Growl...

Yet another vile headache tonight. They're more frequent these days, it seems like. I know I need a new glasses prescription, so maybe that's the cause of them. The last big one I had was last week at Mom's, and I was so sick she had to stop the car so I could puke on the roadside. She thinks it's because I'm not getting enough sleep, but I have gotten enough sleep this week, so I kind-of don't think that's the cause.

These headaches almost invariably make me sick to my stomach and sensitive to light. I took some Aleve and I'm going to go cover my eyes for a while to see if it will subside.

Blech.

It was a dark and stormy night...

Lots of storms tonight. We had a tornado warning at about 5:45 this afternoon, but we didn't go to the basement because the activity was all to the east of us.

It was nice to have just a regular evening at home. We didn't even have any errands to run, which was good because I didn't like the stormy weather all around us. Sometimes it's just better to be snug at home, y'know?

I uploaded pictures of my sister getting fitted in her wedding dress and ordered prints from Clark Photo. I've been very happy with their online service, the speed of delivery, and the quality of the photos. I'm sure there are other good ones out there, too, but Clark is where I've landed for now, and unless they do something to make me unhappy, that's probably what I'll stick with.

My sister looks like a queen in her dress... it's lovely, elegant, understated and classy, just like she is. Her wedding is at the end of May. I'm not posting these pics, not because they're not good, but because it's just not cool to publish pix of the bride in her dress prior to the wedding, y'know? I did have prints sent to MamaSue, though, so she and Bethy can have them to show people if they want to, and so they can have them for posterity's sake.

I'm actually going to go to bed early tonight. I'm trying to get a jump on the time change. I'm still going to try to do the "reset" on Saturday, and on Sunday morning if I can find some bright light. I wonder if the stage lights at church would work?

The pastor has asked us to do Love God, Love All again on Palm Sunday, so on Tuesday night Jeff introduced it to the rest of the band and we made another recording of it with more vocalists and more instrumentalists. He'll distribute the recording to the rest of the worship team so they can practice it ahead of time and learn it.

I still love the song, but it's funny -- I'm not really thinking about it anymore. I'm already thinking about what to compose next, actually... kind-of like "Okay, that's done, y'all do with it whatever you want, it doesn't matter because I've got other stuff to work on now." It's kinda cool, though, to have a song up on the PowerPoint projector and to have my own name printed at the bottom of the slide...

Kill your kid and win an iPod!!!!

Rob over at Say Anything has noticed that Planned Parenthood has a new incentive to come in for an appointment at their clinic.

As usual, I am disgusted (but not one bit surprised) by them and everything they stand for.

I will freely admit that I once was an ardent supporter of the abortion lobby. I took a Philosophy course during my senior year of college, and I read the famous Thomson essay "A Defense of Abortion." It totally swayed me to her side for several years. It was obviously unfair that women were forced to become pods for nine months for a being they did not consent to share themselves with.

Eventually, however, it occurred to me that very little about life is "fair." It just IS what it IS. The baby didn't ask to get put in there, either, and might not have chosen that particular womb... but that's where it is. And it comes down to God. God's will, God's plan, etc.

And so I made the switch. Sure, it's not fair, but since when has anything been fair? It isn't about what's fair, it's about what's right.

Daylight Savings Time... stinks...

I have always hated the Spring-Forward part of the year. I love to sleep, and I'm a night-owl, and that combination doesn't seem to be conducive to surviving Daylight Savings Time.

But there's hope, according to Dr. David Glass of Kent State University. Apparently, we all run on biological clocks, and when they get out of sync, we're more susceptible to accidents and illness. But Glass has an Rx for relief on this front, a way we can all get ready for the switch: Steps Help Brain Adjust to Daylight Saving

The hamsters used in the research are healthy and happy, Glass says, and they exercise regularly on a wheel. It turns out that when the animals are running, they release more serotonin, and "serotonin plays a major role in terms of controlling the timing of the clock itself," he adds.

The same thing happens in humans.

"If you were to go out and run, or even take a brisk walk, we know that would stimulate serotonin release in the brain," Glass says. "That has a number of different effects, including for a lot of folks, alleviating depression."

It also resets the clock, so exercise is part of his formula for dealing with jet lag, or even a time change of one hour.

So Saturday afternoon, he says, go out and get some exercise.

"A brisk walk will release serotonin and other types of neurotransmitters that will phase-advance the clock," he says.

You might also pick up a melatonin pill, which functions similar to serotonin, from your local drugstore and "pop that right after your walk."

Finally, when you get up Sunday morning, expose yourself to a reasonably bright light for an hour or two.

I'm definitely going to do this. It's certainly worth a shot, and if it actually works, it will save me six months of miserable mornings.

M.A.P.S. (Mothers Against Pre-Schoolers)

Yes, you read that right. Oh, of course, there's that delightful group known as the M.O.P.S., or Mothers Of Pre-Schoolers, but this one's different, and it's been dreamed up by Cyn over in the Cynical Kitchen. Just an excerpt for you here:

When I was a young mother of four children under the age of five I considered starting a support group. I would have called it M.A.P.S., Mothers Against Pre-Schoolers. Any woman who felt she fit could join for free.

I imagined we would hold meetings in a bar, maybe one that featured male dancers. The kids would stay home with dad. The entire evening would be his responsibility. We (me and all the other mothers in my group) would not prepare dinner. Maybe set out a box of Cheerios and a line of sippy cups full of Juicy Juice, but no more. It'd be against the rules. We would leave the house without logging written directions on how to bathe the kids or reminder notes of what to do In Case of An Emergency. We wouldn't care if the dog was let out or the cat was fed. Come six o'clock we would simply leave. Walk out the door, no looking back, primed with red lipstick, smelling like a two-dollar whore, wearing spiked heels that'd grown dusty in the detritus at the bottom of the closet. We wouldn't care if we looked trashy in painted-on blue jeans or if our dark roots were showing. Meeting night was the night to let it all hang out, become who we fantasized about being on every other noisy, sticky, chaotic, smeared, poopy, pukey, dirty, I'm-too-tired-to-have-sex-tonight night.

I laughed harder than I've laughed in a long time over this one. Go read the rest of it and laugh, too.

Etc...

