'Rithmetic

Make sure to read my other posts on The Three R's:
The Three R's
Reading
Reading Comprehension Test
C.S. Lewis on "Literary" and "Unliterary" Reading
'Riting
A Few Samples of Past Writings
Prologue to the Story I'm Writing

'Rithmetic - the last of the Three R's, and probably my favorite. As I mentioned in my first post on The Three R's, I really think it would be more parallel to list mathematics with reading and writing, but I'll try not to be too picky :).

I'm guessing that most if not all people reading this post know by now that math is a major part of my life. It may have something to do with the fact that I was raised in a heavily math environment - just a hunch ;). My dad has taught high school (and some college) math for close to 20 years, my mom and I both teach math to homeschoolers, and I also tutor math to a number of public school students. Brother Dear and Sister Dear are also very gifted in math (in fact, both scored higher than me on the math portion of the SAT), though they use it less on a daily basis than Mother Dear, Father Dear, and I do. Especially given the growing problem of innumeracy in our nation, I'm very thankful for the mathematical background that I have :).

I've already blogged quite a bit about math, so I'll try not to muse too long in this post, instead just give a brief overview of some of the antics of my math family.

You see, when it came to liking math, I really didn't have a choice in the matter ;). My parents gave me bedtime math problems growing up. We also played a lot of math games like Muggins, or games that encouraged quick mental arithmetic, like Yahtzee, and we watched math-oriented TV shows like Square One TV. It has been rumored that we sometimes debate the coolest number, but there is little evidence for that ;). We do make sure to celebrate an important mathematical holiday every year, and note the mathematical significance of ages and license plates. I admittedly enjoy doing problem-solving exercises just for fun, and I'm not above occasionally participating in a mathematical duel. And yes, I occasionally have random mathematical thoughts, I admit, but if someone tells you that I purposely bordered a quilt with golden rectangles, don't believe them, and if someone refers to my family as those weird math people, it's a gross exaggeration! Okay, okay, on occasion my family does enjoy giving mathematically-themed gifts, and completing mathematical color-by-numbers. And even Brother Dear has written some clever mathematical sweet-nothings that are sure to win any girl's heart.

Hmm, maybe we are a bit abnormal. . . or just special :-D.

Oh, oh, in related news, we recently acquired a slide rule, so I'm going to play around with that this summer :). Yay!

To tie this post into my previous post on reading, I really must recommend an excellent book that relates to mathematics. It's not a textbook, but a juvenile biography on Nathaniel Bowditch. If you haven't already, you really need to read Carry On, Mr. Bowditch, by Jean Lee Latham! It's an excellent true story of a child with a hunger for knowledge and a strong self-determination to excel, even though that often meant teaching himself. Forced to leave school at a young age, he continued his education on his own, and managed to teach himself French and Latin, in addition to excelling in the sciences of navigation and mathematics. He was instrumental in the improvement of many aspects of navigation, through his knowledge of mathematics. Nat Bowditch's advancements in navigation were instrumental in the popularization of "book sailing," or sailing by mathematical charts and tables. If you want to know why precision in mathematics is so important, you need to read this book!

Okay, I'm almost done, but I cannot close this post on math without sharing with all of you my absolute favorite mathematical proof:

Theorem: All positive integers are interesting.

Proof: Assume the contrary. Then by the well-ordering principle, there is a lowest non-interesting positive integer. But, hey, that's pretty interesting! A contradiction. QED

:-D

Happy Birthday to Mother Dear!!!!

That's right. Yesterday was Sister Dear's birthday, and today is Mother Dear's. It's always a busy few days for birthdays in our house :). Hannah and I just did a Mother's Day post on Mom on Sunday, so we won't sport with her intelligence by making her endure another round of *ahem* poetry :-D. I just wanted to say happy birthday to her, though!

Happy Birthday, Mother Dear!!!!

(She's turning 25, for anyone wondering.)

. . . Okay, not really, but people do mistake the three of us for sisters on occasion. Mother Dear loves that ;).

Sister Dear is 20!!!!

Happy Birthday, Sister Dear!!!!!!!!!

That's right. . . today is Hannah's 20th birthday! My baby sister is getting so old! Mother Dear was lamenting yesterday that she now has no teenagers. She says she's too young for that :). It is weird that we're all 20+ now.

Hannah and I have always been best friends and worst enemies :). We spent over 13 years sharing the same room, which had its benefits and drawbacks - poor Sister Dear had to endure being a roommate with Miss Psycho-Organized. For years we dressed alike very often, well-supplied with matching outfits by our grandmother. We always wanted to be identical twins, and though I was a full head taller for years, we still regularly got asked if we were twins, even when we weren't dressed alike. Even today, we occasionally get asked that. Of course, there was also the time at Hannah's graduation when someone asked me if I was her mother, but we won't go there!

In honor of your birthday, Sister Dear, I give you a very special treat - a poem! (Aren't you proud?) Note to others: there really is a story behind almost every line of the following poem :).

A Poem for Sister Dear

Now that you're twenty, you're really, really old.
In fact, you're approaching old-maid status!
But that's dandy, because as yet you bear no mold.
Nor do you have need of a breathing apparatus.

Oh, Sister Dear. Oh, Sister Dear.
How lovely are thy branches.
Or - how lovely are thy arms, or ear?
Anyway, may you be void of romances.

May your life be filled with wide open space.
And a hollowed-out tree to keep you warm.
Of course, I wish you clothing without lace.
And a shed to sleep in, but only in a storm.

May you never ever have to marry,
Because of course you'd get bored.
Maybe I could find you a linguist named Tim or Jerry?
Someone else, perhaps? (If he'd make sure you'd be ignored?)

May you see lots of points of exclamation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And lampposts, 144, Spanish, and French.
And may you never recover from your Narnia fixation!!!!!!!!!!
But may you sit on many a park bench.

Okay, okay, I'm almost done with this rhyme.
May hearts always float on the wind as you walk.
And while I'd like to wish you children in your prime,
Instead I'll wish you a nephew named Samuel Enoch.

