I am not feeling at home here on the new blog. At our house, we refer to this particular feeling as “not knowing where the toothbrushes are.” The phrase comes from when Paul and I had just moved to a new state and town, and we discovered we’d left our toothbrushes behind at the last motel. We went to a drug store to buy some replacements, and I started crying in the store because I couldn’t find the toothbrush aisle—and not being able to find something so normal and simple seemed to symbolize all the new things we were going to have to figure out. I like things to be FAMILIAR.

The only way to make this familiar is to keep using it, though, so here I am. Let’s think of something to talk about. Rob got his braces off and is signing up for high school stuff for next year. William got several C’s on his report card and seems to have lost his trumpet (I say “seems” because he also lost his new expensive down winter coat, and then it turned up two weeks after I’d given up all hope). Elizabeth went to her first sleepover and it went great. Edward has been put in a weekly lunchtime group with the school counselor, and when I saw him at a birthday party with his peers I felt unpleasantly sure that it was a very good idea. Henry has got to be enrolled in something this summer or I’m not going to make it. I think I got my first grey hair, but maybe it was just one that got extra bleached by highlighting conditioner. I did our taxes with tax software today, but it’s saying they can’t be filed yet because the forms haven’t been updated yet, even though the website says all forms are now available. I still can’t get my profile to show up at upper right where it’s supposed to. I took down a curtain we put up in the kitchen when we moved into this house, and I laundered it and it completely fell apart.

Also, I bought myself a Webkinz. Elizabeth has one, as did Rob and William before her, and it looked like fun, and I kept being jealous that she was getting to choose decor and clothes and so forth, and so in an impulsive mood I bought one for myself. I have not regretted it. It’s fun. I got the fox, but he was $9 when I bought him, not $20 as he appears to be now. If you’re not picky about the type of animal, you can get one for way cheaper (around $5 at time of typing: golden retriever, moose, Siamese cat, lamb, pig, frog, polar bear, and about a million others)—and the animal itself isn’t really the point, the point is the games and decorating, and the novelty of buying a toy for oneself at such an advanced age. (Plus, the children were impressed.)

[This is all that was in my drafts folder. Just the title.]

[Here’s another one from the drafts file. After I wrote it, I thought, “I’ll bet someone else has already done this, and better.” So I was going to look around and find out. Then I lost the energy for that. Then I thought, “If I had to check everything I wrote to see if someone else had already said it, I’d never hit publish on ANYTHING, because EVERYTHING has already been said.” So here it is.]

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I am thinking of writing a new series of more realistic children’s books:

– If You Can Dream It, You Are Among Many Others Dreaming the Same Thing, and Only a Few of You Will Do It So It Would Be Sensible to Have a Backup Plan, Maybe Something Like Business or Computers

– The Little Engine Who Could, Because Luckily His Design and Physical Components Met Those Specifications

– The Little Engine Who Couldn’t, Because Despite His Constant Repetitions of “I Think I Can,” It Turned Out Those Words Were Not Some Sort Magical Spell Capable of Overriding His Design and Physical Components

– You Can Be Anything You Have Been Born and Trained and Motivated and Had the Opportunity to Be!

– SOMEONE Has to Do the Jobs That Are Less Fun, Rich, and Glamorous, and I Don’t See Any Reason It Shouldn’t Be You

– All That Talk About Everyone Being Special and Unique and Bound for Greatness Can Be Filed With the Whole Santa Claus Thing. Oh, Oops, Didn’t I Tell You About Santa Claus Yet?

– In This Economy, I’d Keep in Mind That We Always Need People Who Work With Pain and Death

– You are Not the Only One Dreaming of Being a Singer, an Author, or an Astronaut

– Believing and Dreaming Don’t Actually Do Anything, So Get Good Grades and Maybe Take Some Extracurriculars

– What, Do You Think People DREAM of Some of These Other Jobs?

[It turns out that if you’re taking a blog from Blogger to WordPress using the WordPress import thing, all your drafts get published. So I’m going through 250 drafts to see if anything is worth saving before I delete. Short answer: no.

But I kind of liked this one that I wrote after a former male classmate on Facebook made me angry with some comments I didn’t feel like I should respond to, right after a former female classmate activated my empathy center. At the time, I decided not to publish it because it makes such sweeping generalizations: clearly not all guys are casual about it, and clearly not all girls are being sensible about it: it was just these two individuals I was thinking of. But I feel pissy about it anyway.]

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I am feeling a bit pissy this evening about how my former MALE classmates are in no danger of running out of chances for little heirs, while my FEMALE classmates are counting years and panicking.

It is making me feel further pissy that some of the males in question seem to have a “I stuck a piece of myself into someone and look what accidentally happened!” attitude about the whole thing, whereas the females are taking folic acid just in case and carefully looking for a quality, intelligent person of good genes and good character who will be a good co-parent and good co-provider. A crappy lack-o’-plan appears to be succeeding, genetically speaking, while a good and sensible plan seems to be tanking.

