Stories I Tell My Students I: Driving Stick

Languishing is bringing you a new series, inspired by colleges putting their courses online for free, from my college classroom to your computer/smartphone/iPad: "Stories I Tell My Students."  I have several personal stories that I bring out to teach certain points, and as I was leaving campus today, I thought, "Hey, I should blog those." They're not really my courses, per se, but I do tell these to my students at various times throughout my teaching. I hope you like them.



Years ago, just before I started grad school, my boyfriend and I needed a different car.  I found a used Mazda pick-up in Alexandria that looked promising, at a dealership, so one Saturday while he was working I drove over in our only car to do a little test-drive. I had a sizable deposit and I knew the Consumer Reports thoughts on this truck. I was kind of excited.

I walked into the dealership (a very large one, with probably 300 cars on their lots) with the newspaper in hand, and showed the ad to some guy in a dark green sports coat. "Sure," he said, "That's a nice little truck. I'll bring it up front for us." He grabbed keys and was back in less than 2 minutes. "It's got a flashy spare set of extra rims," he said.  "We could put those on for you, if you like."

He seemed to be assuming that I'd just take the truck NOW, and that bothered me just a bit. "I'd like to look under the hood first," I said. I'm not really a mechanic but I read somewhere once that checking for things that obviously look wrong under the hood is a good thing to do before buying a car.
"Well it's just the engine and stuff under there, honey," he said. He really said that. I don't know what he thought I thought was under there, but he clearly didn't think I would know what to do with an engine. I was starting to dislike this man.

"I know. Pop the hood, please," I said, sweetly. I looked around, checked for rust, signs of damage. I poked at the oil stick, ran my hand over something that wasn't too hot, and nodded.

"It's very clean," he said, and it was. Even my novice eyes noticed that. Not that he had any way to know I was a novice, except that I was obviously female.

"Can we take it out?" I asked. I didn't have much experience test driving cars at this time, and I didn't really want to spend any more time with this guy, but I really liked this little truck. It had a topper, and flashy rims.

He smiled and said, "Well, honey, it's a five-speed. Do you know how to drive a stick shift?" He said this slowly, with that smile on his face, as if he were talking to a six year old, or a dog. I was in my mid-twenties, college educated, and had never seen such obvious condescension before. He was lucky I did know how to drive a manual, or I would've probably slapped his face.

I assured him I had known for years how to drive stick, and as he buckled in next to me I could tell he was bracing for a terrible ride.

(I had only actually learned a year earlier, and only on one car, which anyone who drives a stick shift will tell you is not exactly knowing how to drive stick. Every clutch is a little different, every stick a little different, and anytime you go to drive a new stick, you should expect to kill it a few times as you get the feel of the thing. I knew all this as I started to back out, and he kept his hands on the dash. He was still smiling, but I don't think he really meant it.)

Somehow I made it out of that parking lot, onto the highway, and up to 55 mph, all the way into 5th gear, without so much as a soft jerk. The truck drove like a dream, and I was acutely aware that if I screwed up, this guy would feel vindicated, so I was extra careful. Plus the cab had an old-school bench seat and a really good stereo. I turned around after a mile or two, again shifting effortlessly. I swear it was smoother than an automatic, me driving that Mazda. He even eventually let go of the dash.

When we got back to the dealership, I parked and eased the parking brake up. As we stepped out of the truck, he said "Well, I'll be. I've been trying to teach my wife to drive stick for years and she just can't seem to get it." He was honestly incredulous, impressed by this woman driver. I knew I couldn't buy anything from him.

"Maybe," I said, "she just needs a better teacher." Then I tossed him the keys and walked away.

Dawn at Belle Taine

Sunsets on Lake Belle Taine are well documented (in each of those links, the sunset comes at the end). My brother-in-law, Steve, used to make fun of me for taking photos of the sunset, because it's been done approximately 18 million times since the in-laws have lived there. But I don't care. Every sunset is different, and some are breathtaking and I don't care if it's the same three trees in every photo.

