Gwen's Sententia

Q&A: I deleted a program and my computer now says it has less space than before. Why?

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 19:48:00 +0000

Humans count by tens, 'cause we have ten fingers, but computers count by twos because they use on/off switches (binary). So we have a one's place, multiply by ten to get a ten's place, then by ten again to get a hundred's place etc.

1000 100 10 1
or
10^3 10^2 10^1 10^0

Computers count in binary, so they have a one's place, multiply by two to get a two's place, x2 = four's place, x2 = eight's place, etc.

2048 1024 512 256 128 64 32 16 8 4 2 1
or
2^11 2^10 2^9 2^8 2^7 2^6 2^5 2^4 2^3 2^2 2^1 2^0

The bottom line is that 1024 is a round number in binary, not 1000, so:

1K = 1024
1M = 1024*1024 = 1048576
1G = 1024*1024*1024 = 1073741824

So 4,262,293,504/1,073,741,824 = 3.97Gb

Another reason hard drives "lose" space is because marketers want them to sound as large as possible. A 40Gb drive should be 40*1024*1024*1024 = 42,949,672,960 bytes, but they're actually more like 40,000,000,000 bytes.

Also, there's some overhead on the disk for the computer to know where it stores files, the names of the files, etc, (the technical term is filesystem metadata) so you can't use the whole 40,000,000,000 bytes for storing files.

The ebb and flow of competence

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 02:12:00 +0000

Sometimes I feel super competent, like I can do anything I put my mind to. Every time I solve some crazy computer problem that was really hard and wracked my brain for days, I get a surge of competence feelings.

Sometimes I feel completely incompetent. Yesterday, for instance, I went swimming with the kids. I carefully applied sunscreen to the progeny, but haphazardly applied it to myself. Needless to say, I turned lobster red and experienced great sunburn pain.

I need another computer puzzle. I want to be competent.

New Writing Gig

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 02:58:00 +0000

I am a member of IVAA, the International Virtual Assistant Association. I don't actually consider myself a virtual assistant anymore, since I'm not the best at making travel plans, answering phones, and keeping a calendar for someone else. I'm more of a virtual professional in that I fix things for people, like their websites or documents that don't work correctly. If interested, my web page for work is ShinyNewts.

IVAA puts out a monthly newsletter called the IVAA Cast. I wrote a test article for the editor and submitted it. She seemed to like it, and this is the first month I submitted a real article. This month's theme is "generating passive income." Here's my first article.

What’s your product?

A classic way to generate passive income is to sell a product. Do you have a product and don’t even know it? As you read these examples, think about your own life. Have you done anything similar or equitable?

So, what’s your product? Let’s find out.

Have you made something that you give to clients, friends, and family over and over?

This might be anything from a computer procedure to a recipe. My sister glues fake flowers on hair clips in artistic ways and gave away a ton of them. She makes them as a hobby, but she now sells them at SnazzyClips.com.

Has something in your house broken and you fixed it with a unique design?

My brother-in-law has a dishwasher that breaks a lot. The wheels on the top rack break, frequently, and instead of fixing those tiny wheels, the fix is to replace an entire rack in the washer. My brother-in-law got tired of this waste and made replacement hubs so people can fix the wheels, permanently, instead of buying new racks. He sells these at MaytagWheelHubs.com.

Have you ever invented a little, tiny thing?

I don’t know Jeanette and Bob Williams, but I love their product. Bob, a retired college professor, got tired of dog-earing pages and highlighting passages in books. He didn’t want to ruin his books. Bob and Jeanette invented book darts. These treasures are tiny pieces of metal folded over to make tight clips. One end of the dart is pointed, and can be used to mark lines in a book or a page. Bob and Jeanette initially made these in their basement and sold them at BookDarts.com.

Have you written a book, part of a book, or pieces of a book?

I love to research topics. I get all excited about something and read every book I can find on it, watch every movie or documentary, and visit in person the object of my attention if possible. To organize my thoughts, I write. That writing usually turns out to be a full-fledge unit study or book. These can be sold.

Have you made anything that you use regularly to make your job easier?

Do you have a tool that you created and you use that most people in your field don’t have? This might be a checklist, a notebook, a chart, a procedure, an Office template, an audio, or a picture. Have you made a special Access database that you could convert into a template and sell?

Pretty it up

Have you found your product? If so, it’s just a matter of “packaging” the product to make it sellable.

What do you need to do to package your product? The packaging depends on what your product is.

Is your product writing?

Before I can sell my “books” or unit studies, I have to pretty them up. I make a cover page, format the document consistently, have someone proofread it, make sure all the images are legal by buying them or drawing my own, and make a new pdf. IVAA has some excellent proofreaders and cover page designers if you need help with that.

Is your product computer “soft” ware

If it’s a template or a piece of software, you’ll need a website page, a photo, a description, and some testimonials. Don’t let the testimonials stop you; they’re easy to get. Someone probably told you they liked your product and that’s why you’re selling it. Who was that person? Hit them up for a testimonial.

Can you hold your product in your hands?

If your product is physical, you need to polish its appearance and find a nice way to package and mail it. My snazzy clip sister had embroidered labels made to cover the glue that fastens the flower to the hair clip. A quick search on Google and help you find any boxes or packaging you might need.

You have a product, you’ve packaged it, and now you need to sell it

How are you going to sell your product?

If your product is a book, decide whether or not you want it to be strictly an e-book, or if you want it printed. If you want it printed, you can set this up with lulu.com for no out-of-pocket money, and they’ll sell it on their site for you too. Additionally, you can get an ISBN number from them and sell it on Amazon.

Well, for all types of products, books and non-books alike, you can sell them on your website. If you already have a shopping cart, you can incorporate it into that. If not, you can set it up to sell it on PayPal easily.

