Why I finally applied for library school

I applied to library school because of a Unitarian message from God. I had been thinking about this for a long time, had done some considerable checking online into the program I was interested in, and requested some materials to be mailed to me. This stuff was sitting around my house, and I would look at it from time to time and not do anything about it. Then I read Dana's blog one day and she had posted a list of Web comic links. One was Unshelved, which had a post that linked to Questionable Content, and there I saw it: a t-shirt that says "She blinded me with Library Science." And I thought, "I. Must. Have it." However, if I ordered this shirt, having no connection to library science, I would be a poseur. I, therefore, applied for the program. And now, ironically, I have no time to read books or visit libraries, unless as part of one of my many assignments.

New beginnings (and I can finally blog again!)

I had been unable to post for several days after I switched to the new Blogger (after having simply neglected my blog for several months). Whenever I tried to post, I would get the "unable to complete your request" message. It looks as things have been repaired, though, and I'm looking forward to learning how to use the new features. The most exciting thing happening right now, is, after lo, these many years, I am starting graduate school! I will be studying for a Master's degree in Library and Information Science, so I plan to learn to actually use the wonderful technology that's available. I'm starting slowly, with one class which begins tonight, so I'm still enthusiastic. Once the actual work begins, I'm sure I will be less enthusiastic, but I am nevertheless committed. Next time I will write about the odd set of circumstances which actually inspired me to finally apply for the program.

Home

While reading Dana's post about the relief of not having to fit in in foreign cultures, and then her discussion of exaggerating one’s “nativeness,” I started thinking again about something that has been on my mind for a while now. My husband and I have been exploring places to live when he retires, and when we visited one of them last summer, I just panicked when we were about to put an offer on some property there…I mean, a sleepless night and sobbing, weeping. It was awful.

It turns out there were some serious things at home that needed attention, but since then, things have calmed down (knock on wood). I continued the search for places to live through magazines, the Internet, etc. and I have come to this conclusion: I have fallen for my state like someone who is in an arranged marriage might fall in love with their spouse. I didn’t choose this state; I was born here. It was not my mother’s native state, so it’s not like there are generations who have been here

One of my clues was this: I have recently been something of an iTunes addict, and they have lists of songs relating to various themes. One was for my state and the major city in it. I looked at the list, and I thought, “My God, I love all of these songs.” It’s not something I can define or describe, but these songs, which span generations, touch me. I have wondered why I have never made popular culture choices that are “appropriate” to my age, and this is what I learned: it’s not about time for me, but place.

Then something else happened. I was researching another town online that had been recommended in a magazine, and I was reading Chamber of Commerce stuff, I think. It said that union membership in that state was low, and they said it like it was a good thing! What? I now live in a management family (although I belong to a union, and I recognize there are problems) but I just felt like I had experienced an insensitive attack on my religion. Yeah, they sometimes make life inconvenient, but they make it a little more fair. Do people really want to go back to the way it was before unions?

My state is also gorgeous. A lot of people I run into don’t know that because I live in one of the most geographically uninteresting parts of it. Some of the really stunning parts don’t have a lot of people living there permanently because tourism is the primary industry, or because you are more likely to live there if you are very well off. Nevertheless, I like it here, because this part of the state is one of the more integrated ones I’ve ever seen. People cross ethnic and racial and socioeconomic lines more deeply than I have seen in other places. I’ve had the opportunity in my life to hang out with people from a broad array of backgounds, particularly when I moved to my current home. I don’t agree with everybody here about everything, but I never feel like I have to.

I feel like when I move to a new state, I will have to spend a lot of time justifying and defending myself and the things I believe and value. I will have an accent (and I never thought I really had the accent of my home state until I listened to a message I had left on our home answering machine.) People won’t say “pop” or play euchre. (I don’t play euchre, either, but I need to be able to refuse to play it at a social gathering.)

I like to travel when I have the opportunity and hope I can do more of it. I like meeting new people and seeing different ways of doing things. This, though, is my home, and even though I will probably leave it someday, it will be one of the more difficult moments in my lfe.

Did you find my balloon?

Click the comments section and let me know.

My Summer Vacation: Parties!