I finally got an overdue school project finished and turned in today... which feels like a gigantic weight lifted off the top of my head. Now on to the next big thing, which is to get all the IEPs (Individualized Education Plan) finished for all my students (present and former) before the State of Iowa comes in to audit us in mid-April. I'm secretly happy-dancing because I will be gone to Quebec during that audit... heh... [cue up the "Woo-hoo" song right here]

When I have overdue things, it tends to "paralyze" me and prevent me from doing other things that need to get done. I'm hoping this will break the dam and stuff will start happening again.

Oooh... I've got FOXnews on and they've just reported that the Democrats have declared they'll finish off Osama Bin Laden with their new policies.

Uh-huh. Riiiiight. [snicker] UPDATE: The guys at FARK think that's funny, too. Here's their comment:

Democrats promise to "eliminate" bin Laden if elected. Also, gas will be a nickel, and hot supermodels will want sleep with you, even though you are doughy and broke. Whatver you want. Just vote for them.

And another thing: Zacarias Moussaoui (or however the heck you spell his name) is a LIAR. Doesn't the Koran say that it's okay to lie to infidels? Why is anything that man says admissible in court? He is not bound by anyone to tell the truth -- on the contrary, it's honorable to lie in order to further Allah's cause, right? I just want to backhand the idiots who actually think anything he says can possibly be taken at face value.

Okay, Sharon Stone thinks that Hillary is a "hot babe" and thinks that America is too conservative-right to elect a woman who's... oh, wait... I used the word "thinks"... sorry, my bad. Does anyone care what Sharon Stone has to say about politics? If so, why?

Finally, what is with this Claassen dude who's suing eHarmony.com? He's not legally divorced yet, but wants to "move on" with his life and doesn't think eHarmony should get to discriminate against him just because they only accept UNMARRIED people. And what kind of lawyer takes this case? Shame on 'em. Look, there are any number of online dating services that DON'T discriminate. Go join Yahoo-Personals, for pete's sake.

Okay, I'm done ranting.

Rick's job has changed back to second shift now, so for those of you who might think I neglect my children by being so involved in music, you can rest easy knowing I'm their sole caregiver every evening. YES, we read stories. YES, we pray together. YES, we have heart-to-heart talks. And as always, I'm the one Isaac comes crying to whenever he has a nightmare, and I'm the one whose lap he wants to sit in and rock. I'm the one who has always had to wrestle with how to handle disciplinary issues, because that's not something Rick has ever been totally comfortable or confident in. His own parents were somewhat dysfunctional and not really good examples to follow.

But I don't often talk about that kind of stuff, which then must make it seem as though I have no relationship with my children and that I'm too busy. Truth be told, I try to post things on this blog that people will be interested in reading. I know that I get bored with reading blogs that are Monotone Mommy Mumblings, filled with minutia about the kids.

That being said, I'll try to do better about regular kid updates, because I also know that there are people who ARE interested in them.

Let's see... Isaac is breathlessly awaiting the Spring Scramble, the yearly mad dash for candy & goodies that our church holds around Eastertime. He's seriously contemplating his dash strategies and discussing all the options.

Alice fell to the floor pretty hard this evening when she and Isaac accidentally tripped over one another. She's okay; I briefly thought she'd really hurt herself because I saw how she fell, but apparently she's tougher than she looks. Only a bruise on her hip, I think.

Martha is making progress. Tonight when I said, "I love you" at bedtime, she answered "I love you, too." That is big-time progress. She would never say it before, but now she seems to be able to freely give and receive love in an appropriate way, free of anger and hostility. Now if there were a pill one could give a kid to make them not do stupid brainless stuff...

Music & Painting

I think that one of the things I admire most about jazz musicians is their ability to just "read" one another, to know wordlessly where the other is going and to stay in synch.

I've experienced a taste of this a few times before. I think of it as a dance, a multi-faceted improvisation in which the many become the one. It is an intense intimacy, bewildering and beautiful.

I'm beginning to learn the nuts-and-bolts of such improv work. I'm surrounded by some incredibly gifted AND hard-working musicians who have known their craft for many more years than I, and I've been gifted with the serendipitous opportunity to play alongside them even though I'm a "nobody." I'm humbled and I feel compelled to soak up as much of it as I can each time we practice. I learn something new about myself and about music every time.

Visual arts, however, occupies a completely different niche within me. Painting is about freedom, license, opportunity, creativity. I'm free to exercise my fearlessness and boldness in the stroke of my brush or the puddle of color, without any strings or fetters... without a net, without help.

In music, I can "solo" but I don't seem to revel in it quite as much as I enjoy painting. Music, for me, is about a group effort. The end result is more than just me, and I don't enjoy "standing out" as a key player.

Painting, on the other hand, is all about me, about what I can do all by myself. I don't like consulting anyone else regarding my technique or my choice of subject matter or color. I don't enjoy collaborating on visual arts matters.

It's interesting to me how different the two forms of art are for me.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!!!!!

"Celebration", Judith Anton

I just thought this painting was cool, and I thought you might enjoy it as well. Chaotic, colorful and fun, it's just the way I like for things to be. Reminds me a lot of Joan Miro's work.

Jeff & I debuted Love God, Love All this morning as a "special" (rather than congregational), and I felt pretty good about it. I'm already stoked about writing more stuff, because that's just fun. The process was as much fun as the final product, truth be told. When you have a good relationship with someone and the level of trust is high, you can do creative things collaboratively without fear of failure or of making the other person mad because you said something that hurt their feelings.

We also debuted a new congregational song that went over really well. It's called "Love the Lord" and it's by Lincoln Brewster from his CD All To You. Solid stuff.

I am pondering the next attempt at lyrics via an article about worship written by a good friend of mine in Minnesota. She mentions a "re-alignment" and that word has captivated me in the past, so I think I'll see what comes of it.

And in the meantime, my Spring Break is officially OVER and I'm going to bed. Tomorrow morning is back to the grind. I have more to do than I have time for, so I'm going to try to get to school earlier than normal. Easier said than done, however.

Nighty-nite, peeps.

I drove all night

Twice this week, as a matter of fact. Tuesday night I started down Interstate 35 at about 10PM and parked in front of my parents' house in Texas at around 9:30AM or so. Then last night I started out from my parents' house at 10PM and pulled into my driveway in Des Moines at around 8:30AM.

