieved another year of life on this planet. I celebrated with friends, my wife, and family. I ate some birthday cake. I went out to dinner and drinks. I ate more cake (and a cookie), a traditional nod restaurants give their celebrating patrons. I received gifts. Phone calls, texts, and Facebook messages reminded me of the wonderful, supportive people in my life. Yet, I'm left thinking about two cliches:
I don't feel any older.
And,
Time seems to go by faster the older you get.
Honestly, I'm not quite sure what it means to "feel" old. I'm certain it will happen at one point, and then, maybe, I'll feel wiser, accomplished, or fulfilled. Since the passage of time has not left me with any profound feelings of age, I wonder why each year increasingly seems to speed by faster than the previous one. Am I trapped in some strange birthday paradox? Or is this just a common experience we humans enjoy on our life journeys until we wake up one day and think, Oh my gosh, I feel old?
I guess until that happens, I've gratefully accomplished the past year, and I anticipate the gathering momentum of my next birthday.
Much has happened since my last post. I'm teaching again. My break from the classroom was short-lived, but I forgot just how taxing the life of a teacher can be. When I made the decision to return at semester, I thought I was going to be able to maintain a balance between work and life. I still think that I can. Yet living the life of a teacher is different from thinking about it: the lesson planning, extra time grading papers at nights and on the weekends, going in to school early and staying late, and, of course, the emotional and intellectual investment. The strangest part is that I feel like a first year teacher all over again.
After seven weeks of regaining my footing, I feel slightly more comfortable with this life-change. And I miss Charlie and His Human. Plus, English teachers should be writers, so I must make some time to write again.
Here are a few updates:
Charlie had his teeth cleaned for the first time. He loved it. And the people at the vet love him. Charlie is also becoming too-overweight, at 25 pounds. A male Cavalier is only supposed to be around 18 pounds. We are working on more exercise and less food. Charlie has been helping me train for the Lincoln Half Marathon. He can handle short, three-mile runs.
Charlie had been spending a lot of time in the back yard. I knew he was up to no good, but couldn't really figure out what he was doing. Then, one day, after an extremely long time out behind the garage, I let him back into the house. Michelle began screaming. Charlie had brought in a bird carcass, dropping it on the living room rug.
Maybe Charlie's weight gain is the result of some extra snacks out in the yard?
Yesterday, when we came home, there was a hawk in our front yard oak tree. It was pretty amazing. Our neighbor is the one who pointed it out to me. He told me that earlier he watched it take out a squirrel in his yard. I was able to get a couple of pictures, but as I tried to get a better picture, I spooked it and it flew away.
And tonight is the Haase Family Annual Academy Awards Extravaganza. This event is probably the coolest thing I've married into. Currently, we're sitting in the living room watching the Academy Awards, with our compiled ballots and highlighters to see who is going to win the traveling trophy this year. A mysterious thing happened last year. The trophy was stolen and somehow I got blamed because of these two pictures that were circulated on Facebook:
Regardless of this drama and being wrongfully accused, I'm enjoying the evening.
This is the second year we have dressed up as a character from one of the nominated movies. Here is what we all look like this year:
Actually, a lot is happening in Nebraska. I even think that most people who currently live in Nebraska would be surprised about the events and people in our state. We are interesting, curious, doers.
So, what is happening in Nebraska?
All you need to answer that question is this 16 minute video that gives you an overview of TEDxLincoln.
After watching the video, get involved in your community (whether that is somewhere in or out of Nebraska). Connect with people. Learn about them. Do something simply significant.
And for those of you who live in Nebraska and are reading this, begin paying attention to the youth in this state. They are pretty darn amazing. And they will be unleashing their brilliance at TEDxYouth@Lincoln on August 17th of this year.
I will be blogging more about this upcoming event, so stay tuned!
One of the things that fascinates me about history are the stories
of people and the decisions they make based upon their world-view at
the time. Area 51 is compelling for that very reason: the stories of the
people who were involved with the beginning (and continuation) of
America's military complex. Our current military presence in the world
is due, in large part, to the technology, experimentation, and ingenuity
of the people situated at the military base.
The only reason
this book exists is because quantities of once top-secret, classified
documents were finally released due to the passage of time and the Freedom
of Information Act. What took place at Area 51 is fascinating, years
ahead of its time, and (some of it) quite frightening.
The
first-hand accounts of the people in this book are what weave together
the timeline of events and bind together the trajectory of where we are
today with our military weapons systems in the United States.
