Blog Tweakin'

I decided to mess around with my free demo version of Pixelmator and set up a graphic for this blog's title layout.

In retrospect, I wish I had produced the graphic on Madison's laptop, since it has a version of Adobe Photoshop, which is a thousand times easier to manipulate images with than the Pixelmator demo. Unfortunately, the laptop Jen and I use has Mac's new Leopard OS, and Adobe did not make any of their previous Suite products compatible (not very cost-effective from what I've read).

Shilling out the big bucks for Adobe's CS3 is not in the cards for me at the moment, so I plod on with this demo product. It's not terrible, but it does have some clunky tools and saves every image with a watermark. In order to remove the watermark, I have to save the original image in a larger canvas size and then reopen in another program, Preview, so I can crop it in a manner that excludes the watermark.

Yeah, I think I'm using Maddie's computer next time.

Edumacation Assessmentation

The NC EOGs are upon us. What's that, you say? What are the NC EOGs? Well, my friends, they are none other than the bulletproof testing methodology devised by the North Carolina State Board of Education.

Yes, bulletproof. Unlike all the other states in the union, this standardized test is bulletproof. I like the sound of that, you know. Bulletproof. Okay, I'll stop.

So, their website defines the EOGs as follows: The North Carolina End-of-Grade Tests are designed to measure student performance on the goals, objectives, and grade-level competencies specified in the North Carolina Standard Course of Study.

I think it would be more succinct and candid to say the EOGs are designed to drive parents insane and children to early therapy. Since she's just a 4th grader, Madison's only on the hook for 2 days of mathematics and 1 day of reading comprehension testing. Even with that short list, her anxiety levels are fast-approaching critical mass.

But, fret not, the schools have valuable tips to get us through the week.

I find it amusing that the schools feel the need to send preparatory advisements on how to gear your child for the testing period. If not for the wisdom imparted in this guide, I would have never considered any of the following gems I plucked from this list (note the parenthesized sarcastic asides)...

-- Talk briefly about the tests in an encouraging way. (i guess this throws out any opportunity for me to get on my soapbox regarding standardized testing.)

-- Children should know that test scores are important, but are not the measure of your love and acceptance of them. (huh? apparently, i've been going about this all wrong. i guess this means i can't put conditions on my parental love anymore. darn.)

-- Encourage your child to be physically active after school...this will result in better sleep! (this one's easy. just set aside some laborious chores for her, like digging a 20ft trench.)

-- Have your child go to bed early enough to get plenty of rest. (yeah, riiight. early to bed, early to rise...yadda, yadda, yadda...sleep is overrated)

-- Prepare a healthy breakfast. (i'll need to look this one up. i have no idea what they're asking me to do here.)

-- Make sure that you get your child to school ON TIME. (does this mean i have to set the alarm?)

-- Set the alarm a little early to allow your child time to eat & dress without rushing. (oh, i guess i do have to set the alarm. earlier. wait..what?)

-- Give your child positive messages such as "I know you are capable of doing well." and "You can do it." (or "fake a severe migraine. it might buy you some time, as well as some sympathy points.")

-- After the tests, celebrate in whatever way you choose! (now, wait a minute, she's too young to have margaritas!!)

So, yeah, I'm totally behind the EOGs, can't you tell? Oh, and I haven't even shared the full page of "Sleep Tips" these people sent us. Yeah, I'm glad they're here to help incompetent parents like us get through this arduous exam week.

And, yes, that's sarcasm you smell.

The Instigator Rule

Madison is getting pretty good at hockey. Just about every morning, as we wait for her school bus, we crack out the sticks and a ball and take shots towards each other up and down the driveway. Sometimes, we resume play in the evenings, just before dusk.

She's getting better every time...learning how to stop/block shots with her stick, pass, shoot, even one-time a shot. Granted, she chokes up on the shaft a bit too much, but still gets the job done. For Father's Day, I've asked for a goalie stick and regulation-size hockey goal...I figure we might as well take the next step and see how she does with a more standard setup.

Just the other afternoon, I laced up my hockey inline skates and rolled down to the end of the driveway to await her round of passes and shots. It was a nice change of pace for me, although I wish the driveway was more level, because the incline makes it very difficult to maneuver. One day, we'll get her on wheels, too, but that's quite a ways down the road. Heck, she hasn't even mastered bicycling yet, so we'll take that one step at a time.

Boredom set in for her, so we decided to mix it up a bit. She held her stick up with the blade about 3 feet above the driveway's surface. My task was to aim shots at the blade from a distance of about 40-50ft away. It took 10 shots, but I finally hit paydirt. Of course, she'd lost interest by then, so it surprised the heck out of her when I made contact. It was rather funny watching the stick fly out of her hand.

Shortly thereafter, Jen came out and they decided to play a little baseball with a Nerf set Madison owns. Naturally, I started skating and ball-handling up and down the driveway, occasionally taking wrist shots against the garage doors. I must've hit the window sections of those doors at least 6 or 7 times. Luckily, no damage, so it's all good.