Happy Birthday, Sister Dear!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Prologue to the Story I'm Writing

For those interested, I've copied the prologue to my story-in-progress, titled The Way that Leads to Death, below. Yes, yes, it's about people unfavored by the government, in hiding. Old obsessions die hard :). Well, actually it's more about those connected with the government searching out those who are unfavored by the government, in hiding. *shrugs*

I find the history of the Nazis to be very interesting, albeit depressing. Many people don't realize that the Nazis did not just target the Jews, but many other groups as well. Definitely not a bright spot in the history of my German ancestors :(. I highly suggest Cindy Martinusen's books on the Holocaust for some really good historical fiction on the subject. She wrote Winter Passing, Blue Night, and North of Tomorrow. Anyway, on to my prologue:

~~~~

The Way that Leads to Death

There is a way that seems right to a man,
But in the end it leads to death.- Proverbs 16:25

Prologue
Nuremberg, Germany1948

“Guilty!” The judge’s words rang in Karl’s ears. The sentence echoed through his mind, as if everyone in the courtroom were chanting the words: “Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty! Karl is guilty! Karl is guilty!” The voices in his head jeered like young children in a schoolyard, though these voices were not from Karl’s childhood. These were the victims of the Nazi holocaust – Karl’s victims.

Karl saw faces before him. Ghosts of the past. They had troubled him for years; they never left his mind. He woke up in a cold sweat almost every night. They haunted his nights, and they haunted his days. As Karl walked down the street, the face of a small girl would remind him of a young girl from his past; emaciated and racked with disease, she never knew the joys of growing up, of marrying, having children. Because of Karl. A young boy in the marketplace would remind Karl of a Jewish youth he had shoved into a gas chamber, never again to see the light of day. Because of Karl. An aged man outside Karl’s cell window would remind him of the scores of elderly he had mercilessly shot in the head, their bodies thrown into a mass grave. No headstone would mark their final resting place. Because of Karl.

He remained stone-faced after the judge’s announcement, though the jeering continued in his head, and the images filled his mind. The verdict was no surprise; the evidence against him had been overwhelming. The Nazis were obsessed with meticulously accurate records, an obsession that had led to the convictions of many in the party, Karl among them. Karl had known he would be convicted.

“The court finds Karl Altschuler guilty on count three and count four: war crimes and crimes against humanity. He is sentenced to death by hanging.” As the judge’s gavel dropped, the ancient city tower chimed the hour. Twelve long tolls. The tower seemed to be tolling Karl’s death sentence as he was led from the courtroom.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. . .

As a bailiff approached, Karl stood up and calmly allowed himself to be led from the courtroom. Early death was almost a blessing; he would not have to grow old, conscious that he had deprived so many others of the same right. He had long ago decided to calmly accept his own doom. Unlike many of his comrades, he had not resisted capture after the war, nor had he attempted to take his own life. His guilt weighed heavy on him, and he knew he deserved his fate. Unlike my victims. Karl would allow the scales of Justice to measure his crimes and deal him his due. He had never considered suicide. Suicide was an escape for cowards who were not willing to face their own guilt. Karl was ready for justice to be served.

Glancing back, Karl caught the glance of the young Jewish man in the front row of the courtroom. Was that . . . could it be pity in his eyes? The glimpse was brief, as the heavy wooden door of the courtroom banged shut. Surely I am mistaken, Karl thought, as he was led back to his cell. Only twenty four hours before, this same man had testified against Karl, providing vivid details of Karl’s actions as the director of a Nazi concentration camp. His crucial testimony had sealed Karl’s conviction. If this Jewish man had been looking for revenge, he had certainly exacted it. The court proceedings had allowed him a chance to avenge himself and his family. He had dealt a blow to Karl, and his aim had been true; justice would be served. Yet just now, with Karl safely convicted, David had looked far from accusatory.

Why did I think his name? Karl struggled with his own thoughts, trying to regain proper control. He has no name. He is simply one of millions like him. As an inferior race, the Jews do not deserve names. A farmer does not name his beef cattle before he slaughters them. Why should the Jews be treated any differently? Karl reminded himself of the Nazi ideal: total dominance of the Aryan race and extermination of the Jews.

Yet as the door to Karl’s cell clanged behind him, the mental picture he carried of prisoner #55412 was replaced with the image of David Abram, the young Jewish boy who had been Karl’s loyal childhood friend. Karl could not stop the flood of memories. David had always been there for him growing up, even when everyone else had left him.

Karl recalled a time when his world had been crumbling around him, and he could not, or would not, turn to his family – or God – for comfort. The bitter memories surged within him as he relived the lowest time in his life. David had been there for him. He had found Karl at their old trysting spot by the creek - he had known exactly where to go - and he had just sat there with Karl for hours, not speaking a word. He had known exactly what Karl had needed. Faithful, dependable David.

Karl struggled, trying to regain composure. David is a Jew, a member of the most inferior race on earth. He is a Christ-killer. He is a threat to the Aryan race. . .

Like an old memory, the words of his mentor came flooding back to him. The Jews are not fit to live. They are lower than slime. They deserve to die. Karl knew the words well; they had been hammered into his brain until he lived and breathed them. When he had entered the Hitler Youth he had been molded into the idyllic Aryan man. He had been told what to act, think, and feel. Karl had poured his heart and soul into the Nazi ideal, and for a time it had seemed to bring fulfillment to Karl’s otherwise empty existence. The Nazi movement had given Karl a purpose and had helped him to forget his past. It was better than remembering; that brought only pain.
Karl played the words of his mentor over and over in his mind, willing himself to believe in them again. He tried to recite the Hitler Youth handbook: the pledges, the statement of purpose. Yet these words seemed meaningless now. The Nazi regime had fallen, and Karl was to be executed for his role in the Nazi party. Karl had lost, and David had won. Growing up, Karl had usually triumphed in their good-natured contests but now, when it mattered most, he was left with no emergency plan. The outcome of their final game had been decided.

Later that night, as Karl sat alone in the dark of his cheerless prison cell, he heard the strains of a traditional German lullaby wafting up from the street. Someone was playing the gentle tune on a violin. The melody seemed strangely out of place in Karl’s dreary surroundings. He shivered from loneliness as a wave of nostalgia swept over him. As a young child, his mother would hum the lullaby to Karl until he fell asleep.

Sleep, baby, sleep.
I'll give to you a sheep.
And it shall have a bell of gold
For you to play with and to hold.
Sleep, baby, sleep. . .

Although the tune outside ended, the lullaby continued in Karl’s head. Even now, years later, the traditional melody still reminded him of his mother. My dear mother. No lullaby would reach her now.

Leaning back on the hard prison cot, Karl closed his eyes, losing himself in yesteryear. He was no longer a convicted Nazi; once again he was the sweet innocent child of his boyhood. His childhood memories began playing over and over in his mind, like a motion picture. There he was picking flowers for his mother in the back field of the family farm, taking long walks through the woods with his father, fishing with David. His angelic younger sister came into view, her golden curls bobbing as she ran to meet him. He reached down to pick Greta up and swung her around and around in his arms. . .

The images faded and Karl was once again alone in the dark, cold cell of the Nuremberg prison. He was thoroughly shaken. What happened to the innocent youth, the carefree lad I once was? At what point in time did I change? How does a little boy turn into a war criminal, a murderer?

