Overall, a very prudent week. Also a very productive one. I associate most virtues with productivity for some reason. In this case, most of my choices were to be more productive. During the routine end-of-day slump, rather than check the RSS feeds over and over again, waiting for someone to entertain me, I chose to do something. Sometimes it was off my current list, like filing. Sometimes it was on a “sometime” list, like going through bookmarked sites and dealing with them — usually taking the time to read them, then deleting or filing. (When I bookmark pages just to read them later, I put them in a folder by year. By the time I get to them, reading becomes less important and tossing easier.)

During the day, I repeatedly decided to stick with my plans, which also meant a lot got done.

The kids were pretty good this week, so no Wisdom of Solomon required. When Son was crying over a difficult math problem I chose to focus on getting him through “difficult math problem”, and only after he’d dealt with that did I help with the math. He’s a bright kid. Math contest problems are supposed to be “next year’s” work, so it’s okay not to get them this year. Stuff the teacher assigns to the class this year, though, he expects to be easy. I asked him, “What do you tell the kids in your math group when they find something hard,” and reassured him that, “Sometimes, you block on something. The important thing is how you deal with it.” Also, I pointed out he was very tired that night. If he started getting homework on a regular basis, he might want to think again about when he starts it.

Justice.

So many interpretations. I have two kids. Questions of justice and fairness between the two of them are common, and from their reactions, I usually deal with it just fine. They still come to me with complaints and mostly accept my decisions.

There are other forms of justice. The modern definitions talk about being a person who treats others fairly. Other, older, definitions talk about harmonious relationship between warring parts of a person or city. A man in his right place and time, working towards the proper goals, was said to be just. [ref: http://www.yourdictionary.com/dictionary-articles/Definition-of-Justice.html]

So it’s about more than being a judge and meting out consequences.

For my part, I could make the world a more just place. I’ve felt the need to do more good outside the home for a while now. My last volunteer job (counting fundraising money) used the requisite hours, and from the comments it was clearly a needed job, which freed people who hated counting to do work they liked, but it didn’t feel satisfying except as statistics. Just before Christmas is not the time to embark on a great and grand volunteering scheme. Things get too busy, and commitments aren’t met.

I also want the kids to get out and do more for the community. As a family, we get a failing grade on helping others. This weekend, I’ll update the kids’ allowance and charity envelopes. (I don’t pay it regularly, but keep careful track when I do pay.) Then we can choose a charity. That’s a start. I’ll also discuss with them a family project, and get suggestions from them. Other than that, though, nothing calls to me. Every idea comes with shades of “Everyone does it” or “I’d be to self-conscious” or “Won’t fit the budget this month”. I know, they’re all excuses rather than valid reasons.

Justice in the small picture will probably be easy, just keep up my current record. In the bigger picture, though, I’m stalling.

Daughter (8) opened a box last week — the game Cranium: Family Edition. I bought it months ago during a “we should play games as a family” phase. You know, the type of good idea that becomes unpopular just as you think it’s working well enough to invest more money?

She and Son (11) played for about an hour while I worked on the computer.

We normally watch a back-episode of MythBusters during bedtime snack. Routines are extremely important for us. The kids know what to expect. We start the show at the same time each night. If you don’t put down your book or turn off the game machine or put your homework in your bag for tomorrow in time, you miss the first bit of the show. If you don’t finish your snack by the time it’s over, too bad. Mommy might remind you just before the final experiment, but when it’s over, it’s toothbrush time. It’s as reliable as a clock, but more fun.

(And, yes, Son times his morning routine so he gets everything done before Pokemon starts, and puts his shoes on the instant it’s over. It works.)

Last night she chose Cranium instead. With no school the next day, bedtime wasn’t as critical, so we went for it.

My friend whose family plays games together every Friday night was right. It’s a fun game.

At first glance, it’s a typical race-around-the-board game with challenge cards, but there are only two pieces — therefore two teams. The kids both wanted Daddy. Last night was Daughter’s turn to have him.

On your turn, the other team draws a card and reads you the challenge. The box they draw from depends on the colour your piece is on. If the square you were on is purple, you get to choose which box. If your team passes the challenge before the enclosed timer runs out, you get to roll and move, otherwise not. If the square you started on has a star you move double what you rolled. That’s all you need to know to play.

