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1. You could fall asleep at the wheel and kill yourself (or others).
2. You could be driving along thinking about how tired you are and not about which freeway exit you want to take, and all of a sudden you’re faced with a choice–East, West, North, South–and you won’t remember which the hell it is because it’s almost 1 a.m. and you just…don’t…know, even though you’ve driven this route many times and have always made the correct decision before–seriously, it’s not that hard–but right now, for some reason, you’re thinking, “East…west…whuzza diff’rence…who cares…” and then you remember, “WAIT! WAIT! THERE IS A DIFFERENCE! I CARE! BUT WHICH IS IT? WHICH IS IT? IT’S EAST! NO, IT’S WEST! IS IT WEST? YES, IT’S WEST! WHICH WAY DID I JUST GO? WAS IT EAST? IT WAS EAST, WASN’T IT? CRAP!” Which wouldn’t be such a big deal, except that when you’re going east, the next freeway exit isn’t until, like, Idaho, and as lovely as Idaho is this time of year, it is very far removed from where you need to be, which is in bed, sleeping.
* Note: I didn’t really have to drive all the way to Idaho before turning around and heading west. That was an exaggeration, for dramatic effect. In reality, there is at least one exit between Portland and Idaho. Unfortunately, it drops you off in the middle of ##$*(#$ nowhere, where there are no street signs–not that it matters because there are no streetlights, either, and it’s pouring down rain because it’s Oregon, so you wouldn’t be able to read the signs even if they were there. On the plus side, you are starting to wake up. On the minus side, you feel pretty much ready to kill yourself (or others), which is also dangerous. Incidentally, where you read “##$*(#$,” I want you to think of the filthiest word you know, because even if it wasn’t the word I was saying last night, it was certainly the word I meant to be saying.
And that’s why you shouldn’t drive when you’re really, really tired. Tell your friends, etc.
That’s right, haters, it’s freaking SNOWING in Portland. Well, not today. Yesterday it was snowing. It snowed so much that church was cancelled! Which is to say that it snowed “at all.” Because Oregonians are notorious for shrinking away from the very sight of snow. Lock your doors, bar the windows, for there are flakes falling from the sky, and they are cold and they are sticking to the ground! All one inch of them! Beware, beware!
Which is not to say that I don’t enjoy a little snow now and then. But I am not enjoying this snow day. All the schools are closed, and all my kids are home, and I am not pleased at all with how this day is turning out thusfar. It is not a happy day. I will not comment further on the snow.
I will make some other, random comments.
1) I have decided that it would be worth all kinds of money to me to outsource toilet training for the younger two children. Either my children will be toilet-trained, or I will have the satisfaction of a trained professional admitting to me that my children are IMPOSSIBLE and there is nothing to be done with them.
2) If my children ever are toilet-trained, there is the distinct possibility that I could DIE OF JOY.
3) DIE!
4) OF JOY!
5) There is a “Jesus” Facebook application, where you can send Jesus to your friends and remind them to keep the “Christ” in Christmas. I know because one of my friends sent me Jesus. I accepted Jesus because it seemed wrong not to, but I’m having second thoughts because it seems like every few minutes I get a notification that I have “unlocked more Jesus!” I don’t know how I feel about unlocking more Jesus. What does this mean, from a theological perspective? I’m confused and disoriented, and I suspect that I may be participating in something less than fully tasteful–which wouldn’t be a problem except for Jesus’s involvement. I like to keep my distasteful activities separate from Jesus. My ability to compartmentalize and rationalize my actions is breaking down before my eyes! How do I remove the Jesus application? SAFELY???
6) I am a teensy-little stir crazy for not having left the house since Saturday. It wouldn’t ordinarily be a problem, except that the kids have also not left the house. It is a deadly combination, I fear.
7) Jeremy Northam is so beautiful. So very, very beautiful.
8) I am hungry, but I don’t know what to eat.