The basic procedure for selling a product on PayPal is to:

Register for a PayPal account, attach a bank account to it, and confirm the bank account
Create a web page that features your product on your website
Create a thank-you web page that gives instructions for obtaining the product
Login to PayPal and go to the Merchant Services tab
Click on the link for “Buy Now Button.” Fill out the form and hit the “Create Button Now” button.
Copy the HTML code that PayPal generates into your website.

Once you have identified your product, packaged it, and done the set up for the product to be sold, you’re well on your way to generating passive income. Let me know how it goes.

Karate Quinn

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 06:19:00 +0000

The kids asked for a family show tonight. What does that mean? They wanted to be in the same room with us and cuddle under blankets.

The kids understand that we won't cuddle under blankets with them to watch Scooby Doo. We'll cope with Scooby in the background, but we won't actually watch it. They've figured out that we'll actually watch Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter, and various flicks like The Last Mimzy, ET, or the Bridge to Terabithia.

Leon had been waiting for the next "we want a family show" request, however. He bought The Karate Kid. We thought that the progeny should be old enough to understand it. Four-year-old Quinn liked the first half, and then he got bored. Seven-year-old Anna seemed to like the whole movie. We're not sure if she liked Leon and I commenting through it, though.

Anna: Isn't that cool? He got a car.
Leon: It's more cool how he did all that work.
Gwen: Yeah, he wanted to learn something and he practiced
and practiced and worked really hard.
Leon: Yeah, that's cool how he worked really hard to learn karate.

Overall, I think the kids' favorite part was the handkerchief that came with the DVD. Quinn called it a magic head bandanna and managed to go to other parts of the house, alone, at night.

Both kids got something from the movie. I'm not sure it's exactly what we intended, but I'll take it.

Thoughtful Gifts, 2

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 01:04:00 +0000

My husband does an excellent job of picking out presents. I finally picked one just as well as he did.

We recently celebrated my daughter's 7th birthday. Anna wanted a ferret themed party, and she was pretty strong in her weasel-themed decision. She told me she wanted me to make her a ferret coloring book, so I did. I printed the coloring book out and inserted one copy in each of the loot bags. She wanted a ferret stuffed toy. I found some relatively cheap plush ferrets and stuck one of those in each of the loot bags. In the weeks before the party, Anna expressed great interest in those stuffed ferrets and she kept telling me how she "needed" her stuffed ferret and how she was going to play with it.

Well, the day of the birthday came and this included the great present opening. I spent $7 on Anna's birthday present, a stuffed ferret. The birthday ferret was of a bit better quality than the loot bag ferrets. She smiled and giggled and showed the ferret each of the other presents she opened.

Whew!

An Oddly Themed Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 07:46:00 +0000

My daughter is turning seven at the end of March. She told me she wanted a ferret birthday.

She's had a dolphin birthday (5), a blue whale party (6), a butterfly party (4), a Thomas the Tank Engine party (3), a non-themed party (2), and an Easter themed party (1). The Thomas, butterfly, and dolphin parties were the easiest. It is very easy to find birthday paraphernalia like plates, cups, suckers, loot bag gifts, and party decorations for dolphins, butterflies, and Thomas. The blue whale party was a little more difficult. I had to attempt to draw on a cake. Luckily there was an artist at the party who fixed my blue whale and then drew blue whales on all the plastic cups. (Thank you Kent!)

This year's party will prove to be the hardest. For the dolphin, butterfly, and blue whale parties, I was able to go to Oriental Trading Company and buy a dozen stuffed toys for about a dollar each. They don't carry ferrets. Luckily, Dr. Fosters & Smith, an online pet store, carries stuffed ferrets as play toys for ferrets. I ordered a dozen. They were more than a dollar and I have yet to see what they look like.

My daughter asked for a ferret coloring book. Actually, she's been asking for that for a while. A search on "ferret coloring book" in google did not yield positive results. So, I made one for her. (Click on the picture to get the ferret coloring book.) She wants copies of the ferret coloring book in the loot bags for the kids.

She's agreed to let me take a photo of Simon (a ferret) to the bakery and let them print his picture on the frosting of her cake, so I won't have to try a ferret on a cake or make a ferret-shaped cake. (Whew!)

Anyway, if your kid wants a ferret coloring book, have at it.

The Nicodemus Field Guide

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 03:55:00 +0000

Around October or November 2007, we listened to the Spiderwick Chronicles. That is, I had purchased the audio CDs. At night, before we put the kids to bed, we'd turn off the lights, light candles, and listen to the "radio like Grandma and Grandpa did because they didn't have television." This is a nice family bonding experience, and the story was good to boot.

Naturally, when the movie came out, we saw it. We usually go to a museum of some sort once a week, but this week we ditched the museum and saw the Spiderwick Chronicles. While my kids thoroughly enjoyed it and haven't had any nightmares, I wouldn't recommend it for most little kids. At seven, Anna knows the difference between fact and fantasy. Quinn, who is four, also knows the difference, but it was still a bit much. I don't think I would have taken him if he hadn't heard the stories.

Anyway, the kids loved the show.

The movie shows Arthur Spiderwick's Field Guide to the Fantastical, and the idea immediately jumped into my head. I decided we'd make the Nicodemus Field Guide to the Fantastical. I didn't tell the kids straight away though. I bought some scrapbook paper and a brown scrapbook cover.

I had the kids sit down on the couch today and I told them, "It's come to my attention that there might be fantastical creatures in and around our house." Anna (7) got a smile on her face. Quinn (4) said, "Mommy, they're fake." I whispered to Quinn, "We're playing a fun game Quinn. We're pretending that we can see fantastical creatures." Quinn immediately got with the game.