Reasons for the time differential, in case you're wondering: on the way down, I was stopped for speeding in Kansas City. Before you cluck-cluck-cluck your tongue at me, let me assure you that I believe this particular instance of highway patrollery was a violation of my civil rights. It was 1:30AM, there were like, oh, seven or eight or more lanes of emptiness, and I had just come over the border from Missouri (where the SL is 70) into Kansas (where the SL is 60). I had my cruise set and I was behaving myself nicely. The patrolman sat waiting for me and promptly flashed his lights at me. When I gave him my DL, I offered him my registration and insurance and this was what he said to me: "With this nice of a vehicle, I know you have insurance."

!!!!!

Am I the only person who finds that just insufferable?

I wasn't disturbing anyone. I wasn't being unsafe. I wasn't intoxicated or weaving between lanes. I was minding my own business.

And now I owe the stupid state of Kansas $104. But at least it was dark the entire way through their wretched state and I never had to LOOK AT IT, not even ONCE, not going or coming.

One more complaint about Kansas, though, explains the rest of the time differential between my two voyages. A goodly section of I-35 in that bleak wasteland is earning more $$ by being a tollroad. There are two or three places where you can pull into a median area and there's a gas station and a convenience store and a McD's. They all look exactly alike, but they're facing different directions. I pulled into one of them on the way down there, gassed up and went to the bathroom. When I came out, I was turned around and didn't realize it. I traveled all the way to the next one before I realized I was heading back north toward KC instead of south to Wichita. It's easy to do in Kansas, because it all looks the same, especially on a cloudy night when there aren't any signs of life or civilization ANYWHERE. Again, though, it just made my trip an hour longer... and since it was still dark, I still didn't have to see the moonscape I was driving through.

On the way back home, I had to stop at one of them again, but this time I made sure to ask the clerk to point toward KC. Can't be too careful.

One of the things that kept me completely awake and alert for both trips was listening to podcasts... specifically, the BBC podcast of The Naked Scientist with Dr. Chris and all the gang. I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone who's even a leetle bit interested in anything scientific, even if you're not particularly science-literate. Hilarious, brilliant and fun -- there's something for everyone. Do not miss it.

I'm telling you, an iPod and 52 oz. of Mountain Dew and crushed ice -- these are the two essential items for Kansas travel.

North Korean musician defected after hearing jazz music

What a fantastic story... I grieve for the artists born in places like North Korea or Cuba or any Muslim country, who lack the freedom to create what they were born to share with the rest of us. I am grateful that this one made it out alive.

N.Korean risks life, flees for love of jazz piano

SEOUL (Reuters) - It's not every day that a jazz-inspired pianist has to make a life or death decision about his art, and it is not every day a gifted musician flees North Korea.

Kim Cheol-woong, 31, was a North Korean prodigy who was trained in classical music and destined to play the patriotic and martial tunes that hymn Pyongyang's leaders.

While studying overseas, Kim heard jazz piano for the first time and was fascinated. He returned home knowing this was the music he wanted to play, but that he would have to flee the strictly regimented state to realize his dream.

One night in 2001, he made the perilous trip across the Tumen River into China and reached Yanbian, an autonomous Chinese prefecture where many ethnic Koreans live.

He went on to South Korea two years later but still he will not talk about how he crossed the Tumen or of his attempts to leave China for the South.

Kim now teaches music at a university in Seoul, and dreams of playing at New York's Carnegie Hall.

As an artist, he thought he would die a slow death in North Korea.

"We musicians were only a means and a tool to maintain the regime," Kim said during a piano rehearsal.

Many North Koreans who flee the country seek asylum from hunger and oppression, but Kim's father was a high-ranking military official and lavishly provided for his family.

This allowed Kim to learn the piano at an elite university in Pyongyang.

But access to most foreign music is banned. For the typical North Korean, cultural expression through music, movies and the performing arts is restricted to extolling the virtues of its leader Kim Jong-il, his late father Kim Il-sung and their communist policies.

"All other types of music are all lumped into one genre they called 'jazz', which is considered barbaric because it has no melody," Kim said.

"It is the worst, spoiled culture of capitalism," he said he was taught.

North Korean state TV often shows masses dancing to military music and schoolgirls playing patriotic tunes on accordions. A recent state news report said some recent popular tunes included songs such as "A girl innovator dashing like a steed" and "Song of coast artillery women".

People can be imprisoned for listening to South Korean music, and playing rock and roll can be considered a crime.

Kim said his university education in Pyongyang was based on classical music composed before the 19th century, access to which was given only to university students.

It was later, during extended studies at a Russian university, that he was captivated by the music being played at a cafe in Moscow, music he was strictly forbidden to listen to or perform in the North.

"I heard Richard Clayderman's 'A Comme Amour' and was fascinated by it. This made me want to escape North Korea," Kim said.

Kim has since turned his attention to classical piano pieces by composers such as Chopin, Tchaikovsky and Liszt.

Clayderman, with his soft renditions of pop tunes, is occasionally derided for composing kitsch, but Kim said the first time he heard one of his recordings, it was an epiphany.

"I was shaking and entranced. I felt as if I was falling into the music. It was because I had such a strong notion that all jazz music was not good. He is still my favorite even though I have encountered many other genres," he said.

On his return to Pyongyang in 1999, Kim worked for the North Korean orchestra. He was playing a Clayderman piece on the piano during practice one day when a security official caught him and Kim was forced to write a 10-page apology.

"There are famous and honorable musicians in North Korea but the origin of the creativity is aimed at supporting the government's policies and Kim Il-sung. Their music is very good but the words are all weird," he added.

In China, to survive, he worked 12 hours a day loading wood at a factory where his smooth hands became thick and hard.

After seven months, Kim found a chance to play the piano after finding the instrument at a nearby church. But he realized that to win musical freedom, he needed to go to South Korea and, after two failed attempts, finally arrived there in spring 2003.

To support himself in Seoul, he performed at bars and worked as a piano tutor. He also founded an arts organization for North Korean defectors.

Since Kim is familiar with music from both Koreas, he hopes his work can help in a small way toward unifying the two Koreas, which are technically still at war half a century after the 1950-53 Korean War ended in an inconclusive truce.