(Errata: Son timed the timer after the game. It’s exactly one minute.)

There are four boxes of cards: Creative Cat (art), Word Worm, Data Head and Star Performer. Once you play for a bit, you start to recognize the challenges. Charades with either drawing or play clay (provided), answer trivia question, words in a category that start with the same letter, mini-word-search, that sort of thing. It encourages co-operation between team members.

We helped Daughter a bit by giving clues or not starting the timer until she said the first word in the category. Daddy often let her go first, rather than using up the easy words himself. Once we changed the category. It depended on the challenge (and whether we messed up when reading it). This flexibility is a strength of the game.

We didn’t look at the clock, but it felt like an hour or so to play.

The box says ages eight to adult. Eight is the lower end. She was able to read most of the clues, although she struggled with some of the big words. She knew most of the vocabulary, just wasn’t used to reading it. Because it’s a team game, she could give the card to Daddy for help.

Son enjoyed the challenges as written. His ego isn’t tied to how well he does. He’s proud when he does well, but if it’s only a game he laughs when he doesn’t. When he needed something in the kitchen starting with E, and I told him to look near the microwave, where there’s a bottle labeled “Extra Virgin Olive Oil”, he stared right at it without seeing. When we pointed it out, he laughed.

When the two kids played it, Son was good about keeping it fun. He didn’t try to keep score or keep her strictly to the timer. He’s good about that when he plays with her. He splits his mind into two tracks: She thinks they’re both having fun based on the game, but I can see him re-reading the clues and re-trying the challenges while she moves the pieces. It took him a few years to understand this. If Little Sister is playing, it needs to be fun for her, and we will slowly move her towards using the official rules. If she’s not playing, we use the official rules. (He now realizes we did the same thing for him when he was younger. There was a time when we needed to know three sets of rules: Daughter, Son, and Adult. Even now, if a new game has simplified rules we often start with them to get used to flow, but usually shift to the full set by the second or third time.)

It wouldn’t have worked if Big Brother were more competitive, or if all the players were under ten.

The game and pieces are sturdy. It’s playable Christmas morning, and will survive years of use. The pad of paper will last several sessions. The full-length pencil was pre-sharpened. The play clay survived the store shelf. I’m not sure how long the clay will last now that we’ve opened it, but it’s easy enough to make or buy more. The cubes with letters are nicely weighted, as is the movement die.

Overall, as long as you can balance your teams and are willing to be flexible, it’s a great game.

I’m using my podcast addition to help me study for storytelling.

I arrange the play list so after every 30 minutes of listening (very approximate — I let Stuart McLean have his entire hour) I hear the story I’m studying.

I tried it a few times before, with recording I had made myself. It worked reasonably well.

This time I had a recording from the author — a New Yorker. She read it at what I call “reading” speed. Six minutes and thirty seconds. It just wasn’t sinking in. I re-recorded it at performance speed. Eight minutes and thirty seconds.

Yes, performance speed is that slow. It sounds painful when listening in isolation, but slower really does work better for an audience. They need time to comprehend and digest.

One would think it the recording speed is irrelevant. Why drag it out when I want repetition?

Two reasons.

First, I don’t want to get used to the high speed, and revert to it while performing. Even with my experience, it’s still easy to do.

Second, it encourages me to think ahead while learning. Performance speed is more than just dragging out the syllables, although that’s part of it. The larger part is pausing between phrases. This story has several lists. After each item, my mind supplies the next, then the recording confirms it. Same with each scene — which is great, because often it’s the first sentence in a new scene that abandons you.

When we learned how to help our speech-delayed first child, one of the techniques was about “closure”. We sang songs with him and did finger plays. They often involved actions, and interaction. After we played the game a few times, we would hesitate before the final line or action. If I sing “Row, row, row your,”, your mind automatically supplies “boat”. You want to hear it. Son would look around as if something were missing.

It worked. Blue, Table and Drawer asked for his help (for the tenth time that week), counted to three, and then he said his first words: Wake up Steve!