Karl began sobbing uncontrollably. Eventually he drifted into a deep sleep, but tonight his dreams were different. Instead of the gaunt faces that usually haunted his dreams, he saw before him the faces of his loved ones now separated from him, some by death, and others by Karl’s own hunger for power and fulfillment. Mother, Father, little Greta, and David.

A Few Samples of Past Writings

Mother Dear had Ben and me keep journals when we were in 3rd and 2nd grades, respectively. I burst out laughing every time I read through mine. I've kept the original punctuation and spelling in transcription here, though you can't get the whole effect without the lovely handwriting ;).

Here are a few entries that show my ability to skillfully connect sentences into a common train of thought:

tuesday Sept. 10, 1991
My favorite sport is Jump rope. I like to read the Bobbsey twins. Somtime this week my grandparent's come back. My sister is coloring. I'm Home schooled.

Wednsday Sept. 11, 1991
I'm reading Little women. Were going to have a party for my dad. What I want for christmas is a sewing kit.

Any guesses as to the answer to this riddle? I'm not entirely sure myself:

Oct. 22, 1991
I come from a tree! I can give you splinters! I have a nice smell! Only babies would have no sense of humor and taste me! I'm sort of brown!

The following entry makes it sound like Mom regularly drugged me as a child. I told Mother Dear that I would make a disclaimer that she did not readily hand me over Tylenol, as the entry seems to indicate! I think I took a total of about 5 tablets of Tylenol in all of elementary school, not counting severe illness:

Oct. 23, 1991
Story's name --> My Head Still Hurts
Hello my head hurts. It still hurts Mom. Susan, what's the capital of Ga? I don't now mom but my head still hurts. Hunny, I now it hurts, here's your pill. My head still hurts tho I had my pill. Hunny, go lay down. Okay but it still hurts. Zzzzzzzzz
The End!

And here we have evidence of my early fascination for history and the reformation:

Oct. 31, 1991
Today's Reformation day! Do you now what this day is about? Well, if you don't you will soon I will tell you. It happened 474 years ago, Martin Luther nailed a note on a cathalick church. The note said what he thought should change in the church. The people then threw him out of the church.

As mentioned in a previous post, I've dabbled a bit in writing poetry over the years, though I've had mainly bad attempts :-P. I wrote some sonnets for a college assignment that I rather liked, but my early attempts were *ahem* interesting. Besides, Sister Dear is the poet in our family ;). See some of her best works here and here. I thought I'd share a few samples of my early poetry here, for the amusement of my readers :).

A number of my 2nd grade journal entries were very amusing attempts at rhymes and poetry. Here are a few gems:

Yellow is the sand on the beach.
Yellow is the shirt with bleach.
Yellow is the pine apple I eat.
Yellow is the plastic feet.

The following poem is rather disturbing for a number of reasons:

Everyday I bow before the family sow and plow her brow.

My friend Lydia really wasn't as ugly as I described her here. She was (is) quite nice-looking, in fact:

I spy Lydia's eye and it is very plump and high.

And a few more:

I went down to the bay for I had to say that I wanted to stay inless I wanted to be sent away.

I wanted to find the coat room but found the boat room. Wanted to find the ball room but found the tall room.

Yes, all in all it's probably best that I've chosen not to pursue a career in poetry ;). I'll leave that to Sister Dear.

'Riting

Make sure to read my other posts on The Three R's:
The Three R's
Reading
Reading Comprehension Test
C.S. Lewis on "Literary" and "Unliterary" Reading

I really admire authors who weave words in a delightfully charming way. It is one thing to write something, and quite another to really express thoughts and feelings in a moving way through words. L.M. Montgomery is quite possibly the author I most admire in that respect. Every time I pick up one of her books, I am awed by the skill with which she weaves together words. Many of her passages send shivers down my spine from the beauty and truth she reveals in her writing. I can never hope to come close to the skill with which L.M. Montgomery wrote her books, but that doesn't mean I can't still enjoy writing! Most of my pursuits I manage to enjoy even with the firm realization that I will never be deemed really accomplished in them.

Mother Dear made sure that I had a good number of writing assignments growing up, and that I was properly schooled in grammar and composition (read "drilled"). I was taught early on that the word "it's" is only to be used as the contraction for "it is," not as a possessive pronoun. I also was warned against ever making the dreaded error of referring to a group of family members incorrectly in the singular possessive: The Smith's are coming over for dinner. *shudder* Granted, even Mother Dear's rigorous training did not guarantee my perfection in the area of grammar and composition, as evidence by my frequent typos in blog posts and comments. They keep me humble :).

I was assigned a variety of writing assignments during my el-high life, including short compositions, stories, research papers, poetry, book reviews and reports (there is a difference!), et cetera. Mother Dear was even so cruel as to once assign a short story writing assignment with a non-mystery stipulation! *shocked look* As I was then in a heavily-mystery stage in my reading activities, that was an extremely difficult assignment for me to complete! In my mind, mysteries carried the story: they opened it, they forwarded the action, and they ended the story. Without a mystery, how does a story end? - or so I wondered. It was a good writing exercise, though, and I've since been able to write a few more non-mystery works of fiction.

I'm a type A personality, so there is something very satisfying to me about sitting down and organizing my thoughts into words on paper in a satisfactory and aesthetic manner. I also like to debate, and I find writing (especially blogging) to be an excellent outlet for that. I've never hated writing (though I definitely detested some assignments I was given), but I don't think I realized just how much I liked writing until my Freshman English class in college. We wrote a lot for that class, and most of the assignments were controversial subjects *grins*. By the end of that semester I was hooked on writing. My assigned "8-10 page position paper" ended up exceeding 22 pages, and I've been long-winded (er, typed) ever since. From then on I've genuinely enjoyed sitting down to compose something.

Non-documented (i.e., no parenthetical citations and bibliographies), non-fiction writing has always come easiest to me, though it's also hard for me to keep such writing to a decent length. *grins knowingly* I started blogging partly just to have a place to record my mental musings. I find it enormously helpful to organize my thoughts onto paper (or monitor), and I find that I learn so much in the process. Writing (or typing) out my thoughts is an integral part of how I learn. This may sound weird, but sometimes when I'm asked an involved question, I feel like telling the questioner, I'm not sure how to answer that. Let me write about it and get back to you.

I've dabbled a tad bit in poetry, though not much. Mother Dear gave me occasional poetry assignments growing up - primarily diamantes, haikus, and limericks - so I have a little background in that regard. I wrote a number of very amusing short rhymes in my second grade journal, some of which I will share in a follow-up post. I've also written a few sonnets and similarly structured poetry. Poetry is definitely not my writing forte, though!

Growing up, Hannah and I started many short-lived "story clubs" with our friends, reminiscent of Anne Shirley et al :). I mainly wrote mysteries - most of them never finished - since I was so fixated on that particular genre. I always had grand plans for each story, but rarely followed through with an ending to the story :(. My habits in this regard are little better today, at least with regard to fictional writing. About three years ago I was motivated to begin an historical fiction story. I'm excited about the plot, and I've sketched the entire story, complete with beginning, middle, ending, and even some plot twists. I've just not made much progress *sigh*. In three years I've only completed the prologue and four chapters, along with significant progress on four other chapters. The words just don't come, it seems! I really would love to finish the story at some point, because the story interests me greatly, but I may well be eighty before it's done! *frustration*

