Q is for Quorum

You know, there are a lot of "Q" words that are math-related. That's just bringing me down.

My Webster's says that the third definition of "quorum" is "a select group or company"... much like the group at the Austin Bike Summit last Saturday.

First of all, the day was brilliant. I got to meet a lot of people whose names I had heard, but who I had never seen in person. Plus, the casual networking with other Austin cyclists was also very cool. And since I've only just started volunteering with some cycling advocacy groups, it was also a great opportunity to see what is coming in the future as far as cycling improvements in Austin. For instance: A bike boulevard, bike sharing, in-street bike parking... all sorts of fun stuff.

And there were giveaways! And a lunchtime bike ride! And free food! Free drink, too, but I only partook of the water.Which tasted funny.

One really cool takeaway for the day was the workshop on social marketing-- basically, we talked about ways to portray cycling as normal, instead of aberrant, behaviour. And someone put it very succinctly when he said, "We are the message as well as the messenger, by being on the street." A deep thought for us all, yes?

Do you cycle? Do you attend quorums based around your hobby (whatever that may be)? What do you do with funny-tasting water?

P is for Pop-Tarts

I forgot my lunch today, so I went a bit more collegiate than usual and bought a box of Pop-Tarts. Breakfast of champions. And lunch of champions. And afternoon snack of champions.

I love, love, love Pop-Tarts. But in the interest of remaining a reasonably healthy adult, I try to limit my consumption. Which is a real bummer.

So I was beyond delighted when I went looking for images for this post and ran across this recipe for homemade  pop-tarts. I did a happy dance. My life of making things keeps getting better.

What's your favourite Pop-Tarts flavour? How many ways can you think of that they will send me to an early grave? Or, what flavour of homemade pop-tarts should I make first?

O is for Omniscient

As in, the third-person omniscient narrative. Because as in life, the more I research writing, the more I find out that I know jack squat. (Sorry for the cliché. My originality-o-meter is broken.)

Now if I could tell you what the bear
is thinking, then I would be
omniscient.

What I've always thought of as third-person omniscient, it turns out, is actually third-person multiple. Or so says my friend Wikipedia. Kinda. Because the more I read, the more I think "what the heck?" about points of view.

So, here goes. I write almost exclusively in third person limited. First person only works for me sometimes. And I might just tear out my hair if I have to remember what every single person is thinking all the time, so I'm not wild about being omniscient, although I can see where it might have some uses.

Never mind. I'm going to go write something now, and see what point of view comes out. This should be interesting.

What can you tell me about point of view?

Resting is Underrated

Did you learn about the Blue Laws in school? The ones that kept shops from opening or people from working on a Sunday, until about the mid-1900s? Some days I'm glad they're gone. Other days I think it might be nice to have them back.

Either way, I'm doing homework today. Lots of homework. Because since I spent the entire day yesterday at the Austin Bike Summit (which was totally worth it, BTW; it was brilliant), I got no essay-writing or other studying done.

So! A short post today to exhort someone to take the day off, since I am not doing so. Enjoy your free day on me.

How do you spend your Sundays?

N is for Never

There's a reason why "never say never" is such a common expression. I can think of no better way to ensure that something will happen than to say, "I'll never (insert undesirable behaviour here)". So in the past few years, I've changed to saying, "Honey, please stop me if I ever do that." And he is overly-eager to agree.

It's remarkable how easy it is to say "I'll never". It's scary how it's even easier to forget the "I'll never"s when faced with the same situation. I remember when I would never be a runner... and never run a marathon... and never neglect my running for other things... and never buy fancy clothes just for running. Hee hee hee, joke's on me.

Of course, this applies to more serious things, too. Someone is bound to say it, so I'll just get it out of the way: Especially when you have kids. And even though I don't, I've seen enough friends make the transition to know that it's true.

Right now, for instance, I never want to have a car again. But I can go from "never" to "maybe" to "okay, then" in a hurry. So I'm reserving judgement, despite me really really enjoying my bike right now. And doing research on bike trailers for kids. Who knows what the future may bring for us? (FYI: this is not a twisted way of announcing that I'm pregnant. I'm just planning ahead.)

In the meantime, I'm never going to be a millionaire. And I defy the Fates to prove me wrong.

What do you do that you would "never" do? Or, what is your current "never"?

M is for Memories (or, More Non-Trad Travails)

Okay, I admit it, this isn't a travail. But whenever the conversation turns to childhood television shows, I always feel a bit left out. Apparently there was a complete turnover between the early 80s and early 90s in children's TV (apart from Sesame Street, of course).