Additionally, the book provides perspective on some behind the scenes
decisions and power-plays to serious events such as the fear of
communism, The Cuban Missile Crisis, and World War II.
I would
recommend this book to anyone who wants perspective and a unique view in
understanding our United States spy programs and military: the extreme
endless government spending, our role in escalating and deescalating
international situations, and our leadership in cutting edge military technology.
We had a visitor at our house over the holidays. Her name is Gracie and she is a Yorkie. She wears sweaters because she gets cold easily.
She didn't like us, Charlie, or our home the first day. She was very nervous about her surroundings, especially the sleeping arrangements. If we put her in the bed with us, she would jump down to the floor. If we put her in her kennel with her blanket she would cry intermittently all night long and she would claw at the door.
During waking hours, there was a lot of pacing throughout the house with Charlie in tow trying to keep her under wraps.
Eventually she got used to us and we got used to her personality.
Barking: For such a tiny dog, she can really bark. I'm not used to having a barking dog. Charlie rarely barks and when he does it is incredibly short-lived. Gracie on the other hand will bark at traffic, other dogs she hears outside, the sound of the warm air flowing through the vents when the heater is on, and the dark at night.
Drinking water: Gracie drank much more water than Charlie. And, because she is smaller dog, she also had to go outside all the time. This was maddening because it had been unbearably cold outside and she wasn't exactly the best at listening to commands to come back inside. She would get close to the back door after being in the yard, but the second I would open the back door, she would run out to the yard again, quickly bouncing in the snow. It was like she flew above the white covered ground. This would happen many times before she would be ready to return to the warmth. Maybe if I took that sweater off of her, she wouldn't have been so comfortable out in the cold.
Gracie whined like the best of dogs: And the high-pitched screeching was intolerable. After Michelle left one day, the whining went on for quite some time. I appreciate the fact that my wife is so much cooler than me but it wasn't like I was totally ignoring Gracie. I was trying to get Gracie to snuggle with me, Charlie, and the blankets on the couch, but she was having none of it. Until I let her outside. And she almost escaped. And I carried her back in the house. And then cuddle-fest ensued and I couldn't even get up to refill my cup of coffee. That was pretty much the scenario all week: crazy neediness or nap-time.
Lizard kisses: It wasn't long before I stopped calling her Gracie and just referred to her as Lizard. She was very skilled at quickly sticking out her neck and repeatedly flicking out her tongue. Those little kisses from a lizard-like tongue were Gracie's trademark. She would lick your face, neck, bare feet, arms, hands, wherever she was able to get you. One instance she nestled herself under my arm, attacked my hand like crazy, and then laid her head down on it to help me write.
Of course, because she was on my lap, that made Charlie very jealous. That was his spot.
Loyal companion: In the short time Gracie (aka: Lizard) was at our house, she was our companion. And Charlie's. Wherever I was, she was there next to me. One day, Charlie and I went for a short run. Since Gracie is such a small dog she was unable to go with us. That caused some consternation for her; Michelle informed me that the entire time Charlie and I were gone she was restless at the window barking, whining, pacing, wanting to be where we were. I do know that without Gracie around, Charlie will be very lonely. His companion will be absent.
As a person who loves the written word and appreciates all the structural "rules" about language and how it functions, I often make "mistakes" both in writing and in speaking. Everyone does this from time to time and it is often off-putting when corrected by another person. Some of my errors have been more embarrassing than others. I'll share just two that stand out in my mind as striking when they happened.
The first one was actually made on this blog. Honestly, I'm sure anyone reading my blog would be able to find several incorrect usages, punctuations, or confusing strings of phrases or sentences. I don't profess to be perfect. However, one post particularly made me shrivel in mortification. I am still relatively new to the blogging world, and I am excited about building a readership base steadily and slowly. I like to look at the stats to see how many page views and followers there are out there. One of my earliest posts titled "Lunch with a clarinetist and a beatboxer who improv together at TEDxLincoln" was particularly popular. As days went by, I was elated at the increasingly high-number of page views next to the title of that entry. Glancing at the title one day, I saw it. My heart dropped. I meant improv and I spelled improve. In the title! Upon further investigation, I realized I spelled improve
several times throughout the post too! What would people think of me? Why didn't
anyone bring it to my attention? I even shared the mistake all over
Twitter and Facebook! I quickly, in shame, made my edits.