I handed the kids card stock that I cut into quarters and asked them to draw pictures of some of the fantastical creatures they saw. They went around the backyard looking for critters, drew pictures, and told me elaborate stories about the critters they discovered. Anna got to pet a baby Dragusfair. Quinn saw Quaw eggs hatch.

This project is probably going to last a few months, and I think I'll be able to milk a lot of hidden schooling out of it. They have to draw (art), explain how their critters live (biology), and document and describe what they "see" (language arts).

I am so far impressed with their imagination and think this project is a hit.

My Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 03:37:00 +0000

Birthdays are a big deal for me. I am frugal at Christmas and the kids open a total of two or three presents. I don't want Christmas to be about presents. I want Christmas to be about nice smells and family traditions. I make up for this at birthdays, however.

Birthdays are a special day. It's your day. So, when my kids' birthdays roll around, or the dog, cat, ferrets, and spouse, that person gets treated to a special day. The kids don't have to do chores on their birthdays. I throw them parties, make crazy cool loot bags, decorate like crazy, and take a lot of pictures. The birthday person gets to pick what's for dinner and gets to pick the nighttime stories. I start prepping for the kids' birthdays about three months in advance.

I expect my family to remember my birthday and treat me to a special day. A few days before my birthday Leon told me he had choir practice. I told him that he better bring me flowers then. He asked if I meant literal or figurative flowers. I told him literal.

Yesterday was my birthday, and I received literal and figurative flowers. My kids woke me up with gleeful "Happy Birthdays." While the kids did fight with each other all day, they made a point of being extra nice to me. They helped me clean without fighting. My husband came home with colorful flowers and he put them in a vase for me. He emptied the dishwasher and filled it again. He baked a cake for me. Even better, he let me take a book upstairs and hide. I had a two-hour bath and a nice read.

I think the birthday bath is going to become a tradition. It was nice.

After two hours, the kids couldn't take it anymore and the kids and Leon sang "Happy Birthday" outside the door. They wanted me to get out of the tub so they could have birthday cake.

While my literal flowers are beautiful, I think I'll remember the figurative ones longer.

And for those of you curious, I turned 0x25. (That's 37 for the non-nerds.)

SSSSssss

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Mon, 28 Jan 2008 08:08:00 +0000

I’ve always had a snake phobia. I grew up in the desert (the Mojave Desert in California) and I had to watch out for snakes when I’d walk my dogs. I’d read articles on the Mojave greens (rattlesnakes common in the area) and how deadly they were, and that perpetuated my fear. It didn’t help that whenever I encountered a snake as a kid, the snake and I were both surprised. They’re long. They’re reptiles. They don’t have legs. That’s just…just wrong.

For quite a while, my phobia got worse. I once went to a Halloween party and saw a guy with a little bitty snake on his arm. It was part of his costume, but I ran from the party the instant I saw the snake. I was totally irrational about it. I mean, the guy wasn’t a kid. He wasn’t going to stick a snake in my face when he knew I was afraid of it. Phobia.

Snakes seem to show up in the strangest places. About ten years ago, I lived in a basement apartment for six months whilst my house was being built. Walking down the steps, I saw a snake. I did what any normal snake-phobe would do and screamed. My Labrador puppy didn't scream. He decided to introduce himself to the snake, and that introduction cost $75.00. Apparently the snake wasn't ecstatic to meet the exuberant puppy and bit him. Valor was allergic to whatever snake it was, and his cheeks quadrupled. After sufficient screaming a neighbor came over with a shovel and carefully removed the reptile to a non-trail area. I was freaked and I failed to protect my buddy.

I did manage to protect my buddies on our next snake encounter. I went hiking with my dogs, a Great Dane and a Labrador. My buds were off leash. They pretty much stayed in sight and more or less came when called, so I didn’t worry too much about them not being right at my side. That is, I didn’t worry until I heard the Great Dane barking. She found a rattler. She “cornered” it and wouldn't stop barking. The rattler kept rattling. I called the dogs to me, and my Labrador came. The Great Dane wasn’t about to come because she was busy barking. I leashed the Labrador and asked another hiker to hold him and skirted around behind the Great Dane. I managed to grab her, leash her, and move her away without the snake striking. (It's too bad our skunk encounter wasn't successfully avoided.)

For the most part my snake phobia isn’t a big deal. I’m a city girl, after all. However, if I wanted to hike or attend parties, I needed to get a slightly better grip on myself.

A few Discovery channel snake shows helped. A few trips to the zoo helped me a bit. Knowledge is power. Knowledge helps put phobias in perspective, right? Besides, the zoo has glass cages. I could be in a room with snakes in glass cages without running away immediately, and that was progress.

My next encounter was, fortunately for me, with a dead snake. My husband and I were traveling from my grandparents house to ours. I was seven months pregnant, and well, let’s just say I made my husband find a side road and pull over. I opened the door. I’m glad I looked down because there was a coiled rattler right now. I freaked a bit, but realized that the coiled snake was actually dead. I don’t know how that happened, but I’m glad I didn’t step on it anyway.

Whilst still pregnant, I took my little daughter on a mini hike around a lake. Toward the end of the trail, two-year-old Anna pointed and said “Snake, mommy!” Yes, sure enough, there was a snake. I couldn’t tell if it was a bull, gopher, garter, or rattlesnake. (Actually, I thought bull, gopher, and garter were different names for the same kind of snake.) The snake wanted to cross the trail. Despite the big rat-sized lump in the snake, I picked up the toddler and waddled my seven-month-pregnant body in reverse.