After spending a few days trying desperately to find someone else who remembers Square One, I finally struck gold-- by asking another non-trad. Professional Smart Aleck (she said it, not me, and she approved!) not only remembers Square One, but much like myself, she also loved Kate Monday. When they replaced Kate Monday with Pat Tuesday, I was completely heartbroken... only to find out that I like Pat Tuesday just as much. When I shared this experience with PSA, she agreed, adding "Kate Monday was my hero." Yeah. I think Square One was the beginning of all my friends being at least 10 years older than myself.

And then the conversation swung round from Square One to Electric Company (the original one, not the new one). I think I've mentioned before that Morgan Freeman taught me how to read, and finally, I found someone else with the same experience. The regular, 90s-baby students around us tried to make relevant comments by talking about Morgan Freeman's other work, but of course they don't remember the original Electric Company, and they're too old to have enjoyed the newer version. It's rough to be a member of the Millennial Generation.

What's your favourite childhood TV show (or movie-- don't want to exclude anyone here)? Do you have a friendly person to discuss it with when the mood strikes?

L is for Last Minute

I had this great, profound blog post planned for today... but haven't been near a computer until now. So, this is all you get.

I don't usually intend to wait until the last minute, but sometimes it happens. With appointments, with the bus, with getting to class, with leaving for work... from time to time, the last minute is just more appealing than the first minute. (With my taxes, too. That's on the to-do list for the weekend, in the interest of avoiding arrest.)

And in my writing, that gets to be frustrating if I practise it too much. The day rolls by, full of this and that and the other thing, with errands and work and family dinners and laundry, and then here comes the last minute on the horizon. So I race to my computer, trying to beat the last minute to the finish line and get a decent word count for the day. Sometimes I win. Most times I don't.

Methinks it's time to embrace the first minute.

What about you? Do you like the last minute? Or are you at least resigned to it?

K is for Kickstand

Okay, this story is actually kickstand-free, but I couldn't think of another bike-related "K" word.

For today's version of Without a Car Wednesday, I'm guest blogging at Austin on Two Wheels. Here's a peek; click the link to read the whole thing. Enjoy!

I got some confirmation that cycling instead of taking the bus had been my best decision—there was a striping truck, painting the outer line of the bike lane on Manor Road. And behind the slow-moving truck was a line of traffic, all unable to pass because they were going uphill. Finally, one of those opportunities I dream about: I didn’t exactly zoom past the traffic, but even though I was crawling uphill, I still crawled faster than the truck. I passed them all and reached the next stoplight feeling inordinately pleased with myself.

Story continues here...

J is for June

Source.

Every now and then I remark that June is my favourite month. But I've realised in the past couple of weeks that actually, that's not true any longer. My favourite month for the past few years has been April.

"April?" I know you are all asking. "What's so special about April?" It's quite simple, really; April in Texas = June in Indiana. Hence the reason for my small shift in loyalties.

In Indiana, June mornings are fresh, sometimes still a bit chilly as summer is still getting geared up. The days are the longest of the year. And-- best of all when I was a kid-- it's the first half of summer vacation. There's nothing better than the first half of vacation, right?

In Texas, April mornings are fresh, sometimes still a bit chilly as spring is still getting geared up. The evenings are longer, thanks to the recent shift to Daylight time. And-- best of all now that I'm an adult-- summer vacations are no more, so I don't spend a lot of mental energy waiting for them. I've learned to enjoy (or not) each day as it comes.

So, June in Indiana, I loved you so. Don't worry; I'll still come to visit from time to time. In the meantime, my friend April in Texas and I are having a great time.

Which is your favourite month?

I is for Ideas

...partly because I had so many ideas for this post. Inspiration? Invention? Irresponsible? Idiot? (I started making a list of potential idiots to showcase, then remembered that's not really in the spirit of friendship and camaraderie that I'm so fond of.)

So. Ideas. On a college campus, they are more plentiful than candy wrappers (and that's saying something!). They grow, they change, they collide. Sometimes they are strong enough to inspire students to stand in the hot sun and hand out literature or shout their support for ideas. Sometimes they are just discussed with roommates with the aid of late-night Red Bull. (For the record: My roommate does not allow me to have Red Bull. He only allows me to have caffeinated tea before noon, and even that is under protest.) Sometimes they bloom in the most unlikely of places.