9) I have no idea what to give my mother-in-law for Christmas. Neither does my husband, and he’s her son! How am I supposed to figure it out? I think we will end up doing gift cards wrapped in clever envelopes. Or maybe I could unlock her some more Jesus.
10) Does anyone actually celebrate Kwanzaa, or is this a holiday that exists only in theory and in books? Because while my social network isn’t exactly loaded with African-Americans, I have known black people in my time, and none of them did Kwanzaa. I don’t even know any white people who do Kwanzaa out of, like, solidarity. And I live in Oregon, land of white people who would probably enjoy appropriating African-American holidays just to stick it to the Man. So I don’t mean any disrespect here, but I’m sincerely curious. If you celebrate Kwanzaa or know someone who does, please tell me. I WANT TO BELIEVE.
11) There is, seriously, SO MUCH URINE AND FECAL MATTER coming into the house and failing to leave in a timely and efficient manner, I think it is affecting my brain. Which is to say that I am now blaming my brain dysfunction on that, as opposed to premenstrual syndrome or congenital mental illness.
And now I’m off to put on some warm socks. Gentle readers, adieu.
After both loripoo and centuscoelis informed me that it was “creepy” to name your all your kids after your home state, a la the Palins (see subsub’s comment here), I decided that I’m going to change all my kids’ names to stuff having to do with Oregon. Just to be creepy.
Princess Zurg will be Princess Duck.
Mister Bubby will be Mr. Backwards Liberal.
Elvis will be Whole Lotta Trees.
And Girlfriend will be NoSalesTax (middle name: SuckItHaters!–yes, with exclamation point; we Oregonians like our creative spellings).
Or I could go with
- Rain (after the weather)
- Bike (after the favored mode of transportation)
- Subaru (after the second-favored mode of transportation)
- Crater (after Crater Lake–it’s on our quarter, look it up!)
- Port (after Port of Portland)
- Eugene (after, well, Eugene)
- Mari and Juan (twins, after marijuana)
- Huckle (after the huckleberry)
- Hood (after the Mt.)
- Tillie and Mookie (another set of twins, after Tillamook–both the cheese and the forest)
That would require me to have a lot more children, of course, which would indicate that I’m not really serious about being creepy.
You know what it’s time for, right?
It’s time to play “How many creepy names can you make out of your state?” Begin!
Ordinarily I’m not one to complain about liberal bias in the media–foremost, because it’s such a typically right-wing thing to do. Also, all media is going to be biased in one direction or another, and even if the publication itself will not acknowledge its bias, people ought to be smart enough to recognize bias when they see it, and if they aren’t, whose fault is that? I don’t know. So whatever. We stopped taking the daily Oregonian about a year ago, mainly because it was just too much paper to have to manage, and we didn’t read enough of it to justify the energy expended on recycling the stuff. We still get the Sunday paper, only I find that I mostly just read the funnies and maybe the Arts and Entertainment section. I’m not interested in the news reporting because regardless of what newspaper we’re talking about, I find there’s usually not a whole lot of there there. To avoid the dreaded consequences of Media Bias, one really has to read about 400 different sources in order to extrapolate something remotely resembling the truth, which is why the internet is such a handy invention. (Thank you, Al Gore!)
Where was I? Oh, yeah–I was reading the Sunday Oregonian yesterday, i.e. looking for the funnies, and I happened across this sidebar to an article on the presidential candidates’ campaign strategies. Didn’t read the actual article, of course, because that would have taken up precious time that could be spent reading funnies or surfing the interwebs, but the sidebar took hardly any time at all to digest. Too bad it made me sick. (Ha ha, get it–digest? sick? eh, whatever.)
The sidebar is entitled “How would they lead?” In the interest of fairness, I am reproducing the entire thing for context.
John McCain:
If elected president, the Arizona Republican could be expected to…
If elected president, the Arizona Republican could be expected to…
- Resist setting a timetable for withdrawing U.S. troops from Iraq and redouble efforts to find Osama bin Laden.