"A piano can play an important part in moving many people with one melody as opposed to thousands of words," he said.

Love God, Love All

Here's the new song Jeff & I wrote to go along with the recent sermon series at our church. Jeff is singing and playing guitar, and I'm harmonizing. This is NOT studio quality, and I goof up the words a little in a few places, but this will let you hear it anyway.

Love God, Love All

There's a lot of work still to do, added instruments and vocalizing, etc...

My kids have Iowa accents

I don't notice it, of course, but my mom does. We're visiting my parents in Texas for spring break, and a couple of days ago Isaac asked my mom, "MamaSue, may I have a bul?"

"A whut?"

"A bul."

"Whut are you talkin abowt?"

"You know. A bul, so I can pour my cereal in it and eat breakfast."

"Oh. Down here in Texas we call that a BAOWL."

"[raucous snickering]."

Desperate times call for desperate measures?

I'm going to give this gizmo a try. It's out of stock currently and backordered for a month, so I won't know for a few weeks yet.

I never had acne when I was a teenager, but once I was well into my twenties I began to experience the joys of painful, inflamed tumor-like eruptions on my chin and nose. Now that I'm nearly 40, they have not subsided but continue to appear with cheerful regularity. I'm tired of them. I can't take Accutane because it's contraindicated in anyone who has trouble with depression.

I wouldn't even give this sort of thing a try because I'm pretty suspicious of wacky ideas. But ABC ran a piece last month entitled Zapping Zits With Light and it looks like there might actually be something to this.

Either that, or I'm about to buy a $150 rave-wand. I'll let you know if I see any improvement.

Time for action

There's a man in Afghanistan who's probably going to be executed for leaving the Muslim faith to become a Christian. "We will cut him into little pieces," said one of his jailers. This is a major test of democracy and freedom.

Whether or not you agree with his decision, all free people everywhere should lobby for his freedom to choose.

The telephone number for the White House: 202-456-1111.

Write the embassy of Afghanistan:

Ambassador Said T. Jawad
Embassy of Afghanistan
2341 Wyoming Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20008

info@embassyofafghanistan.org


Contact the State Department:

U.S. Department of State
2201 C Street NW
Washington, DC 20520

Main Switchboard:
202-647-4000

Today's 100-word story

She loved the way her back felt when she inverted herself backwards onto the mat, which was cool to her outstretched palms. Her abdominal muscles lengthened and curved until they stretched to her chin. She amusedly viewed her world from this upside-down posture, then lifted her right knee effortlessly over in a fluid motion and balanced herself on her hands.

Whenever she felt uncomfortable with the way things were, she simply changed her perspective. While it might not have been the most logical choice, it made her feel better, and as we all know, it's all about how you feel.

Swear words

Where the Bloody Hell Are You?

Australia put together a tourism spot in which a bikini-clad babe asks the viewer, "Where the bloody hell are you?" meaning, "Why aren't you here yet?". They're pretty nicely done, but until recently were blocked in the UK because of the word "bloody." I find it interesting because that's not considered a swear-word here in the US and it proves my point that words are just words. There are, obviously, words that have appropriate use and inappropriate use... but it's an interesting thing to study.

To swear in 170 different languages, you can consult this online dictionary and find exactly what you're looking for.

Here's the BBC's own take on swear words and their origins.

And finally, I leave you with a quote from the inimitable Calvin: "Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words."

And then there's John Daker...

I don't think the poor fellow in this video clip has a future as a blues musician, or any other kind of musician for that matter. I could be wrong, of course, and it wouldn't be the first time.

They play a 30-second commercial first, then you have to listen to the music teacher do her introduction spiel, so wait for it, 'k? And be sure your sound is turned up.

What in the world was this man thinking????

Schoolin' in the blues

"Brother Blues" by Cbabi Bayoc

I'm learning something new every time I practice with Big Mike and the guys. I won't pretend to know all there is to know, but tonight I "felt" it more than I have in past practices.

According to WikiHow, here's How to Become a Blues Musician:

1. Listen to some of the "greats". These include Albert King, Willie Dixon, John Ledbetter, Muddy Waters, B.B. King, Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, Otis Rush, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Junior Wells, Howlin' Wolf, and many many more. You may be able to find "best of" style compilation albums at your local record store.

2. Learn the basic "twelve bar blues" chord progression. In degrees of scale, the first four bars stick to the first degree. The next two bars are the fourth degree, and then two bars of the first degree. The last four bars are the fifth degree, fourth degree, first degree, and fifth degree, respectively, and then the progression repeats. (This is often referred to as a I:IV:V or just 1-4-5 progression.) The most common keys for 1-4-5 blues songs are A, E, D, C, and G, but blues can be played in any key.

3. Learn to play a few different songs that use the 1-4-5 progression. Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode" is a 1-4-5 in A, Tracy Chapman's "Gimme One Reason" is a 1-4-5 in C, and Jimi Hendrix's "Red House" is a 1-4-5 in E. Each song follows essentially the same chord progression, but each sounds unique because of the tempo and the style in which it is played. Playing a variety of 1-4-5 blues will help you understand what they have in common and how they differ, which will in turn help you build a solid foundation in blues while still encouraging your own creativity.

4. Jam the blues with other musicians and experiment with the style.

This is actually pretty basic and pretty accurate, in my estimation. I'm working from what sounds right, and what I came up with was that it's loosely based on a pentatonic scale. What's interesting to me is that the pentatonic scale is such a widespread phenomenon among cultures all over the world. I wonder why? I mean, what about it makes it such a staple? Something to think about, certainly. I'll probably do a little research on it just to see what the ethnomusicologists have to say about it.

And in the meantime, I'll keep practicing and listening and trying hard to NOT be a liability to the rest of the band. I don't harbor any delusions of becoming a skilled blues pianist by the time the Blues Challenge happens, but I'd at least like to NOT stink, yanno?

Cyber-privateering

A "privateer" is just a nice way of saying "pirate," right? Aaarrrrr, mateys! If cyber-privateers were all as hot as Cap'n Jack Sparrow, what a world this would be.

I just read this post by Doc Shackleford over on the Jawa Report, and it's an appealing notion. Why can't we unofficially put all our Lone Gunmen-types on the trail of these Islamofascist sites and hack 'em down as fast as they pop up?