Does anyone else have this problem? What types of writing do you most enjoy, and which come the easiest to you?

Happy Mother's Day!

This post is a joint effort by the two Garrison Sisters Dear :) to show appreciation for our wonderful Mother Dear, whom we love very much! Happy Mother's Day, Mother Dear!

A few reasons we especially love Mother Dear (not meant to be an all-encompassing list):

She birthed us.
She loves us and Brother Dear and Father Dear.
She loves God, and taught us about God.
She stayed home with us when we were little.
She homeschooled us.
She read to us a lot growing up.
She taught us to love math and to love learning.
She'd rather give than receive.
She's just as content (or more so) with a gift of flowers or a hug than with a diamond necklace.
She likes to spend time with us.
She taught us (and modeled) modesty and manners.
She is a really patient shopping companion (and a good advisor), especially when it comes to fabric quests.
She taught us French (Hannah's idea, of course).
She gets really excited about important things (like math) and littler things (like a solar eclipse or jellyfish at the Chattanooga Aquarium)
She's a good cook, and taught us to cook also.
She made sure we knew all sorts of other homemaking skills.
She's a really good listener (seriously!). She's especially good for sharing frustrations about college classes.
She endured many battles of WWIII over the years, as fought by the Garrison Sisters Dear, who have always been both best friends and worst enemies (we're trying to major on the former role now).

Of course a dedicatory post co-authored by Hannah would not be complete without one of her *ahem* inspiring poems:

An Ode to Mother Dear

Our Mother, dear Mother,
With hair of curly delight,
You are a shepherdess of the white sheep of the fields.
Your tender heart soars on the wind before your lambs, your children.
Their hearts follow yours, red and beating,
As they are bleating.

The grass green parts before you.
Your feet walk always with Reebok shoes as black as milk.
At night your lullaby reaches the ears of your lambs and comforts them.
Your song is a song of wonders of numbers, and the travels of x over the sine curve.
Into the void, you call out,
"Where is x? What is x?" and your children answer you.

Asymptotes, functions, and circles adorn your mind.
They float about you in the breeze through your fingers and hands.
At the end of the day, the sweet grass is there.

We love you, Mother Dear! :)

C.S. Lewis on "Literary" and "Unliterary" Reading

I recently finished reading All God's Children and Blue Suede Shoes, by Kenneth Myers. In his book, Myers summarizes part of C.S. Lewis' work An Experiment in Criticism, in which Lewis discusses reading. I thought it an interesting passage in the book, and appropriate given my recent post on reading.

This morning I was reminded of this passage from Myers' book when I was purchasing a book at a garage sale, as the lady from whom I was purchasing the book was surprised to hear that I had already read the book. You're going to read it again?, she asked, explaining that she doesn't reread books because she would get bored. I responded with a "probably," and then clarified that I reread many books - some as many as 20 or 30 times. Admittedly, at times this has proven a waste of time, but with really "good" books, I have found successive readings to be very beneficial. Anyway, this passage from Myers' book came to mind after this morning's encounter:

What marks the different ways of reading? Lewis lists four distinctions between what he calls "literary" and "unliterary" reading.

"The sure mark of an unliterary man is that he considers 'I've read it already' to be a conclusive argument against reading a work. . . Those who read great works, on the other hand, will read the same work ten, twenty, or thirty times during the course of their life."

Lewis's second point is that unliterary readers generally "do not set much store by reading." Reading is something they do when there is nothing else to do, or to relieve boredom on a train, in a doctor's office, or on nights when they can't sleep. Literary people, on the other hand, "are always looking for leisure and silence in which to read and do so with their who attention."

The third distinction is that a book for the literary can be a deep, profound experience, "an expereince so momentous that only expereinces of love, religion, or bereavement can furnish a standard of comparison. Their whole consciousness is changed."

Finally, "what they have read is constantly and prominently present to the mind" of "good" readers. They remember and savor favorite passages. "Scenes and characters from books provide them with a sort of iconography by which they interpret or sum up their experience." Unliterary readers "seldom think or talk about their reading."

I think I'm a mixture of Lewis's two categories, with a heavy lean towards his "literary" category. I break the "literary" mold in a few areas, mainly in that I often read in an occupied room, while pausing to speak with others. I do occasionally wish for solitude in reading, but in general I read with others present. Though I didn't fit one of molds perfectly, I still found it an interesting passage to consider.

Reading Comprehension Test

To go along with my post on reading, here is an amusing tidbit from Hannah's school files for the semester:

Reading Comprehension Test

Traxoline

It is very important that you learn about traxoline. Traxoline is a new form of zionter. It is montilled in Ceristanna. The Ceristannians gristerlate large amounts of fevon and then bracter it to quasel traxoline. Traxoline may well be one of our most lukized snezlaus in the future because of our zionter lescelidge.

Questions:

1. What is traxoline?
2. Where is traxoline montilled?
3. How is traxoline quaselled?
4. Why is it important to know about traxoline?

Hannah's professor gave the test to show just how brainless reading comprehension tests often are nowadays. Actual comprehension is not required, just regurgitation. When I read the above reading comprehension test, I was transported back to the time I took the Board of Regent's reading comprehension test, a test required for all Georgia public college students. Yes, there really were many questions on the exam that were as easy as the ones above. I thought I was misreading the questions because they came directly from sentences in the text, with no actual comprehension required. Sad.

Reading

Make sure to read my first post on The Three R's:
The Three R's

My name is Susan Garrison, and I am a bibliophile.

It really does help to make that confession. I feel all warm and fuzzy now :).

My infatuation with books really must be blamed on Parents Dear, who first taught me to read, and then surrounded me with books to devour :). We've always had a good selection of books at our house, and we've read books as a family, on our own, and for school. For years Mother Dear devoted the first hour of our school day to reading aloud, a homeschool memory which still remains among my favorites. Many of the books she read aloud to us I would not have tackled alone, so I was exposed to a wider variety of literature as a result. Sometimes we read historical books that went with our current history studies, other times we read adventure books or Christian classics. My love of books was doubtless begun and forwarded by the hours Mother Dear devoted to that pursuit during my childhood. If you want your children to love to read, then read with them and to them!

Among the first books I remember reading to myself were the Little House books, and for years those remained in my top list of books. I read These Happy Golden Years, in particular, countless times. From the beginning of my reading journey, I've loved books of times past :). Little Women and its sequels were early favorites, as were the Anne of Green Gables books. With Laura Ingalls, Jo March, and Anne Shirley as my childhood companions, it is no wonder that I turned into an Old-Fashioned Girl.

I've gone through various stages of reading over the years. Elementary school consisted of a heavily mystery diet; I was rather engrossed in the world of mysteries and had fantasies of finding a secret room in our house (a la Mandie Shaw. . . ) or uncovering a spy ring in our neighborhood (following the footsteps of Nancy Drew. . . ). I read about every juvenile mystery book our library and used book sales had to offer: The Boxcar Children, The Bobbsey Twins, The Mandie Series, Trixie Belden, and Nancy Drew, just to name a few. I might add here that perhaps such a heavy diet of mysteries was not healthy for a young, already-imaginative girl :).