- Pick specific issues and push them to the limit, such as vetoing legislation larded with pork-barrel projects.
- Continue his my-way-or-the-highway approach, setting up battles even with his own party in Congress.
Barack Obama:
If elected president, the Illinois Democrat could be expected to…
If elected president, the Illinois Democrat could be expected to…
- Make history as the nation’s first black commander in chief and alter the world view of America, at least for a time.
- Maintain tight control on his administration, but backers say it would be more for reasons of efficiency than secrecy.
- Push to bring combat troops home from Iraq, work toward universal health coverage and launch a far-reaching energy plan.
So what’s my problem? It doesn’t start out so bad. It’s pretty fair to say that John McCain would resist setting a timetable for withdrawing troops from Iraq, and remember when he told us he’d follow Osama bin Laden to “the gates of hell”? Sure, he was a little spooky there, but could you argue with his sincerity? It’s also fair to say that he’d veto legislation larded with pork-barrel projects (I enjoy the use of “larded” in that clause)–though I’m not sure what’s so distinctive about a politician pushing specific issues “to the limit.” Wasn’t that a Prefontaine movie? Oh, no, that was Without Limits. Thank God the President still has limits, or who knows what John McCain would do!
Where it starts getting eye-roll-worthy is bullet point number three: McCain’s alleged “my-way-or-the-highway approach.” Ah yes, because he’s just like George Bush, I guess. You’re either with him or against him. (“Only a Sith deals in absolutes!”) As opposed to that celebrated compromiser Barack Obama, the cat who’s constantly reaching out to the opposition, who’s sponsored so much bi-partisan legislation that the party faithful hardly think he should qualify as a Democrat. Oh, wait, that’s not Barack Obama. That’s someone else. If only I could remember who…ah, well, no matter. Moving on dot org!
So if Barack Obama were elected president, he would, presumably, not push specific issues “to the limit” or take a “my-way-or-the-highway approach,” but he would Make History! He would Alter The World View Of America (at least for a time)! What does this say about how Barack Obama would lead? Nothing! So why mention it? Is anyone out there still unaware that Barack Obama would be the first black POTUS? As for altering the world view of America, I’m not inclined to dispute that. However, this little tidbit doesn’t have much bearing on how Barack Obama would lead, either. It doesn’t even say how the world view of America will be altered. The syntax itself is awkward–I’m not sure if it’s America’s world view or the world’s view of America that’s getting altered. I’m presuming the latter, in which case it’s fair to say that if John McCain is elected, the world will have a different view of America–one in which terrorists get their butts kicked! It’s all in the way you look at it.
It’s also reassuring that if Barack Obama’s going to keep “tight control” on his administration, it will be for the sake of “efficiency.” What does that even mean? Well, at least he won’t be secretive! (Not like some presidents we know.)
The third bullet point is inoffensive to me, except that it’s funny how Barack Obama’s domestic policy priorities merit mention, but John McCain’s don’t (though whatever they are, he will push them to the limit).(And what exactly is a “far-reaching energy plan”? Is that the same plan where he “looks into” clean-coal and nuclear technologies? Like, really looks into them? Really far in?)
Note that I’ve not tried to persuade you to vote for McCain or against Obama. As far as I’m concerned, there are legitimate, rational reasons to vote for Obama. For example, you might want your taxes raised. Just kidding–well, no, not really, but I wasn’t going to go there. I was going to say that you might believe that his temperament is better suited to this office of enormous responsibility. Maybe you think that his health care plan will provide better coverage for more Americans. Maybe you’re thinking he’ll bring the troops home from Iraq. Maybe you think he’s more likely to appoint Supreme Court justices that will protect our rights and liberties, and you won’t have to worry about the government tapping your phone or nosing into your library books or telling you which forms of birth control you can use. Maybe you think people who earn more than $250,000 should pay more in taxes. I reckon lots of Americans would happily pay more in taxes if it meant that everybody got health care and a college education. Who am I to argue? I’m just mocking the Oregonian for pretending that they print relevant, unbiased information in their sidebars. They should have put Peanuts there instead.