So if listening to the a recording made at top speed doesn’t work for you, try slowing it down and leaving those gaps.

My grand goal is for this to be picked up by others, to become a virtual tour. If you’re aware of another blog leading something similar, let me know. I may drop this and join there. If you’d like to join, do so, either in the comments or link to your own blog. If you’d prefer a change in format before joining, let me know. I’m not hugely attached to this format.

In the absence of feedback, I’ll continue as before. A recap of the previous week’s progress, and some preparation for next week. I had hoped to do more research on each virtue and bring in words of wisdom from around the world. That hasn’t happened yet, but baby steps are better than no steps.

This week I concentrated on Humility. In Ben’s words:

Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

The end of the week was good, but the beginning less so. A few times I realized, too late, that I had initiated a conversation, thinking I would cheer someone on, but realized I used it to show I was further along the path than they were. Not good.

I’ve also been very proud of my kids lately, and let them know it. I try to blend it with either “Now you have time to work on a weakness,” or “Now you can help the other members in your group learn it.” Sometimes I just let them enjoy the moment.

Jane commented that humility doesn’t mean denying the gifts you have, and it’s more complex than not bragging about them. It includes using those gifts to help others. I need to work on that. The new secretary at the school is counting the pizza money, so my volunteering schedule is gone. I suppose I could still help in the library. They also need adult reading buddies for at-risk kids, and I feel for those kids, but my heart isn’t calling me to do that. I fear I’d get frustrated or into a rut with it, rather than stay excited. Now is not the time to make schedule decisions, but it’s an option.

You could count storytelling, but it’s minor. The people who benefit most are also those who need it least. I’m one of several at the big guild — valuable, but my role could be filled by several there. I suppose the work I do organizing the local guild and keeping it viable counts — we’re so short of numbers they might fail without me. If the guild didn’t exist, it would be harder for people who want tellers to find the members who don’t advertise. A few of them tell regularly at seniors’ homes, maybe I’ll join them in January.

So, more work is needed on that virtue, both in being humble and in using my gifts generously.

This week starts a slight change in schedule. Wednesday seems a bad day for this, so I’m shifting to Friday.

We’ve finished Ben Franklin’s list of virtues. The next list is the Seven Heavenly Virtues.

It turns out there are two lists of Seven Heavenly Virtues. Shamelessly quoting from Wikipedia:

In Catholic catechism, the seven virtues refers to one of two lists of virtues, most commonly referring to the 4 Cardinal virtues of Prudence, Justice, Restraint or Temperance, and Courage or Fortitude, and the 3 Theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Love or Charity; these were adopted by the Church Fathers from virtue as defined by the Greek philosophers Plato and Aristotle.

An alternative list is the Seven heavenly virtues, opposed to the Seven deadly sins, and consisting of Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Diligence, Patience, Kindness, and Humility.

So, relying on serendipity, we’ll take the first list first:
Prudence, Justice, Restraint/Temperance, Courage/Fortitude, Faith, Hope, Love, Charity.

Prudence is the exercise of sound judgment, which leads to appropriate actions. It’s the difference between courage and recklessness.

The Greeks considered prudence the father of all virtues.

Between stimulus and response there is a space.
In that space is our power to choose our response.
In our response lies our growth and our freedom.
- Viktor E. Frankl

Every man is wise when attacked by a mad dog; fewer when pursued by a mad woman; only the wisest survive when attacked by a mad notion.
- Robertson Davies

I can’t foresee any specific times where the right decision will be difficult to find and carry through. The kids’ routines are running smoothly, so most of my quick decisions regarding them fall back on “Have you finished your list?” “It takes two to argue,” and “You are trying to get him in trouble — you lose, he gains.”

We’re also in a good run of helping the kids make good decisions. Thanks to the routines, they know what to expect, and part of the routine is checking the calendar. They make informed decisions, which are usually pretty good.

The challenge will be with surprise decisions, but those are hard to prepare for. I plan to pay attention to Frankl’s space and use it wisely.