Much of middle and high school found me with my nose buried in an historical fiction book. My particular favorite eras of American History were the Civil War and World War II, with an emphasis on the Underground Railroad and the Holocaust. Brother Dear says I must have had a fascination with people unfavored by the government, in hiding ;). The best non-fiction book on the Holocaust that I can recommend is The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom. It is such a beautiful testimony of God's faithfulness and providence amidst suffering.

In high school and college I dabbled a good bit in inspirational fiction, but I find that genre to be iffy as to the quality, and the overly-detailed romances in the vast majority of the books of that genre really just leave me feeling dirty. I have found a few gems among the smut, though. I love Beverly Lewis' books on the Amish and Cindy Martinusen's books on the Holocaust. The latter, especially, are absolutely fascinating! I've read my share of inspirational fiction over the years, and after reading close to none over the past year, I have to admit that I don't really miss it as I thought I would.

My love of classic literature all started one summer in high school, when I decided to find out why Pride and Prejudice was such a famous book. I didn't personally know of anyone that had read the book, but I thought, "Why not? If nothing else, I'll be able to say that I tackled the famed volume." So, I checked a copy out of the local library, cracked the covers, and began to read. And I loved it! It was brilliant, it was witty, it was intriguing, it was thought-provoking, it was romantic. And I was hooked on Jane Austen. From there it was just a matter of time before I delved into more classic literature. There was something new to be gleaned from the pages of each classic literature book I cracked open! Within those pages I found complex plots and intricate characters that demanded careful study; classic literature uncovered a whole new layer of fictional reading to me; reading that demanded not just enjoyment, but analysis as well.

My interest in theological literature started a few years ago. Theology - especially reformed theology - is an area near and dear to my heart; of all subjects, it is really the most important, as all other areas of reading and study should flow out of our knowledge of God and our desire to see Him glorified. In fact, I believe that theological studies alone are a compelling reason for rigorous educational training. I am so thankful that Christianity is not a blind faith, and we don't have to leave behind our reasoning when we enter God's family! They more I study theology, the more I come to appreciate God in his infinite wisdom and sovereignty. As I try to forward my knowledge in the area of theology, though, I am constantly struck by just how little I know! Furthermore, it is important to realize that knowing about God is not the same thing at all as knowing God. I am particularly prone to forget this, so I speak primarily to myself.

Good reading materials are all well and good, but reading is so much more than deciphering the words on paper, as I continue to learn. It is so easy for me to read a good book, enjoy it along the way, put it down, and promptly forget most of it - much like Paul's description of the man that looks in a mirror and then forgets what he looks like as soon as he walks away. Reading is only profitable if the words read are internalized for reflection. I once heard a quote that I thought rather interesting: In a year you will be the same person you are today, except for the people you meet and the books you read. I can't find the reference, so any help there would be appreciated. I can't say I completely agree with the quote - there is no direct acknowledgement of the working of God, which does not always come through those two channels - but I found it interesting to consider, nonetheless. It is true that books have an enormous impact on one's life, especially for those who read a great deal. I feel at times that I know certain characters in a book better than I even know some of my friends. I've learned many lessons in life from a fictional character between the covers of a book. Books are that real to me. Reading has always had a great effect on me; while I have never wept over a movie, I have been reduced to weeping by many, many books. The written word has a great impact on me.

It is rather interesting the different approaches people take to reading. Some absolutely hate reading or find it an unprofitable pursuit - very sad, I think - but even amongst avid readers there is such a difference in ways to approach reading. I've decided that I'm definitely an active learner. I learn by doing, which in reading means hand-copying interesting portions and turning the words over and over in my mind to make sense of and analyze them. It also means underlining and making notes in my books. I only started really doing this to a large degree about a year ago (after I finally got over the I'm-going-to-ruin-my-books syndrome), and it is amazing how beneficial it is for me! I remember and understand things that I underline, summarize, and copy so much better than things that I only read. I only wish I had started doing that long ago!

Interestingly, other avid readers I know find underlining and highlighting to be disctracting. *shrugs* We each have our own methods of internalizing information, I suppose. So what are your own habits and particular interests in reading? What is your favorite genre of literature?

The Three R's

Because of my field of work and my family background, on my blog I have tended to focus more on the last of The Three R's, but I actually appreciate all three to a great degree. In fact, it's hard for me to say whether reading, writing, or arithmetic is most endeared to me. Certainly I spend more time in raptures over mathematics, but really I can't imagine my life without any of the three.

I've always found it amusing that only one of the Three R's actually begins with the letter "R", at least when written using Standard American English spelling, which I guess is something that cannot be assumed nowadays. The relativism that has permeated our culture in the past half a century has affected even the way we read, write, and do figures. What used to be black-and-white is now a matter of opinion, and it is becoming increasingly harder to make any sort of value judgment of a student's performance in school. I've heard of elementary school teachers who refuse to correct a student on spelling because that would "crush creativity." I've also heard of teachers correcting papers in purple ink, since it is "more soothing" than red ink. The day may well come when schooling may largely be a group therapy session, where all the students sit around and "discuss their issues."

Oh wait, that is already beginning to happen.

I have a bachelor's degree in education (mathematics education, to be precise), so I speak from the perspective of a former student-teacher in the public schools, a current tutor of public school students, and a survivor of a public college education program :-P. It is extremely sad when one of the primary concerns of a teacher/faculty/educational program is to protect the self-esteem of the student. To paraphrase one of my education instructors: If you praise Billy for his correct answer but don't praise Jim for his incorrect answer, that's an issue of equity. And I think it's also an ethical issue.

Excuse me, but education isn't about making people feel good; it's about helping them strengthen their recognized weaknesses. As I tell my students often, Admit you don't understand! None of you are Einstein because if you were, you wouldn't be in this class. We're here to learn because you don't know it yet! Students will rise to the expectations set in a classroom, and very rarely will they rise to anything higher. If our goal is to protect their self-esteem, rather than challenge them to overcome their recognized weaknesses, then who are we to be surprised when students fail? For an interesting post on the subject of expectations, make sure to check out Brett Harris' recent blog post over at The Rebelution. (Hattip: Anna)

But back to the Three R's. Reading, writing, and arithmetic are extremely important, and are the bases of formal education. Yet look at what is happening to them. The very structure of each is being marred beyond recognition or obliterated completely. Keep in mind that I am speaking of the state of American education in general, recognizing that the discussed problems appear in public, private, and home schools, though the level of the problems depends on the method, the individual school, and the individual classroom. I am merely stating that as a whole, our education system is defunct, and that is an indisputable fact.