Most of my summers are pretty quiet, with a graduation open house or shower or wedding here or there, but this summer, I was involved in planning several celebrations. First, I planned a casual celebration (actually, two) the day my son graduated from his university. Then, along with my brother and sister and sister-in-law, I helped plan a surprise half-birthday party for my mom's 80.5 birthday. Her birthday is on Christmas Eve, and she has never had a proper party. A surefire way to surprise people is to have a party when it's not their actual birthday. A month or so later, a co-worker and I threw a baby shower at my house for our friend Sandra. We had a Princess theme. I borrowed a gold velvety tablecloth and lots of silver and silverplate from a friend, and we had little bouquets of flowers in tiny silvery vases, and tiny sandwiches and whatnot...and we all wore paper princess crowns, but Sandra's was a little fancier and foil/metal and multi-colored. Most recently, my husband and I threw ourselves a 25th Anniversary party (with lots of contributions of time and talent from various family members.) It was much fancier than our wedding; it was a luncheon for about 70 people at a country club (our wedding reception was a party in our backyard with a band, which was actually a lot of fun.)

One of the things I am happy about is that I sort of joined the 21st century in the planning of the anniversary party. I made mix CD's to give away (all legally and on the up-and-up) I had never even made a mix tape back in the old days, let alone burned a CD. We made labels for the tins and the CDs on the computer. I also am pretty much the last person on earth, according to my son, to have never made a PowerPoint slide show (until now.) Of course, my husband and stepson had to put the music I had chosen with the slides I had made and get it into a usable condition, and my granddaughter informed me, with the self-assurance that only a fourteen-year-old girl can muster, that I should have used Moviemaker. (I don't have Moviemaker!)

There is one more little surprise party to go (and I know that person won't be reading my blog) but my only job is to buy some balloons. Otherwise, I just need to get a gift and card and eat at Old Country Buffet (a secret, guilty pleasure that I only engage in when someone else has planned an event there.)

Although I have enjoyed every party, I'm ready to settle down and begin the real New Year...the beginning of the school year. (Even though I worked in the summer, I always consider the fall semester the beginning...and I will spend this week in the ritual cleaning of my sock drawer.) Good times!

There is a commercial for the local cable company featuring two turtles (tortoises?) called the Slowskys. They are apparently a married turtle couple, and they talk about how they prefer the slower cable company rather than the fast connection of the company being advertised. "Where's the fire?" Mrs. Slowsky asks.

Although I love a fast cable connection, her attitude sort of expresses my love/hate relationship with technology. I love the fact that a few years ago, friends/ old roommates I hadn't heard from in twenty years started to e-mail me, and I them. I enjoy having my blog, although I really don't know how to use it to its full potential. I like being able to keep in contact with my family, even if I'm a world away.

There are some things that have gotten lost, though. When I was a teenager and a college student, buying an album was kind of special. I would take it home for the first time, and when I had my own stereo system (my first major independent purchase), I would open up the record, carefully put it on the turntable, and clean it with the special wiper that came with it. I would sit down and study the cover art and liner art, and I would read the lyrics on the liner note and try to learn as many songs as I could. When I played the album subsequent times, I always enjoyed putting an album on the turntable and feeling anticipation as I heard that subtle "scritch."

I guess the thing that comes closest now is seeing what's new on iTunes every Tuesday, which is a little more satisfying than just loading up and starting a CD cartridge. It's fun to browse around and see people's various comments about the songs and albums, and see what kind of mixes people have made. Still, it would be fun to get a hold of a turntable and play my old albums someday.

Recent developments

I have not posted on my blog for a long time, primarily because my home computer is out of commission. It is being fixed (hopefully) by an acquaintance of my husband who is doing it in his spare time, which apparently has not been much lately. I'm posting this at my workplace, but I'm not really "at work" right now. The very best news of late is this: my son has graduated from college! Woo-hoo! I had a lot of fun on his graduation day; I hope he did too. The graduation speaker (Christiane Ahmanpour!!) was excellent. It was a beautiful and only slightly chilly morning, and warmed up nicely later. Of course, I was very proud. Eleven of us had a lovely brunch at the student union, then we visited the university's botanical gardens at his girlfriend's suggestion. I was pretty impressed with my son's knowledge of the place. He also pointed out an old growth forest on the way to the gardens. he explained that this forest is off limits to visitors, which one of his professoers felt was a mistake, because people are more inclined to protect what they are familiar with. Apparently my son had spent some time in these parts for a class, and later visited on his own. Later more family members joined us at a restaurant/saloon for food, beer, etc. It was a great day.

