Aunt Linda, part 2

Most of the time I say that toddlers are my favorites, and I totally choose to play with one-to-three-year-olds over babies or older kids, but I've discovered that seven-year-olds are tons of fun, too.

My oldest niece, Rebecca, is seven now, and occasionally I take her out to do something fun, just the two of us. Going out with Rebecca is preferable to staying in, because if we're at home, she'll try to convince me to play some sort of torturous 'pretend' game (like 'house'--except we often have to be animals), and let's face it, most adults (including me) kind of suck at 'pretend.' But if we go out, we can do things that I like, too, like shopping and eating and watching Disney movies.

Crucial components of a good Aunt Linda outing: more sugar than your mom would ever let you have in a week and some additional indulgence or allowances.

Several months ago, I took Rebecca out for ice cream. Of course, I let her get two different kinds--she wanted three--one in a fancy cone (chocolate-dipped and sprinkle-covered) and one in a cup. She originally wanted both kinds on one cone or two separate cones. But I figured that two scoops was a little too high for kid to eat before the melting set in, and I had visions of the top scoop falling off. I also didn't want to be responsible for holding cone #2 while she ate cone #1. So I convinced her that if she got one scoop in a cone and one in a cup, she could eat the cone at her leisure and the cup would be waiting for her when she finished. (I have special logic skills when it comes to sugar consumption.)

Afterward, we stopped at the pet store (apparently a favorite place for Rebecca) and looked at puppies. She fell absolutely in love with a little pik-a-chi (which cost something like $500) and called her mom to tell her about the puppy. The Rebecca named the puppy and started picking out little puppy clothes and pink rhinestone collars--Rebecca has really good taste.

When I took Rebecca home, I apologized in advance to my sister-in-law Kristine for the fact that she would be hearing about this puppy for the next several days, weeks, months, etc.

Earlier this week, I took Rebecca out again. This time, we went to watch High School Musical 3 at the theater. We got a huge rootbeer and skittles and Rebecca picked our seats on the back row. But after we came back from a mid-movie bathroom break (maybe the soda wasn't such a good idea), she decided we should sit on the front row, which was also fine with me.

After the movie, I wanted to do a little Christmas shopping, since we were already at the mall. We went to Bath&Bodyworks because they were having sales and my mom wanted me to pick up a few things for her there. I don't know if Rebecca, my super primpy-princessy niece, had ever been to Bath&Bodyworks before, but she loved it. She tried on lotions, perfumes, body sprays, body creams, bodybutters, and lip gloss. She actually had a different scent on every finger and both palms and the backs of her hands, and her wrists, and all sides of her neck. And she washed her hands once so that she could come back and try on more.

It was really useful to have her there because I don't like trying on all the different scents, but, of course, I want to know what they really smell like before I buy them. So Rebecca became my little tester, and she was more than willing. She also helped me make important purchasing decisions. When I asked her which scent was her favorite, she started smelling all over her hands, and then held out her left hand and pointed to the palm--and which bottle did that come from?

Then we went to Claire's boutique and tried on tiaras and hats and bangle bracelets. And then it was really late, so I took her home--and apologized to Kristine for fact that her daughter would probably smell like Bath&Bodyworks for the next week or so.

Rebecca is already planning our next outing: shopping followed by dinner followed by more shopping followed by ice cream. Sounds good to me.

I understand that spelling is hard . . .

which is why we have spell check.

Normally, I ignore simple spelling and punctuation mistakes on blogs, online comments and reviews, etc. But sometimes, people are just ridiculous.

A few minutes ago, I was reading user reviews of a pie recipe on FoodNetwork.com. (I love the Food Network, by the way.) Most people gave the Triple Chocolate S'more Pie recipe four or five stars and raved about how easy it was or how much they loved it. But one less enthusiastic reviewer (named "Anonymous) only gave the recipe three stars and wrote, "It's ameture."

I read the comment and said, "What?"