There is an actual term for making a mistake in a title. It is called Muphry's law:
If a mistake is as plain as the nose on
your face, everyone can see it but you. Your readers will always notice
errors in a title, in headings, in the first paragraph of anything, and
in the top lines of a new page. These are the very places where
authors, editors and proofreaders are most likely to make mistakes.
I'm great at ensuring that my unintentional mistakes (and what mistake is intentional?) are in prime locations for all to discover. I proof and edit a blog post multiple times before posting it, yet Michelle will point out errors in seconds that I have glossed over time and time again.
Another embarrassing experience of mine goes back many years ago when I was in college doing a practicum with a very smart class of 7th graders. Every week there were several spelling lessons in which it was my job to lead. As an English Education major, spelling has never been one of my strongest strengths. I can manage on my own but I wouldn't proudly say I'm an expert. Regardless of all this, I can hold my own and was pretty confident in my skills. One day I was up in front of these terrific kids grouping words, writing and talking at the same time like most teachers do. And I kept spelling a couple of words incorrectly. The first time the kids were considerate in their corrections. The second time it became a bit of fodder for the group. But soon I realized I had to make sure I was thinking and writing instead of talking and writing otherwise the mistakes would continue. I tried to turn the situation into a "nobody is perfect" lesson that, to this day, I'm almost certain didn't stick.
Luckily, my cooperating teacher sitting in the back of the classroom observing was intelligent, gracious, and had a sense of humor. She understood that mistakes are alright, part of the learning process, and, that being vulnerable and honest with your students creates a classroom culture of trust, collaboration, and synergy. A teacher of another persuasion may have viewed my missteps as a lack of intelligence, knowledge, preparation, or inability to be an effective English teacher. Luckily, I was working with the former and not the latter.
The last day of the semester, when my cooperating teacher handed me my teaching evaluation, she gave me a gift. It was a cup, with several spelling errors crossed out. Many students over the years have commented on this cup when they see it at my desk or in the classroom, providing me with my favorite opportunity to share the story of my first experience in a classroom as a teacher. It's a great story that all students love, making me--Mr. Pernicek--someone who can be real and fallible, a person just like them, imperfect on a journey of literacy development. That cup holds much symbolism and meaning today, constantly reminding me what kind of teacher I should be.
I read a post on a blog this morning that resonated with me (and that gift of a cup many years ago). It is what spurred this post. Chandra addresses the act of correcting another person's language mistakes all the while examining the interestingly complex world of linguistics and literacy privilege. It's worth taking the time to read. Literacy Privilege: How I Learned to Check Mine Instead of Making Fun of People's Grammar on the Internet.
Because of my field of study, oftentimes when someone points out my language (or literature) mistake they will follow it up with a comment referencing me being an English teacher (ie "But you're an English teacher!"). This has always caused me to cringe, because the premise behind that type of comment is that an English teacher should never make an English-related mistake. That is like saying people in every profession should be expected to be perfect: a mathematician will always compute a formula perfectly, a physician always makes the correct diagnosis the first time, a scientist is always accurate in enacting impeccable experiments, and an actress always remembers her line in order to give a flawless performance on the first take. We all know none of that is true. Flawlessness is basically nonexistent.
I recently posted about how I don't really dream at night. Apparently, I'm a liar. Because I had another dream two nights ago. The concerning thing is I think the dream was a premonition about aging. . . or maybe something else?
The gist of the dream was this: I was having trouble hearing out of my right ear. Of course, like most dreams, this one was very illogical and the setting kept changing. First I was in a doctor's office complaining of ear pain. The doctor kept telling me that I was not that old and that I was probably just imagining the symptom, comforting me, telling me that it would just subside on it's own.
Then I was transported to a vague situation where I was concerned about the noise level of the place. So, I wanted to wear ear-plugs or sound blockers in order to preserve my hearing. Now, I already do this in my waking life when working with loud machinery like saws, the snow blower, the mower, etc. I might get made fun of for doing this, but I am very conscious about protecting my ears.
Next, I was in a classroom, teaching. I kept asking my students questions and they wanted to answer. They were engaged. They were excitedly waving their hands in the air, wanting me to call on them. Yet, when I did, I couldn't hear them. I asked them to speak louder. I asked them to repeat what they said. I knew that I couldn't hear them because of my right ear. But the students didn't care. They were becoming very restless and upset that I couldn't hear them.
Finally, I was back in the doctor's office again, demanding she do an examination of my right ear. When she was finished, she confirmed that there was some serious hearing loss and asked me if I would like an implant or some sort of hearing device, which, obviously, I refused. I don't want a hearing aid! I'm not that old!