Ideas are part of the reason that my blog schedule is so convoluted and why I can't seem to keep focused on any one thing-- there is such a spectrum of ideas in my head, all bumping and colliding and creating sparks to start whole new ideas that I need an orderly place for them to queue up and come flying out in turn. I was reading a recap of a The West Wing episode on Television Without Pity yesterday (it was research for a class, honest!), and the recapper shared a bit in which Toby insists to Charlie that he is writing, to which Charlie replies, "I don't see any paper." The recapper then went off on a tangent about how she's always writing something, with or without the aid of writing implements, sometimes even while physically writing something else. I agree. And so does Toby: "Paper is for wimps." Hee hee hee.

What do you do with your ideas? Or when do you find that ideas turn up?

Why Can't We Be Friends?

This doesn't really have anything to
do with the post. But, you know,
it was all green and stuff, so it kind
of fit.

I just finished reading Better Off, by Eric Brende. It's the story of he and his wife spending 18 months in an Amish-like community that eschews motorized things and pretty much any technology beyond the bare minimum. It's a lovely read, which I do recommend if you're looking for a nice memoir.

One obstacle that the Brendes encountered was lack of a common faith; he and his wife are Catholic, but the community they were a part of are Protestant Anabaptists. Eric writes about various steps they made to reconcile the different faiths of themselves and their neighbours, including visiting the local church and having conversations about scripture.

A conclusion he reached over and over again was that the more he got to know his neighbours, the less it mattered to him that they didn't share a common faith. They still had their conversations, his friends still used scripture fluently in conversation, but their differences didn't stop them from being friends.

In the midst of a nation that is conflicted over every little thing that makes us different from one another, I find this perspective refreshing. What would it be like, I wonder, if we decided that what unites us really is stronger than what divides us? On every level, not just our religion? What would that look like?

So, there's my utopian fantasy of the day. What's yours?

H is for Happiness

Happiness is having a sister.
Happiness is also having a brother,
but there aren't any cute songs about
that. 

There's a book that's been on my to-read list for so long now that it's pathetic, but other books keep pressing their existence upon me and then I forget just how long I've wanted to read this one.

And that book is The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Ruben. From reading a few reviews, I have a vague idea of what it's about, but rather than try to explain it badly or do more research and then end up hopelessly distracted from writing, let me just encourage you to go to the website if you want to know more.

I was thinking this morning about things that make me happy. And most of them are really simple, really goofy things: Today, I was happy about my Popsicle molds that I filled with Gatorade & stuck in the freezer in anticipation of us coming home hot & tired after a long bike ride. (Both of which happened, of course, and we enjoyed the Gatorade pops very much, thank you.) And then I gathered all my stuff and set out, and I was happy to be out riding my bicycle on such a nice morning. And as snags came up in my day, I was happy each time a solution presented itself.

It really doesn't take much to make me happy. I'm happy to see Chad at any hour of the day, happy to go to class, happy to do homework (usually), happy to finish homework, happy to blog, happy to read, happy to use my washing machine & to hang up clean clothes afterwards, happy to make tea and toast, even happier when it's time for a second round. I'm happy to go to bed and generally happy to get up again.

I don't know if I'm weird, or have low expectations of life, but it turns out that happiness is not to far to seek for me (although I generally claim to be cranky, just to keep my life amusing). So whatever quirk it is that gives me such perpetual happiness, I'll take it.

What makes you happy?

G is for Gaffe

I rarely take a picture and afterwards
think, 'Hey, that's exactly what it
looked like!' But this is exactly what
it looked like.

So the bicycle and I were on the train the other day, as is our wont on days when we've been working hard at Bike Texas and want an easy ride home (taking the train removes most of the hills from my cycling route). I really enjoy the train for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is watching the scenery go by. Stuff around train tracks is off the beaten path, as it were, so you see a lot of graffiti or back lots or just slices of life that you wouldn't normally see while driving by. I love it.

The train in Austin starts out downtown, heads east for a little way, then swings around to the north, which means that it crosses some streets at an odd angle. Which further means that the signal gates are set pretty far back from the tracks on either side just to cut across the angle safely. Far enough back, in fact, for a car to fit between the tracks and the gate...

Yes, that's what I saw. I don't know if the car just got caught when the gates started coming down (because as I said, there is quite some distance between them; it's totally conceivable that someone might get caught), or if the driver was unwisely sitting on the tracks and didn't get off of them quickly enough, or if he didn't want the gate hitting the top of the car so he stopped behind it. Whatever it was, the nose of the car was right up against the gate (as you would be, if there were a train coming!), and fortunately the train had plenty of clearance, so the car was in no danger. I'm just sad that my camera was put away for the whole thing.

I don't know what the driver did once the gate raised and he was free to continue. He probably went home with this wacky story to tell. I do know if it had been me caught between a signal gate and a train, I would have had to pull over at the nearest open spot and have a lie down before continuing (fortuitously, there is a park very near this particular area). And then I'd have to get up and walk around a bit, thanking God that I was still alive and in one piece. And then I would finish my drive home, carefully avoiding all train tracks.