I mean I know what the commenter was trying to write, but Mr. (or Ms.) Anonymous totally failed when they misspelled half the words in the comment. And "amateur" is just one of those words you shouldn't use (in writing) if you don't know how to spell it--I mean it sort of makes you look like . . . an amateur (of the English language and life in general (and computers, since you obviously don't know how to spellcheck)).

Anyway, people are funny--or stupid, take your pick.

Reconciliation

As an undergrad I did my best to avoid visiting my nemesis, the dreaded Harold B Lee Library. I put off library trips as long as possible and when I did venture inside, I kept my visits brief. On such visits, I usually experienced great frustration in two areas: searching the library catalog online and searching the actual book shelves. I always had trouble finding useful resources in my online search because the library site is not very user-friendly, and I always had even more trouble locating any potentially useful resources on the shelves because, well, they were never where they were supposed to be. Inevitably, the book I most wanted to check out was not on its designated shelf--even though the computer said it was checked in and available. Additionally, I found it difficult to study in the library because most of the chairs are hard and food is not allowed. (Now I realize that experts say you should not sit in soft chairs or eat while you study, but when I have I ever listened experts?) Also, I get just a little nervous every time I walk through the library security scanners. Also, I can never find a computer in the library. Also, when I do find a computer, it is next to someone who smells weird or is talking on their cell phone. Also I have no sense of direction and since the library is really big, I get lost there sometimes. Also, the library is cold, and therefore depressing to me.

However, in my first semester of graduate school, the HBLL has been phenomenally useful. Every time I go there, I find not only the book I am looking for, but several other books excellent books on the nearby shelves. I usually leave with two bags full of treasures, AND because I'm a graduate student, I get to keep them for three whole months. So I have forgiven the HBLL for the previous years of torture, and we are becoming very good friends. (I even spent a few hours studying there a few weeks ago, and discovered that on a Saturday afternoon, during a football game, the library is quite empty and nice to be in.)

My current stack of library fun (minus three volumes which were hidden in my room):

So, now that I'm friends with the library, research papers are much easier. Between the library and Google Scholar (love it), I'm pretty well set.

Aunt Linda

When I was eighteen, and my older brother had just gotten married, I was dying to get a niece or nephew--now I have three nieces and one nephew (nowhere near as many as Melissa, but still fun). And when the kids come to visit, I make a special effort to be the favorite relative--and then I give them back to their parents.

At a recent family dinner, I was sitting next to my seven-year-old niece, Rebecca. When Rebecca reached over and snitched a piece of turkey off the platter with her hands (as opposed to a fork), her mom got after her for not using good manners.

I leaned over and said, "Snitching's okay--you just have to make sure no one is watching."

Kristine, her mom said, "That's right. But someone is always watching. So you can't ever take food off the plate with your hands."

"True, someone is always watching, but some people don't care whether you snitch food. Adam [my younger brother who also has no children] might be watching, but he really doesn't care," I explained. Adam affirmed this. "And I don't care. And Grandma Marshall [my 83-year-old grandmother] doesn't care. So really you just have to be careful not to snitch when your mom watching."

Rebecca really appreciated this little insight into life--even if her mom didn't.

Curse of the Pink Shirt 2

* Today I went to campus to meet my brothers and sister-in-law for lunch. I really didn't think much about what I was wearing--pink shirt with a white skirt because I was going to the temple later.

Shortly after I sat down at a table in the Cougareat, a fiftyish woman walked up to me, "Do you mind if I sit here? I hate to take up a whole table for myself."

I hesitated, thinking of the three people who would be joining me at the four-person table. "Well, I'm waiting for some people, but they won't be here for awhile. So you're welcome to eat here."

So she sat down and ate her lunch. When my brother Adam and his wife, Bonnie, showed up, the woman offered to move to a different table. But I told her she could stay because we preferred to sit further back, and I had only sat at this table near the walkway in order to watch for my family--which is true.