I had more snake encounters today. Fortunately, these snakes were in glass cages. Also fortunate for me, the volunteer at the Morrison Natural History Museum was not afraid of snakes, was sympathetic toward me, and spent a ridiculous amount of time answering my inane questions.

The first thing I learned is that the gopher snake, garter snake, and bull snake are three different types of snakes. They do have some things in common, though. They all survived the ice age (and were thus housed in the “survived the ice age section of the museum”) and they are all non-poisonous. A milk snake was also in the ice age section.

I think I can now remember “If red’s next to black, you’re okay Jack. If red’s next to white or yellow, yer a dead fellow.” I might even remember it if I actually encountered a milk or coral snake. That was the first time the rhyme stuck in my head, even though I had heard it before.

The volunteer spent a lot of time telling me about the bull snake and the rattle snake. There were two bull snakes in the museum. She said the bull snakes have round pupils. Sure enough, I saw round eyes. She said the rattlers have vertical slits, but if you can see vertical slits you’re way too close. She said the rattlers have white on the outside of their brown spots and the bull snakes don’t. The rattlers have the “pits” on their heads and have boxier heads. I’m thinking that if I can tell the snake has pits or has boxy head that I’m too close. The white rings or not might be a method for me to distinguish bulls and rattlers at a distance. But, who am I kidding? I don’t want to differentiate the critters if I can avoid it.

The museum had two gopher snakes too. They have skinnier heads than the bull snakes. The male snake was dull and had glazed over eyes. The volunteer said he was shedding and couldn’t see until finished. She said that the male gopher snake had been in captivity for 40 years. They don’t know how old the gopher snake was when it was captured, but wow, I didn’t think snakes could live that long. Apparently, they aren’t hurt from not having their winter hibernation (due to the artificial lighting, warmth, and winter feedings provided by the museum) because they are still living lengthy lives.

Well, I feel more educated regarding snakes. I think I can keep myself from screaming, and protect my buddies and progeny next time I encounter a non-caged slither-er. This is good.

After we got home, Anna asked Leon why milk snakes were called milk snakes. “I don’t know,” said Leon. “Will you google it, Daddy?” As it turns out, there are legends of milk snakes milking cows. Now, that’s a disturbing image and I’m really glad my kids eat solid food.

My family visits

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Mon, 07 Jan 2008 08:06:00 +0000

My parents are on a long road trip visiting family. They just left my house after a three day visit. (Dad always pounded it into our heads that guests and fish smell after three days, so his visits are limited to three days.)

I arranged a play date for my mom. I called my Great Aunt Myrtle on the phone and asked if she wanted to come up for a visit. Myrtle, in turn, tracked down Becky (another great aunt of mine), her daughter Bea (my mom’s cousin), and Millie (another great aunt). Bea is probably less than 60 years old, and Millie is the oldest at 90. All of these ladies are in good health and have all their cognitive functions in tact. The visit was a hoot. Those four ol‘ gals are full of animated, funny stories. My dad spins a good yarn and he had a captive audience too. My three aunts, cousin, dad, and my two kids laughed and giggled, took pictures, and had fun. Everyone seemed to like our ferrets too. (It’s a good thing the sniffer works less well as you age, because no one complained about odor of weasel.)

Aunt Myrtle showed me a picture taken of my grandma (her sister) and her when Myrtle was about 16. My grandma sure was beautiful. The picture was tiny, about 1.5 inches square. I scanned it in at 9600 dpi and got a giant picture out of it. Myrtle specifically said “I’d like to see what this picture looks like bigger. You can do that, right Gwen?” I’m going to mail her an 8×10.

Everyone had fun, except my mom. This was a bummer because our relatives came to see her, and she was a no-fun lump of clay. She kept complaining about being cold and passed in and out of consciousness. Aunt Myrtle made an effort to pull mom into the world of the living for a while, and she did get a few sentences out of her. Mom fell asleep after each question and answer posed by Aunt Myrtle.

After nine blankets and a heater directed at her, Dad called my youngest sister, Sara. Sara’s a pharmacist and she seems to know things we don’t. Sara asked us right away, “What’s her temperature?” Dad and I felt like morons and decided a trip to ER would be a good thing when the thermometer bleeped 103F.

“Why would you go to ER for a fever?” you might be thinking. Well, my mom is a medical marvel. She’s had three strokes in the last two years, quite a few near misses, a boatload of surgeries, and several nasty infections. We had enough history with mom to think this wasn’t just a case of food poisoning.

My parents are used to hospitals and ERs in Los Angeles County. Those tend to be crowded and cater to an entirely different demographics than the hospital by my house. We went at midnight. There was no wait. Toward the end of the visit dad had to ask the nurse, “What about insurance information, the copay, and the like?” Everyone listened and helped.

My dad is an organized fellow, and he handed the triage nurse a list of surgeries and dates. He also handed them a list of all of mom’s medicines and dosing schedule. The doctor took the hint and didn’t just say “wait it out.” He ordered a chest X-ray, to rule out the possibility of pneumonia. He had a bunch of blood taken for various tests, and a urine sample.

Mom had a bladder infection that had spread into her kidneys. She’s one of those rare people that doesn’t feel it when she has a bladder infection. Mom was dosed with powerful drugs and hydrated with an IV. Dad and I were very happy that this was “just” a bladder infection.

The next day mom was warm, talkative, and in a good mood.

My parents just left. It was a good visit. My kids now refer to my dad as “the fun grandpa.”

Busy kids

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 08:07:00 +0000

Anna loves her yoga class and her pottery class. Quinn argues about going to preschool sometimes, but he usually smiles when he walks out of the classroom. Both kids love their computer class and their robot class. They ask for more swimming classes, and Anna looks forward to her singing/piano lessons.