My Rider

I was reading about Dick Cheney's and John Kerrey's "riders" as published in
The Smoking Gun--the stuff people want waiting in their hotel rooms for them. Not that I'll ever have the kind of fame, money, etc. that gets you that kind of thing, but I like to fantasize about it, the same way that I fantasize about my Oscar gown, what I'll wear to my husband's presidential inauguration, etc. So here's what I want:

*A fluffy pair of flannel pajamas and one of those nice fluffy hotel robes, and some booty slippers
*A selection of herbal and green teas in one of those sectioned tea boxes, and hot water in a ceramic pot, and a big, chunky mug, preferably with an art print on it
*A bowl of lemon slices
*Two bottles of Shiraz and half a dozen crystal wine glasses
*Magazines: People, Atlantic Monthly,Newsweek, Time, and the daily newspaper of whatever city I'm in
*Pepperidge Farm Mint Milano cookies
*Videos--The first season of Lost,or any of the Six Feet Under seasons
*An elliptical trainer

Wow, I'm really disappointed. These are pretty much things I can easily provide for myself. I guess that's why people want these things, though...the comforts of home.

The things I'm going to do "someday"

I have so many things in my head I think I will do when I get a big chunk of time, but then when I do, I forget what they were and just take a nap. Therefore, I'm going to document them here.

* figure out how to do cool things on my blog, and to find out why I can't create links although I'm following the instructions I used to.

*scan all my photos to the computer, put them on disks, and get them all scrapbooked

*clean my entire house (including closets) and gather and price items for a garage sale

*get a Master's Degree, which would involve a series of smaller tasks to initiate the process

*exercise on a regular basis

*watch the Godfather movies (I have never seen a Godfather movie in its entirety)--also Apocalypse Now and Citizen Kane

*read the boxed set of tiny Shakespeare books that I asked for and got several Christmases ago

*find my Christmas recipe folder!!! It's missing and I must have it!

*put photos in my dozens of empty frames

* buy some proper clothes (Goddess clothes, as my friend Susan would say)

* get a mammogram and make an eye doctor appointment

* read the manual that came with my car

* figure out how to use all the features on my cell phone

Well, I guess that's enough to keep me off the streets for the next few breaks.

Hospitals

Fortunately, she seems to be doing better now, but about two weeks ago my stepdaughter had a serious car accident on her way home from work, resulting in a badly broken hip, among other things. After the initial surgery, another surgery at another hospital a little over an hour from here,was required. Although she is still in the hospital, she sounded great when my husband spoke to her on the phone today and seems to be recovering nicely, although there is some more healing and rehab ahead of her.
(Update: I was interrupted when writing this Saturday. She will be returning to our hometown hospital tomorrow for rehab.)
Since early May of last year, I have had three family members in the hospital for some pretty serious stuff. That was preceded by two years where someone was in the hospital at least once for other serious stuff. I am happy to report that they are, if not necessarily all completely healthy, better off than they would have been without surgical/medical intervention.
It’s strange how you can go years and years without this stuff going on and then it becomes a weirdly normal part of your life—not the illness or injury that results in the hospital stay, but how the language of hospitals and getting around starts to become familiar: NPO, clear tray, rating pain on a scale of 1 to 10, etc.
But thank God for the hospitals, doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel that have made life better, safer, and healthier for my loved ones when they have been in some kind of trouble.

Scrubs and ageism

Several posts ago, I said that I would write about issues of age as they are represented in popular culture (and someday, when I can create a link...I have been having trouble doing that lately using the blogger instructions, I will edit this and include links.) I saw an issue that came up the other night on one of my favorite sitcoms, Scrubs, but I wanted to process it for a few days before I wrote about it.

This is a batch of new episodes, and J.D., the main character, has now become an attending physician supervising a group of interns. Among those interns is an older woman (comic premise, I'm sure, being that it is not bloody likely, which is true.) My issue is that this woman is presented as being slow-moving and constantly falling asleep.

One of the fun things about this show is that it actually explores, in a comedic way, the way we stereotype people, shown in the ways J.D. relates to his African-American friend Turk, and Turk's Hispanic wife,Carla, and even the ditzy, WASPY blonde (female) doctor, Elliot. So, initially, I thought, this is among the things this show does. Everybody is fair game, and so age would certainly not be off-limits.

But then I got to thinking about a syndicated column I read a couple of days ago (and I can't find it.) It was written by a Hispanic woman who discussed people who write her with legitimate questions, and the letters often begin "I know you will think I'm a racist, but...". She then discusses how the fear of being branded racist prevents us from discussing legitimate issues. Then she usually is able to point out to people that the way we stereotype people obscures other issues, such as poverty. Her point is, that real racism is something that ultimately results in some kind of economic hardship for people.