WHERE FAIRNESS HERE? It is an extremely pissy situation.

I tried another of the appetizer recipes for a get-together and I am ready to make a report! This time I tried Emily‘s party bread, which a friend of hers posted about here.

I was worried because the party was 15 minutes away; I could have done the second heat-up at her house, but I felt nervous about that and preferred not to, so I took the bread directly from the oven, put it into a bag, and ran from the house. It was just fine for the party: not piping hot, but still plenty warm. If I keep going to these get-togethers, I might buy some sort of insulated transportation bag.

Next time I’ll bake it longer: the cheese in the middle hadn’t melted. But the edges were great. People kept going back and picking at it more. There were about seven of us there, I think, and we ate about half the loaf—and that was with six other appetizers to choose from. It seems like it would be a nice flexible recipe that could handle a bunch of different kinds of seasonings. I’ve added the recipe to my recipe box.

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Okay, so what I really want to talk about is that these get-togethers are getting me all agitated, and I don’t know if it’s good or bad. It’s really hard to tell the difference between “Getting outside your comfort zone! good for emotional stretching and growth! relationship/community-building! change of pace! social needs! wheeeee!” and “This is not a good fit for me, and is resulting in distress and agitation instead of the good things that might be experienced by a different person.”

And sometimes in a situation there might be the additional issue of telling the difference between “Not everyone is going to get along with everyone, and one of the benefits of a group is that it’s good for us to have experience dealing with people we wouldn’t have chosen and/or people who have different views on a subject” and “Yes, and that can be true of dealing with the rest of the people in the group because they also have upsides, but this particular person is a humorless, strident, pushy, aggressive, oblivious ASS, and contact with her should be severely limited, and she ruins the entire event so maybe these alleged group benefits should be experienced with a DIFFERENT GROUP.”

…Okay, just typing that out was a big help. I think I will continue to get all RILED: it’s not only a matter of there being one person I find challenging, it’s even MORE an issue of general overstimulation (TONS OF PEOPLE! TONS OF TOPICS!), plus all the usual party issues of “Did I talk too much/little, was I boring, did I say something I shouldn’t have, did I keep killing the conversation, was I too quiet/loud?” But overall, and for now, I want to keep going anyway.

Plus there’s this issue: if she’s so awful, why is she still in the group? Maybe I’m the only one who finds her insufferable. Maybe everyone else finds her sufferable.

And even with the insuffering, the good outweighs the bad. Just for starters, these are the moms of kids in Rob’s grade. EXCELLENT INSIDER INFO AND NOTE-COMPARING. And also I do like THEM. And perhaps I will learn some tips on how to deal with the particular sort of person I mentioned, since there seems to be no world shortage.

I also noticed two other things that lead me to wonder if a Difficult Person can actually enhance a group:

1. You know that thing about friendships being based on shared dislikes? Another guest and I made a huge leap in friendship over one single “o.O” facial expression.

2. I noticed that the one strident person’s strident views seemed to make everyone else more open to the concept of assorted views. Like, a conversation might be getting a little intense and divided—but then Stridentella lets loose with her views, and suddenly everyone else is saying things like “Well, different choices make sense for different families.” It’s like she shows us a caricature of how our own views were shaping up, and that makes us all want to back away from that.

You know what’s incredibly frustrating to launder? Anything filled with down. It floats like a duck. Water rolls off it like….water…off a duck’s…. I think I see the problem. But how to get our down jackets clean, then? Mine is aqua and it might as well be white for how clean it stays, and Henry’s is dark blue but he has nevertheless managed with effort and ingenuity to make the dirt really represent.

I looked around online for awhile, but got frustrated by all the non-answer answers all written in the same format (paragraph about the benefits of down! paragraph asking the question about washing! paragraph failing to resolve the issue! paragraph congratulating ourselves on resolving the issue!) and gave up. How would a person go about washing a DUCK, is perhaps the question we should be asking.

Right now I have the coats floating on top of the water in the washing machine (“soaking”), and periodically I go shove them under the water in frustration, and that is going to have to be good enough.

It was only very, very recently (this school year) that I figured out what to do if I was in a group of people standing around (like, at preschool pick-up), and I was talking with one person in the group, and another person came and stood nearby and seemed to want to join the conversation but seemed tentative about it, like they were afraid they’d be butting in. (Answer: Turn to the new person, say, “We were just talking about [how different the bus system was when we were in school / the big storm expected Friday / the stupid parking situation],” and then start looking back and forth between the two faces while talking.)

When I figured that out, I felt like it was something a lot of people would have already known in an “I just knew; I had no idea it was something anyone needed to be taught” level. But I also didn’t learn until high school that if someone says, “How are you?” you’re supposed to say, “Fine! How are you?” A date taught me, after his dad asked me how I was and I stood there grinning in a friendly but mute way. My date said laughingly, “…You can TELL him!” I was mortified for years, but now look at it as an illustration of how socially comfortable my date was: that he not only didn’t stand there sharing in the awkwardness but also he took swift, friendly, laid-back action to fix it. And I’m sure the date’s dad didn’t care, any more than I would if it were one of my kids’ friends, so I’ve stopped feeling that sink-into-the-floor feeling over it. (It’s nice to know that feeling can fade after…a couple of decades.)