The other part of the challenge is self-discipline and staying organized — enhancing routines that will be of benefit, in a way that won’t overwhelm me, and not losing my todo lists. This morning I listened to the story I’m learning twice before the podcasts while doing housework. I stayed with the housework until the time was up. Last night I tidied my desk (and found the todo list) rather than vegging. I will run errands this afternoon rather than spend it at home. Small decisions like that add up.

I don’t normally turn on the internet before school, but today I had a burning question: Is it appropriate to tell a story which assumes the knowledge of guardian angels to a multi-cultural class?

For school kids, I try to be careful. I don’t want to devalue their beliefs, or compete with their family’s teachings, or for them to feel left out. I want them to be aware of diversity, learn a bit about their new home’s dominant culture, learn about other cultures, and feel included. For adults, I’m less cautious. They probably already know enough background to enjoy the story, and no one can claim I’m teaching them religion against their parents’ wishes.

[Fine print: All research done in five minutes online. Close enough for the purpose, but no more than that.]

My kids’ school has many Muslims. Some have adapted well to our culture, others less well. By that, I don’t mean leaving their own faith and rituals, but knowing the culture of their new home well enough to make informed decisions. One girl didn’t have a bathing suit and thought her brother’s Tshirt was suitable to swim in. Fortunately, the teachers noticed before it got wet. Another girl wore a full-body swim suit, which worked much better.

I like to have a special story to tell at Christmas. This year, it’s Jane Lebak’s Rent an Angel. It includes Gabriel, some lesser named angels, and an un-named guardian angel.

I try to be aware of religious differences. When a woman in a blue dress appears in a vision, I tell the young audience that the Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus, almost always wears a blue dress. It’s enough for them to recognize that this isn’t just any woman in the vision, without bogging down the story or challenging their faith.

Likewise, when I tell Jean Little’s Pippin the Christmas Pig, I sometimes begin with the manger story. Pippin is a great story even if you don’t get the references to the manger story, but it’s even better if you do.

I often emphasis traveling that Mary and Joseph were traveling, and didn’t want to be — many of the kids are from Afghanistan. It brings the kids together. I love how Pippin’s story weaves around and brings new meaning the manger story. Muslims believe Jesus was an important messenger from God, but not God’s son. That’s similar enough that Pippin’s story doesn’t compete. Jesus’s mother is Mary, and he was born under a palm tree, not in a stable. The story has similar importance, but a very different feel and emphasis. God is there for Mary, despite the questions raised by her pregnancy. It’s worth reading for yourself.

I like the palm tree story, but Pippin’s story needs the animals and manger. I simply state “Little assumes listeners know the manger story,” and go right to a very tired Mary, riding the donkey. I don’t mention the source, just that it’s a well-known story. Some day, I’d like to be know enough about the palm tree story that I’m comfortable telling it, and then pair it with a secular story, the same way I pair Pippin with the manger story.

Pippin’s story shows welcome and caring, which many of these kids can identify with. Also, Pippin’s story shows how one small, insignificant, under-valued pig can make a difference. It’s an inclusive story, even though it’s based on a Christian tale.

Gabriel and guardian angels, though, worried me. How would kids whose families believe guardian angels don’t exist feel?

Then, duh, I thought of Googling “Muslim” and “angel”. Facts are always a good place to start.

It turns out Muslims are more into angels, including Gabriel, and guardian angels, than the average Christian-by-default. I can tell the story without modification for that group.

That still leave agnostics, atheists, and a whole host of others, so I’m not out of the woods just yet. It’s a typical Canadian small city school, between two very different socio-economic neighborhoods. Many immigrants stay for a year or two to get their bearings then move on. I may add an extra sentence for the kids who haven’t heard of guardian angels.

One sentence will be enough to bring those who don’t know into the loop, without boring the rest. Or maybe the existing wording will work: “I want to see this man’s guardian angel.” It implies there is a specific angel assigned to guard the man. One angel (or in Muslim, two — one for day, one for night) per man isn’t critical. A few paragraphs down it’s made clear the guardian angel has the time to concentrate on individuals. Earlier parts of the story show angels do more than physically guard people. Regardless, it will work for those who haven’t heard of guardian angels.

While researching this, I remembered the elderly neighbour with the turban, and a few boys with topknots. Sikhs? Possibly. Another bit of research to be done.