Phonics has been all but shunned by the majority of educators. Look at our national illiteracy level, and then look at the level of reading that even those dubbed "literate" can tackle. Newspapers and magazines are continually having to gear their articles towards lower and lower levels of reading, to match the decline in reading levels of the general population. It's sad. Reading is a learned discipline, and phonics teaches reading in a disciplined, structured manner that is missing in most (or all) modern methods of reading instruction. In addition, reading in our culture has been reduced to a matter of recognizing the words on the paper, rather than critically analyzing those words. Reading starts as a method of mentally capturing words, but it is so much more! Let's move beyond Dick and Jane.

Grammar and composition are sadly watered-down in the English curriculum in most schools today. In my Freshman English class in college, almost none of the students (not exaggerating) had a clue as to the proper placement of commas in a sentence, and in fact, several could not even recognize an incomplete sentence. I thought, Well, this is sad, but things will get better second semester. Au contraire. During one class period in second semester, we each picked a partner and swapped papers to proofread. How does one tell a fellow student that in her paper there is not a single intelligible pair of sentences written back-to-back? Actually there were few complete sentences at all. The paper was mostly a conglomeration of dependent clauses connected by ellipses, with an occasional quote thrown in without any explanation. Keep in mind that this was a student who passed all the way through high school English and made it through first semester college English. Clearly someone along the way should have recognized the gaps in her grammar and composition knowledge!

In the case of reading, I think phonics is the essential ingredient needed to utilize the tool of knowledge reading. In the case of writing, grammar and composition together are the building blocks that form the tool of knowledge writing. So what is the essential ingredient or building block for arithmetic? Well actually, I think the list of the Three R's is unparallel. I would not classify arithmetic as a tool for knowledge on the same level as reading and writing; instead, I think arithmetic is the building block for mathematics, which is the third tool of knowledge. This fancy of mine fits well into my bemoanings on the deterioration (or absence) of the building blocks for the other two R's. Phonics, the foundation of reading, is missing, so reading suffers. Grammar and composition, the foundations of writing, are sadly ignored, so writing suffers. Arithmetic, the very foundation of mathematics, is lacking from most students' education, so mathematics suffers.

But everyone is taught how to add and subtract, you might say. Ah, but what you are thinking of is called memorization, and I am not speaking of memorizing the arithmetic tables, though if that was done thoroughly and permanently then it would help a bit. After a year as a math tutor, I've decided that a very basic something that is lacking in the mathematical education of the vast majority of students today is the comprehension of what exactly addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division are. Unfortunately a large percentage of students really don't know, and it's quite hard to continue to plow ahead in math without understanding the basics. In one of my math education classes, I had a professor laughingly tell us that some students decide which arithmetic operation to use in a word problem based on the relative size of the numbers in the problem: if the numbers are similar in size, they add or multiply; if the numbers are very different in size, they subtract or divide. When he said this I laughed, but now as a math tutor I can attest that he was right. I have watched in disbelief over and over this year as his prediction came true.

Sadly, the students in our nation are suffering from the poor educational choices of their parents and teachers. If a student gets to college and cannot recognize an incomplete sentence if it slaps him in the face, I feel sorrow for him, not disdain. I was blessed with an excellent, tailored education instigated by my parents, but I did not deserve such a blessing any more than the next person, so I can feel no justified pride in this. The vast majority of the students in our nation have been robbed of a real education; instead they have endured 12 years of memorization, imitation, and therapy sessions, and then they have been tricked into believing that this dance they have danced for 12 (or 13 or 14) years is an education. It's not.

A real education doesn't just force students to learn how to graph an ellipse or how to diagram a complex sentence. A real education teaches students how to learn, not just what to learn. The educational experience of the majority of the children of our nation is but a shadow of what true education is. It's akin to feeding a child cherry-flavored cough syrup and claiming it a sufficient dietary supply of fruit. Being spoon-fed cough syrup is not the same thing as eating real cherries. It's a bitter imitation!

The old adage, give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, and you feed him for life, still rings true today. Education should not be about handing a student knowledge on a platter, but showing a student how to acquire knowledge himself. It does not mean throwing a student a pole and saying, Here, learn how to fish! It does mean taking the time and care to explain to a student the details of fishing. Fishing is more than just dropping a line in the water and waiting for a bite (or so I've heard), so yes, teach a child to fish instead of just handing him a fish, but might I tweak the saying a bit?

Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, and you feed him for life. Show a man the beauty of fishing, and you've hooked him for a lifetime.

After all, a student may be acquainted with all the details of fishing so that he can be fed if necessary, but only by showing a man the beauty of fishing will you convince him to fish on his own for his own benefit and enjoyment, not just for his sustenance. It's all well and good to show a child how to get by in life and survive, but it's quite another thing to show a child how to soar! Only then will The Three R's be recovered.

As a final disclaimer, my point in this post is not to claim my own superiority in each of The Three R's. I am aware of my own numerous deficiencies in these areas, and it is amusing (though humbling) to note, that I originally had a missing comma in my paragraph of that subject. Ah, yes, humble pie :). The point of my posts is merely to lament the sad corrosion of The Three R's in our modern educational system, not to claim that I have perfectly "risen above" these corruptions. Besides, any skill I have in these areas (or others) is not of me, but a blessing from God.

Stay tuned over the next several days as I share musings of my own personal experiences with each of the Three R's. Meanwhile check out Adrian's post on the public school system, an issue which I chose to dodge in this post :). Adrian also mentions many of the types of deficiencies that I grazed over in this post.

More From Boy. . .

Brother Dear dabbles in writing fictional ramblings on occasion, some of which are quite thought-provoking. His most recent Xanga post is sure to provoke a bit of reflection. Here is a snippet:

I had a dream last night. I found myself in a man's house while he was kneeling before a shrine. The shrine had a number of grotesquely fashioned statues on it. He was praying to the idols, asking for protection, security, and a happy life. I waited while he prayed, because I did not want to disturb him. After a few minutes, he got up, turned around, and saw me. He smiled and greeted me as if he did not think it was strange that I had just appeared in his house. I noticed a small gold chain around his neck with a cross at the bottom. I asked him what it was, and he said that he was a Christian. I obviously looked confused, since he grinned and pointed back to the shrine. "Oh, that. I get that a lot. But people are just being legalistic. I guess you think it's inconsistant of me to pray to these statues if I'm a Christian?"

Read Ben's whole post here.

The way to any girl's heart. . .

My brother, the romantic. He laughs about our mathematical obsessions, but really he's just as weird as the rest of us :). I was searching through my e-mail files today and came across these clever pick-up lines that he came up with. Isn't he nice to allow me to post them? :-D Can anyone can come up with the "standard English" translations for them?

(1) For every pair of nodes in my graph, you make sure that there is an edge between them.

