Generation Exhausted

Everything you need to know you actually learned in fifth grade

New show to watch: Are You Smarter Than A Fifth-Grader?

Watched it this eve with my very own fifth-grader. She knew none of the answers, which probably has more to do with the difference between an American education and a Canadian one.

I got all but two - one was a math question (math is HARD!) about the area of a triangle, and the other was a US history question. I was thinking of the right president but got my names switched. I knew it was the one after Lincoln - I just said Grant instead of Johnson. Forgive me - it was US history, after all. Sadly, I probably would have done much worse on any question having to do with Canadian Prime Ministers.

However, it was hilarious - the adult contestants performed very, very poorly.  Or at least the first one did. The second one, well, we'll see how far she gets tomorrow night.

Meanwhile, I'm brushing up on my US History.

The long and winding road

The other morning, I taught a workshop, for the second year in a row, to a group of young women in one of those pathways to employment-type programs. I'm not sure of the exact parameters of the program, but essentially it's to provide a "hand up" to young mothers who, by virtue of their age, education, and/or work experience, would find it difficult to find gainful employment.

I love working with this demographic, and I wish I had the chance to do so more often. I know what's it like to be sitting on their side of the table, and if they learn nothing else from me, I want them to realize that teen motherhood doesn't have to mean that there is no hope. I always find it a bit complicated - I don't want to sound like I'm promoting teen parenthood, but I do want to offer some encouragement. Mistakes are learning experiences, not life sentences.

AGK knows what I mean. Maybe she can explain that part better than I.

Anyway. What struck me about this group that I've never really "gotten" before, was their total inability to see the themselves ten and fifteen years down the road. While everyone's future is somewhat murky, and full of possibilities and choices, they really can't envision what it will be like to be - my age.

I may be making assumptions - I was only with them for a few hours, and our conversations were brief. But this was my impression:

They can't imagine that it will ever be important to them to create a good first impression. They can't imagine knowing the difference between being liked and being respected and realizing that being respected can mean more. They can't imagine wanting to be a positive influence on someone's life, and wanting people in their lives that are a positive influence on them.

I've been trying ever since to figure out if I was the same, then, and I think, in some ways, that I was. Today, at 35, I look ahead, and, while it's blurry, I can imagine what my life will be like - or at least, what I will be like in my life.

But at 18? Ha. I can tell you this - having a baby when I was 18 was a piece of cake compared to having a teenager when I was 31. Babies are mostly maintenance - feeding, changing, clothing, rocking. But in my early 30s, my kids were starting to need things from me that I was only then starting to understand myself. Answers, and guidance, about life, the universe and everything, and up until then, the best answer I could come up with was 42.

At 18, that picture of my life to come was nearly impossible to envision. Oh sure, I saw three-bedroom houses and white picket fences and little girls' pink bedrooms. But there are so many other things that I simply never could have imagined.

Easy things and hard things. Joy, and sorrow. Celebration and grief. Accomplishment. Confusion. Clarity.

This is the second reason why I like working with them. Because it's important to me to remember where I've come from, which helps me to focus on where I'm going. They remind me that a good life is not always a given - and that I have to feel grateful for the supports and encouragement and "hands up" that I've received along the way. And the very best way to show gratitude is to give back to those who come after.

When I was 18, I was an idiot about a lot of things. Let's face it, most teenagers are. At 35, I'm not some wise giver of advice, or someone who has all the answers. But I'm glad I know a little more now than I knew then.

March is soon, right?

I think that if we're going to to make February the shortest month anyway, then we should just go ahead and cap it off at the 22nd. Seriously. Three weeks is just about the limit of February that my system can handle.

However, in light of the hysteria that moving Daylight Savings Time is causing, I imagine a calendar change wouldn't go over too well.

It's not like I want the magic ones or anything

Just out of curiosity - has there been some major world event in the last few months that has affected the availability of canned mushrooms? Because there's been a big gaping empty spot on the grocery store shelf since before Christmas.

I figured it was just that particular store or chain, but tonight I shopped somewhere different, and guess what? Zip, zero, zilch, nada. Not a fungus among us, you might say.

Anyone?

Yeah, like that'll happen

Sorry to stay away so long - I was still laughing hysterically over my last post. Needless to say, I haven't gotten around to even LOOKING at that skeleton-that-could-be-a-novel-someday.

I've joined a Query Challenge on one of my online groups, and I hope that, if nothing else, it helps me to get on track to filling out the rest of the year with some assignments. Not that the year's not going well already. I had a big ego boost the other day when I realized that I'm in two mags on the news-stand at the same time - this month's Readers Digest Canada and this month's Canadian Family. Check 'em out!

Deadline looming, so don't be surprised if it goes "dark" around here until Monday night.

See Spot. See Spot run.

See Shelley. See Shelley procrastinate.

Raise your hand if you've noticed that the more I actually have to do, the more I post here for your perusement and amusement. I will regale you with tale after tale, insight after observation, until the last possible second, and then....I'll disappear from Pajama-stan for days, buried under an avalanche of deadlines and must-do's.

So, in the midst of interviewing, writing, planning, paperwork and erasing my Web site, I've decided that now is the absolutely BESTEST time for my to haul out my Nano 2003 manuscript and see if I can't make something of it.

She's Running Just As Fast As She Can was my first foray into the frantic-50k-in-30-days, and while I wasn't displeased with it, it was about as drafty as a first draft can get. And until last week, I literally hadn't opened the file since typing The End over three years ago.

But it's been on my mind, and she says she thinks I might have something there, so I'm going to take it out, dust it off, and see if I can't turn the skeleton of a story into something with flesh and muscle and life. Something with a soul.

Although, Jericho returns tonight, so this might be one more thing I end up putting off for a while.

