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The Microscope I’m Not Looking Through

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Department Of Good Advice For A Good Week

Dateline:  Monday, 6:15 am-ish, listening to The Daily Calm   [1],  a ten minute guided meditation from my Calm meditation app.  The morning’s topic was envy.

“Envy emerges when we devote attention to the many things we don’t have.  By diverting attention to the many things we *do* have, we invite happiness…

This sounds easy, but we rarely admit to ourselves that we are envious….  It’s helpful to consciously challenge our distorted perceptions, remembering that things are never what they seem.Those who seem to have it all almost certainly have suffering we don’t see….

Envy is often the result of an incomplete perspective.  As Josh Billings said, ‘Love looks through a telescope; envy, through a microscope.’
So, next time you find yourself fixated on the narrowness of (what you think you ) lack, widen your view.”

 

This is  a wide enough view for me, for now.

*   *   *

Department Of A Question For The New Year…

The question I have for the new year   [2]    is a question that, in one of my many pipe dreams, would find answers in the new year.  The question concerns educational reform (elementary through university), but it could be applied to almost anything.

An introductory given: it is impossible, of course, to pretend you don’t know something or haven’t experienced something when you do/you have.  Still, what if you tried your best to redesign something as if it hadn’t existed before?  As in, you would be designing it for the circumstances, knowledge, and culture of the present, and not the past.

 


A 100+ year old idea of what a school of the future might look like.   [3]

 

“Sarah Stein Greenberg runs Stanford’s d.school, which teaches design as a mode of problem solving. She and (PIMA podcast host Steve Levitt) talk about what makes her field different from other academic disciplines, how to approach hard problems, and why brainstorms are so annoying.”
(introduction to, and the fololowing excerpts from, How to Have Good Ideas,
People I  Mostly Admire podcast, 1-3-25; my emphases )

Steve Levitt ( PIMA podcast host ):
“It’s especially interesting for me to be talking to you right now because I’m in the middle of a big design project, trying to create and launch a radical new high school in partnership with Arizona State University….”

Stein Greenberg:
“Tell me what you mean when you say radical.
What is going to be radically different?”

Levitt:
“When I say radical, I mean we really are turning upside down almost every accepted piece of how we do high school right now. There’ll be relatively limited synchronous learning, essentially no cases where there’s a teacher up in front of 30 students lecturing. The students will have a lot more autonomy in deciding what they study and when they study. We’re moving towards a mastery model and away from a traditional grading model. Most of what we do in high school today is — we do it because we did the same thing 20 years ago, or 50 years ago, or 100 years ago. And so, what would high school look like if you started over? That’s really the premise we’re coming from.”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Ageist And Cultural Expectations

We are in the midst of having bathroom remodel work done, and also replacing our old water heater.  The plumbers worked in sets of two…we’ve had to have a couple of callbacks.  They are young; this is good; trade skills need to be learned and passed on to a new generation.  Still, I told MH last week that moiself  “…would feel better, as in more confident of their skills, if instead of two guys who look like they’re still learning to shave they were one big older dude with a potbelly and sagging pants.  I mean, how can they be plumbers? – I haven’t see their…you know…professional credentials.”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Is There Really Such A Thing
As Too Much Information?

Another story related to the bathroom remo. As we (MH and I) are getting closer to having the old mold-infested shower replaced, there are decisions to be made.

A Haiku For A Catchy Mantra
Watchwords; catchphrases;
Slogans; mottos – it’s fun, to
concoct a new one.

That new mantra/words to live by we concocted is our determining factor for the height of the pony wall for our new MB shower.   For those ignorant in such matters,   [4]   a pony wall is a partial wall separating or dividing two spaces. In the context of our shower, the pony wall will support one side of a partial glass wall.  Heights for a shower pony wall can vary; they are typically from three to four feet tall, ala the one pictured below.

 

 

Measurements are set for our new shower’s wall panels and glass door and floor. Before proceeding, our project manager told us, we needed to choose the pony wall height.

MH and moiself  discussed the fact that the shower’s pony wall, topped with glass to make one complete side of the shower, is directly across from our large bathroom window, which faces our neighbor’s bathroom window. We’re getting new window shades but they will take a few weeks to arrive; until then, the bathroom windows are bare.  Thus, part of our pony wall height calculations included what we figured we can live with, re our neighbors possible “seeing” us when we’re in the shower, sans window shades.   [5]

We’re both not too concerned as per our chestal areas (as the SNL Church Lady might put it) possibly being on view; but we would prefer privacy below the waist.  Thus, we – I keep using the royal we but really and truly, this is one time that moiself  was not solely to blame credit – decided our pony wall height requirement could be summed up thusly:

Boobs, not pubes.

Catchy, y’all gotta admit.