Last night we invited great friends over to the castle in order to relaxand celebrate the holidays. In lieu of recent current events, I went to bed thankful for many things and thought it would be appropriate to blog about them this morning:
My wife, Michelle: Sometimes I am in awe that I married to her. The success of our party last night was largely due to her. It wasn't just the idea of the party itself, but also the warm-inviting atmosphere, the holiday-themed drinks, and the fact that we have such a core group of grounded, solid, supportive friends. Michelle is intelligent, beautiful, and puts up with every single one of my weird moods. We often joke that we're the gay couple from the show Modern Family
because when no one is around our banter might slightly resemble theirs. The longer we're married the more confident I am that no matter what happens in life, her and I will be able to do anything as long as we're together. I'm constantly proud that I'm able to spend my life with her.
Friends: I couldn't ask for a better group of friends. Traveling through life with them is a blessing. Experiences with them make all the stress from the world disappear. When around them that moment in time is pretty great.
The imagination of a child: Almost every time that we hang out with Anna and Russ, Vivi will ask me to play hide and seek. So we took turns counting to ten (Vivi was adamant about it not being more or less) and I found different hiding places around the house while she continually rediscovered the same hiding spot under the kitchen table. When things got real, though, was when she suggested we play "pirates". What ensued was an elaborate, imaginative game of us being "frog pirates", complete with our own ship, flag, pirate accents, treasure, and alligator swamp filled with sharks (I know, I was a bit confused by that too). As an adult, it is amazing to revert back to being child-like and witness the imaginative creativity of kids. And Vivi is one cool kid.
Charlie: The jumpy, crazy Charlie did not last very long last
night and only showed up a couple of times during a new arrival at the
door. The majority of the night he was calm and well-mannered. He did
follow Vivi around the house as she pulled a beanie baby around on his
leash. And there might have been a little incident later on in the
evening when he walked into the living room, stopping conversation
because his dog parts were out for everyone to see. It was embarrassing.
In spite of that social misstep, Charlie is still pretty wonderful.
Our castle: While I was curled up in the corner of the bedroom, hiding from Vivi, I overheard her saying something that absolutely no one would ever say about our meager 800 square foot home: "This house is soooo big. There are soooo many hiding places. This is going to take forever!" We have a great home that we've comfortably made our own, and filled it with important things that matter.
Charlie turned 3 years old on Monday. In that short amount of time, we have learned much about Charlie and his personality. He has developed into a very loveable, loyal, and quite hilarious part of our family. As a tribute to his three years of canine-life, I want to share three moments with you.
Last week, on one of my afternoons off from work, Charlie and I were hanging out together in the living room when we heard a truck pull up in front of the house and honk. Charlie immediately jumped up, running to the window. He stared out the window. I stayed sitting on the couch. Charlie was still. Then his tail started slowly moving from side to side. It quickly began to pick up a frantic pace until it enveloped his entire body as he shook furiously. His monkey noise followed. I knew that the UPS man was delivering something to our front door. For as long as I can remember, Charlie and I have shared a love for popcorn. Once in a while, he might get a kernel or two. He knows when I am getting popcorn from the kitchen. And when I'm trying to enjoy my little snack all to myself, he is moving every way possible to try and get close enough to steal some. Just the other day, I put up my legs on the couch, as a barrier, to keep him from coming too close to the delicious bag of popcorn. Charlie rested his head in the blanket, and just looked at me longingly with his eyes... until he fell asleep there, in a very strange prostrate position.
For his birthday, Charlie received a small raw-hide bone. He doesn't get these frequently, however, when he does, eating one is the last thing on his mind. Since his birthday, he has been carrying the raw-hide around the house, clawing at objects that don't move (like the carpet on the floor, the couch, or the Christmas tree skirt) in an effort to bury it. After some intense clawing, he will drop the raw-hide and walk away, only to "discover" it later and continue to carry it around the house. As he transports it from various locations, he will make growling or monkey noises. I'm sure in several weeks, he will finally start to begin chewing it.
For all of those reasons, and many more, I love him. Happy birthday, Charlie!
My day away from work this week allowed me the opportunity to install a new toilet. This was not exactly my ideal hope for a day off but when I was finished with the project I did feel pretty accomplished and good about myself. One may think that replacing a toilet is a tremendous undertaking but it really is a quick and easy job, despite the initial apprehension most people probably have about plumbing in general and the thought that you are tinkering with the inner workings of the porcelain god.