This is where I take issue with the Scrubs episode. Hollywood is notorious for age discrimination, and there is a class action suit brought by several writers over 40 against studios in Hollywood. http://www.writerscase.com/ Age is an economic issue in show business (as ethnicity has been, but that situation is changing to some extent.) My point is that an industry which is known for hurting people economically in this way (not only in the past, but currently and blatantly) is being very offensive when it is stereotyping in this manner.

Keeping track

I was filling out the new calendar from the old calendar a couple of days ago (primarily birthdays) and I noticed all the additional stuff that had been written in...doctor's appointments, get-togethers with friends, vacations, and so on. I realized that i had probably forgotten a lot of details of those events that might be helpful for my occasional pastime of scrapbooking, which should be more fun because of the Sizzix die-cut machine I requested and got for Christmas.

Therefore, I will occasionally be recording the excruciating minutiae of my life, not because it's good reading, but I've discovered going over old blog entries also helps me remember things.

My first act will be to record what I can recall that I got for Christmas 2005: the aforementioned Sizzix, Eminem CD (Curtain Call), slippers,slipper socks, a Pilates ball and DVD, (and I also gave Ron one, which is OK because they come in sizes according to your height)(Ron); a crystal candy jar or vase (Princess House)(Jeff and Roni); Sweater with crocheted hem and neck (Jamie); Le Creuset ceramic baking pans and a silicone one, jewelry box, and holly chip and dip server (Jay and Shari); scrapbook stickers, bath gel, and a Linkity game (Joe and Julie); money (Mom) :-) ; a "popcorn" container filled with movie snacks (Bob and Sherry); bottle of wine and candy (Jodi and Karl).restaurant gift certificate (Kathy); and various gifts & hostess gifts from friends--pedometer, A Christmas Carol DVD, teacups and homemade tea mix, cinnamon-scented gingerbread man trivet.

We had the usual Christmas Eve open house. Cheese soup and Yule Log were the biggest hits made by my hands, Ron made the Gascony beef stew which I usually make (but his was awesome, baked in the cast iron pan in the oven the way it's supposed to be) and Jamie made a fabulous, two-tiered chocolate cake chocolate frosting, decorated with gumdrops, candy canes, and gumdrops. it was beautiful like the front of a magazine. Hopefully someone took pictures and will give me one.

Just like Josh takes lots of pictures of buildings with no people in them, I find myself increasingly traking or collecting pictures of food. Now if I can just keep photographing it and not eating it, I might be able to keep one of my New Year's resolutions.

My less than 15 minutes of fame

I was standing in the mall buying ribbon at 75% off, about eighth back in line, when I saw a guy with a camera. I assumed it was the typical news story about day after Christmas bargain hunters, and it was. I turned my attention back to balancing my armload of beautiful wired ribbon when I was approached by a reporter who asked me questions, and, as I do when I get a little nervous, I kept talking.

The next day, when I was at my mother’s birthday party in the metropolitan Detroit area, I told my family I had been in the paper a that morning.

“Did you kill somebody?” they asked.

“Nope. I bought ribbon.”

“Must have been a slow news day.”

“She was on the front page, too,” my husband said.

“Honey, I thought we had to move to Tennessee for a quiet lifestyle, but it turns out we just have to move to Lansing,” my nephew said to his wife.

Even so, my son and I decided that in my leather coat and dark clothing (and obscured face) I looked like the baddest-ass, ribbon-buying mom in the mall.

I have somewhat of a continuing saga here with the dance pad thing. I sent my husband to get the dance pad, but he came back with a box that included a dance pad AND the game...as far as we could tell. As we looked at all the large and tiny print on the box, including reference to something called XBOX Live, we were flummoxed. Did one have to have that? Was everything in the box that was needed? My husband found the address of the company and said we had to call them. "We're grandparents, for God's sake," he said. We called them; they called us back later and assured us we had everything we needed...XBOX Live offered more options, but the game could be played with the contents in the box. I think companies should start printing requirements in large print, and explaining every option with "You've got to have this" or "You don't have to have this, but it makes the game a lot more fun."

This is just one more event in the holiday preparations that makes me want to scream, "WHY IS EVERYBODY TRYING TO F*** WITH ME?" (Not nice Grandma talk, I know, but really, why are they?) I will explain other events if and when they get resolved.