 

 

Also it sounds (to me at least) like it could be a classic three word slogan, something chanted during a political protest march, or boldly proclaimed on a sign ( “Boobs, not pubes!” ).  About what issue, or cause….?  To be decided.

Hell yeah, we  ( read: moiself ) shared this with our project manager.

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [6]

“If, as the true believers claim, the word ‘gospel’ means good news, then the good news for me is that there is no gospel, other than what I can define for myself, by observation and conscience. As a freethinking human being, I have come not to favor or fear religion, but to face and fight it as an impediment to civilized advancement.”

( Steve Benson, Pulitzer Prize-winning editorial cartoonist, ex-Mormon, grandson of
Mormon president Ezra Taft Benson, as quoted in “From Latter-Day Saint
to Latter Day Ain’t” (Freethought Today, December 1999)   [7]

 

*   *   *

May we remember to widen our view;
May you remember to check a tradesperson’s…credentials;
May you come up with an inspiring three word slogan;

…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] “These short sessions focus on different aspects of mindfulness and introduce new concepts for both beginner and advanced meditation students.”

[2] I have many, many questions for and about the new year.  One at a time….

[3] “The Public Domain Review presents ‘a series of futuristic pictures by Jean-Marc Côté and other artists issued in France in 1899, 1900, 1901 and 1910. Originally in the form of paper cards enclosed in cigarette/cigar boxes and, later, as postcards, the images depicted the world as it was imagined to be like in the year 2000.” Teaching&learninginhighered.org

[4] Like moiself , before we undertook a bathroom redo.

[5] Or with window shades which we’ve forgotten to pull down.  Stuff happens.

[6] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

[7] “I was on track to eternal Mormon stardom, reserved especially for faithful men in a church run by men,” Benson has written.  He and his wife Mary Ann, who have four children, left the Mormon Church in a highly publicized break in 1993, “citing disagreement over its doctrines on race, women, intellectual freedom and fanciful storytelling,” as he has written.  Benson lists among the benefits of leaving religion: “Another day off, a 10-percent raise and getting to choose his own underwear.”  ( excerpts from Freethought Today profile, 1-2-25, compiled by Annie Laurie Gaylor, © Freedom From Religion Foundation )

The Back Hairs I’m Not Sauteing

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“California is about the good life.
So a bad life there seems so much worse than a bad life anywhere else.”
(Sarah Vowell)

Last weekend/earlier this week my family traveled to Southern California. It was a personal and business trip, visiting my mother and my older sister and her family, and for the biz matters, doing another college exploratory trip for Belle. Monday evening, minutes after our flight took off from the Ontario airport heading for PDX, MH and Belle saw this sight, from the right/east side of the airplane.

http://abclocal.go.com/kabc/story?section=news/local/los_angeles&id=9212007

It was a multivehicle crash, with even more emergency vehicles responding.  Strange, how an event so tragic looked so surreal and…well…picturesque [1]…from the window of an ascending jet plane.

*   *   *

As I have whined about described here previously, I am not fond of trips to So Cal (more specifically, Orange County) for a variety of reasons, and this trip included the cranky-inducing reason of getting up at 3:55 am to make our 6:15 boarding time. In what has become the proud tradition of American aviation, our two hour flight included no breakfast service [2].

After fetching our rental car we searched for the nearest non-fast food food venue near the Ontario airport. The first restaurant-looking place we came to was a Farmer Boys. Although the chain of restaurants is a “Southern California Icon,” [3] So Cal native moiself had never heard ’em. Guess their iconic status was achieved after I left the state.

But I digress.

Picking at my Farmer Boys breakfast, I realized how spoiled I’d become, living where I live in Oregon. What with the abundant local organic grocery stores, farmer’s markets and our CSA membership I have become used to the idea that eggs should taste like eggs and tomatoes like tomatoes.   Had I been blindfolded I would have had no idea what I was eating, as my over-medium [4] eggs and tomato slices were remarkably flavor-free.

I was in California, supposedly the produce capital of the US if not the world, and it was August, eighty-plus degrees, and a restaurant with the word “farmer” in its name can’t serve a decent tomato and a fresh egg?

*   *   *

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming, Dissing So Cal, to ask readers to engage in a moment of bedlam on behalf of Men With Righteous Cojones.  Specifically, actor Mark Ruffalo, who sent a stirring letter to a reproductive rights rally in Mississippi, [5] In his letter Ruffalo defends women’s reproductive rights and shares his mother’s own experience obtaining an illegal abortion.

“What happened to my mother was a relic of an America that was not free nor equal nor very kind. My mother’s illegal abortion marked a time in America that we have worked long and hard to leave behind. It was a time when women were seen as second rate citizens who were not smart enough, nor responsible enough, nor capable enough to make decisions about their lives. It was a time that deserved to be left behind, and leave it behind we did, or so it seemed.”