Where was I? Oh, yes. So, there are a lot of social things I encounter where I wonder if this is another of those things where most people know already how to deal with it and I need to find out what it is, or if it’s something most other people struggle with too. Like, I know from reading blogs that MOST people struggle with how to “ask out” a new friend candidate, so I wouldn’t feel strange about struggling with that too. Today’s issue is one I’ve seen mentioned enough to know I’m not one of a tiny minority or anything—but I also think that getting a lot of different responses would be very helpful to show me the range of what society considers normal behavior.

So here it is: If I’m going for coffee for the first time with a new friend candidate, and it’s at the kind of place where a waiter comes to the table, what do we do about the bill? Does one person say “separate checks, please,” or no? Do people share a single check, then glance at the bill after, round up their own share to the nearest dollar, and leave the change on top of the tip? Do people just split it down the middle, even if they ordered different things (surely not, and yet I’ve heard it complained about)? What about leaving the tip: do people discuss how much it should be and each put down half, or does each person just put down their own little stack without consulting the other? If one person puts down a lot more tip than the second person was planning to, doesn’t that make the second person feel pressured?

This is for the FIRST TIME, at a waitered-table restaurant, with someone new, where you don’t yet know how they’d prefer to handle it: how do YOU handle the situation?

I read two books. Now I will say things about them.

(photo from Amazon.com)

Data, A Love Story: How I Gamed Online Dating to Meet My Match, by Amy Webb. My sister-in-law’s sister mentioned this book, and so when I saw it at our library I got it. It’s about a woman who, as you can see from the title, was frustrated with online dating and figured out work-arounds to get what she wanted.

I thought it was a good story and that she had some good practical advice that would be likely to work. But I found her so off-putting I could hardly stand it. I wrote four paragraphs saying why, and then deleted them because if the book showed anything it’s that we all have types we’re drawn to and types we’re repelled by. And also, I felt like a lot of what I didn’t like wasn’t really HER, it was her showing off for her book. Like, if I got to know her when she wasn’t trying to impress us so hard, I might love her.

(photo from Amazon.com)

The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern. I read this because I kept hearing so many different reactions to it. I liked it, mostly. I liked fairy tales and magic a lot when I was a child, and it’s fun to find something along that line for grown-ups. I thought the language kept slipping into “Look how beautifully I’m writing/describing! Look how I’m making the magic COME ALIVE for you!,” and also I haaaaaate second-person singular (“You go through a door. You wonder what you’re going to see,” etc.) but I just skimmed those parts. (Most of it was NOT in second-person singular.)

…I feel like I’m not successfully communicating that I really liked it. I did like it.

The term “middle-aged” is a little awkward, because it’s a tactful euphemism for an older group than it seems to describe. If the typical U.S. human life is, say, 78 years long, then age 39 should be solidly middle-aged—but that’s not what we mean by the term. We actually mean something more like “well past the middle, but the term elderly isn’t right yet.”

I think of middle-aged people as being in their 50s or 60s or so—but it’s a stage of life more than an exact age. It’s a stage with no young kids in the house anymore (unless it’s grandkids), but no need yet for walkers, or for those chairs that help a person stand up. When a middle-aged person gets sick, we don’t think, “Uh oh, hope it doesn’t go to the lungs.” We don’t worry much yet about broken hips, but there are plenty of lost bifocals. No one is talking about whether it’s time to take away a driver’s license or “think about a home,” but there is talk about retirement. There are of course myriad exceptions (a guy in his twenties might have bifocals or have bad lungs or need to use a walker; a guy in his 60s could have little kids with his young wife), but middle-aged is a general term, so I’m speaking of the group it describes in a general way too.

I have a new proposal for terms. I was thinking about how middle-aged doesn’t describe the middle stage of life: it’s more like the third out of four (childhood, adult, middle-aged, elderly). Then I noticed another euphemism for age, which is the “senior” in “senior discount” and “senior citizen” and “seniors residence.” And the combination of “four stages” plus “senior” made me think of how we mark high school and college grades: freshman, sophomore, junior, senior.

We’re currently using senior discount to include people over 65 or even 60 or 55, so we’d have to change that. “Senior” would now be used the way we use “elderly”: deep wrinkles, white hair, fear of broken hips, nursing homes, walkers. Then we could use “junior” to cover the category we now call “middle-aged”: bifocals, falling necks, kids are grown, menopause, needlework about having the fun grandchildren first. Early/mid-twenties (depending on personal maturity rates) up to middle-aged would be called sophomores. And children up to their early/mid twenties would be freshmen.

If we’re going to use euphemisms, it’s nice to have them TIDY. And I also like the way this system automatically implies a gaining of knowledge and experience, rather than an increasing fumbling with new technology and change purses.