I like that the kids can take these enrichment classes. There sure wouldn’t be time for those classes, however, if they were in a brick-and-mortar school.

I like homeschooling.

Post holiday glee

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 08:06:00 +0000

My sister sent me a postcard that had a picture of a snowman with his head not attached. The card referred to the post holiday meltdown. It was funny, but I don’t get post-Christmas blues. For that matter, I don’t get pre-Christmas blues either.

Why?

I still like Christmas. I still like filling the house with baking smells, making Christmas dinner, and tracking Santa via NORAD.

However, I’m pretty cheap at Christmas time. I remember growing up with a mother that went nuts at Christmas time. She’d spend so much money, Dad would talk about hoping he could pay it off before the next Christmas. As a puppy, I didn’t even think it was fun getting all those presents because something seemed wrong.

So, I made a decision and talked my husband into it. We get the kids a couple of presents, Santa fills their stockings, and Santa gives them a gift to share. With the notable exception of Christmas food, Christmas costs about $200. (Okay, Leon and I get ourselves a present, but Christmas is just the excuse, not the reason. I mean, doesn’t every family need a 1.5T NAS?)

So far the kids haven’t squawked the “lack” of Christmas presents, and I don’t get mopey.

Now Birthdays… Birthdays are another story all together.

Scifi Cons

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 08:05:00 +0000

When our kids were babies, we were very careful to keep violent television and movies from them. Star Wars had lots of fight scenes in it, for instance, so they didn’t watch it. Harry Potter was pretty violent too. So, the kids pretty much stuck with Disney Playhouse. When little, the kids didn’t know what science fiction was.

Leon and I occasionally go to science fiction conventions. I admire the costuming and Leon admires the makeup (prosthetics and the like). We like to wonder around for a day or so, look at stuff that we can’t easily obtain elsewhere, and then go back to our normal lives.

About a year ago we decided to brave it and take the kids to StarCon. I think Anna was five and Quinn was three, or maybe they were four and two. Anyway, we left the con mortified. Anna had loudly proclaimed that she was bored. Quinn displayed fear of Darth Vader. We grabbed the kids and left the con with our tails between our legs.

At the car, Leon and I made a decision. We decided to not protect them quite as much and started introducing them to science fiction. Their first sci fi movie, I think, was The Cat From Outer Space. After that we let them watch E.T. Eventually we got brave enough and let them watch Star Wars and Harry Potter.

We haven’t seen any negative behaviors from the kids since then. We haven’t been to a science fiction convention since then either.

Wrest the last charge

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 08:05:00 +0000

You know how two people can get together and start talking and other people don’t understand? Sometimes, when my husband gets together with my two sisters, they start speaking in some foreign language. It’s related to Saturday Night Live. I never watched the show. Apparently my sisters and my husband grew up with the show. They’ll say obscure things and break out into strange songs at the oddest times. And, I don’t think I’ll ever prepare broccoli in front of the three of them again. They’ll just get a can of corn instead.

Well, I missed out on the Saturday Night Live lingo, but my husband and I share some lingo that my sisters’ don’t know about. Both my husband and I played a lot of ASCII based games in high school and college. I played a lot of rogue, and he played a lot of Nethack. Conquer was another favorite of mine, and as silly as it was, I really liked worm. We still play games; although, our favorites are different. (We do play with each other, though.) My favorite is Settlers of Catan. Leon’s favorite is Kingdom of Loathing. When it comes to board games, we actually indoctrinated both sisters and their spouses into Ticket To Ride. Leon and I understand each other’s game vernacular.

Game vernacular sometimes invades everyday life. I mean, how often do you get meat and money confused? (Meat is the currency in Kingdom of Loathing.)

In NetHack, originally an ASCII-based Unix game, you battle monsters. You can pick up wands. You can use each wand a specific amount of times. Sometimes, you might get lucky and get an extra use out of a wand, and this is called “wresting the last charge.”

I was very amused the first time I saw my husband squeezing the toothpaste tube to get more toothpaste out. I had opened a new tube three days earlier, thinking the first one was way past empty. Leon managed to keep squeezing more toothpaste out of the tube, and to this day I have no idea how he manages that. Leon told me he was wresting the last charge from the toothpaste.

Wresting charges makes good sense, both environmentally and financially. Here are some other ways to wrest charges. What additional items do you have for me?

Laundry Soap/Color Bleach: After I’ve drained the container, I add a couple of capfuls of water and shake really hard. I can usually get one or two more loads.
Toothpaste: I still don’t know. I open the new one and Leon prides himself on how long he can go before using the new tube.
Lotion: When one bottle is “empty,” we take the top off of it and another lotion bottle. The “empty” one is then turned upside down and placed carefully on top of the non-empty lotion bottle. They stay like this overnight while gravity saves us money.
Fabric: I save even small scraps of fleece, because fleece doesn’t unravel. You’ll never know when you need a few square inches of orange fleece. I just used my scrap fleece last night as “ornaments” on my Christmas tree Advent calendar.

Tunnels and weasels

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 07:04:00 +0000

We have ferrets now, and we refer to them as the “stinky weasels.” The name just stuck.

The whole family likes the ferrets. My husband, Leon, still gets a goofy look on his face when he plays with the ferrets. He laughed for a spell when I lost my wallet and he found it in the ferrets’ stash. He doesn’t seem to mind that they are de-stuffing our leather couch, and he doesn’t seem to notice the weasel smell. Both children love the ferrets. Quinn likes Mimzy the best, and Anna likes Simon the best. Being young children, they inadvertently torture the boys by holding them and not letting the ferrets ferret, but they’re learning.