Just so you all know, I’m prepping myself for Obama winning the election. You won’t see me threatening to leave the country if the Democrats take control. I’m making a list of silver linings for the day that cloud starts hanging over me.
Silver Lining #1: We will finally have a black president. Sure, it would be better if he were a black Republican president (or a black Republican woman president), but still, considering our history, it’s a big deal to finally have a black man elected to the nation’s highest office. So that’s cool. No, it is. History-making, even.
Silver Lining #2: After 200+ years of boring Jeffersons and Johnsons and Harrisons and Bushes, we will have a president named OBAMA. How much more fun is it to say “OBAMA” than “McCain”? Answer: Way more fun. And unlike “Dukakis,” it doesn’t sound like some kind of staph infection.
Silver Lining #3: For the first time in my voting career, I will have every right to complain about the government because I didn’t vote for that cat. For four whole years I can just bitch bitch bitch all I want, and nobody can say I only have myself to blame. I could even get a bumper sticker that says, “Don’t blame me, I voted for That (OTHER) One.”
I have more, but my little ones are begging for another round of Duck, Duck, Goose, and if I disappoint them, it’s like Obama’s already won.
Sugar Daddy and Madhousewife take a moonlit stroll on the beach (with the kids)
Madhousewife: Do you know where we came out at, because I have no idea where we are now.
Sugar Daddy: Well, that’s our hotel over there…and that there is not our hotel. So…
Mad: Har de har.
SD: This is why marriage is between a man and a woman.
Mad: [furrows her eyebrows at him even though it’s dark and she’s invisible]
SD (because he knows she is furrowing her eyebrows at him even though he can’t see her): [Laughs like a jerk]
SD: This is pretty cool, huh? Walking on the beach at night? When have we ever walked on the beach at night?
Mad: To my knowledge we have never been on the beach together at night.
SD: I think the last time I was at the beach after dark, [Some Girl From High School] tried to make out with me.
Mad: What happened there? She “tried” to make out with you? Did she not succeed?
SD: Well, I figured, who was I to argue?
Mad: Sounds like she did make out with you. There was no try.
SD: She wasn’t a very good kisser. Aside from that, she was a lot like you in many ways.
Mad: Because she had no sense of direction?
SD: Eh, she had a big butt.
So I’m back from all my family trips. Our four days at the Oregon coast seem like a million years ago. I was going to tell you all about it, but I only vaguely remember it. Well, I’ll do my best. It was raining the first couple days, of course. When we pulled into Newport, we made a visit to the Hatfield Marine Science Center, which is an extension of Oregon State University. As luck would have it, SD, Mister Bubby and I were all wearing Duck gear—but they let us in anyway, which was right big of them. They have an octopus there, but he was hiding. We saw part of one of his tentacles, though. And there were some anemones and starfish to touch, blah blah, and this thing where you could listen to whale songs and junk. Anyway, that was kind of fun. I would have bought a souvenir magnet, but the only ones that were specifically of the museum had butterflies on them, which I thought was…odd…for a marine science center. They didn’t appear to be especially marine-ish butterflies—not like they had gills or something, so…yeah, I don’t know what that was about. Well, all the more money to spend on souvenir magnets later (which I did).
The next day, as it was still raining, we visited the Oregon Coast Aquarium, which we’d been to before, when Mister Bubby and Princess Zurg were little. It’s mostly indoors. Operative word being “mostly.” Elvis wasn’t particularly interested in staying indoors. He wanted to watch the waterfall, which was outdoors. Also to jump in mud puddles. Anyway, the Oregon Coast Aquarium has kind of spendy admission, but it’s a nice aquarium. My favorite part is where you walk through the tube that’s under the water and you get to see all the fishes and sharks up close. (They’re not great white sharks, but they’re big enough.) Their souvenir magnet selection was also disappointing, but I picked up one with puffins on it because I had at least seen those on my previous visit, so I knew they were actually Of the Aquarium (even though they’re birds…but they didn’t have any shark magnets, so I had to do my best—it was only $3.99, geez).