 But at the lake this December, with the lovely late December sunrise and early-to-rise children, plus a dog who needs outside time right away every morning, I was able to wander out with my camera to the backyard, and caputure a lovely cold sunrise.

If nothing else, you get to see some different trees. 

Be gentle to us, 2012

Oh, new year, new post. Last year, I revisited my "37 things to do in the next 37 years" birthday list, so I think I'll do that again. Ive been sick for almost three weeks with a cold that will not die, so I'm too tired to think of a new topic. I realize this doesn't bode well for the new year, but I'm hoping I'll perk up by the time classes resume on January 9.

By the end of last year, I'd completed 2 of the 37 things: #10 & #32. This year, I've finished another 3, and made (somewhat questionable) progress on a few others.

9. Let go of all my old shame/guilt for stuff that doesn't matter to anyone but me. Done. Well, kind of, anyway. I imagine this will be a life-long thing, and perhaps it's just that my medication is working really well, but I've been reading the book Self Compassion by Kristen Neff, and it really is clicking with me. Every woman in my family should totally read this book.
15. Have a healthy, well-adjusted dog to take with for #11. (#11 is a Travels With Charley-esque trip). Done. I mean, we're not going on a trip any time soon, but we adopted Seven in June and he's pretty much a rock star. He adores V, tolerates our familial wackiness, and is just a kick-ass addition to our family. I'm not entirely sure he's "well-adjusted," but comparatively, he fits right in.
35. Bake a cake from scratch. Done. It didn't end up even pretty enough to put on the blog, but using recipes from an old issue of Real Simple, I made a fine vanilla cake with vanilla frosting. It's not really that much more work than a box mix, and it tasted divine.

The progressing ones are these:
8. Build a swing set/play house for V. Probably as done as it's gonna get. Okay, I just hung a swing from a tree in the front yard, but she really loves it, and so do the neighbor kids. That kind of success motivates other people, I hear.
12. Take a few sabbaticals. One down, four (?) to go. My first sabbatical was sort of transformative. I feel like I won't actually die from my job any more, and I'm looking forward to going back to class in a way that I haven't in a good ten years. Let's hope it carries me to my next sabbatical...
14. Publish a paper zine again. This is the first official statement, but there will be a paper Languishing in 2012. Stay tuned for more details, and start thinking about stuff you want to contribute. Please. Otherwise it's just me yammering on for twelve pages, and nobody wins when that happens.
26. Write a country music song. Started. This one is a total stretch, but I've got a few lines done, so I'm counting it. I don't want to jinx it, but just you wait. You'll all be impressed. Eventually.


Thank you, gentle readers, for your continued support of Languishing and me and mine. May we all have the healthiest, silliest, gentlest of years in 2012.

Gnometastic

When my sister moved into her little house, long before she met Brad, and long, long before either of us planned to become mothers, I told her that the little door under the stairs in her new little house was where the gnomes lived. She laughed politely, then went on with her life, painting over the little door.

Soon after, the gnomes started appearing.

 Most of them live outside, in the garden. A few live in the mini-van. For awhile, they sent her letters, imploring her to find them girl gnomes they could date/court/play cards with.

 I've given her books on how to survive gnome uprisings, histories of gnomes, and so on and so forth. Mostly, I think, she rolls her eyes at me and hopes I'll give up soon, stop defending the gnomes.



I just want her to coexist peacefully with her gnomes. I'd hate for them to start getting mischievious again, showing up in unusual places, rummaging around in places they don't belong...

I'm just saying. Gnomes are serious business.

Adventures in Gift Making

The 6 year old girl child asked only for Rapunzel-based gifts this year. She received many other things, but she really, really wanted a dress like Rapunzel's. "It doesn't even have to be exact, Mama, so long as it's purple." For you non-Tangled viewers, here's Disney's Rapunzel, in costume:

Such a dress can be purchased, of course, but without special ordering, most stop at size 6x. My 6 year old girl child is in the 90+percentile for both height and weight in her age category, so she has long since outgrown such a thing. Besides, store bought Disney dresses are always made from cheap, crappy satin that runs/deteriorates faster than the child learns to fasten the velcro. So I went to the fabric store and bought 2 yards of lavender knit. "Use a pattern, Jenny!" my mother implored. But why would I listen to her?