Since the kids do play hard with the ferrets during the day, I frequently feel obliged to let the boys out after the kids have gone to bed. That way, the ferrets can ferret and Leon and I can be amused watching ferret antics. Mimzy, who is a pound lighter than Simon, likes to jump on Simon’s back and try to pin him. They both like to chase each other around the house, and they both like to crawl up pant legs. (Why does a wet dog nose bother my husband, but weasels crawling up his pants don’t? It’s one of life’s great mysteries.)

I don’t recommend ferrets for all households. Ferrets are ferrets and they ferret. They tip over anything they can, including trash cans and beverage glasses. They “steal” things, like my wallet, and put them in their stash. They “do business” in corners, so you either have to have litter boxes all over, or you have to only let them out for an hour at a time after you’ve witnessed a successful litter box operation. Mostly, ferrets like tunnels. A friend of mine told me ferrets were used to hunt rats in sewer tunnels in England once. Wikipedia says that they were used by the Romans to hunt rabbits. They can get into holes you wouldn’t believe. My husband refers to them as two-dimensional creatures.

Simon and Mimzy, our boys, have found ways to crawl into our kitchen cabinets. We had to try about four different instances of ferret proofing to keep them out of the upstairs. We are still working on proofing the stairs to keep them from going downstairs. The current mechanism works, if you remember to block the cat’s door to the basement AND remember that ferrets are two dimensional critters.

Two nights ago, I let the ferrets out after the kids had gone to bed. I failed to remember the cardinal rule and left about an inch of clearance by the cat’s door to the basement. After an hour of playtime, we put Mimzy back in his cage. Simon, on the other hand, we could not find. It was late, and Leon wanted to go to bed. I told him we couldn’t go to bed until all weasels were accounted for and safely tucked away in their cage. We searched.

I pulled apart the coat closet. We tipped over the couches. We searched the nooks and crannies, and eventually Leon saw the cat door. He went into the basement, and he heard Simon scratching.

We have two sump pumps in our basement, and Simon had managed to get into the sump pump pipes. Leon came and got me. He wasn’t able to get Simon out, but he did see him. I came down with him, and we spent a half hour trying to get our boy back. At one point, I told Leon to get the jigsaw and I covered my hand in yummy ferret vitamins. Leon sawed on one of the sump pump pipes, very close to my hand, while I kept my hand by Simon so he could lick ferret vitamins.

We “rescued” Simon. We were covered in basement gunk, and we thought Simon had to be traumatized. Traumatized or not, midnight or not, Simon earned a bath. I think the bath was scarier for him than being stuck all alone in sump pump piping for an hour.

As we put Simon to bed, we both agreed that we had to ferret proof the sump pumps, because while Simon had just scared us, he clearly had fun. Basement plumbing pipes are just too fun a playground for stinky weasels.

My son's socialization

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 07:03:00 +0000

My son is four years old and my daughter is six. I home school my daughter, but my son asked to go to preschool. So, I enrolled him in preschool. Quinn goes to school three days a week for two and a half hours a day.

After his first day of school, I asked him if he liked school. He said “No.” I immediately thought “tough, I paid for a month so you are going to have to go for a month.” I told him that he wouldn’t be able to tell if he liked preschool from just one day, and that he had to go at least five times before he would be able to decide if he liked school or not.

After the second day of school, I asked Quinn if he liked school. He said “No.” I then asked him if he wanted to go back to school, and he said “Yes.” The third and fourth days were a repeat of the second day. He didn’t like school, but he wanted to go back.

After Quinn’s fifth day of school he came out smiling and said “Mommy, I liked school today. No one hit me!”

“What?” I thought. I queried him more and found out that two boys had been hitting him. Well, I didn’t think much of that to tell you the truth. My kids are sensitive and “hit” could mean “touch” or “accidentally ran into.” But, I kept thinking about it.

After the next day of school, I stayed a little bit later until most of the kids had gone. There were still two boys in the classroom. I told the teacher about Quinn getting hit and asked her if it was possible he was hit or if he was just being sensitive. The teacher turned her head, stared at the two boys in the room for a noticeable few seconds, and said that there were a couple of kids she was working with about hitting.

Okay, so I deduced that my son had probably been hit a few times from the boys still in the classroom.

Now, here’s the odd thing. A few minutes later the teacher told me that the only thing she worries about with Quinn is that he doesn’t play very much with the other boys.

Hmm

He did it

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 07:02:00 +0000

I have a dog. My husband doesn’t like my dog. I don’t really understand really, since my Valor is so perfect. Valor’s about as good a dog as anyone could want. He let the kids get away with a lot when they were babies. A toddler can pull a hamburger out of his mouth and not get bitten. He’s a good boy. Yet Leon describes his interactions with my perfect pooch as “annoying.” So, I am solely responsible for loving the dog.

I have a cat. My husband doesn’t like my cat. Tonka’s biggest flaw, in my opinion, is just that he’s a cat. Other than the cat-thing, he’s pretty good. He doesn’t hide from people when company’s over. In fact, he demands pets. He’s friendly. He doesn’t do business in incorrect places. He’s a decent cat. My husband describes his interactions with him as “annoying.” Fortunately for me, my daughter considers Tonka her cat, and so she helps out petting, and loving, the cat.

I had a dwarf hamster. The kids named her Peanut, and she was technically my daughters hamster. However, Anna was afraid of Peanut. Peanut bit her too many times. I was the only family member that held and pet the hamster. I actually had that rodent trained. She got to where she liked me holding her and she stopped biting me. It took a lot of work and patience, especially since I was the only one that took care of, and loved, the gal. She recently had a stroke, spent a day running in circles in one direction, and died. We had a funeral for Peanut, and my work load decreased.