The tank of our existing toilet had cracked and water had been slowly leaking behind the bowl onto the bathroom floor for many months. The repair was long overdue. I was just putting it off because, sometimes, I am an expert at procrastination. We even had the new toilet purchased already and it had been sitting in a box in our living room for over a month.
Michelle occasionally states that the castle is not "our" house, that it is "my" house because I purchased it before we were married. I see her point. That is partially true. Her main justification is that I've put a lot of heart and effort into updates and repairs. Since we've been married, I've made a concerted effort to make sure she gets to be a part of the decision process when changes are made: she helped pick out the carpet in the spare room, she chose the floor tile in the kitchen, she approved of the new kitchen cabinets, the two bedrooms and kitchen now have new "Michelle" colors on the walls (which I really like, I might add), and I forced her to go toilet shopping with me. At first, my beautiful wife was not as thrilled as I was about this great excursion. She initially told me to buy the toilet. But now I can say she also participated in this house project too!
Charlie gets very excited when he and I are able to spend a day together during the week. Whether we're working outside in they yard, reading books on the couch, or installing a toilet, he is always right there alongside me, helping. I love the fact that he is such a loyal companion, even though he sometimes can be in the way. Here he is helping me set up all the parts to get the project up and going (no, I did not force him to pose for this picture, he was really there doing this):
Notice how his food dish and toy ring is right next to everything else.
Removing the old toilet was relatively simple. The pictures below are actually of the new toilet going in, but the steps are the same just in the opposite order.
Turn off the water supply valve that is behind the toilet running to the tank. Flush the toilet several times after the water is turned off to empty most of the water out of the bowel and the tank. It may even be necessary to take a cup to dip out any remaining water in the tank.
Next, undo the water supply line from the tank. Put a small bucket underneath as leftover water in the supply line will trickle out as the connections are loosened. Less water mess will be made when the water goes right into the bucket.
Loosen the bolts that are attaching the tank to the bowl. Again, put the small bucket back behind the tank, as remaining water in the tank will stream out onto the floor if you don't. Lift the tank right off of the bowl.
Loosen the bolts that are holding the bowl to the sewer pipe. These may be rusted and, if so, they might just have to be cut off. Once loosened, just lift the old toilet up and off of the sewer pipe. When pulling up, the wax ring and seal will break from the sewer pipe.
A little side anecdote: Charlie was right alongside me the entire time, inspecting and approving of the process. However, when I wasn't paying attention, I heard the lapping of water. When I looked over, he had his head in the bucket that I had used to collect gross water when taking the toilet apart. Charlie was drinking it. I yelled at him. He jumped and ran out of the bathroom. I scared him. Poor guy. He can be such a gross dog.
Installing the new toilet is easy. Basically all the steps above need to be completed in reverse. But, before I did, I cleaned up the sewer pipe of any remaining wax from the wax ring.
I noticed a pungent smell from the pipe, which is sewer gas. I know, disgusting. I Just stuffed an old rag into the pipe until I was ready to put on the new toiled. I inspected the flange on the top of the sewer pipe to make sure that it was in good shape. It was rusted but we live in an older house and a little rust it fine. The flange was still in fine condition and not cracked or broken. If not, I would have needed to replace or repair it. Here is a video for how to do that:
Before I put down the new toilet, I needed a new wax ring to establish a seal between the toilet and the sewer pipe. A bad seal will cause water leakage and it will also allow those awful sewer gases to escape into the house. While at the hardware store, I did stumble upon a product called a wax free toilet seal. Basically this is a piece that adheres to the bottom of the toilet and then fits snugly inside the sewer pipe. It is less messy than a wax ring. I was sure to measure the diameter of the sewer pipe to make sure I got the right size of seal. I was skeptical about this wax free toilet seal at first, until I decided to use it to see what would happen and was pleasantly surprised. I attached it to the underside of the toilet bowl and tried to pull it off, noticing, after much effort, that it was moving nowhere.
Charlie also seemed to think it was working just fine. (Again, this was not posed. He was there.)
Next I slid the bolts under the two notches in the flange. I carefully lined up the holes in the bottom of the bowl with the upright bolts and then pushed on the toilet, and the wax free seal went down into the sewer pipe. I had to press kind of hard but could immediately feel the seal. It was very simple. If using wax, it would work similarly: just put the wax on the flange and then press the toilet down hard so that it establishes a seal. When I was tightening all bolts, I made sure not to make them too tight because it could cause the toilet to crack.