The next day it was not raining, so we went down to the beach, which was cold, but pretty. I helped MB make a sand castle. SD went in the water with the kids. The water was extra-cold. Our children didn’t care. Girlfriend’s lips turned purple, and I warmed her up in a towel. Elvis kept stealing SD’s sandals and running into the ocean with them. Elvis was a piece of work on this trip, but that’s another story.
We spent a lot of time in the hotel, actually. The hotel pool was filled with sea water. That was pretty cool. Girlfriend kept pooping in her swim diaper. That was kind of…inconvenient. (At least when fecal matter happened, it did not leak out, despite the fact we were using chintzy disposable swim diapers. Yes, this is a shout-out to you, gwennieg.) Even I liked being in the water. A little bit.
When we left Newport, we drove up the coast to Tillamook and visited the cheese factory. We enjoy the cheese factory. We especially enjoy getting ice cream there. I got pistachio pecan because I never turn down the opportunity to eat pistachio ice cream. I never know when I’ll have one again. So that was delicious, and on our way back home, we stopped at the Tillamook Forest Center, or whatever the hee-haw it’s called. That was pretty cool because we got to climb up into the lookout tower, where people used to watch for forest fires. I think I would have been ideal for that job, as I enjoy solitude, were it not for the fact that I’m afraid of heights. And also of fire. Anyway, this forest center had lots of hands-on exhibits for the kiddos, and an excellent selection of souvenir magnets. (I bought two! One was a retro anti-forest fire PSA and the other was a bear—not Smokey, but made out of wood. You know, like from the forest. Speaking of which, I expected that the restroom in the forest center would feature one of those infernal hand dryers. You know, to save trees. But apparently these forestry people aren’t in the business of saving trees. They just replant them, you know. So they had paper towels. My wet hands appreciated this nod to conspicuous consumption.) I think what helped me to enjoy this particular attraction so very much was the fact that it was free. FREE! (Thus enabling my souvenir magnet spree.)
We spent the weekend at home, and then on Monday we visited the Great Wolf Lodge in Centralia, Washington. If you want details about the GWL, see my husband’s blog on the subject. It sufficeth me to say that the GWL, while clean and fun, did not have a favorable price:good ratio. And I’m really glad that water-play season is coming to a close.
Which means that school starts next week! Elvis will be starting kindergarten. I just got his and PZ’s bus schedules, and was displeased to learn that Elvis’s bus arrives at the ungodly hour of 7:42 a.m. School doesn’t start until 8:30, but as his school is at the southernmost part of the school district and we live at the northernmost part and there is no freeway route, a 48-minute commute is not unrealistic. (Would that it were not so, gentle readers, but alas.) The good news is that I will have him on the bus in plenty of time to drive MB to school and be back in time for PZ’s bus. Very favorable timing, assuming they don’t change it. Which they will, but in the meantime, I’m looking at the bright side.
That’s what I told PZ just this morning—there are three choices in life: 1) be sad, 2) stop caring, and 3) look on the bright side. She conceded my point, but still didn’t think it was an adequate response to her concerns. (She is a real #1 type of person. I feel her.) Granted, we were talking about death at the time, but bus schedules, death—tomayto, tomahto. It still holds.
Sugar Daddy and Madhousewife on the movies
Madhousewife: You know, lots of people seem to like that Mamma Mia! movie, but I just look at it and think it can’t possibly be good. I think it’s the whole idea of Meryl Streep singing ABBA songs that I can’t quite get into.
Sugar Daddy: Well, she sang in Out of Africa, didn’t she? “A dingoooo ate my bay-beeee…”
Mad: That wasn’t Out of Africa!