What happened next could only be attributed to man's innate need to torment others. There my daughter was, out in the yard, in a near-perfect batting stance, awaiting another pitch from Jen. And there I was, in the driveway, skating in small circles, looking for a new quarry to aim at.

Honestly, when I shot the wrister, I never would have surmised achieving 100% accuracy on my first attempt. I figured I'd graze by the intended target, and my need to antagonize would soon subside. But, NO-O-O-O-O, it wouldn't be that simple, would it?

So, yeah, the shot hit her squarely on her posterior. Let's just say, neither Jen nor Madison were initially very amused.

Of course, being a guy and all, I was rather proud of my precision. Now, in all fairness, the shot was very light and Madison was more shocked than anything else. In the end (no pun intended), we all got a good laugh out of it, but I guess I should select more inanimate objects for my future target practice.

Musica Für Le Masse: pt II

I’m looking forward to seeing DeVotchKa perform at The Orange Peel in Asheville this Wednesday. They are out in support of their current release, A Mad And Faithful Telling.

DeVotchKa’s brand of world music is a fusion of several eclectic resources ranging from Slavic to Bolero to Mexicana to American punk/folk. All this, and they’re from Denver, CO. Go figure.

I’ve added their song, The Clockwise Witness, to my blog music player, which now holds 2 songs and will continue to grow as I add new music. I’m so technological now.

Threat Level: Colorless, But Not Odorless

Tuesday morning was like any other morning, with the exception of Jen's absence...she was still in Florida visiting family. Madison was awoken at 630am to ready herself for school, and I was milling around getting myself together, as well.

Typically, we descend to the garage at about 730am to wait for her bus. It was about 720am when I lost something in the dining room and began a semi-frantic search for it.

It would probably further this story along if I shared a little background on the layout of our dining room. The previous homeowners adorned the entire house with dark brown commercial carpet, including this particular room. While it has ample lighting for dining, it is rather deficient for searching a likewise colored item the size of a button. Incidentally, it was a button I was searching for...it's a long, embarrassing story I won't get into at this juncture.

In addition to the poor lighting and brown flooring, the dining room also houses a traditional wood-burning brick fireplace and french doors leading out to the back porch. It was here that I encountered danger. I was looking behind the curtains and moving some fireplace items when a whiff of natural gas hit me square in the face. And, no, the dogs were not in the room at the time.

You see, the previous owner had also installed a gas line through the floor of this room to allow for a future conversion of the wood-burning fireplace into a ventless gas fireplace. Brilliant planning, one would say, but not on this fateful day. So, I proceeded to access the valve, ensuring that it was properly turned to the "off" position. I then inspected the gasket rings and saw that they appeared in good condition. However, with my nose precariously hovering closely against the the valve's surface, I could clearly smell gas...or, as the professionals would like to tell us, the unnatural scent additive they mix with natural gas primarily for detection purposes.

730am arrived, so we made our way to the garage to await Madison's school bus. You may ask, "Why does this involve parental supervision?" and I will answer, "Because, on more than one occasion, the bus driver has literally passed my child as she waits streetside for the bus." But I digress, as that is yet another story for another time.

Fortunately, the bus arrived on time and I scurried back upstairs to make a quick call to the gas company. After a few qualifying questions, they dispatched a driver to the scene. 5 minutes...he was here in 5 minutes...I was literally dumbfounded by the swift response. He ambled into the dining room, detector in hand, and there was no doubt we had ourselves a gas leak. Again, the valve, not the dogs.

Downstairs he went, tracing the pipeline and performing a cut and cap at the pipe union just below the dining room. No other leaks were detected throughout, and he was finished within 20 minutes. Impressive.

However, more impressive was my brush with danger. Seriously. At least, that's the way I'm recanting this tale.

Ducking The Finish Line

Last Saturday, we trekked down to Greenville, SC for a day at the derby. The Kenducky Derby, that is.

Every year, cities throughout the great expanse of our nation hold fundraising events centered around dumping a large collection of rubber duckies onto a natural mass of water, thereafter witnessing the synergistic convergence of inanimate objects compelled to movement by the forces of nature. Yeah, you interpreted that right: A rubber ducky race.

Rotary of Greenville hosted this particular event at Greenville’s beautiful downtown Reedy River Falls Park. Various businesses sponsored the race and proceeds went to charitable causes like:

The Mauldin Miracle League - A baseball league for children with disabilities
GAIHN (Greenville Area Interfaith Hospitality Network) - Re-establishes housing and roots for homeless families.
Charities of Rotary International

I really have no idea how many of these dayglow yellow, synthetic waterfowl were dispensed into the raging (well, maybe there’s a touch of hyperbole in that adjective) waters of the Reedy River. Event organizers claim 10,000 numbered duckies are entered into this contest, so I’ll just take their word for it.

All in all, it was a fun experience and I look forward to next year’s race. However, I won’t be scaling rock to get a shot of duckies descending the falls…it was rather tedious and constrictive to get good pics. Not to mention, a bit dangerous for a clumsy old man like myself. Next time around, I’ll be up top at the starting point where I can get a full shot of all the rubbery contestants. And ice cream.