That's what I would have to do. What would you do?

F is for First Drafts

You'll have to just draw a picture in your mind today, because I'm on the wrong computer and don't have my usual access to the wonders of free photography.

First drafts! I've written a lot of them in my lifetime. I've written many, many more first drafts than final drafts, and even turned in some first drafts as final drafts in my time (hey, I was in primary school; I didn't know that revision even existed back then!). For years I had this lovely lovely idea that Laura Wilder or Beverly Cleary wrote in exactly the same way I did-- start to finish, with everything "perfect" the first time.

Then I went to middle school and was disabused of such ideas. And now that I'm in contact with other writers all the time, any chance of such fantasies ever returning is blessedly nil.

But first drafts are fun, though. (Term used loosely; I do prefer revision.) Ideas flow from brain to page, unencumbered by such things as continuity. The muse, when she is cooperating, is hard at work. Words obediently line up into sentences that will later send me facepalming as I wonder what exactly I meant when I wrote "Greasy fingers aren't guitar strings". Vast quantities of caffeine are consumed, bedtimes are ignored, showers are optional, friends give up at attempting reasonable conversation.

It's wonderful. And then you can shove the whole thing in a drawer and not worry about it for a couple of months.

Is writing a first draft (of anything; doesn't have to be a novel) exhilarating for you? Or do you prefer revision? Editing? Share your writing preferences here.

E is for Easygoing

They say you don't get road rage when you're walking. This tracks with my own experience, actually. I also don't get road rage when I'm cycling: not much, anyway. Or when sitting on the bus. So if road rage is getting you down, you might need to leave the car behind from time to time.

And that's the extent of my car-free message for today. You know what else I'm easygoing about? Homework. Writing. Running. Pretty much everything, actually. Which is only problematic when I want to get something done. Like, for example, the five papers I have due in the next four weeks. Or editing my NaNo novel by the end of May. Poor Word document hasn't see the light of day in weeks.

So, what do you do when your life is a bit too on the easygoing side?

D is for Delivery

Yes, I'm temporarily renaming In My Mailbox for the A to Z Challenge. These are some books I've received, in the mail and in person, in the past month or so. Unfortunately, I haven't begun any of them, in a attempt to be a good steward of my time and my opportunities at university. So, some books I hope to get round to reading soon:

I won this book in a giveaway on Faith's blog. This was one of those nice
surprises that I had forgotten about until the day it arrived!

Another giveaway winner-- this time it was Sarah's blog.
And since Sarah and I live in the same city, no mailing was
required-- we had brunch together instead. :)

This rather-abused book came to us in a huge box of books
that someone gave us. I've never read Agatha Christie
(shame, I know), so I'm looking forward to it!

And this one I actually purchased. I'm afraid to start reading it
because everyone has been raving about it-- no homework will
get done while I'm reading it straight through, I can assure you!

What's in your mailbox?

C is for Causes

One cause in particular, actually: Tomorrow, April 5th, is One Day Without Shoes.

A lot of "raising awareness" campaigns tend to disintegrate into empty gestures over the years (or just start out that way-- posting your bra colour on Facebook, anyone?). I hope this one doesn't. The point, as stated on the website, is for people to notice that you're barefoot... but when someone's curiosity is piqued, you don't wander off or smile knowingly. You engage in conversation about the millions of children worldwide who go without shoes every day, and how this day is meant to not only bring attention to the problem (I really do hate the phrase "raise awareness"), but also to move people to action.

"What can I do, then?"-- I hear you cry. First, as your lifestyle allows, go without shoes tomorrow. I'm planning to carry my one & only pair of flip-flops to put on when I board the bus (because you can't ride the bus barefoot), and also to put on when I'm inside campus buildings, if asked. (But only after I'm asked!) Otherwise, everywhere else I go tomorrow, I'll be barefoot. So... could you walk from your car to your office barefoot? To the park with your kids? Into a PTA meeting? Where can you imagine your bare feet striking up a conversation? And just remember, ladies: This is a great chance to show off those perfectly polished toenails.

Second: Go to the site and choose your favourite banner. Make it your picture on Twitter/Facebook/Friend Connect/Etc. for a day or two.

Third: TOMS brand already donates a pair of shoes to children in need for every pair that is purchased, all year round. So if you're in the market for a new pair of shoes, consider looking there first. They also have various other apparel available.