I know that Brent is all about catching cyber-criminals, but surely we could figure out a way to look the other way at this sort of activity while still doing a Law 'n Order style smackdown on kidvid kreeps.

Makes me wish I'd spent more time studying computers in school, just because I think it would be a total gas to hack into the Iranian government's computers or something equally dastardly. I don't know the first thing about it, which is probably a good thing because I probably would if I could. It's just the kind of person I am.

Mother Teresa quote

I stumbled upon a quote from her the other day that I really liked.

"If you are humble, nothing can touch you -- neither praise nor disgrace -- because you know what you are."

God is testing that in me right now and I've been reminded of just how stuck-up and proud I really can be. Betrayal hurts! But it only hurts as far as my pride allows it.

My latest goal

Whenever I'm on stage doing a mic check, I try not to use the boring "Check, check" or "Testing 1...2...3..." and instead I recite something unusual, either the alphabet backwards, or a poem, or something equally obtuse.

Now I've got something new to shoot for... reciting 8,784 digits of pi, just like Gaurav Rajav, a high school student in Virginia. And get this -- it wasn't enough for the record. He was shooting for over 10,000.

I'm guessing that would be too lengthy for a mic check? I love the folks at FARK for finding this stuff.

What are YOU doing on Thursday, April 13th at 10PM???

Mark your calendars, peeps, and show up at the Blues on Grand at 10PM on April 13th to hear Big Mike & Holdin' On Tight as we play a 45-minute set as part of the 2006 Iowa Blues Challenge. Come cheer us on!!! This is the semi-finals round; it all starts at 9PM, and we're the second band to play, so we'll be up at 10PM. Cover charge is $6.

We've been practicing pretty well lately, and after I was admonished to "grow a pair," I've been trying to beef up my vocals and turn up my volume. It's certainly an experience to play with these guys; they're amazing.

100-word stories

A while back, some bloggers started a fun exercise called "100-word stories." You write a piece that has to be exactly 100 words in length, no more, no less. Difficulty got added when a daily theme was chosen, and your 100-word story had to somehow revolve around that theme.

I never attempted it, mainly because I had more than enough to do at the time they were doing the project.

Still, I have remained fascinated with the notion of it, and I've been itching to give it a try.

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Sag paneer and lamb vindaloo, extra-spicy. The house radiated with the aroma of curry and nan bread. Once again it was a late night out for me, but there was Indian takeout waiting in the fridge. I poured a cool glass of milk to put out the inevitable fire, nuked my food, and settled into the recliner to enjoy an episode of Iron Chef.

Homard lobster; I wonder what's more special about French lobsters? Apparently Chairman Kaga thinks they're superior. He's the ultimate arbiter of quality food, right?

I wonder what he'd think about the vindaloo from the India Star?
=====================================

That was my first attempt at a 100-word story. Not much, I agree, but I think I'll give it a try more often. It's fun to try to condense something into a very short format.

Conferences

Yesterday and today were Parent/Teacher Conference Days for the Des Moines schools. I blocked-off yesterday evening for my own children, and was pleased to see that Miss Alice has made a LOT of progress in her reading this year. Isaac is reading at a higher lexile level than Martha. Martha only had one "F" and one "D" this time around, which is certainly an improvement... she gets to have her ears pierced as soon as she brings home a report card with no "Ds" or "Fs", but so far hasn't been able to achieve that yet. Getting her tested and placed in SPED classes was a huge help because she just can't work at grade level... now it's just helping her keep up with the general-responsibility things like keeping up with work and turning it in.

Today I had to keep the kids with me at school, since they were out and I still had to be in my classroom. I would've been able to tolerate that without much fuss if I just had had a place for Martha to go. She doesn't do well in situations like that, but there just weren't any other options this time around. I'm thankful that Sidney's mom came and got her about halfway through the afternoon, which helped. Isaac and Alice can entertain themselves for hours and hours without a complaint, but Martha's just a bit needier.

I don't like conference days. It's not that I don't like meeting parents; that's never a problem. I just don't like having to sit for hours in class waiting around for people to show up.

I filled out a transfer request today. Don't know yet if I'll turn it in, because I still don't know if I want to stay in the district or even if I want to stay in the teaching profession. I know I would feel better if I could just get past the paperwork that's hanging over my head like a giant guillotine blade.



Isn't that a cool little gizmo? It's a "Desktop Guillotine" and I'm considering ordering one, just for kicks...

Just kidding. The Behavior-Disorder Classroom is probably not the appropriate venue for display of miniature execution devices. But I'm wondering who in the world WOULD order such a thing? And where would you put it? I guess if I were a French teacher or a History teacher and I was teaching about the French Revolution, it might be an interesting artifact...

Molecular Happiness

I have only recently become more aware of the potential that nanotechnology holds for humanity. It's an absolutely amazing science; I had had a misguided notion of it thanks to Star Trek and its "nanites" in the episode where Wesley Crusher accidentally lets his experimental nanites get into the ship's system. I had the notion of them as teeny little machines that get into your bloodstream and communicate and stuff... totally stupid and totally wrong.

After listening to a podcast from The Naked Scientist, combined with my recent revisit of DNA thanks to Mrs. Wignall's Biology class at NHS, I finally think I "get" what the fuss is all about.

This article, while on its face seems to chronicle a pointless and stupid waste of time, is actually representative of just what lies ahead in the field. This guy is doing DNA-level origami, and it's going to do some very, very cool stuff. I find it fascinating and I look forward to hearing more about it in the months and years to come.

Sometimes, words just don't suffice

Okay, if my last name were "Peacock," I'd probably be extra-careful in naming my children, just to avoid any embarrassing situations. For instance, we never considered the name "Holly" for a girl, or the name "Tiger" for a boy -- they're fine names, but probably not in conjunction with the last name "Wood."

These people obviously didn't put enough thought into the naming of their poor son.

As I said, sometimes, words just don't suffice. I think that if I discovered something that opprobrious about my child's name, I'd find a way to change it.

I still hate squirrels, part MCXLVIII

Squirrel causes four-car pileup

A squirrel caused a four-car fender bender in Adams County over the weekend.