Well, the only time my husband actually smiled when being around an animal was at the pet store holding ferrets. I made him a deal. I told him I’d take care of the ferrets physically, such as cleaning their cage, taking them to the vet, trimming their nails, and the like; however, I told him I wold not be solely responsible for loving them. Ferret love would have to be a whole-family affair.

Leon thought about it for six months. We made many trips to the pet stores and held a lot of ferrets. The kids really wanted ferrets and they got over their fears and held them.

So, last week we left the pet store with Mimzy and Simon. Mimzy is about ten weeks old and Simon is about 20 weeks old. Mimzy weighs a whopping pound and Simon is 2 pounds. They are both cute, frisky, smart, and stinky.

A friend at work doesn’t understand why Leon doesn’t like cats and dogs, but does like stinky weasels. I’m not exactly sure either, but he’s had a lot of smiles on his face, as have the children.

If I could stop time

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 07:01:00 +0000

I’m busy. I mean, I’m really busy. I have a job at Sun. I have an equivalent of a job with clients. I’m homeschooling my kids, and transporting them to and fro various classes including ballet, swimming, gears, and dinosaurs.

I don’t have time to goof off writing in my blog. Yet here I am, writing in my blog.

I was working on a project for one of my clients. I’ve been playing in Excel and wondering how I’m going to do three hours of work in one hour so I can go to bed and get some sleep. It’s impossible, of course, so it occurred to me “Wouldn’t it be cool if I could stop time around me?” I’ve come to the conclusion that the stopping-time superpower wouldn’t be as cool as I think.

If time stopped, would I actually work on something productive? Nah, I think I would play more games and just play with robots. Or I might read a trashy novel. I think I’d have to play several hours of games and read a novel before I’d get around to actually doing something useful.

I’ve learned several things from this. Firstly, I like my break time. Secondly, a fantasy super power isn’t going to help me, so I better get cracking on that spreadsheet and stop writing in my silly blog.

Swimming with Dolphins

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 07:01:00 +0000

It’s illegal to swim with wild dolphins in most oceans. So, if you want to swim with Flipper, you have to an aquarium with dolphins.

I had to get over the mental problem of “If I let my daughter swim with dolphins in an aquarium setting, then I am helping to pay for captive dolphins.” After a bit of research I came to the conclusion that in the United States the great majority of captive dolphins were either born in captivity or rescued and can’t be returned to the ocean. Whew.

Nevertheless, when we went to Disney World in January, we didn’t detour to Sea World to swim with dolphins. My daughter, Anna, who is the one obsessed with dolphins was not quite old enough. Sea World requires a kid to be 6 years old and 44″ tall.

A few months after our Disney trip my youngest sister told me that her family was going to rent a condo on the beach in San Diego, spend one day at Sea World, and our parents were going to join them. I invited myself and my family along.

This time I booked two reservations to swim with the dolphins. One reservation was for Anna and the other was for my husband. I didn’t think Anna would go near the dolphins without a parent present and I didn’t trust my husband to get proper photos and video.

The day came and I helped Anna don her wet suit and rubber booties. She was excited and nervous. I do think, however, that perhaps my husband enjoyed the experience more.

Anna and Leon enjoyed about 45 minutes with Maggie, a four-year-old bottlenose dolphin.

It was totally worth the cost.

I don't want my kids socialized

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Mon, 11 Jun 2007 07:00:00 +0000

I don’t want my kids socialized. For the most part, I think socialization is a bad thing.

Now, before you call social services, let’s talk semantics. There’s a big difference between socialization and social development.

Socialization is the process where people learn their place in society. For children, socialization means raising your hand to go to the bathroom, changing your mental frame of mind when a bell rings, and waiting in line.

Social development, on the other hand, is about creating and nurturing meaningful relationships with others and integrating into society in such a way to help yourself and society.

Some socialization is obviously necessary to survive in society. For instance, if a kid doesn’t know how to queue up, he’ll get tossed out of amusement parks and not get to ride roller coasters. If a kid doesn’t have the sense to respect other people’s property and lives, he’ll end up in jail.

Some aspects of socialization seem silly to me, though. Why, for instance, should a child spend a year in a classroom with 20 or more other kids of the same age? Where else in our lives does that happen besides school?

Instead of “socialization,” I am teaching my kids “good citizenship.” For social development, I am providing them with opportunities to make friends of their age, older, and younger; however, I’m also providing them opportunities to make friends with adults, seniors, and much younger children.

Post vacation blues

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Mon, 11 Jun 2007 06:59:00 +0000

We’ve taken a lot of vacation time this year.

We started off the year with a week-long trip to Disney World. Fun was had by all. I liked Animal Kingdom the best; Leon liked Epcot; Quinn and Anna liked the Magic Kingdom the best-even though they got to meet Mater and Lightening McQueen at MGM.

When we came home from Disney World, I had my traditional post vacation blues. My theory is that I spend a bunch of time high on epinephrine (and spending money) and then I come home and I need to clean the house. Bye Bye Little High. My customary method of dealing with the post vacation blues is to give my husband a choice: take the kids and I out to dinner and a movie, or walk us to the park to play.

That method usually works fine. It’s sort of an intermediary. While dinner and a movie can be expensive, it’s not up there with plane tickets. If it’s sunny out, a walk to the park usually does the trick too. (It’s a treat to get Leon to walk with me to the park.)

My usual methods didn’t work for this last trip, however. We didn’t get home until 8:00 p.m. San Diego, Sea World, visiting with Grandma and Grandpa and my sister, brother-in-law, and nieces–and staying in a penthouse with a wonderful view–was loads of fun. Coming home at 8:00 p.m. didn’t make either of my normal trip fixes much of an option. (When you split a penthouse ten ways it’s much less expensive.)

So I did the next best thing and read a bit (to keep my mind occupied so I didn’t cry) and went to sleep.