SD: It wasn’t?
Mad: For one thing, that was in Australia. For another thing, it was a totally different movie.
SD: Oh yeah, what was that? A Cry in the Night? A Cry in the Dark?
Mad: Something like that.
SD: But it wasn’t a musical.
Mad: No. Neither of them was.
SD: Would’ve been cool, though.
A word on eating, things that are bad for you, and eating things that are bad for you
Today Princess Zurg and Mister Bubby went to the Clark County Fair with friends, and the younger kids and I met Sugar Daddy for lunch at the Burgerville. I like Burgerville because they’re so Pac Northwest. They use local ingredients, and their straw wrappers are 100% compostable. True story! They offer special menu items according to what’s in season. This is the season for Walla Walla Sweet Onion Rings. One might wonder what difference an onion makes when you’re talking about something that’s battered and deep-fried, but let me tell you: Walla Walla Sweet Onion Rings are special. By mistake we ended up getting (and paying for) two orders instead of one. SD is on a diet of sorts, and WWSOR are not on it, so I ended up eating way more WWSOR than anyone has any business eating in one sitting. That was probably wrong, but fortunately I don’t care.
I think the thing I find most charming about Burgerville, though, is that their kids’ meals don’t come with the usual crappy, useless plastic toys made by slave labor in communist countries that we only trade with because we love cheap, useless crap so very much. Make no mistake: the toys in the Burgerville kids’ meals are crappy–well, they’re not even really toys, more like “prizes.” But they’re inoffensive crappy prizes. Like today’s prize, a “crazy crayon”: basically some melted crayons molded into the shape of a smiley-face sun. It’s pretty lame, yes, but it’s functional and made from 100% recycled crayons. It’s a socially responsible crappy prize, and I appreciate that.
But I’ve eaten enough Walla Walla Sweet Onion Rings to last me the rest of the summer. Oy.
Madhousewife takes Sugar Daddy back to the office
Mad: I don’t know where I’m supposed to turn here.
SD: Right here. Here! See that big building that I work in? Go toward it.
Mad: You know, there’s a reason you usually do the driving.
[Silence]
Mad: And it’s not the one you’re thinking of right now!
My guest-blogger stint at BCC continues
MoBloggyLinky #3 is here.
No more swim lessons at the outdoor pool in August.
Notice something about this picture?
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I live in one of those little blue areas (the ones that aren’t water).
It is raining.
Amazing.
The irritating thing about living in Oregon is that you can never be certain that it will not start raining on you at any moment. It is impossible to make plans that depend on it not raining. You can’t count on weather being sunny and warm at any time of year. In fact, if you do make plans for an outdoor activity, you have just increased your chance of rain by fifty percent.
I understand that there was supposed to be some warm weather here while I was in California. I wouldn’t know, I don’t keep up on the weather in places where I am not–unlike my mother-in-law, who always knows what the weather is in any given place. My mother-in-law often asks me how my brother is doing with the weather in Maryland. I don’t talk to my brother often (no offense to him, he’s just not much of a talker), and when I do, the weather does not usually come up. It wouldn’t come up, unless there was a hurricane or something, in which case I probably wouldn’t be talking to him anyway because the phones were down. Whatever. I usually find out about the weather in Maryland from my mother-in-law, who has never been to Maryland. That’s neither here nor there. Where was I? Oh, yes. There might have been some kind of heat wave while I was gone, but now that I’m back and taking my kids to swim class at the outdoor pool [beats head against wall], the August sky bears a striking resemblance to the one I saw back in April. It’s warmer than it was in April, meaning that we can go out without jackets and be perfectly comfortable (and usually dry), but it’s not the kind of weather that makes you want to put on a swimsuit and jump in the pool. Princess Zurg takes it all in stride, but Mister Bubby was purple when he came out of the boys’ locker room. The boy has no body fat, what can I tell you.