After a couple of hours, and several flushes later to ensure there were no leaks and everything was working fine, the toilet replacement project was complete. Hopefully there will not be any more castle repairs for a while. Maybe Charlie will be able to help me with other things instead, just like he was helping me write this blog this morning.
I'm not much of a dreamer. Actually, I should probably clarify that statement. I am a dreamer during my waking hours. My dreams contain all sorts of things: random thoughts and prayers for the future, imaginations of how things might be, and hopes for those people whom are closest to us.
Dreaming while I'm asleep is a completely different story. Generally, I don't dream. Technically, I know that people dream every night but we don't always remember our dreams. I never remember mine.
Michelle, however, always dreams. I get to hear about the crazy machinations that go on in her mind while she is sleeping. They are quite wonderful, except when I'm a part of them. For some reason, I tend to do things wrong in Michelle dreams. I say the incorrect thing or frustrate her. And when she retells these dreams during waking hours, I get to hear about everything I shouldn't have done. There was even an instance when Michelle had a dream and she was mad at me for several days afterward. I don't remember the details, but, yes, that happened.
So, basically, dreaming isn't really necessary for me because my wife dreams for two.
Occasionally, I have a dream. Lately, I'm having one reoccurring dream. It's stupid really. And I can never recall any of the specific details, aside from one, very annoying scenario. I'm at work, sitting in my small office and I walk behind my desk to sit down.
When my bottom hits the chair, I know immediately what is happening: my chair is not my chair.
It doesn't feel right.
It is not the correct height.
It doesn't roll the same on the floor.
It has a different backrest.
But I don't do anything about it. I am just mildly irritated at the fact that I have a different chair. And I wonder what happened to my other chair but I don't really care. Nor do I take any action to resolve my frustration. This all makes me wonder who took my chair and why they would want it. And, if someone really wanted to take my chair when I wasn't present, why did they replace it with a different chair?
I guess this dream has some sign of significance. All dreams mean something, right? What is my chair in real life? What does the chair represent? Why do I feel it is being taken from me?
If anyone out there has a psychology degree, respond to this post. Or, if you do not have a background in dreams, reply to let me know what you think. Even better yet, what are your own reoccurring dreams that you just can't seem to let go?
Please respond to any of those questions... I would like to hear the answers.
Charlie is an incredibly well-behaved dog. I know that those of you who have been around him do not get to see that side of him. Unfortunately, his love for people (especially visitors) diminishes his listening skills. Yet when he is comfortable, just at home with his parents, his true colors and personality really come through.
Early on in the "potty training" process when Charlie was a puppy he would never really signal at the door when he needed to go outside. I assume that most good dogs would go to the door and paw at it to let their human owners know they need to go outside. Or maybe bark at the door? Or something canine-like. Rather, Charlie has always preferred to just stare at us. Or walk around nervously for a while. Or claw at the bedroom door. Or something equally strange. We just could never figure out what his signal was to go outside.
Then, one day, Michelle and I were both sitting on the couch in the living room. Charlie came up to the couch, took his front paw, lifted it, and clawed at the side of it. We asked what he wanted. He did it again.
"What do you want?" (that's right, we talk to him like he is a person).
The incessant pawing continued, more intensely.
Michelle said, "Do you want to go outside?"
Charlie took off running from the living room into the kitchen.
That is how we figured out his signal. Ever since that moment, when Charlie would claw at the couch, we knew that he needed to go outside. Sometimes he would jump at us and claw at our leg or chest when it was apparently urgent that he get out immediately.
Then about a month ago, Charlie did his infamous signal. We were all being cozy on the couch, cuddling up with quilts. Charlie got up from his cuddle spot and pawed at Michelle. She asked if he needed to go outside and he just looked at her. And then he pawed at her again. She said, "OK, Charlie, let's go outside," as she began to get up. Charlie jumped down to the floor and Michelle got up but Charlie just stood there looking at her, confused. She walked through the kitchen to the back door and Charlie followed. She opened the back door. He didn't move. Or go outside.
This relatively similar scenario happened multiple times. We couldn't figure out what was going on. Was the universally understood signal being changed on us? Was our dog confused? Was there a fear of something outside? Had the cooler weather made Charlie reluctant to leave the house? He had us stumped. He seemed equally confused by our reactions to his clawing.
