Shooting and shopping

The issue with Vision and the $350 and the remaining pictures for a photoshoot is somewhat resolved (see post “Ignored” from June). I called the agency, they were cool, and we just needed to find a good time to finish the job. But that also means hair, makeup and clothes. Makeup they’ll take care of. The clothes and hair are up to us.

That’s fine, really. Alice needs a touch up on her extensions anyway. As her hair grows out, the knots get lower, and with time looser, so she needs to have several of them redone. Plus a trim. Extension hair is real hair, but it still gets worn and fringey looking over time. So, first she’ll go to Sweeney Todd’s in the late morning and our girl Jess will give her hair some trim and tightening.

Then Alice will go to Vision for the shoot. And she needs clothes for that. Trendy, cool, fashionable looking clothes that they can pick from. Alice tells me and I believe her, that they kind of looks they want are not what she wears everyday. Check out the Vision site to the right to see what she means.

So, guess what we’re doing tonight?

That’s right, folks, going to THE mall. Oh joy. Not quite as bad as sitting in the passenger seat as Alice tries to drive (MY car). But not a ton of fun on a glorious summer evening (and the weather in the Twin Cities this summer – knock on wood – has been cool and wonderful).

She has a few looks in mind to help speed things up. Like this look at American Apparel. Which is certainly better than this look from American Apparel. Since I’m completely not one to advise on fashion for any age group, let alone hers, I won’t do much more than approve the purchase as OK/legal to wear. But the money comes from her.

Not a fun part of the job

Parenting is an emotion-filled ride. We feel great joy most of the time. It produces feelings of embarrassment, disappointment, worry and hope. It can feel tiring, exhilarating, and rarely boring. There is pleasure, occasional pain, desire and satisfaction. Often stressful, especially at certain ages and places of your kid’s life. The thoughts of our kid are always there, even when they aren’t or our minds and energies are elsewhere.

Yet, after doing this for nearly 16 years, I can say that the absolute worst part of the job – what I have learned brings me mostly if not always negative feelings – what I would gladly give up, pay for or bargain with someone else to do …

is to teach my daughter to drive.

I believe there is a special place in heaven reserved for the parent who has gotten their kid to successfully learn to drive and get their license.

I won’t be there.

Fourth of July (yawn, stretch…)

How was your 4th of July holiday? Fireworks cool to watch? Get together with friends? See a parade? Get yardwork done? Sleep in? That’s good. Ours was quiet, meaning just the right blend of fun rest and housework. And discovery.

The discovery came from Alice’s absence. She went with a friend and her family to their cabin for a few days. (On the east coast, people go to the shore. In western Michigan they go to the lake. In Minnesota they go to their cabins.) For my part there was no sense of relief or space. I was happy for her but also realized that when she really goes, there will be a big gap to fill. Parenting is such a demanding side job, that when it goes into second gear there’s a need to find a new way and different direction for the energy.

There’s still plenty of time to figure all that out. Call this weekend the early warning system.

The weekend also brought sleep, a good movie (Public Enemies), some minor household chores (enough weeding, cleaning and grocery shopping to stave off the guilt) and a very interesting walking tour of the Summit Hill neighborhood of St. Paul by the Minnesota Historical Society. No fireworks, though. We tried to watch some from our deck, but no dice. We could see some lights and color and hear commotion in four directions but the darned trees blocked our view.

That’s OK. A little fireworks for me go a long way. The few I saw from the convenience of my back deck were just fine. No traffic. No bugs. No waiting.

another voice online

In case anyone is interested, I just launched a new blog: iParent. (see link to the right). Only this one isn’t about Alice, or movies, or Minnesota politics or my lessons learned about life in general, this is a blog for my professional life and pursuits. That means that whereas here I’m a parent using social media, there I’ll be writing about parents’ use of social media from an academic perspective (mostly, although I’m challenged from writing in that way). Visit that site if you’d like to read and connect on why parents use social media, research on family relationships through the use of technology, professional development needs related to technology, the academic world that explores technology in learning and human development, that kind of thing.

Here though, ModelMom continues.

Mr. Franken goes to Washington

Finally. About time. At long last. OK then…. Al Franken received a unanimous vote from the Minnesota Supreme Court yesterday, declaring him the winner of the 2008 Senator race in the state (though it seems like it was 5 years ago rather than 7 months).

Congratulations, Al. I may just keep the lawn sign up a big longer to tick off the conservatives. I”m kind of used to seeing it and mowing around it. And a big round of applause to Amy Klobuchar, our state’s other Senator who has been fighting our battles singlehandedly and reminding the nation that not every female elected to national office from our state is dangerous.

How proud

On the same day that I’m getting ACT and SAT prep books for Alice from the library - with thoughts of her going off to college and becoming a future female Nobel prize winner, she comes back from a visit to the Mall (THE mall), and tells me that the folks at the store that sells Gilly Hicks lingerie,  want her. Someone at the store thought she was a) 18 years or older and b) perfect to show off and sell their overpriced bras.

Great.

Every mother’s dream.

On the timing and meaning of death of people we don’t know

Well that sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it?