 How I wish Mr. Ruffalo’s eloquently penned sentiments were also a relic. That is, how I wish I could show his letter to my children and their response would be along the lines of, Wow, what was going on back then?

It’s déjà vu all over again.  Nevertheless, it is with great appreciation that I bestow the Men With Righteous Cojones award to Mark Ruffalo.

    * *  *

When the Oakies left Oklahoma and moved to California it raised the I.Q. of both states.
(Will Rogers) 

No recounting of a trip to So Cal is complete without my complaining about the region’s water usage. The state has been in a drought since the last time Anthony Weiner sent a weiner-free text,  and this year has been the state’s  hottest year on record, and what did I see during my morning walks around my mother’s neighborhood?  H-two-O, all over the sidewalks and running over the curbs and into the gutters and drains, runoff from all of those consequence-denying, Colorado River-sucking hydro-vampires watering their lawns, their stupid, ugly, vanity, royalty-imitating[6] status-flaunting lawns.  Not only that, I passed several houses with NEWLY SEEDED FRONT LAWNS, as in, the kind that require copious watering to keep the sprouts alive.  Made me want to slap somebody upside the head with a water witch’s dowsing stick.   Which would, you know, hurt.

I have three words for the average So Cal homeowner.  Okay, I have six, but the first three I shall keep to myself. [7]  The second three: Drought. Resistant. Landscaping.

*   *   *

 Back to reasons for the trip: Belle and MH sat in on an Admissions Talk for Claremont McKenna College & the Claremont Colleges consortium, on Monday afternoon.  K and I passed the time at Claremont’s library and then joined Belle & MH for the campus tour, after which we had a couple of hours before needing to get to the airport. Belle, exhausted from the tour (and the summer cold that plagued her during the entire trip) nixed MH’s offer of a drive to/tour of his college, Caltech, which turned out to be a good move as we enjoyed a scenic drive up the San Bernardino’s highest peak, Mt. San Antonio (more commonly known as Mt. Baldy).

We had dinner at the Mt. Baldy Lodge Restaurant, where my curiosity if not my appetite was piqued by the entrée menu item described thusly:

“And for all you healthy people….
THE PLUMBER’S WIFE: steamed vegetable medley with chunks of chicken topped with melted cheddar and jack cheese.”

They got me. I had to order it. About the “healthy” descriptor – yeah right. Not with that portion size.

MH was concerned that I might find it necessary to imitate the sartorial accoutrements of the entrée’s namesake.  I assured him that my pants and health would remain plumber-influence free.

*   *   *

Our friend LAH graciously agreed to house/cat sit during our trip to Southern California. We had her over to dinner last Thursday, the 15th, to enjoy the pleasure of her company and to give her house/cat care instructions.  Somehow, the table conversation was steered to [8] the story about the dinner many years ago wherein I first served Brussels Sprouts to a leery LAH.  Although LAH later came to appreciate the oft-maligned brassica, she gave me a hard time about it that night.  She reminded me that, after that momentous dinner, as she was walking home on a frosty night, she put her hands into her jacket pocket and found an unexpected bonus: a plastic baggie of the still-warm Brussels sprouts.

Inspired by L’s generous reminder of one of my better pranks, I launched into infomercial announcer mode:

But wait – there’s more! It’s a cruciferous-cancer-fighting veggie AND a hand warmer!

 Which prompted son K to share his opinion of the vegetable in question:

“Brussels Sprouts are the devil’s back hairs.”

Of course, I had to ask. Why, in K’s opinion, are Brussels Sprouts the devil’s back hairs?

“Because they grow in stalks and are disgusting.”

 Try sautéing your devil’s back hairs in olive oil with diced shallots. And may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!


[1] Or perhaps “cinematic”

[2] But the beverage service included complimentary beer and wine.  Yo ho ho for SkyWest Airlines.

[3]  Well, according to Farmer Boys.

[4] “Eggs served any style” the menu said, so I asked for poached.  “Any style” translation: any style but poached.

[5] New regulations threaten the state’s only abortion clinic, which has been targeted by an anti-abortion group, the ironically named Operation Save America.

[6] Historians tell us the 17th century European royals flaunted their wealth with lawns, which, besides  showing off castles and manor homes, let the neighbors know that the lawn owner was so wealthy he could afford to use his land as a playground rather than a source of food. Thus, the lawn became a status symbol.

[7] They are best shared with a sympathetic listener, both of us armed with an adult beverage.

[8] “Somehow the table conversation was steered to…” I should come up with a suitable acronym for this phrase, which, in my house, introduces many an anecdote containing (or excusing) a plethora of fart jokes or other stories of questionable taste.