According to state police reports, a driver stopped shortly before 3:30 p.m. Sunday on Route 116 in Mount Pleasant Township to avoid hitting a squirrel.

The first car, a 1994 Ford Taurus, was rear-ended by a second car, a 2001 Toyota. The Toyota was then hit by a 1995 Dodge Intrepid, which was then hit by another car.

State police didn't report any injuries or any charges filed in relation to the crash as of Monday night.

People, people: NEVER swerve to AVOID a squirrel. To HIT one, certainly... but why in the world would anyone purposefully avoid hitting a squirrel?

The little poofytailed rat probably high-fived all his ratty little bucktoothed friends on the roadside after this pileup. Wretched vermin.

Looking at the list of cars, the only real casualty I can see is the Toyota. The others were mercy-wreckings. A '94 Taurus? A '95 Intrepid? Good lord, why were those things still on the road, anyway? How sad for the poor Toyota, to end up sandwiched in between those two bombs... not the way I'd want to go. That'd be like those stories of Senator Ted Kennedy and Senator Chris Dodd doing a "waitress sandwich" ... absolutely revolting.

If I'd been driving the Toyota, I'd probably file charges against the Taurus owner just for the sheer principle of the matter. Wrecking my beautiful Toyota over a SQUIRREL? Oh no you dih-ent!

One step closer

After worship practice tonight, Jeff & I spent some time working on the new song. I had penned a second verse, and he had written a bridge, so we cobbled it together and I added a little keyboard and vocal harmony. We weren't able to get a recording of it yet, but I'm hoping we might be able to do that this weekend.

This is the second song I've had a hand in writing, but it's the first that has a real chance of being sung congregationally. We'll sing it for Pastor Rob this weekend and see what he thinks, since we wrote it with this current sermon series in mind.

I love this. This is what happy feels like.

Movie Review: The Shaggy Dog

I took the kids to see The Shaggy Dog this afternoon. It was cute and mostly innocuous and vapid, with a syrupy twinge of animal rights thrown in for good measure.

I could've done without the scene in the courthouse men's room. Nothing graphic, but I just hate urinal scenes. Yecch. And he didn't wash his hands when he left -- I did notice that. EWWW!!! I suppose it was because he was becoming a dog and dogs don't care, but still...

That, and I know it was part of the story, but Tim Allen just is NOT attractive without clothes on. He just isn't. For that matter, he's not attractive WITH clothes on either, but that doesn't matter as much because he's funny. Take off his shirt, and he's just... umm... icky.

At least one funny reference to Buzz Lightyear made it into the script, as a nice tongue-in-cheek nod. Robert Downey Jr. does the over-the-top thing well, too. I especially liked the teenage girl who played Tim Allen's daughter. I think her name was Zena Grey. IMDB says her parents are both artists. She's definitely someone to watch. Spencer Breslin is a staple in Disney fare and doesn't disappoint here, either, as Tim Allen's son.

Don't pay full price because it's just not that good, but as a matinee with the kids and a bucket of popcorn, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than this movie.

Oh, yeah, don't mind the ginormous swollen lump on my lower lip

I accidentally bit my lip yesterday evening, and this morning when I woke up, my lower lip was the size and shape of an ostrich egg. Okay, maybe just an emu egg. It felt that huge, anyway. It's on the right side, so my mouth sits crooked on my face now.

I wish my lips were a little more poofy, sure, but it'd be nice if they were proportional and if the poof was more evenly distributed. I suppose I shouldn't complain, though.

All the same, I'll be glad when I don't have to keep putting ice on my lip and when I don't feel like it's sticking out past my nose. It looks like somebody hit me in the mouth.

Goodbyes

Erica has moved back in with her dad and his family... which is ultimately the best thing and which is what ideally would've happened in the beginning. She hadn't had a relationship with her dad for a long time, however, when she left her mom's house, so our family was something of a transition spot for her.

The kids... Martha, particularly... are grieving pretty hard. Not to mention me. But life moves on, and somewhere along the way we have to learn to deal with grief and loss.

My favorite TV commercial

It's one of the ones for Jimmy Dean sausage that's been out for a little while. Click here, and click on the one titled "Why?" The dad (dressed in a sun costume) is cooking up one of the new breakfast items, and the daughter wants to know why he used that instead of cutting it all up himself like Mommy does. He explains to her that he doesn't have time. "Why?" she says. He explains: "Because I have to go to work early... to light and heat the earth."

She looks at him, bored and unimpressed, and just wrinkles up her nose. It's a scream. I look forward to it every morning before I leave for work.

Ten ways I annoy my husband (without really trying)

I'm taking a cue from Mel on this one... she posted a funny entry yesterday with this same title, and it resonated with me. I told Rick what I was doing, and his comment was, "Only ten?"

So here goes:

10. It doesn't matter how many laundry baskets he buys; I will fill them up with laundry and dress myself out of them. I never put away my clothes, I just wash them and dig through the baskets to find what I want to wear. For the entire fifteen-plus years we've been married, he's been figuring out ways to help me get organized. You'd think after this long, he'd give up. But it certainly annoys him when he's looking for an empty laundry basket and they're all in use...

9. I can walk by a piece of trash on the floor and not even see it, much less pick it up and put it in the trash can.

8. When he's home, I'm either asleep or I'm heading out the door.

7. I don't care about money, don't care to understand it, could live with it or without it, don't keep track of what I spend, etc...

6. I inadvertently leave a dirty dish wherever I was sitting at the time, and I don't realize I've left it there.

5. He really hates it when I come into the TV room while I'm on the phone and he's trying to watch Sci-Fi Channel.

4. I have a habit of covering every single flat surface in the house with my stuff. I've just gotta spread out; I don't know why, I just do.

3. I'm impulsive by nature and I do things without thinking.

2. I can't be bothered to write notes to remind myself of things, and even if I do write a note, it won't matter because I either won't look at it when I need to or I'll lose the note.

1. I can't be systematized, quantified, or logically explained.

What will they think of next?