I actually find this weather exceptionally pleasant, so don’t get the idea that I’m complaining. It’s only Mister Bubby who’s complaining and saying he doesn’t want to go to swim class until the morning dew has burned off (which should be at about 4:30 in the afternoon).
Speaking of swim class, I signed them up for lessons at the outdoor pool during the summer because a) it’s closer than the indoor pools, b) it’s summer and I’m not keen on spending summer inside a humid public pool building where I can feel the chlorine leeching into my skin and burning my sinuses, and c) there’s a playground right next to the outdoor pool, so I have something to do with the younger children while the older ones are off gallavanting in the water. (Speaking of the playground, someone finally got the brilliant idea to build a fence around it. A fence! For an area where children play??? I’m flabbergasted!)
What I don’t like about the outdoor pool is that, because it is a small pool and the locker rooms are therefore very small, there is always a huge line for the girls’ shower–because both girls and young boys whose mothers can’t (or won’t) let them use the boys’ room by themselves have to shower there. Also, they all seem to have to wash their hair there. With shampoo. And conditioner, in some cases. I don’t get it. There are two whole showers, people, and forty-seven people who want to use them. Rinse the chlorine out and put on your underpants. What’s the big deal?
In other news, I have recently concluded that Elvis only wants to eat fruit that requires me to stop whatever I’m doing and cut it. I cut up a whole canteloupe, he wants the watermelon. I cut up the watermelon, and he wants the strawberries, which don’t usually need to be cut except that he insists on having the stems sliced off. Or he wants an apple, which needs to be cut and peeled. If the only fruit we had were grapes, he would probably want me to start slicing them, so I’m glad we don’t have any.
Speaking of fruit, Sugar Daddy bought some kiwis the other day. We haven’t had kiwi fruit in our home for years, and he might have forgotten why that is. It’s because my children LOVE kiwi fruit, but kiwi fruit does not love them. Or rather, it does not love their digestive tracts. I absolutely love kiwi fruit myself, but I have had to forsake it because I love my children’s digestive tracts more. Or rather, I love not having to change kiwi fruit diapers more. Of course, everyone who was in diapers when the kiwi fruit ban was instituted are no longer in diapers, and now that I think on it, the diaper-wearing children have probably never had kiwi fruit. However, I am not, shall we say, as uninvolved in the events surrounding my older son’s digestive tract as I would like to be. And so far all the other food sensitivities that the older children have are also present in the younger children. And thus I am afraid to feed them kiwi fruit. I shall have to eat it myself.
Thus endeth today’s blog, as I have a lot of housework and Harry Potter-reading to do, not necessarily in that order.
In general, the climate in Oregon (at least the Western part) is mild. That’s why, whenever my husband asks if I want to splurge this year and get air conditioning, I always say, “For how many days out of the year that we’d actually use it, I don’t think it’s worth it.” Granted, we usually have this conversation in April, while it’s pouring down rain. Usually come July or August, or whenever the three weeks of summer hits us hard, at least part of me is regretting being so sensible.
Since we’re currently experiencing triple-digit temperatures here in Portland, I was feeling a little of that regret again, until I heard an A/C repairman interviewed on the radio and he said days like this were boons to his industry because so many people call with a desperate need to have A/C and to have their A/C fixed. (This weather is a bane as well, since they have to work long hours–make that long, hot hours in places with no air conditioning. Truly, they are doing God’s work.) That’s when I started being glad that I don’t have air conditioning. Because how much would it suck to spend all that money on air conditioning, only to have it break down on the hottest day of the year? Answer: a lot! And you know me, Miss Negative Nellie–my air-conditioning would be sure to break when I needed it most. My pessimism alone would destroy it. And then my husband would be upset with me, too. “I spend all this money getting you air-conditioning so you can live like a queen while I slave in the factory all day, and you can’t think positively for five minutes? You have to go breaking the air-conditioning with your twisted thinking? Is nothing ever good enough for you?”