One revealing day, the clawing happened again. This time, Charlie gave us another clue: he put his nose down to the quilt we had to keep us warm, nudged it, clawed at it, nudged it again. At first annoyed, Michelle instinctively lifted up the corner of the quilt, and then Charlie crawled under the covers and went to sleep. And ever since, he claws at us when he wants us to get under the quilt. Even smarter yet, he will claw at us when he wants us to get out the quilt so he can snuggle with it.
I guess Charlie clawing can mean many things: snuggle time, or a need to poop. Our signal has distinctly different, multiple meanings.
Oftentimes, signals in life can be confusing. We think we know what things mean and then we can find later that we were wrong. This happens in our interactions and judgements of other people, in our communication with each other, or sometimes even in conflict. Our judgements can be misleading. Or even flat wrong. When we are not patient, understanding, or persistent, we become jaded, frustrated, and even alienated. Yet, when we try again, take our time, act with caution, and are honest with ourselves and others, we become more willing to forgive or see the best in what otherwise might have been a misguided or misdirected interaction.
I've had a crazy couple of weeks full of misguided signals and energy. My work life has been exhausting to the point where I've wanted to throw in the towel and give up and give in. But I've been forcing myself to view the positive, look for the good, and give up what I can't control. This is not easy for me because I easily forget that there isn't always one signal in life. I can thank Charlie for helping me understand.
Life has been busy lately. And I'm thankful for that. One of the reasons why I have not posted for a while is I have been putting some finishing touches on the exterior doors that I installed on the castle. The other reason is two 50-year-old large oak trees, one in the front yard and one in the back yard, and the corresponding leaves that keep falling from them.
First, the doors. The front door I put on last year and I left the trim unfinished. This has made our castle look a little less like a castle. Michelle has politely been reminding me of the unsightliness of the front of our house.
Then, the kitchen remodel process a couple of months ago, and the installation of a new back door, has led to a matching unfinished theme on both sides of the house. Both door frames have been exposed and awaiting either painting or siding. For those of you who have read past posts, you know that I really don't have the patience for painting, so, instead of painting the trim I was hoping for an easier, seamless solution that would be more permanent. I've been doing research on how to wrap doors and windows with aluminum siding. It looked easy enough. And I formulated a mental plan of how this project was going to work. Oftentimes when I imagine a project on the house, I discover that it is not as easy as I thought. Or I run into complications. Plus, if it is the first time I'm attempting a project, it makes me a little nervous because the end result doesn't always match my mental map. I considered just hiring an expert to do the job.
And I've been procrastinating.
And when I have some extra time and plan on doing the work of finishing the doors, I generally start with attacking all the leaves on the ground, leading to hours of work, and unfinished doors. But the cooler weather signaled a need to make the door project pertinent, in preparation for winter (and to please my wife). Forget experts. I was going to do this myself.
A day off from work and a trip to Home Depot led to my purchase of the aluminum trim coil. When I got home I began to improvise wrapping the doors, and I quickly discovered it was pretty easy, even though I didn't own the proper tools like a coil dispenser. It wasn't ideal, but I cut the aluminum coil with tin snips, shaped the edges to wrap around the corners, and then attached it to the door frames using nails sparingly. Then, I installed the storm doors and sealed the edges with silicon calk. The end result looks pretty darn good for an amateur.
Next, I went back to the ever-present leaves, spending four hours in the yard, clearing piles away from absolutely everywhere. I felt pretty good about my hard-fought effort, until I looked up and saw endless brown leaves still clinging to limbs. After a windy, warm day yesterday, they released themselves. I woke up to a 28-degree morning, and this sight outside the back door:
There were piles just like this everywhere in the yard. If only I could do something amazing with aluminum wrap that would magically make leaves a low-maintenance, one-time, chore.
Lately, I have been thinking about my experience from TEDxLincoln. The talks presented there have made me more aware of that wide world that is out there. Coincidentally, the theme of the day was titled Wide Horizons, Open Minds. Having an open mind definitely can broaden one's horizon, leading to unique perspectives about the world that would easily be missed if one was distracted or not open to seeing. Which, leads me to a short rant about my frustrations from the last couple of weeks.
I've become increasingly disappointed in those whom I work closest with because of their lack of open eyes and open minds and a general unwillingness to ask questions and listen first. Little effort is made to relate to others, listen to them, and make decisions based upon common, mutual understanding. Rather, actions are determined solely based upon one's individual lived experience, and communal experiences or ideas are automatically disregarded as invalid. Living among people who operate in this manner exhaust me. It's infuriating and demotivating.