Weird Words

Do you know that experience you have where you say a word, and it sounds really weird and it keeps repeating in your mind and driving you crazy? I had that experience today with an entire sentence. I asked a clerk in a store, "Do you have the dance pad for Dance Dance Revolution--the one that's compatible with XBox, not PlayStation?"(Of course, I was Christmas shopping.) As I walked away, I was obsessed with the strangeness of it. It reminded me of part of a routine George Carlin did when I was in high school or college--things you will never say, like "Hand me that piano," or "Please saw my legs off." Maybe that was the weirdness of it. Even two months ago, I would not have anticipated the need to ever formulate such a sentence. Maybe now that I have written it down, it will go away.

Introverts

I read this article a few years ago, and just came upon it again. I think it should be required reading for all extroverts. They probably won't sit down and be quiet long enough to read it, though.

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200303/rauch

Being in the moment vs. I want to be anyplace but where I am

I had this strange sensation on Sunday that I haven't had for the longest time, and I found it very disturbing and unpleasant. I had to do several things that day, and no matter where I was, I wanted to be in the next place. All I really had to do was go to church, pick up a birthday card and a gift, go to a birthday party for my granddaughter(45 minutes away), and go home. At church they were doing a couple of unusual things: installing a new campus pastor and saying goodbye to a Brazilian minister who had been visiting for six weeks (and they had him come up and give a speech.) There was special music, which I usually love, but I just wanted them to hurry up so I could go to the store. The service ran over about a half an hour, which almost never happens. Then, as I was standing in a very long line at the craft store, I discovered the soapmaking kit I was buying was meant for children three years older than Amanda. I ran to another store and bought a card and just stuck some money in it, a thing I hate to do for a child unless there is an accompanying small gift. Then when we got to the birthday pary, after the first hour I wanted to go home so badly I felt like I was jumping out of my skin. (Maybe it was the sugar and caffeine from the cake and coffee.)

A few years ago, I was Christmas shopping,and feeling very anxious that time was running out and I would never finish. I purposely went to this specific KFC store where, at that time, the service was notoriously slow. I went there because the people who went there never seemed to care, and it seemed to calm me down. On this particular day, I was waiting in a not very long, but very slow line. Then the song "Just My Imagination" came on the music system and the two people behind me, who had come in separately, but realized they knew each other, spontaneously started singing along with the song. They laughed and started talking about what a pretty song it was. This is one of my favorite moments in life. It made me feel so good; I can't explain why. It was the moment I knew I might find there, though.

The feeling I had on Sunday was uncomfortable because at this point in my life, I know how important it is to be in the moment. Fortunately, Monday (Halloween) was a day like that. I did a lot of things that I find fun and joyful, and everything I did turned out even better than I thought it would. Everywhere I went, I was in the moment.

No pressure: teaching English and making music

I now have two excellent things on Monday. I teach a small group of Korean women who belong to a church that is "nesting" at mine until they can have their own place. A little over a year ago, when their pastor was introduced to our church, he mentioned that he'd like someone to help the housewives with English. I introduced myself to him, and sent a follow-up e-mail saying I'd like to do it, but never heard anything back. Then, a few weeks ago, I got an e-mail from him saying he had been going through some old e-mails and found my message. Now I go there two mornings a week, and the housewives are very cultured, very educated ladies and I sometimes feel bad that all I have to offer them are some pronunciation exercises and conversation topics. I really enjoy talking to them.

Meanwhile, I had started taking piano lessons in an adult class at a local music store on Monday afternoons. I felt bad that I had no piano to practice on at home, but it hit me the day before I started doing the English class: I go to a giant old church that must have about a zillion pianos in it. I asked the man in charge of facility use if I could use one, explaining that I was a total beginner. He said that I could use the one in the chapel, which is a lovely, relatively quiet and uplifting place to practice. There is one intimidating factor, though: The chapel is right next to the Korean pastor's office, where his wife assists him. She was a piano major in college and teaches piano, their daughter is a graduate student in piano at MSU, and their son sings for the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and they have to listen to some idiot pound out "The Star-Spangled Banner" every Monday and Wednesday at noon. (I just started using the C, F, and G chords this week, and I know they wait with bated breath while I wait for an eternity between each note trying to find the chords.)

Actually, they came in once to talk to me (the wife is in my class) and they were actually very sweet to me. (However, I suspect the lunch at the Korean restaurant my group treated me to last week was to get me away from the piano.;))

The best thing about the English class and the piano class is NO PRESSURE. I have to plan, but I don't have to give tests or grades. If we get a really good conversation going on one topic, I don't have to shift gears so I can complete a curriculum. It's just ladies talking...in English. (...except when there is animated conversation in Korean explaining what I am talking about.) Then I get to go practice the piano and go to my lesson.