I'm going to Quebec on a mission trip in April, and my ability to speak French is rather dismal, so I have been trying to pick up whatever "Learn French Online" free web sites I can find. Last night I was browsing iTunes' podcasting directory and... behold, there was a podcast entitled French PodClass, and it's a podcast that teaches you to speak French! Okay, so it's a guy named Sebastien who lives in France and he speaks English and teaches you French words and phrases, then plays some French music. It isn't much, but it's free, and it's kinda fun to listen to. I am having a mental block with French; I don't know if it's just that the pronunciations don't make sense to me, or if I just have a personal aversion to anything French... but I have a terrible time with it. I have a feeling I'm going to slip into Haitian Kreyol without realizing it.

Bonjour. J'm'appelle Kris.

That's about all I can remember right now. [sigh]

Check off another one of those resolutions...

One of the things I had listed as a New Year's resolution was that I wanted to write a song.

And I have!!!

It's still in its infancy stages, and I didn't do it all by myself, but still...

For a couple of weeks now, Jeff had been saying that we needed to write a song that would kind-of be the theme-song for FCC for 2006. Last year's song was "Race" and it really turned out to be a cool song that a lot of people liked. This year, all we had was that hideous gigantic wooden bridge cluttering the stage... and what in the world could we do to try to write a song around a big ugly bridge with the giant words "CHAPTER TWO" on it?!? But then, Rob's sermon series was entitled "Love God, Love All" and was based around the Great Commandments. The bridge was representative of FCCers building bridges to the community, to bring them to Christ. So Jeff pointed to the sermon notes, to the phrase "Love God, Love All" and said, "There's our theme for the year. There's what we need to write the song about."

So for the past two weeks we've been racking our brains to come up with some lyrics to work with. This afternoon, just as the final bell was ringing and my students left the classroom for the day, I suddenly had an idea. I quickly typed out my lyrics idea, then read it over a couple of times, and scrawled them down onto a pad of paper and took them to worship practice tonight to show Jeff. After practice, we sat down and he strummed the guitar and we messed around with the lyrics and different melodies until we got them into an actual song.

Once we were done, he said we had a pretty good start. I'm hoping he can take it home with him and work his magic with it and make it into something we can sing. Anyway, I feel like I can sort of say I partially wrote another song. I partially wrote one last year (Redemption) that he took my lyrics and put to a melody, but this time, I did lyrics AND a melody. Baby steps, baby steps.

If it turns out to be something, I'll try to get a rough recording of it and post it here so you can listen.

I know it probably doesn't sound like a big deal to anyone else, but I'm more elated than I can express. This is VERY exciting to me.

Where's the DELETE button when you really need it?

Okay, time for a really bizarre confession. I have been tormented by a song for more than thirty years.

Yes, you read that right.

I wish I could figure out why this stupid, inane, meaningless song keeps popping into my head at odd times, but it does.

I can almost guarantee it's not even a song you've ever heard, or if you ever heard it once, you don't remember it. And you're going to recommend me to a psych-ward once I tell you what it is.

Remember the animated movie of Charlotte's Web back in the early 70s? Well, I went to see it when I was probably five. Soon after that, my dad bought me the soundtrack album for it, because I had a record player and I loved to listen to records. I listened to the Charlotte's Web soundtrack over and over again, reliving the movie (since we didn't have VCRs and I had no guarantee I'd ever be able to watch it again, I had to rely on the illustrations on the album cover and the songs and dialogue on the record to transport me back in my memory).



Right at this very moment, I could sing every song from the movie, word for word, even in the original key. I loved the sound of Debbie Reynolds' voice as Charlotte. But one of the songs, for some bizarre reason, keeps popping into my head at the stupidest times, and it's not even one of the pretty ones graced with Reynolds' lilting, kindhearted vocals. It's the barbershop quartet number from the county fair... four guys singing "Zuckerman's Famous Pig."

Again, you read that right. I can't stop singing "Zuckerman's Famous Pig," and I'm thinking of checking into rehab.

Okay, I won't go that far. But it does strike me as odd that a dorky barbershop quartet song from a 35-year-old cartoon movie about a pig and a spider just keeps coming to the forefront of my mind. I wonder if, when that song track got laid down in my brain 35 years ago, somehow it never got stored away in the long-term files of things I'd never need again?

What is WRONG with me?

Don't answer that. I'm pretty sure I don't want to know.

One of the up-sides

One of the occasional perqs of being the teacher of the students with severe behavior disorders is that once in a while they all decide they don't really want to be there, and they begin to do whatever it takes to get thrown out of school for the rest of the day. After first period, I had no more students because the others got sent home for being excessively disorderly and using profuse profanity. Just because my classroom is for kids with BD doesn't mean I have to put up with stuff like that. The interventionist and the VPs agreed with me and booted them out.

Which meant that I was given a lovely gift of a whole rest of the day to get my old desk cleaned out and my little corner cleared.

Now I feel like an overcooked noodle; I am definitely still sick. I hate losing a war with a rhinovirus.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!!!!!

For the third week in a row, worship (from my point of view, on stage, behind the keyboards) went spectacularly well. Everything just felt right, the music worked and there weren't any weird hitches or hiccups to throw anyone off track. Well, there was the stray drumstick incident, but it missed my head, so we're okay. A.J. swears he wasn't aiming at me. I'll take his word for it, for now anyway.

I didn't get to hear any feedback, so I don't know if it was as good for the people listening (!LOL!). Y'know, I've said this a million times before, but it's still true: I absolutely love my church and I love the people I work with. I am happiest when I am playing a support role to singers and instrumentalists.

One of the songs we did this morning was one we've done a few times over the past year and a half since I first came, but it's one that I've never quite spent the time listening closely to the original CD version. It was one that I could approximate well enough that none of us worried about it too much. This week, though, Jeff wanted me to actually listen to the original more closely and see if I could replicate it. It wasn't something I could just do after listening once or twice -- which, if I'm going to be truthful, was frustrating to me because I like for things to be easy. But I really wanted to get it right, so I loaded it onto the iPod and listened to it over and over and over and over and over and over again, cementing the correct sequence of notes into my mind while I worked on other things. This morning I was able to get it right -- yay!

Tomorrow I'm back in the FunHouse. Pray for me.

"What we've got here is... failure to communicate."

I love movie quotes. That one's from Cool Hand Luke.

How about this one from Monty Python and the Holy Grail:

"Oh, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you."