This is one of the many reasons I love storytelling, especially to this age group. To do it right, I have to learn about my neighbours. I have to know where they’re starting from, and where I can comfortably travel with them. It also lets the kids experience similarities and differences for themselves, without setting up “us” vs “them”. It’s a great way to create a community that celebrates both similarities and differences.

I hate paperwork.

Thanks to my podcast addition — I subscribe to almost five hours a week — my housework and exercise habits are coming along nicely, but I can’t listen to podcasts while doing paperwork.

I really need to do the paperwork. My diary shows I last paid bills six weeks ago. This from the person who in 22 years has paid only $100 in late fees (excluding library). (Edit: At the end of today, it’s now $125.)

So why the problem now? I’m in a nasty cycle of leaving things too late, so I do too much too fast, and then I’m too wiped to finish the last few non-critical bits, like filing. It all sits messily until the next deadline looms (and passes). I can’t work in a messy environment. More precisely, I need a tidy micro-environment, although now that I’m pulling ahead on the housework, clutter outside my office is more distracting (or tempting me with an excuse to listen to another podcast) than it used to be.

Last month a good kitchen scale was on sale, and I wanted accurate weights for some production knitting. It goes down to grams. (My husband is amused that I finally found a scale that could hold yarn.)

Anything to keep me motivated, right?

Today’s goal was the red folder: Unopened envelopes, excluding obvious junk mail (which is tossed the instant it arrives). I open some things that I can’t identify without opening, but usually stuff them back in the envelope. Total weight, with envelopes: 897 grams.

Things stay in the red folder until I either deal with them, or read enough that I know they’re not date-critical. The idea is that, once it’s out of red, I can put it off.

Previously, I’d deal with the red folder every week or two, so there was no need to have an even more urgent folder.

Pass 1: From financial adviser, two months worth of monthly statements. Each account gets a separate envelope: RRSP for each of us, spousal RRSP, registered and unregistered account for each kid. 189 g statements, 62 g envelopes.

The law says they have to send this stuff monthly. Company policy is each account gets separate envelope — for privacy. (We joked that sending stuff to the house is a great way to keep it secret from husband.)

The investment companies like this extra tree killing. It makes their job easier. We get so much that we never even open the envelopes. By the time we get curious, the 30 day limit for complaints is long past.

Down to 646 g.

Pass 2: Junk that required opening envelope to identify. 100 g, including envelopes, of obvious junk mail, from people who somehow got our addresses.

Red folder now weighs 430 g. The math isn’t working here. The junk pile weighed 100 g. I dealt with some other quick stuff that didn’t get weighed with the junk pile. 50 g is in the outgoing mail, resealed, and labeled “Moved in 2006″. I also stopped including the actual folder.

Next Pass: Charities and subscriptions.

(You may ask why I’m not going right to the bills. Good question. I start with the things that give me the most weight per minute. Then the oddball things. Then routine.)

Red folder now weighs 223 g.

Final pass. Routine bills and bank statements.

Red folder now weighs 1 g: A Scholastic Books coupon and a Tilly Hat warranty. The coupon is here in the theory that if I see it often enough, I’ll remember we have it when book orders are due. I’m terrible with coupons, but this is a good one.

Day’s goal has been met. The red folder is done!

The next goal, not for today, is email. It’s a real mish-mash. Login to the electricity company to download bill for our records. Follow-up on permission to tell a story (author sent me publisher contact details). Call the Girl Guides about a company asking for ID so they can do a police check on their behalf — probably legit, but still something I have to check. That sort of stuff.

After that is the yellow folder: Everything that wasn’t urgent but isn’t ready for filing, including receipts and paid bills that need to be entered into the accounting program, documents to read more carefully, statements to reconcile, filing I was too lazy to put into the filing pile, and pieces to match with other pieces.

The yellow folder started the day at 260 g. Very few envelopes in this pile. It ends the day at 394.

But first, lunch, and maybe another podcast while I do the next load of laundry. By then it will be time for physio. Hopefully I’ll remember to take the outgoing mail, and it won’t sit on the car seat for two weeks like last time.

The virtue this week was chastity.

Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness.