The cool thing about my lesson is also NO PRESSURE. The teacher's two favorite phrases are "Whatever you want" and "Just have fun." There is a philosophy about teaching adults being promoted that they are generally not preparing to be concert pianists; they're just looking to have fun and make music. There is actually a magazine discussing this philosophy, and I really like it. A long time ago, a lot of people sang and danced and played music, but somehow we now think that we're supposed to entrust those very human activities to professionals who will do it for us. I don't know if it applies, but there was this great line from the film
Hustle and Flow: "Every man's got the right to contribute a verse." I feel that way about singing and dancing. I mean, I love to hear and see excellent singing and dancing, but everyone's got to participate in some way at some point.

As I said to my husband, I wouldn't say, "I'm not an athlete, so I'm not going to the gym."

Van Man

One day my son came home from high school and I asked him how his day had been. He said, "We had a van man." I had never seen Chris Farley's character on SNL at that time, so he had to explain that they had had a motivational speaker. Well, yesterday I got to see a "van man": Stephen Covey.(The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. His new book is The 8th Habit: from Effectiveness to Greatness.) The community college where I work sponsored this event, and generously set aside a certain number of free seats for interested employees. It's very expensive to see him (although the people who paid real money got a luncheon, but I doubt that the food was worth what they were charging the general public...or maybe it was by invitation only. According to the local paper, several local businesss leaders were there, but the only one I recognized was the president of our college.)

The presentation, although hot and long, actually contained some interesting, useful, and yes, motivational information. I also bought a book (continuing to assure that Mr. Covey will never have to live in a van down by the river) and had it signed by the author, who said "I see you as a trim-tab." He explained earlier that a trim tab is the small rudder that turns the large rudder on a ship...so he wrote that in my book: Mary--a trim tab! Stephen Covey

What I am really happy about, though, is I have an addition to my esoteric collection of autographed books: Chuck Pahlaniuk (He wrote Fight Club, but I have Diary and another book whose title I forget, but it's true, weird stuff he's encountered which informs his fiction), a collection of articles by Mitch Albom (before he wrote Tuesdays with Morrie and The Five People You Meet in Heaven) because he is such a good writer I actually started reading the sports column in The Detroit Free Press) and Growing Up Brady by Barry Williams (Greg on the Brady Bunch). I used to have a signed book by Mary Daly (GynEcology: The Metaethics of Radical Feminism), a former Catholic theologian turned radical lesbian feminist, but I threw it away during a crazy time. I don't buy them already signed at the bookstore: I must meet the author. Another prize possession is my photo with Mitch Albom, except it's on one of my dorkiest-looking days EVER...and that is saying something.

I went home from the Covey presentation all motivated and fired up, then on the radio I heard a soldier in Iraq say, "If I'm breathing, it's a good day." I thought, "Cool! That's my new motto! " and it took me all the way to about 3:00 today, at which time I started questioning the meaning of my life again. Apparently it's amassing an eclectic collection of autographed books.

Tattoos

My students recently began working on their first full essay for the Advanced 1 Writing class I teach. They were able to pick from about 10 general topics from our textbook, and one of the most popular topics seems to be tatoos. They had to generate an effective thesis statement, prepare a (somewhat) formal outline, and they began writing their rough drafts yesterday. Among the Asian, African, and Latin American students in the class,we have a few students who find them unacceptable. However, not surprisingly, most of these young people think they're OK. As I went around the room helping people, I told a couple of them about a woman I met last year, who, as a 50th birthday present to herself, got a tattoo on her ankle. It was fairly small, a daisy or a butterfly or something. I don't remember. Anyway, I told a young Costa Rican and a young Japanese man about it, and their mouths dropped in I don't know...horror, disgust? It was, at any rate, a negative look of surprise. I pointed out that a young person who gets a tattoo now will someday be a 50-year-old with a tattoo, and even though they agreed, still seemed to find this bizarre. I'm going to ask the entire class (after they have finished this essay, so they won't be influenced) what the difference is between a 50-year-old woman who gets a tattoo, and a young woman who gets a tattoo now and someday turns 50. Rosalia pointed out she would have her tattoo done in a place that she can hide and that wouldn't be as subject to aging (Hah!Wait until she finds out everything is subject!) but the ankle, I think, meets both those requirements. I am really looking forward to this discussion.