(2) I want you to wear my set R, where R has two binary operators, + and *, s.t . (R, +) is an abelian group with identity element 0, (R, *) is a monoid with identity element 1, and multiplication distributes over addition.

(3) You make me feel like I've been multiplied by my complex conjugate.

Links to a Few Recent Posts on Beauty

Several weeks ago I had a fun time analyzing ways not to find a guy ;). I discouraged the Wal-Mart method and The Rules method, expounding on The Rules further by considering if finding a husband is a game. Then I threw in a post on anxiety, just to keep the focus in the right place. I had enormous fun in writing up that series of posts :).

In a comment to my post on The Rules, Lydia mused about the possibility of writing up a related post on beauty. I encouraged her to please do so, and she has at last posted her thoughts on the subject. Make sure to check out her excellent post on beauty. She does a good job of considering the Biblical place and basis for beauty and the world's distortion of it. Here is a peek:

I find it so degrading the emphasis that the world places on the beauty of a women's body and face. We aren't considered beautiful unless we show most of our skin and apply make-up as spackling. What standard do we hold to for beauty as Christian women? That of the world which, changes from day to day or that of our beloved Savior Christ, which never fades away?

While you're at it, make sure to check out Jessica's post on beauty, recently published over at YLCF. I especially loved this part of her post:

Granted, we now live in a sinful world that has tainted the original loveliness of the Lord's creation, but many times we can catch an tiny yet exquisite glimpse of the our God's beauty through His creation. It's found in the delicacy of a lily-of-the-valley...in the awe-inspiring splendor of a sunset...in the tranquility of a hidden meadow covered with freshly-fallen snow. You can see it in the magnificene of true love....a baby's laugh...good food. Our Lord's many facets of beauty..." La vie est belle"...life IS beautiful.

Make sure to check out Lydia's post and Jessica's post in their entireties!

Weekend Visitors and a Bit More Chess

We had a busy few days last weekend, with visitors Friday, Saturday, and Sunday! It was lots of fun, though :).

Ashley and her fiance Paul came over on Sunday afternoon and evening, and we had a good time talking, eating, etc. We even watched a few Square One clips for fun :).

I helped Ashley hem her bridesmaid dress for a wedding she will be in next month. What a nice problem to have - a dress that is too long! One (of many) reasons that it worked best to make my bridesmaid dress for Lydia's wedding was the simple reason that most ready-made dresses wouldn't fall floor-length on me, especially with those heels ;). Ah well. I still think height has its advantages.

As I've mentioned a few times, I am slowly trying to improve myself a bit on chess (read "stand a fighting chance in a game against an 8 year old"). I originally learned how to play chess when I was about 8 or 9, and spent little time improving my skills with the game. Last fall, though, I started playing a bit of chess again, after many years of inactivity. Our friends had learned to play chess, and I found it slightly humiliating to be put in stalemate by the 5 year old (a smart 5 year old, mind you!). After being soundly beaten by her older sisters (I did win one game, actually. . . ), I decided it was finally time for me to at least become proficient in chess. Okay, proficiency is probably quite a while off, but it's gettting better. . . very slowly.

Anyway, it turns out that Paul is very good in chess, so Hannah and I coerced him into some lessons while he and Ashley were here. I've decided that Paul is an amazingly patient person. You picked a great guy, Ashley :). Not only did Paul manage to (almost successfully) hide his disbelief when answering some of my rather obvious questions, but he didn't seem to mind all that much when I questioned his every move with, so why did you do that? He also just shrugged off the nicknames for chess pieces that Hannah and I came up with: steeple, flower, seal, horsie, castle, and peg :-D. Hehe. It was actually no fun to play with those names since he didn't even mind :(.

Ashley, who isn't much into chess ;), decided to "help me out" during the game, and put my extra pieces back on the board, securing checkmate. Hehe. Then she did the same for Paul. That's my kind of girl. She knows how to make chess fun :).

If the IRS had discovered the quadratic formula. . .

This is hilarious. Filling out my taxes this year, I felt like an overgrown preschooler doing a gigantic worksheet that made little sense. Now take your purple crayon and circle all the boxes that are labelled with an odd number. It really is laughable how funny a 1040 form reads, and how complicated it is! I guess it all comes together in the end, but not very coherently. The annual April ritual is yet another reason I favor a national sales tax that would render the current tax code obsolete. Ah well. Meanwhile, read this worksheet for a laugh.

Awwww! That's so sweet. :)

My brother's girlfriend Stephanie and Ben's friend Noah did a stuffed animal shoot, making up a story about Penguin and Bear. It is absolutely adorable! Take a quick trip over to her Xanga entry if you want to feel all warm and fuzzy inside :). It's just too cute to resist. And Ben thought they'd get bored. . .

Television: A Quote to Ponder

From All God's Children and Blue Suede Shoes, by Kenneth Myers, Chapter Ten:

Television is thus not simply the dominant medium of popular culture, it is the single most significant shared reality in our entire society. Christendom was defined as a region dominated by Christianity. Not all citizens of Christendom were Christians, but all understood it, all were influenced by its teaching, all institutions had to contend with it. Christianity was the one great assumption of Christendom. I can think of no entity today capable of such a culturally unifying role except television. In television, we live and move and have our being.

What do you think?

Spam and Square One TV

Though I graduated from UGA almost a year ago, my UGA e-mail acount is still active through the end of May or so. It's a good thing, because Ebay sent an important message to that account a few days ago, and I'm glad I received it!

Date: Mon 24 Apr 03:20:15 EDT 2006
From: eBay Add To Address Book This is Spam
Subject: Please Review The Following Message!
To: susaneg@uga.edu

Dear Member,
There is an important message regarding your account waiting for you, please read it an follow the instructions there, you can get started by clicking here. If you have any questions, please visit the Contact Us page and we will respond to your request. We're available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Regards,

eBay

Learn more about selling with confidence.

If this email is inappropriate or in any way violates eBay policy, please help protect other eBay community members by reporting it to us immediately.

I nearly panicked and flew over to my Ebay account to read my important message that was waiting, except that I don't have an Ebay account. I use Father Dear's Ebay account, and his Ebay messages go to a Juno e-mail account, not my UGA mail account. You'd think they could at least spell all of their words correctly if they're going to try to scam people. Make it look official, people!

My UGA account sort of serves as a junk mail account right now, as evidenced by the enormous volume of crud that fills that inbox everytime I check it - mainly ads for unmentionable products. In addition to "Ebay" e-mails, in times past I've also received e-mails about my (nonexistant) Paypal account, various bank accounts from banks unafilliated with me, and at least one that claimed to be from my bank. Oh, and many e-mails from people in Africa requesting my help in securing an inheritance. All they ask for is my bank account number to deposit the money, then we can go halvsies on the spoils. What a deal! (I might add here a disclaimer admitting that there was a time when I was a bit less cynical with regards to such e-mails, and even held out hopes of making a profit from Microsoft's new e-mail tracking software :). I've wised up a bit since then, though, thanks to Brother Dear.)

Really, don't people have better things to do than make up bogus e-mails in the hopes of scamming people out of money? Get a real job! My name is Bob, and I'm a professional spammer. That'll impress the ladies. Really, have some self-respect.