The easiest virtue yet.

Next week is humility.

Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

I don’t recall Socrates being particularly humble. He told people to be humble, like he was. Jesus suggested that people be humble, but didn’t set himself up as an example.

This one requires balance. It’s good to be proud of our accomplishments and skills, and our plans. It’s also good to be proud of others, both those close to us and those at a distance. Putting yourself down in private is unbalancing. Putting yourself down in public makes others uncomfortable, or can be a form of bragging.

My plan is to continue to be quietly proud of myself and my family, but also to be aware of others’ pride. Give them recognition and encouragement, and give them time and space to feel proud, and be happy for them.

This is the last of Ben’s list. Any recommendations for the next list? If there are non, I’ll either start Ben’s over again, or try the Seven Heavenly Virtues.

Tranquility

Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.

Pretty good this week. I messed up on bedtimes too often (and when I got to bed on time I woke at 4am and started thinking about the characters for a new novel). So, I’ve been too tired to get excited about anything. Less patience than usual, but the flare-ups die down very quickly. I just can’t sustain them.

I’ve been pretty good about not getting excited at online discussions. I commented less than usual. When I trust my judgment, I say all sorts of things, confident that I’ll phrase it well. When I don’t trust my judgment, I’m more cautious, and often say, “Why bother writing it if I’m not sure I should post it.” Very relaxing, to catch myself before I get caught up in something.

Next week, the virtue is Chastity.

Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness.

Still gotta love Ben’s spelling. Any guesses how many search hits I’ll get for this entry?

Chastity is not abstinence. It just means following the rules of your culture and/or religion. Also, sex can be an important part of a healthy marriage.

This one’s gonna be easy.

There are times I want to list a directory on paper, or at least in a plain old text document. The most recent was this morning while I was trying to organize my backlog of podcasts.

And, finally, it all came together, enough of the correct words that Google was able to help find the rest.

This works for Vista. The original method worked on DOS. I’m sure a variant or combination of the two will work on any OS in between.

Vista:

Short answer, for people who used PCs back in the early 1990s:

Start / Run... cmd
dir | clip
"paste" into text editor.

Long answer:

Start / Run...
That brings up a dialogue saying to type the name of a program, etc., for Windows to open.

cmd [enter]
Type the letters “cmd”, then the enter key. This opens the command prompt, which back in 1991 was the way we talked to PCs.

Navigate around until you’re in the right directory. You do this by typing in commands. Moving the mouse won’t help.

cd is “change directory”
cd abc is “change to the abc directory”
cd / is “change directory, go to root”
cd .. is “change directory, go up one level”

Then:
Open a text editor or Word, so you have a place to paste the text that’s about to be hidden on your clipboard.

Back in the command line window,
dir | clip
Back to the text editor:
/edit / paste (or ctrl-V)

Explanation: The | is a “pipe” command, meaning take the output from the DIR command and put it into the device CLIP, which is the clipboard. There used to be a device PRN, so you could pipe it to the print queue, but Vista doesn’t recognize that.

There you have it. Enjoy!

This is a reprint of an essay (rant?) I posted to to my social group back in 2006, referring to events in a different group.

Sharing of bad news is perfectly understandable. There’s a rock over your head, hanging by a thread. It’s pretty hard to ignore. Even when you’re taking a break, especially in a group where where you’re comfortable, you end up mentioning it.

And, our hearts drop. We respond, usually with hugs and chicken soup. Sometimes with helpful advice and comments, sometimes with stuff that’s intended to be helpful but isn’t. And a part of our hearts is committed to the cause, to making that rock just a little bit lighter, to deflecting it just that tiny bit and make the situation bearable.

I don’t mind being shown the falling rock, or being asked for a hug or support or time off, or whatever it is you need. I offer my that part of my heart freely, knowing that someone will do the same for me. This rant isn’t about being shown the rocks.

It’s about the next weeks and months. We walk carefully around you. We don’t want to ask and open bad memories. We want to respect your privacy.

But meanwhile, there’s a part of our heart missing, a part that we can neither reclaim nor mourn.

For you, the rock has landed and rolled away. Life moves on.

But the rock is left hanging over a piece of my heart.