While Adam and Bonnie waited in line for their food, I snagged another table and started reading letters to the editor in the Daily Universe. But after a few minutes, a random girl sat down across from me and started rummaging through her backpack.

"Um, are you just stopping for a second to find something in your bag? Or are you planning to stay?" I asked.

"What?"

"I'm kind of waiting for three other people, so if you're planning to stay and eat . . ."

She left.

After that incident, I put my bag up on the table to make it look more occupied. Then I pulled out my water bottle and some food and spread everything out on the table, so that no one would mistake my saved seats for available ones.

The Cougareat was not that crowded today, but something about the pink shirt makes people think it's a good idea to sit by me.

(And when I went to the temple, still wearing the pink, two different older gentlemen went out of their way to greet me. Not bad, but still a little weird.)

I really have to be more careful about my wardrobe choices. *

Self-Control:

It's official, I have none.

Even though I had a million hours worth of studying I should have done this weekend (which for me includes Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday), I still found time to

1. Go to the store . . . three times.
2. Beat my high score on Mahjong--which took a lot of tries because I had a very high score.
3. Play two or three hours of Scramble of Facebook. (Anyone want to play me?)
4. Watch a new made-for-tv movie on the Hallmark channel (totally cheesy), most of The Cheetah Girls: One World (I don't even like the Cheetah Girls), two new episodes of Disney channel shows, a rerun of Gilmore Girls, and at least one rerun of Seventh Heaven (although it might have been more).
5. Sleep in past 9 every day except Sunday--I have church at 9:30.

Of course, I refer to everything listed above as "breaks" from studying, but some days it's more like I study during my breaks from totally wasted leisure time.

So, in an effort to reduce my "breaktime" options--and therefore reduce my break time?--I removed Mahjong from my computer. I hope don't have to resort to removing the Scramble app from my Facebook page because I'm really good at Scramble, and I enjoy beating everyone I know at something. And I don't really have any control over the existence of the television (and it's many fascinating cable channels) in my home. So I'm just going to have to learn not to touch that oh-so-seductive remote during study hours--good luck to me on that.

I'm hoping that at some point in my life I will become a dedicated student, or really a dedicated anything. But for now, I'm just going get some sleep and re-align my priorities tomorrow.

Interjections

Sometimes I learn things in school that might actually be interesting to people outside the field of Linguistics.

Last week in my Semantics class we studied interjections. (For those of you who don't remember grade school grammar class, interjections are words like "oh," "dang," and "wow" that we interject to express emotion.) My professor explained--in very scientific terms that I no longer remember--that as far as the geography of the brain is concerned, normal speech is processed in one region of the brain and interjections are processed in a completely separate region.

Which means that when children are learning to speak, you can repeat the word "mama" to them a hundred times before they say it back, but they only have to hear you say "uh-oh" or "dang it" once before they start repeating it over and over again. While the normal speech functions are developing in one part of the brain, the injections part of the brain is also developing. And as the interjections part is developing it's just waiting to pick up on interjections. So when kids hear interjections (including swear words), even if they are embedded in a sentence, their interjection receptors are triggered and ta-da! they start using those interjections--whether you want them to or not. (Both my sister and sister-in-law lamented they day their sweet little two-year-olds picked up "dang it"--but I'm sure there are much more offensive words they could be using.)

As an interjection illustration, my prof also shared this excellent story: When he used to visit his mother in a nursing home, he also visited with another woman there who had suffered from a stroke. The stroke destroyed the part of her brain that controlled normal speech functions, but not the part that stored interjections. As a result, her only way to communicate with other people was through swear words. This man would sit and talk to her, ask her questions, tell her stories, whatever, and she would just swear back at him.

One day he explained to her the whole scientific process of how the speech part of her brain was gone but the interjections part was still in tact and that he understood that when she was swearing at him, she was only trying to communicate.

Her response: "Smart-A--"