I may chuckle when I get an Ebay notice, since I don't have an Ebay account, but many other people who received that same e-mail do have an Ebay account, so they may believe it. If you get an e-mail from a site you are signed up with, you may think that of course it's from them, after all you do have an account with them. They may even call you by the correct username. This means absolutely nothing, though. The genius behind spam is that statistically, it will always apply to someone. I am reminded of an episode from the greatest educational show ever produced: Square One TV. The show was on - you guessed it - math!

One portion of the show was called Mathnet (get the pun?). Mathnet was a detective series that detailed the antics of George Frankly and Kate Monday (later replaced by Pat Tuesday) as they solved day-to-day detective cases with the help of mathematics. At the beginning of each episode they would whip their calculators out of their arm holsters, punch buttons to "prime them" (?), and then they were ready to wield their deadly math knowledge in their fight against crime. It was great.

Mathnet. The story you are about to see is a fib, but it's short. The names are made up, but the problems are real.

Then comes the opening music. Dum, dum-dum-dum. Dum, dum-dum-dum. Dum, dum-dum-dum. Dum!

In one of the cases they solved, a woman claimed to be able to make predictions. She gained popularity and trust from people by relying on statistics. By predicting something that would apply to a portion of people, she would gain trust from those to whom it applied. She narrowed down her target group gradually, knowing that some of her followers would fall away with each prediction (since each prediction would not apply to everyone), but also knowing that her predictions would continue to ring true for a portion of the people she targeted. In the end she had a small group of people that believed her every word because she had predicted things about them (by statistics, not by foreknowledge). If Square One TV had been filmed in the days of computers, no doubt the woman would have gained followers by e-mail forwards.

Square One TV ran on PBS during my elementary school years, and I was a regular viewer. I even "starred" in many reenactments of the show :-D. I've known my Dear Friend Ashley for a long time; we first met at church when I was in first grade and she and Brother Dear were in second grade. I admire the fact that she has an appreciation for the finer things in life ;), including Square One TV. Many years ago, she participated in the solving of many exciting Mathnet cases with Brother Dear and me. Boy played George Frankly, and Ashley and I took turns playing Kate Monday (Did we also play Pat, Ashley, or did she come on the show after you moved?) and Jessie, the secretary. Good times :-D.

Each episode of Square One TV was a collection of short skits about various math concepts - always ending the show with an episode of Mathnet. Forever embedded in my brain will be a vision of the surgeons at General Mathpital operating on that giant "L", the Fat Boys singing "One Billion" (one thousand times one million, that's one billion. . . ), the Adding Family attempting to mentally add the numbers 1 to 100 in less than 3 minutes, and of course the Mathnetters discovering the Fibonacci sequence on the side of a brick mansion.

My favorite Square One TV song of all time is "The Mathematics of Love." It's kind of hard to forget the image of that guy in a toga singing, "I night, the starts were shining, II hearts, were intertwining. . . " It was great, and the background singers swinging to-and-fro with shiny togas and gold leaves in their hair just make the skit. For that great clip and more, check out this site that hosts some old Square One clips. Unfortunately no significant attempt has yet been made to release the old episodes to DVD :( , so loyal fans have attempted to preserve the memory of Square One via online clips.

*sigh* They just don't make great TV shows like they used to.

Signs That Summer is Coming

I really don't like summer in Georgia. *sigh* I'm not particularly fond of winter either, but that's beside the point. I absolutely love spring and especially fall :), but I have never liked the weather that accompanies that season between the Summer Soltice and the Autumnal Equinox. Actually, unfortunately the "summer-like weather" in Georgia is not confined between the above recognized distinctions of the solar year.

Actually, I have a very love-hate relationship with summer. The association is not all bad. I passed one quarter of my youth during that season. Summer has always been the season I most look forward to in the sense of extra freedom from school responsibilities (as a student, teacher, or tutor). I like Father Dear being home more (though he does usually teach something during the summer), and I love visiting friends and relatives. I like wearing lightweight cotton dresses, and I love going barefoot or with sandals and not having to worry about covering my feet from the cold. I love waking up early for a walk and not bundling up despite the early hour.

The rest of my associations with summer are mostly bad. I really don't like summer weather, at least the weather that accompanies the summer here in the South. The last few weeks I've been aware of a few of the signs that summer is indeed soon to come upon us.

(1) The Humidity

The humidity is back. If you don't understand what I mean by that, I envy you. Georgia feels like a swamp during the summer - a very hot one. I don't mind dry heat, but I don't tolerate heat + humidity well at all. Think of a spa. All day long. Or a sauna. Ick.

It is not a pleasant experience to air dry 40 inches of hair when the atmosphere is already bursting with moisture; it's sort of like walking around in a cloud for an entire day.

(2) The Mosquitoes

I discovered my first bug bites of the year this morning: two on my left foot, and one on my left ankle. I must have acquired them during my lengthy visit to the local park on Sunday. Georgia is practically a breeding ground for mosquitoes, and I try not to find myself outdoors in the evenings without ample coverage or strong bug spray. Unfortunately mosquitos really like me, while many bug sprays don't get along well with my skin.

My record for bugbites was just over 240 in 4 hours, one hot and muggy summer evening with some Dear Friends (the Trues and Freemans) in a backyard with ample foliage - read "mosquito breeding ground". Yes, for those of you with a mathematical bent, that was a rate of just over one bite/minute. I also discovered through that experience that Caladryl should not be applied constantly and, in fact, over-application of Caladryl can irritate one's legs more so even than a surplus of 100 bites/leg.

(3) The Sun

This Sunday I got my first real taste of sun-dodging for the year. We had a picnic after church at a local park, and the sun was out and beating down on us, so I donned an ankle-length skirt, a light-weight long sleeved blouse, and a wide-brimmed hat. I then quickly headed for the shade of a large tree, where our party was picnicking :).

Those who know me well know that I work very hard every summer to keep up my ghostly-pale complexion :-D. The last time I went to the beach was 2 summers ago with my Dear Friend Emily and her Dear Family. We were there for 4 days and I used an entire family-sized bottle of sunscreen by myself. But I didn't get sunburned! In fact I returned from Florida just as pale as when I went - mission accomplished!

Some of you may laugh at my antics to avoid the sun, but then you probably don't have the same level of melanin in your skin that I have in mine - practically zilch. I don't tan, as I try to explain to people; I just burn. I can get pink from the sun after 15 minutes under partial clouds. By the way, did you know that on a typically-cloudy day, 80% of the sun's rays still get through??? People laugh when I say this until they see my pink-tinged skin after I've spent an afternoon in cloudy weather with one or two sunscreen applications. *sigh*

For those of you gasping that I had the audacity to just color part of my text in red given, (a) my pinkish-purplish blog color scheme, and (b) the purplish text immediately preceding it, it's okay, calm down. I was merely trying to associate colors with each of the three signs I listed, and unfortunately red was the best choice for the part on sunburns. I recognize that there are times to couple colors that are otherwise to be kept apart. Even I sometimes wear red and pink together on Valentine's Day. . .

So yes, summer is coming, as evidenced by various signs I have been dreading. But then, as Mother Dear just pointed out to me amidst my typing, if we didn't have summer, we couldn't appreciate the other seasons as much :). And I am looking forward to a long break from teaching and tutoring. . .

What signs of summer have you witnessed recently?