My kidometer is nearly full

In the last four days, I have played with 15 of my 23 nieces and nephews. I played Ping-Pong Cootie with #18, watched puppet shows being put on by #11, enjoyed #19 singing her babies to sleep (and she informed me that her dolls are babies, and she is a doll). Number 12 told me about Mixels, 15 moved in to manhood by helping his dad mow the lawn, and number 22 and 23 did all the cute work. Numbers 1, 3, 5 and 7 let me show off my work to them, and we had a good conversation over dinner, along with their mom. Number 14 was full of hugs, 9 and I chowed down on watermelon together, 17 shared his amazing Nerf gun abilities (along with his siblings) and his amazing talent for drenching himself at a water fountain and for running sideways. Number 21 was mostly just adorable. He had fun learning to shoot his Nerf gun, enjoyed hammering his lasagna with watermelon, showed off his skipping abilities, and was generally just fun company.

So now my kidometer is topped off enough to tide me over until July. It's a good world that has kids in it.

About Me

My song of the moment: "Bird Set Free" by Sia

What I would title my autobiography: Once Upon a Time when I Was Me

Reading List: Just finished Hitler's Savage Canary and Fish Up a Tree, am currently reading To the Letter

New vocab words: oenomel, cunctator, litotes, toponym

Life's little joys: getting a really good photo, a good song, playing with kids

Something I regret: not buying that hat in Puerto Rico

Words to describe me: ordinary, exhausted, probably nerdy (aren't we all in our own way?)

Something I like about myself: my eyes

My soapboxes: tech overkill, archival outreach, people who aren't nice

Wishes: If I could wake up tomorrow doing anything I wanted, I would be archiving in England. 

Evolution

I was at a conference last week and one of the presenters made a comment (somewhat tangential to their subject) about her one year old along the lines of, "digital is becoming so natural. I have a one-year old who just loves my cell phone." Implying that babies are born with an innate love of technology and that our species has evolved to the point that non-tech is no longer valid.

Which I just have to take issue with. Whether we have evolved or not, babies really aren't a good measure either way. Anyone who has ever played with a baby knows that a baby pretty much loves whatever you stick in front of them. I gave my nine-month old nephew a box of binder clips. He couldn't get enough of them. They made noise, he could stir them around, throw them out of the box, and they made a great chew toy. He had a great time with them. He was equally in love with boxes, spoons, spatulas, and a plethora of other very analog items. Which is really fun, really cheap, and really does defy the brain-evolution-to-tech theory. 

Personally, I'm a huge fan of giving kids boxes and sticks and spoons. I know it's really old school, and you can call me a dinosaur if you want. I can take it.

I mean, who doesn't love dinosaurs?

Diagnosis

Somehow in a conversation at work today, we got into colors being appropriated for other things, so that they are no longer just a color. And we asked an African-American co-worker if she is offended if people call her "black", which she said she wasn't.* Then she told us how when she was a young 'un, I think maybe joining the Coast Guard, she was told that the reason Africans/African Americans were such fast runners is because they had an extra bone in their foot. And that blacks couldn't float. Which cracked all of us up, because it is kind of crazy that anyone would believe that. I mean, seriously? Number one, you can x-ray a foot and confirm that there is no extra bone. Number 2, how do you explain all the black people that float just fine? Come on, people!

Of course, based on that reasoning, I must be at least half black, because I can't float. Well, okay, I can, but not well. I'm not great at it. You don't want me to be the one saving your life. 

Well, then our conversation moved on and this terrific co-worker said that the problem is that all the rest of us are pigmentation impaired. Which is for some reason the most beautiful statement on my race I've ever heard. Pigmentation impaired. That is me, big time. Me and all my ancestors before me. We just have a complex about our genetic disorder. 

So, to help bring peace and harmony and "getting-alongness"** to the world, I suggest we start some therapy sessions for those of us afflicted with PI. Maybe we can learn some better coping skills. Although, the tanning industry may not be in favor...

*This was really good to know. Although, I imagine context and tone probably matter. But it was a good conversation and exactly how discussions about serious issues like race should take place. 
**Because I really DO want to get along! I want people to feel like I'm a safe person to be around. Wouldn't it be great if people weren't nervous or unsure about each other because of pigmentation differences. I like people. Let's all get along!

Housework

After finally delving into the inner depths of my vacuum cleaner, I vacuumed my floor on Saturday. There is something about vacuuming that makes a huge difference in the feeling of clean in a domicile*. I still have dirty dishes in the sink, and the bathroom could use cleaning (it's not horrible, though. I promise). But every time I walk into my apartment and see the vacuum lines on the carpet, my life feels just a little bit more ordered and tidy. It's the best. I highly recommend vacuuming to anyone who is looking for a quick way to make your place look just a little better. Give it a try!


*Yes. I did just go all fancy-shmancy on word usage there. And, another great word I learned today? Litotes. It is the opposite of hyperbole. Thank you, Allusionist.