Oh, sorry... [ahem]... I actually started this post with the intention of discussing the notion of finding you're unable to communicate something effectively. I'm not sure what made me think of it, but there have been a few times in the years Rick & I have been married, particularly the years when we were paid ministerial staff at a church, when we would encounter people who seemed completely reasonable and normal, and yet little by little you realized that there was something awry in their ability to perceive life events in a normal fashion. It was as if you were speaking a different language, or that the words you were speaking were being interpreted in a way you couldn't possibly have foreseen. A couple of those people I eventually came to realize were likely suffering from undiagnosed psychiatric disorders; their entire lives were an ongoing pattern of misinterpretation and illogical behaviors. One fellow, we discovered, had constructed an entire fabrication about his life, down to odd details that you wouldn't think someone would invent. He disappeared before we could help him get some help (also typical of most of these types of people we encountered -- they played out their spiel until people began to figure them out, then they moved on to other people and places that they hadn't used-up yet). None of them wanted to "get better" or actually face the reality of their situation, preferring the fantasy instead.

I think that, at its core, honesty about oneself is a crucial factor missing from these folks. I think that in order to grow and become who we're supposed to be, we have to be able to accurately view who we already are. By accurate, I don't mean malicious... but we do, I believe, have to drop the emotionally-charged and judgmental nature of terminology. For example, "fat." I'm fat. It's okay. It's just a description of what I look like. It is not a death sentence, and it isn't a cut-down. It just is. The sky is blue, the grass is green. Just descriptive terms, nothing more.

Little kids say that kind of stuff all the time: "Mommy, that fat lady was nice." Instead of agreeing and talking about how nice she was, we recoil in horror at the fact that our child said the "f" word (FAT!!!) and we shush them. We might later explain to a child that some people feel bad about themselves and that there are some words that people don't like to hear about themselves (fat, old, gray-haired, etc.), so we don't say them.

I leave you with the following, another Monty Python quote:

Sir Bedevere: What makes you think she's a witch?
Peasant 3: Well, she turned me into a newt.
Sir Bedevere: A newt?
Peasant 3: ...I got better.

Books you should read before you die

A UK newspaper has queried librarians for their recommendation of "the one book a person should read before they die." Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird tops the list, with the Bible coming in second. Turn those two around, and I'd have to say that I agree.

Here's their list in full:

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Bible
The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by JRR Tolkien
1984 by George Orwell
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
All Quiet on the Western Front by E M Remarque
His Dark Materials Trilogy by Phillip Pullman
Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
The Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
Tess of the D'urbevilles by Thomas Hardy
Winnie the Pooh by AA Milne
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Middlemarch by George Eliot
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzenhitsyn

So let's see... ones I think are truly transcendent would be the Bible, TKAM, maybe All Quiet. Ones I think are excellent but not so much so that you'd be less of a person if you didn't get to read them before you died -- Grapes of Wrath, all the Dickens, Lovely Bones, Poisonwood Bible, LOTR. 1984 was okay, but not fabulous. The others, I either haven't read or I didn't find them remarkable one way or another. Except for...

... and I should apologize in advance to my best friend and to my sister, both of whom loooooove Jane Austen, but I can't STAND that crap. Does nothing at all for me. I also can't stand the Bronte sisters' stuff. It was torment to have to read any of them in school, and I hardly could force myself to finish them. Blech.

The recent resurgence of Austenish movies has been an interesting quandary for me. I enjoy them for their artistic appearance, but their subject matter still leaves me flat. As period pieces, they're usually gorgeous, but give me Dangerous Liaisons any day, just because it's a beautiful period piece AND it's snide and deceitful and lowbrow... heh.

Back to books: What one book would YOU say a person ought to read before they die? How about one movie they should see? Or one place they should go? It's an interesting topic.

If I were to pick a book NOT on this list that I think might belong there, I'd probably have to say the Chronicles of Narnia books, or the Diary of Anne Frank. How 'bout you?

ahCHOO

[sniff]

[cough]

I seem to have succumbed to an unidentified but fast-moving submicroscopic viral agent.

I'm going to shuffle off to bed to fight with it. I'm hoping to emerge victorious. It's looking grim at this point.

[sniff]

In the meantime, I leave you with some educational material on viruses which you may (or may not) find interesting. Meh. It was interesting to me, anyway. I've always felt it's a good thing to Know Thy Enemy.

From the University of Michigan's web site, we have the Viral Rogues Gallery:

Adenovirus - About ten percent of all common colds. Used in gene therapy experiments.

ADENOVIRUS, causes diarrhea, respiratory infections and conjunctivitis

Astrovirus - Literally "star-shaped." Causes diarrhea.

ASTROVIRUS

Corona virus - Literally "crown-like." Cause of SARS (sudden acute respiratory syndrome) and some common colds.

Cytomegallo virus – Latin for "Cell" and "Big." A member of the herpes family that makes host cells grow big.

Flavivirus - Latin for Yellow. A family of single-stranded RNA viruses transmitted by mosquito and tick bites, causing yellow fever, dengue, West Nile fever.

Hepadna virus - Hepa + DNA, Hepatitis with a DNA genome.

Lentivirus - Latin for "slow." HIV is one of these.

HUMAN PAPILLOMA VIRUS, causes genital warts and some cancers

Parvovirus - Latin for "small." A single-stranded DNA virus, highly contagious in dogs.

Picorna - Literally pico, Latin for "really small" + "RNA." (Pronounced pea-CORE-na.) An entire family of tiny RNA viruses that can cause big problems, including polio; hepatitis A; Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease; and most common colds.

POLIO

Polyoma - infects many cells, makes tumors.

Rhinovirus - a picorna that goes in your nose and gives you a cold (the runny nose part of which is known as rhinorrhoea).

RHINOVIRUS

Rotavirus - Latin for "wheel." Causes diarrhea.

ROTAVIRUS

Just thought you might be interested.

Well, here we go

I'll be leaving my position as Resource teacher and moving into the furthest recesses of the backside of nowhere to become the Behavior-Disorder teacher.

Tomorrow.

I'll only have four students, and free rein to come up with appropriate lessons, activities, etc. for the whole day.

One of them is a quiet exploder who beat the living you-know-what out of a kid earlier this year for saying something amiss to him. He's extremely bright.

One is severely hyperactive.

One is hyperactive and hypersexual.

The other one I don't know yet.

I'll let you know how it goes.