Blogs seem to be abuzz with discussion about all the celebrities who’ve died in a short period of time: Michael Jackson, David Carradine, this TV ad pitchman guy, Farrah Fawcett… and several others who’ve passed in recent months, like Ed McMahon, Bea Arthur and Dom Deluise (if you’re wondering how I remember these, there’s actually a website I just found that lists the deaths of celebrities: http://deaths.debritz.net/).

Death is death. People die all the time. So the fact that the people who die are fairly well known to some or many seems like not a big deal. What’s more interesting to me is what the particular person and the timing of their passing means to people.

Take John Lennon. I remember waking up to the radio alarm on a cold December morning in 1980 hearing the news that Lennon had been shot. I was 25. And I was devastated. The Beatles were part of my childhood and adolescence; I matured as their music changed, and became a young adult in my own right as they ventured into independent careers. By 1980 John Lennon was more than a celebrity; he was an author of the soundtrack of my formative years, not to be overly dramatic. He’d also eclipsed Paul McCartney in my heart and mind. Paul was the handsome Beatle we all drooled over with our Tiger Beat magazines and sang along with. But by the time I hit my 20s, I’d realized how very cool and creative and visionary John Lennon was. And then he was gone. Not a drug overdose death. Not a car accident. But a senseless murder.

A meaningful death and a meaningful time.

Boycott

I hesitate to post this because it adds to the promotion for the film – and the book it’s based on. So if hearing the title of this film that opens this weekend adds to your thoughts about seeing it, go to another blog. My point is to voice opposition to the book and to encourage people not to buy the book, read the book or continue to line the pockets of the author by seeing the film it’s based on. (I may have vented about this before. You can tell I’m riled).

The film and the book is “My Sister’s Keeper.” Don’t see it. It’s not getting great reviews so you’d probably be better off going to see “Up” again. And certainly don’t read the book. I won’t give away the ending but I absolutely guarantee you’ll hate yourself for reading the book, and you’ll definitely think less of the author.

I’m frankly outraged that an author would betray her readers the way Jodi Piccoult does in her choice to end this book. The story is about a younger sister who hires a lawyer to advocate for her against her parents, who keep using her as a human guinea pig and pin cushion to help her older sister with a chronic, life threatening condition. The younger sister has the right blood type and the parents are so desperate to keep the older girl alive, they sacrifice the rights and well-being of the younger one. Pretty interesting, ethical questions, actually.

If only the writer hadn’t chosen such a crappy way to end the book.

I’ll save you a trip to the library. Just don’t read it. Read the terrific biography of Frances Perkins, who was the secretary of Labor for Franklin Roosevelt. Or The Elegance of the Hedgehog, if you want decent fiction.

You’ll thank me.

Iconic passages

Just when I’m getting riled up over politicians cheating on their wives and families and reality TV couples announcing divorce, in one day we hear that two big entertainment stars (OK, one big, the other BIG) have died. I’m actually feeling more emotional over the first two events, which I’ll write about later. But considering the impact that Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson had as celebrities, I give them tribute. In short, however, given the passage of time, their importance has been reduced to a poster, a haircut and a film performance, and an album and a video, respectively.

Here are my brief tributes to what both of these people meant to me. Keep in mind – and context here does matter – that when Farrah was big I was a college student. When Michael Jackson was big, it’s 8 to 10 years later and I’m in my late 20s/early 30s.

Take this job, seriously

There are some people who, when they take their work seriously, it’s a good thing. Like doctors, child care providers and trash company owners. There are others who can take their work a bit too seriously and it’s just… funny.

The upshot of my garbage can story is that I’m getting a new one, no questions asked. After calling the garbage company on Sunday with my tale of woe and wonder, the owner called back – on Sunday night! – cheerfully saying that, these things happen, that they’d look for the can, but that they’d bring me another one. With a charming Minnesota accent. Nice guy. He’s probably got a certain amount of can loss built into his financial plan and can accommodate a crazy situation like this. Mostly though, he just did it. No hassle. Just classy, friendly and professional.

And then there are (some) folks who take their jobs too seriously and assert their minor power over others – because they can.

Like this guy. Here’s a scene from “Fargo” that somewhat demonstrates my experience yesterday (warning: this is a Coen Brothers film, meaning that the clip includes the “f” word several times.)

Yesterday, I had a parking payment issue. At the University, if you pay for a parking space that entitles you to a) parking in a certain, designated lot and b) parking in some inconvenient location if you’re on another campus (Minnesota has 3 disconnected campuses). Last summer I learned that my reciprocal lot wasn’t available and either I pay extra to park (on top of the monthly fee for my usual space) or take the bus.

Remembering this, and needing to park on an alternate campus yesterday, I decided to pay for the day. But on entry to the lot I notice that the person at the gate was a ’senior lot attendant’ and figured he might have up to date information about reciprocal parking arrangements. He (Eddie) in fact does, and politely directs me to the lot.

Thanking him, but leery that I could really park there, I asked that lot attendant. She, of junior status, said that if Eddie said it was OK and he knew much more than she did, that it was OK. And that, at the end of the day, Sharon, also a senior attendant would be there and be in the know. Gently, cautiously, I took the parking ticket, and hoped it would be as promised.

It wasn’t.