So I’m glad I don’t have air-conditioning. I’d rather complain about the heat.
In Friday’s Oregonian:
Using brain-scanning technology, University of Oregon researchers have found an unlikely force at play in the minds of people paying taxes: Pleasure.
In their experiment, taxing people for a charitable cause activated the brain’s reward centers — the same areas that respond to such sources of delight as food and sex.
“Paying taxes can make people feel good,” said William Harbaugh, UO economist and co-author of the study. Previous research had established that voluntary giving stirs activity in the brain regions that process feelings of reward. The UO study, published today in the journal Science, is the first to show that involuntary payments can evoke the same reaction.
Well, this is certainly breakthrough research. I wonder how they discovered this phenomenon.
In the study, researchers gave $100 to each of 19 female volunteers. The volunteers confronted choices about giving money to a local food bank or having money for the food bank taken from them involuntarily, like a tax. Researchers scanned their brains using functional magnetic resonance imaging, a technology that can map surges in brain cell activity in specific parts of the brain.
The experiment helps explain the curious willingness of people to pay taxes, which has long puzzled economists.
In other words, a grand total of nineteen (19!) females got turned on by the prospect of having money they did not earn forcibly taken from them. Sounds a little kinky to me. But I’m not sure it explains the “curious willingness” of people to pay taxes. If compliance under threat of imprisonment–and as a result of one’s income being automatically withheld rather than merely requested–can be characterized as “willingness,” I’m not sure where the mystery lies. But let’s say it is a mystery. I hardly think nineteen dames with nothing better to do than live in Eugene and volunteer for neurological experiments constitute a representative sample of the human population. But can anyone honestly say it’s surprising that people felt good upon learning that a food bank was getting money? Obviously, if you were to monitor their pleasure receptors while watching money going to, say, interstate highways, that would be introducing too many variables into the equation. Even among nineteen female Oregonians, you’re going to have some conflicting philosophies. Maybe some of them are cyclists. Perhaps others are concerned that the money would be spent on actually fixing the roads instead of picking up litter and recycling it. So that’s not a tenable research experiment. But given that most tax revenues are spent on causes significantly less sexy–but no less essential to society–than feeding the hungry, can this experiment really be applied to the general subject of tax compliance?
Also, I’m no scientist, but it would seem to me that if you wanted to measure what really goes on in people’s brains when they “pay taxes,” you would have to give them MRI’s while confiscating their own actual money, as opposed to the theoretical stuff. But lying still for an MRI is difficult and time-consuming. I imagine most working people aren’t motivated to fit it into their schedules.
But what the researchers were really trying to study was not tax-paying, but altruism.
The findings also could help resolve a long-standing debate about the motives behind altruistic behavior. One side asserts that the satisfaction gained from contributing to the overall public good drives people to give money, a motive known as “pure altruism.”
The competing view, known as “warm glow” altruism, holds that people give mostly for the ego-stroking feeling that their personal act of charity made someone else feel better. …
The experiment showed that both forces play a role in altruistic behavior. Subjects had no choice in the taxlike transfers of money to the charity, but they still experienced reward-related brain activity. That showed pure altruism at work, rather than warm glow altruism, since the subjects had no choice in the matter.
See, again, this might just be me, but it seems that if you have no choice in the matter and hungry children are eating, why not feel good about it? Especially since it was free money to begin with.
Based on how strongly the subjects’ brains responded to receiving money or giving it to the food bank, the researchers found that they could predict how likely individuals were to donate. Those with higher brain activation when money went to the charity rather than to themselves were about twice as likely to give money voluntarily.
This is another Duh Moment. If you’re heartless enough to begrudge hungry people food when it’s not even your money that they’re taking, it sort of follows that you aren’t going to willingly donate more money of your own accord. But what do I know? I was an English major.
Bottom line: If you have to read something this week, don’t bother with Science. Pick up this book instead.
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