You know what? Sleep worked wonders.

That nagging question

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sun, 10 Jun 2007 06:58:00 +0000

When I was in grammar school, about thirty years ago, I was taught that a species was a group of animals that could mate and produce fertile offspring. That seemed like a reasonable, simple definition and I was content with it for about 29 years.

My definition of species has been tested over this last year, and it has failed. While writing a polar bear unit study (www.UnitStudiesByGwen.com) I discovered that polar bears can mate with brown bears and produce fertile offspring; however, polar bears are grouped as a separate species.

Polar bears have longer necks than brown bears. Polar bears have smaller ears and tails-a cold weather adaptation. Polar bears have re-developed their carnasial teeth and primarily eat meat. Brown bears have lost their carnasial teeth and are omnivores. Brown bears hibernate over the winter; polar bears never actually hibernate. Brown bears cannot survive in the arctic and polar bears don’t fare well in warmer areas.

The two types of bears definitely have a pile of differences-but, but, but they can mate and have fertile offspring.

So, “What is the modern definition of species” is my nagging question. I have started researching this, but I haven’t yet answered it to my satisfaction. I think I’ll end up with another unit study on Taxonomy before I have the answer.

Colorful games

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 26 May 2007 06:57:00 +0000

I like games. I like games with bright colors, a need for strategy, and an element of randomness.

Tetris was my game of choice in college. I attribute the surgery I had for tendinitis at the age of 21 to Tetris. Tetris had bright colored squares, you had to use a bit of strategy when dropping the shapes, and the next shape was more or less random.

Conquer was fun too; but it didn’t have bright colors.

I’ve gone in and out of game addictions over the years. For a spell I liked World of War, a Risk-like game. I’d have 20-30 games going at once, and it took a lot of energy to play. Additionally, it was turn based and not usually played live. So, it took forever to finish a game. It met the requirements though. It was colorful, had die, and involved a fair amount of strategy.

Kingdom of Loathing is fun too. Despite the lack of colors, it does have randomness and strategy. Plus, its content is cool and has spoofs on everything from pop culture to obscure computer games from the early eighties. Kingdom of Loathing is a game that you play a little bit everyday for a few days or years, depending on how much you like the game. This game can eat up a lot of time. For instance, my husband thinks about this game all the time, researches the game, and thinks about every turn he makes. Kingdom of Loathing is a very long-term game.

Sometimes it’s nice to play a game that’s over in an hour or two, or in an evening. There’s a board game called Settlers of Catan that’s fun to play in groups. It has the bright colors, strategy, and die. The game lasts about four hours when you play with people and an actual board with pieces. If, however, you play the game online, you don’t have to set up the board or place the hexagons. Online, this game can be played in less than an hour. There are multiple online variations, but I like asobrain the best.

Asobrain had a cool game for a while called “Brainiac,” but they had to take it down for legal reasons. Now that game was fun. The bright colored shapes looked like candy. I think it was based off a board game called Ingenious. I have never played the actual board game. While the game took about a half hour to play online, I think it would take hours to play it with a board and pieces.

I don’t have any friends with Ingenious at the moment, but I do have a friend with a game called Ticket to Ride. Each player gets 45 train wagons and based on the cards drawn, tries to complete rail routes.

Ticket to Ride is my latest addiction. It’s even better because my husband likes the game too, and we can play together. I think my daughter might be able to play the board game with us. My son might need another year or two.

I’m NewtMommy. If you try any of these games out and see me, say hello.

New addition to the house

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Sat, 12 May 2007 06:56:00 +0000

See my house? Notice the flat, black things on the roof? Those are solar panels and I’m really excited about them.

Those little babies should supply our house with 104% of our electrical needs, save about four tons of coal each year, and make us feel all responsible.

Colorado Sunflower installed them for us, and my experience with them has been pleasant.

These solar panels are under warranty for 20-something years, will pay for themselves in less than that time, and can theoretically last for up to 60 years.

What’s more, if the federal government passes a cool energy bill sponsoring alternative energy sources, we might get a big, hefty tax deduction.

Solar panels - they’re not just for Boulderites anymore.

Pigeons

noreply@blogger.com (Gwen Nicodemus) — Wed, 02 May 2007 06:54:00 +0000

I can usually find about five pigeons outside my house; they fly around from roof to roof and gently wake the neighborhood up with pleasant coos. I have never seen more than five pigeons though.

San Francisco, on the other hand, has pigeons a plenty. When my dog, Valor, was a puppy, he was a Guide Dog in Training. He flew with me to San Francisco just after he was potty trained. On his first trip to San Francisco Valor demonstrated a fear of pigeons. (Being a Labrador, he also showed a strong like for pigeon output.) I took Valor to San Francisco again when he was a little older, probably about ten months old. Valor thought pigeons were fun to chase on that trip.

Valor’s trips to San Francisco were about ten years ago. Pigeons were abundant as they walked around The City with their cute little pigeon walk. It was easy to find dozens on any given street corner, and they looked like normal pigeons with a few different feather colors. Over the last ten years I had pretty much forgotten about San Francisco pigeons; after all, I hadn’t been to San Francisco during that time.

The annual IVAA conference was held in San Francisco, so back to The City I went. Alas, my favorite pooch was not permitted to attend this time.

At the end of the second day of the conference I went for a walk to meet up with some old friends for dinner. I got lost, of course, on the way so I had many miles of walk-time to observe the pigeons.

The pigeons were different.

There didn’t seem to be any more pigeons than before; however, they were fat.

They were really fat pigeons.

At that point, I decided that if I ever became homeless I’d move to San Francisco. San Francisco doesn’t actually get cold.

And, The City has really fat pigeons.