Finally, don't forget that no action is too small. If this isn't your preferred cause, that's totally cool. Find a cause that you can get behind. I'm a firm believer in the principle that "From those who have been given much, much will be expected." I've been given much, much more than I need, and a few hours barefoot in the hopes of getting some attention is the least I can do.

Will you be going barefoot tomorrow? If not, do you have a cause you want us all to know about? Let's hear it!

Sweet Fellowship

If you aren't familiar with the Acappella album by the same name... well, that's a bummer for you. Here's what it looks like:

Source.

Singers.com says it was recorded in 1988. To which I can only say, "Yeah, okay." It's not like I was keeping track back then. I'm not sure that I knew Acappella existed until 1990.

So! The A to Z Challenge takes Sundays off (one A to Z blogger-- can't remember who-- says it's for good behaviour), so we're back to my regular nonsense instead of alphabetical nonsense. And while I'd love to make this post all about Acappella and my personal history with their very inspiring music... it's not. Because today at church we're having a potluck. And so I'm going to pull a page from JEFritz's blog, as it were, and talk about words-- minus the informative and careful research that she does.

The church I grew up in called fellowship meal "pitch-ins", because everybody pitches in something. Then I moved south and found out that down here, the same event is called a potluck. While this sounds slightly less messy, my cheeky self also finds it a bit worrying: Potluck? Why is luck required, exactly? What are they putting in their food? At least they don't all stand at the door and chuck it into the room, which was the image I had in my head for years as a kid (okay, it's still there, I admit it!). But I feel like I need to buy a lottery ticket to get into a potluck.

Then there are the churches that avoid all the confusion and snark altogether by calling it a "fellowship meal". Booooriiiing. There's just not enough to make fun of there to keep me interested.

Which would you rather go to-- a pitch-in or a potluck? And more importantly... what should I take?

B is for Bills

This is one of those words that means different things in different countries, so just to clarify: I'm talking about the notices your various creditors or utilities or whoever send you to request payment for services.

So! Today's green-living tip is really obvious, but it's one of those that is so easy to do that it's also easy to forget. Go paperless! Pull out last month's bill from whoever and look for the website: most places now have an option to receive your bills via email, so that no printing and mailing is required. Your bank probably also has a spot for you to receive your monthly statements online and a place to pay your bills, so no check-writing or trips to the post office are necessary. This simple action saves paper, saves postage, and saves you from suffocating under a pile of notices in your living room (okay, that might be just me).

And (for my writing friends) it saves visual clutter and frees up your brain for reams of creativity to come flowing out.

As for me: When we made our last move, I was determined to go paperless. But it's taken until this week for me to finally remember to contact ALL my companies and request e-notices only. But I have to admit, I'm ridiculously happy to have fewer things arriving in my mailbox. Next project: Stopping the stores from sending me circulars.

Are you paper-free? Do you work for the post office? Can you call my local supermarket and ask them to stop sending me dead trees?

A is for Atrocity

Yep, we're going to kick this blogfest off on a real happy note. May as well get off on the right foot, yes?

I spent my Wednesday evening volunteering for the White Rose Society at UT, a branch of Texas Hillel. While I'm not a member of either organization, they sent out a call for volunteers to get white roses ready for distribution on Thursday (to coincide with the the Holocaust Day of Remembrance), so I went. We dethorned each rose, then attached a flier explaining...

A sea of flowers. Source.

That each rose represented one of the 10,000 people killed in a single day at Auschwitz. And as I worked, I reflected: Each flower is a life taken. There are 50,000 students at UT: In five days, we'd all be gone. Add in the faculty, staff, maintenance workers, cafeteria staff, etc, and you'd still be looking at a completely empty campus in less than six days' time. And yet somehow there were always more people to take the place of those who had been murdered at Auschwitz.

And these students, the members of Texas Hillel, are just as Jewish as those who were killed. I can't imagine being caught at the beginning of an anti-Semitic frenzy, as a college student in the 30s in Europe, seeing my classmates taken. For my classmates they are: I saw a number of people I know at the event Wednesday. Would I have protested their treatment and (possibly) have died with them? Would I have hidden my friends from the authorities? I know what I want the answers to those questions to be, as I sit here comfortably in my persecution-free land; if put to the test, I hope I would make the right decision. More importantly, I pray that no test like that ever comes up again.

Yes, I went to bed depressed Wednesday at the visual I had just seen. There's a lovely statement on the Texas Hillel website: "Genocide is not just a Jewish issue, but a human issue." And so it is.

I promise to be back to happy topics soon, but I couldn't not share this experience. And I have no particular question to ask you today, so you're on your own with comments.

Grace and peace (Shalom) be with you on this Friday.