Snowed in wouldn't be so bad

Today's accomplishments can be summed up thusly:

• Got up early and drove everyone where they needed to go
• Napped
• Retrieved everyone from where they were before the Snow Storm Of The Century hit
• Got bread before the Snow Storm Of The Century hit
• Tried to learn Wordpress and/or Joomla and instead succeeded in deleting my entire Web site that Linda built for me

And yeah, that's about it. Oh, I tended to some phone calls, etc. but all in all, it wasn't my most productive day. It didn't help that The Snow Storm Of The Century had all the media in this part of the world crying "the sky is falling" for like, a day and half before the first snowflake hit the ground. Seriously, it's enough that the weather is news - but shouldn't it at least get to be weather first?

News of the wired

No, the title isn't a typo. I first heard this little bit of news on the radio last week:

New York may ban iPods while crossing street

NEW YORK (Reuters) - New Yorkers who blithely cross the street listening to an iPod or talking on a cell phone could soon face a $100 fine.

New York State Sen. Carl Kruger says three pedestrians in his Brooklyn district have been killed since September upon stepping into traffic while distracted by an electronic device. In one case bystanders screamed "watch out" to no avail.

So okay, the proposed legislation seems draconian, invasive, and perhaps a little silly, but I have to admit, my first thought was "YESSSSS!"

It's possible I'm a wee bit jealous - I'm not an iPod owner. But truthfully, I don't really want one - I tried my daughter's, with its wee earbuds, and was disturbed that the music seemed to be coming from inside my head. There's enough drama going on inside my head on a good day - it doesn't need a soundtrack, thankyouverymuch.

But it seems I'm perpetually on the verge of saying "Take those things out of your ears!" And by "on the verge" I mean I only actually say it out loud to my kids. The rest of the time, I just think it.

At home, it's annoying - I'll be talking away to a kid while she's in her room, then catch sight of the wires trailing and realize she hasn't heard a word.

But out of the house - well, it just bothers me a little bit. Sometimes a lot bit. The iPod, or any mp3 player has become the latest in a long line of gadgets that are messing with our notion of what's appropriate relative to time and place. They allow us to avoid engaging with our surroundings so that we never have to be 100% where we are, in the moment. Plugging in an ear bud, tapping out a text message - it's instant distance from wherever we happen to be. So naturally, we stop paying attention to what's going on around us.

A law probably isn't the answer. But I'd hate to think that it would take walking into the side of a bus to make most of us realize that being immersed in our own little bubble all the time might not be the best place to be.

The obligatory February, How I Loathe Thee, Post

As Linda pointed out in the previous comments, it's February, and I hate February, and therefore, I have no excuse for not blogging, because I can blog about how much I hate February.

She's right, of course, but I was trying very hard not to end up sounding like a broken record. After all, I've been blogging for three? four? years now, and my disgust for the shortest month of the year is well known by those who visit here.

And really, how many ways are there to say "I hate February."?

We could just blame my lack of bloggage on February and call it a day. But I sense that would not be enough to appease the masses. After all, you blog readers, you want details. You want description. You want pithy prose and insightful observations. You want me to blog.

So I shall do my best.

It's cold. Freakin', unbelieveable, this-isn't-fair, minus-you've-got-to-be-kidding-me cold. Was it only six weeks ago that people were worried that lack-of-winter would wreak havoc on the spring perennials, that Little was riding her Christmas scooter down the sidewalk in her pajamas? Hah! January, she pulled a bait-and-switch on us, that's for certain sure.

We thought winter wasn't coming. Just goes to show you.

So, it's cold, and the office is in the basement. And the new electric heater (the old one drowned in the deluge) has been running down here much of the time. And the electric bill came today and hubby near about had a stroke. So I have a choice - I can turn the heater off and stay upstairs and watch lots of TV, or I can hang out in my office and bankrupt us in order to be warm enough to move my fingers across the keyboard.

It's also dark, in the basement. Oh, not dark dark, but noticeable lack of sunlight dark, on account of the blanket covering my office window to stop the draft. And I need sunlight to be all chipper and happy. And productive.

Also, because I did try to stay upstairs and watch lots of TV, I've become addicted to home improvement shows.  I'm trying to convince Middle that she should forget about college and go into the house-flipping business with me. In spite of the fact that the local real estate market has tanked, we have no seed money, and plus I have no idea how to hang drywall. Although I'm very good at watching people do it on TV.

Actually, that may be why this February has not been quite has bad for me - because I'm spending a little more time upstairs, where it's warmer and sunnier.

However. February sucks, no question. But there are only 20 days left, and I'm pretty sure I'll make it through.

They weren't this clingy when they were little

It's a running joke that parents wait with anticipation for their child's first words, and then, when the blessed milestone is passed, they spend the next several years wondering if the kid will ever shut up.

My point being that technology, and access to it, is a wonderful thing. But my wonderful teenagers are using it to be a pain in my butt. Have you seen all the mom-harassing that's been going on in the comments here? They correct me. They tell tales on me. They criticize me. And then they complain that I'm not blogging often enough.

The irony is that they're carrying out most of this tough love during the school day. I've half a mind to contact the school and say, "My kid is bored. Here, she said so herself. Give her something to do, would you?"

However, it is adorable that my teenagers are choosing to check up on me while they're away from home. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

And it gives me the unique opportunity to nag them EVEN WHEN I'M NOWHERE NEAR THEM. Like this:

Potato chips are not lunch. Eat something healthy.

Sit up straight. And don't wrinkle your nose at me like that, I can see you through this screen, you know.

Stop picking on your sister. She did not start it. And even if she did, that doesn't mean you have to continue it.

Don't forget to bring your history notes home for review.  AND your math.

Zip up your coat. And you better be wearing mittens and a hat, it's cold out there.

There, now, aren't you glad you checked in?