 Lace from my immense fabric stash, sewn on the hem of the dress. (I actually attached the lace, then flipped it and topstitched it to make the hem. Because sometimes in sewing, lazy=professional looking).

My sewing machine would like to recieve full credit for this project.

 For the bodice, I chose a dark purple velour from my stash. I would've made the whole dress out of this if I'd had enough. Rapunzel's sleeves have contrasting ribbon sewn on, so I sewed on contrasting ribbon.

 Above, hemming the sleeve (with a gap to insert elastic, which will help the sleeve be appropriately poufy).

 Rapunzel's corset caused me a bit of a headache. 6 year olds don't really need sweetheart necklines, and I'm not crazy about a lacing that can get caught on stuff while she plays/swings/runs around like a crazy princess. My research led to lots of good places (that one there has photos of how the store-bought dresses wear out, along with a thorough how-to) and one of them (I can't find it, but this shows the same concept) showed the ribbons as just stitched down. I went with that. No grommets (which are fun, of course), no fuss. Well, some fuss. I made the top based on a Simplicity top I've made her a half dozen times. Then I sewed on the skirt, made from a rectangle sewn into a loop, pinning a lot.

 I should take one of it on a hanger, but here she is, all dressed up (with a scarf for Rapunzel's hair) in a dress 3 sizes too big. I'll take it in a few inches at the waist, shortening the skirt and the top, as soon as she lets me take it to the basement for a few minutes.

She's wearing it to Grandma's tonight. It was worth staying up past my bedtime for my dear little Rapunzel. Now I need to make a Flynn Rider and Mother Goethel costume for Shaun and me. Yee-haw.

Holiday Lights

Once you give up trying to control photographing holiday lights, it becomes a lot more fun and Spirograph-like. The first photo is from some house on 8th Street; the last is street, tail, & stop lights on our way home. The three in the middle come from an annual display in Lindenwood park. We're not sure why Santa is riding on a brontosaurus, but we don't dislike it.

Holiday philosophizing

After a lovely trip to look at the holiday lights and enjoy some Mexican Village food as a family, V and I found ourselves alone in the TV room with a little "Kung Fu Panda." She had some questions.

V: How did the world begin?
Me: Um, well, some scientist believe in "The Big Bang Theory..."
V: What do humans believe?
Me: Uh, scientists ARE humans.
V: Oh.
Me: ...and some people believe that a God created the whole universe and...
V: Yep, that's what I think. I think he made the whole world.
Me: You think there's a god, and that he's male?
V: Yep.
Me: Oh, crap.

Apparently I've not been doing my job as well as I'd hoped. Sigh. Parenting is harder than it looks.

Edited to add: The point of this post is that despite the fact that we are raising V outside of the church, she soaks it up somewhere anyway. I was raised Lutheran, and Shaun was raised Catholic, and as an anthropologist I am respectful of a wide swath of beliefs. I just hadn't expected my own child to adopt such a mainstream point of view without me teaching it to her. I didn't really say "oh crap" out loud to V, but instead told her she could believe what she liked, and everyone had a right to decide for themselves what they believed. But it's hard when your child believes something you don't. That's all I'm saying.

Fancy but blurry

We have a bit of a backlit problem in the TV room, hence these photos have all kinds of problems. But V wants to tell you about them.

 "Okay, we took pictures and did videos. The videos aren't put up yet, but they soon will be. So, as I was saying, the pictures are exciting because they are me dressed up as Rapunzel. So look at them, please.  That's it."

"P.S. Some of them are funny, because they're blurry. And I'm funny. hahahahahaha!"