But that is not the point of this post, nor is it the main reason I've been thinking about TEDxLincoln. I turn to the cool parts, the inspiring parts, the hopeful parts of humanity to recharge when I become frustrated and cynical. And that is where I intend to focus the premise of my writing today.
I stumbled upon a book titled Brain Power. I haven't read the book yet, but it is on my Kindle, awaiting me. The video that corresponds with the book is very cool, comparing a child's brain to the internet. The unique thing about our brains is that they are constantly malleable, changing, based upon where we decide to focus our attention. Our brains literally re-wire themselves because of behavior, connecting and severing synapses.
The neatest thing is that the potential for brain development is greatest between birth and the age of five. Every single experience of a child is a formation of the brain. The video below illustrates this in a more concise way than I can explain it here (and it also explains the formative nature of the internet).
Generally, we don't think of our brains in the terms presented in that video. We take brains for granted. But when you consider them, they are fascinating, impressive, and able to shatter unthinkable expectations. But brains are only capable of doing this if we focus attention strategically. This is proven by listening to Tiffany Verzal's talk from TEDxLincoln titled "Time, intensity, and Patience."
Tiffany and Brandon's daughter, Alexis, was the victim of a traumatic brain injury. As a result of her injuries, Alexis was expected to be blind, unable to eat on her own, and unable to walk and talk for the rest of her life. Tiffany explains in her talk that she and Brandon rejected Alexis's prognosis, repeatedly saying that was, "not OK." Because of their persistence and resilience, Alexis, at the hands of tremendous people at Madonna Rehabilitation Hospital in Lincoln, NE, was able to re-wire, rehab, and reteach her brain. See Tiffany explain how in her talk below:
Through intense focus, brains can do phenomenal things. Tiffany and Brandon Verzal produced an award-winning documentary titled Pathways: from brain injury to hope. I hope that we all can continue to broaden our horizons in life. And, like the title of Tiffany's talk, maybe more focus on time, intensity, and patience is what it will take to do just that.
Well, the time is finally here! The videos of the TEDxLincoln event, Wide Horizons, Open Minds are starting to be posted online. I can't be more excited, because now I can share my thoughts about the event, and, you, the blog readers, can watch these amazing talks for yourself.
The universe and I must be in sync because my favorite talk of the entire day given by Mark Zmarzly, "How Saying Yes Can Change Your Life," was posted first.
Essentially, Mark, through a series of stories, shares how we should balance the "yes" and "no" in our lives. He focuses on the "yeses" as a way to point out that they are what makes a life. As a fellow writer and English major, he shares that the "yes" is what puts a character in motion in a story. And, if you really consider this, it makes sense. All characters, whether they be in movies, on television, or in books, all say "yes" to something and that is what makes them compelling, intriguing, relateable, or likeable. Mark says that nothing happens in a story until a character is in motion.
So true.
Think about that for a moment.
It's really powerful when you dwell on that notion of motion in stories. Of course it's a small leap from characters in stories to us, the people in life, saying "yes" in order to put our own lives in motion. How often do we say "yes"? How often do we put ourselves in motion in order to live a life that is affirming and fulfilling?
While those "yes" moments define us and put us on certain paths, so does "no". The "no" is what captivated me in this talk.
Mark explained that "no" is primal, even for children. When kids are learning language, the word "no" is a root behavior and a word that they learn and use first, long before "yes". There are good reasons for this: children must be able to communicate what they don't like. So while affirmations are important, so are the opposites. Negations have impacts. Mark shares the statistics regarding the yes to no ratio that children receive from adults in their households growing up, and breaks down this ratio by economic status, giving us an insight into one of the many consequences and complications of poverty: a child who grows up in a professional class family will receive 6 yeses to every 1 no, while a child who grows up in a welfare family will receive 1 yes to every 2 nos. A child in a welfare family typically receives a 118% increase in negations per year than a child in a professional family.
Now that is power. Think about the motion of those "nos" a poor child receives and how it creates, shapes, and forms his or her world view growing up.
So the yes/no balance in our lives has real consequences. How do we harness that balance? What do we choose to embrace? And when does fear push us more towards nos rather than yeses?
What were some of the "yes" moments in your life?
One of my "yes" moments in life lead to Charlie. Michelle and I had talked about getting a dog for a long time and we vacillated about it until, one day, I just voiced with certainty that we should get a dog. In no time, we were bringing Charlie home as a puppy.
I'll blog more about that moment in another post. For now, you must watch Mark's powerful talk in it's entirety. It's 18 minutes long. Say "yes" by clicking play. You won't be disappointed that you did.
