Blind spots

That last post was a bit smug, wasn't it? Look at me, how great I am for taking a little time off in the middle of the day?

Lot of good it did me. I walked into LAIS598, Nuclear Power and Public Policy, and as I was setting my laptop on the podium, a migraine aura hit. I spent the first hour of class trying to meet students and go over the syllabus with a good chunk of my vision compromised, so everything had to be done on peripheral vision. And, as I'm going over the expectations for the course, I'm inwardly wondering what I'll do when the headache hits, if it's a bad one.

Luckily, it wasn't a bad one, and perhaps being preoccupied and full of teaching adrenaline also made it not seem so bad (possible lesson: maybe lying in bed with a migraine encourages you to focus on the pain more? Or maybe I just lucked out and didn't get creamed this time?). I made it through most of the class, ending just a little early.

But this is the fifth migraine in two months, four with visual auras. So, I'm wondering if this is going to be the new thing, living with frequent migraines. I'm hoping instead that I've developed a sensitivity to something, and that it can be managed. I had red wine night before last, and my face got all blotchy (that never happened before), so maybe it's that. Or caffeine? Always the caffeine?

Pop Quiz

What's better?

A) Sitting in your office and working for one more half-hour, just to squeeze that much more productivity out of the day and be that much more prepared for class; or,

B) Calling Nancy and laughing your ass off for a half-hour, which leaves you feeling much happier and more at ease about teaching your night class?

No trick question here. But there is a wrong answer.

Soper and the Alternative Hedonist

The No Impact paper is writing itself faster than I thought it would, in part because I'm just working on it a little every day, in small chunks, so it doesn't feel overwhelming. But it's also partly because it is a topic that I've been working on and thinking about--both at work and in my personal life--for a long time.

Today, I'm reading this, from an British environmental philosopher named Kate Soper. She writes:

A reduction in the working week or daily workloads, together with provision for more secure part-time employment, would singificantly relieve the stress on both nature and ourselves. It would free up time for the arts of living and personal relating that are being sacrificed in the 'work and spend' economy. It would allow everyone to reap the benefits of co-parenting, and open up new ideas about personal well-being and success.


This last bit, the emphasis on personal well-being and success, rather than success determined by the workplace or the bank account, she calls "alternative hedonism." Alternative hedonism is the idea that not only is living more simply, locally, and slowly good for the planet, but it makes for happier people.

Which I think is exactly No Impact Man's message. Which has had quite the impact on me. Alternative hedonism is why I refuse to work too many hours in the week. It's why I build projects with my kids using stuff we find or already have. It's why I've learned to cook, and tried to start a garden this year. It's not because these things, in and of themselves, will save the world, but because they save my world. They feel good. They're pleasurable. And it's a much deeper, more lasting pleasure than that provided by three hours in the mall. And there is no down side (the way there would be to three hours spent in a mall).

Of course, the fulfillment of alternative hedonism, in its best form, also requires collective and/or government action. Soper:

Those wanting to go by bike will need their cycle track provided (and trains that help rather than hinder cycle travel). Those hankering after a different 'work/life balance' will need to be allowed to work less or in more life-enhancing ways.


And so on. The personal and the political meet. And, as someone who thinks about communication strategies, the message of pleasure rather than sacrifice appeals. As a human just trying to live a good, happy life, I like that I can do what feels right, but also be connected with something larger than myself that makes positive change in the world.

I'm oversimplifying Soper's argument (she makes some very interesting statements about the class repercussions here), but I like what she has to say. What do you think?

The Reign of the Beast

Addie did just fine. More than fine. Eric put her on the bus, then raced up to the school in his car to meet her there. He got her to her classroom, and the rest is history. She got to walk two younger kids to the Principal's office (on an errand, not for punishment) and made friends, did art, sang songs...all good. When Eric met her bus at the school this morning, she just rushes past him, not even making eye contact, yelling, "I know where it is! I know where it is!"

And that was that. For now.

Nolie, on the other hand, is making her own sort of reputation this week. Her preschool is closed until next Monday, so she's back at the in-home daycare she started out in as a baby/toddler. Apparently she took a mouth-sized chunk out of one little boy's back. To make matters worse (for me) I happen to work with the boy's mom, and had to do some serious patching up this morning.

"I think it was a love bite," said Eric. "She wouldn't do something like that in a mean way."

I rolled my eyes. Right. A love bite. That leaves a screaming purplish oval scar on an 18-month-old's back. But I think what Eric means is that Nolie is just full, full, full of emotion right now, and she's struggling with ways to express it. So, she might have been really excited to be around that baby boy, and instead of hugging and kissing, she smothers and bites.

Still totally unacceptable, and Eric and I had to have the "let's get on the same page with handling this" talk, but I think he's probably right. So, we now have a no tolerance policy for hitting and biting, which earns her an instant time-out. And when she's mellow or shows positive behavior, she gets showered with love and attention. Hopefully we can tip some scales.

My goodness, she can be a BEAST, that Nolie. Totally adorable, loveable, and full of cuddles and hugs. And also all-out Lord-of-the-Flies torture-machine. I hope we all survive the Reign of the Beastie.

Oh, and

did I forget to mention that the girls went to our friends' house Friday night for a SLEEPOVER? And Eric and I had the house to ourselves for the first time EVER? And we spent that time going to the best concert EVER? And a few other things?

If you know what's good for you, you'll buy tickets to see these guys as soon as you possibly can. Their show KILLS. I felt like one of those teenagers at a Beatles concert. It was that amazing.

Enough caps.

Weekend Good Stuff

Well, nothing cures the kindergarten blues like an organization/craft project, I always say. So today was spent getting ready for having both girls at different schools again by making some new hanging racks for the front hallway. Inspired by Amanda Soule's fantastic new book Handmade Home, the girls and I donned our work clothes, got out the sanders, screwdrivers, sharpies, paint, and hot glue gun, and turned two boards we found in the shed into these. It was loads of fun.

The last picture is Addie, who, after a great day, had a bummer of an ending, running into a chair and getting a fat lip. Jeez.

Kindergarten Blues

"Have your hanky with you when you drop her off," my mom said. "Kindergarten is a big one."

"Hmmm." I washed another pot.

"Or, maybe you won't cry like I did. She's been in school for a while now, so maybe you're more used to it..." she trailed off.

"Yeah. I think so. We're more used to it."

But. Here I am. Saturday night, bawling my eyes out, thinking of Addie in School-school--not preschool, not daycare, but real-deal school--starting Monday morning. Imagining putting her on the bus. Imagining her new life, rough and exciting and private.

I sneak in to take a look at her asleep. Like usual, she's stripped down to her underwear, covers thrown off, a hot sleeper, just like her dad. Her limbs are spread out over the whole bed, a baby giraffe's limbs, thin and all angles. Her ribs show. Her hair covers her face. She breathes quietly, not like when she was a baby, a toddler, gasping for air for so long. Us, somehow not knowing anything was wrong until the teachers called us in for a meeting. "We have to put her bed at an angle," they told us. "So she can breathe. We think you should see another doctor."

And today, her crawling all over the boulders in Clear Creek with her buddy Cole. Me calling out to her to be careful, explaining to our friends that her balance is off, that she falls easily. But she doesn't. She angles out and over them fine, big strong girl.

So what's all the crying about? What's my heart doing here, outside of my chest again, like when my girls were babies? Why so raw?

Maybe because I've fought for so long to separate from Addie, to have her grow up and get "my" life back (forgetting how much she and her sister are my life), and now she has her own, and I find myself reaching after her. And she just eludes my grasp.

I'm being overly literary. Too dramatic. It's not all that. It's just School.

It is.