Last class of the semester!

I might go on Thursday to the BBQ and yearbook signing (enough people wanted me to, and I'd love to write nice stuff about students so they can remember they're awesome).  I tried a new self-grading/movie lecture today (I met with students after they graded portfolios and discussed their grades with them; those not meeting with me watched Castle In the Sky), and I learned I need more time for such an endeavor.  I also learned that I don't know where to plug the speakers in when I'm projecting from the back of a DVD player, which earned me a certain amount of gentle mockery from the technophiles.  Anyway, I thought I'd be teaching again tomorrow morning, but they changed the schedule last minute, and I'm sad I didn't get a picture of the class.  I didn't get to say goodbye the way I wanted to.  It's a bittersweet time of year--I'm excited for the summer, for the time I get with my kids and my writing (and my woefully-neglected house), but I probably won't see many of my students again.  I care about them.  I've seen them grow (as writers and as people) for an entire year.  Individually they're astoundingly talented, and compassionate, and funny, and good.  I can't wait until they sell songs (I've got some amazing singers and musicians in the class this year), influence politics and policies, graduate with medical degrees, and publish novels (yay creative writers!).  I'll miss them all, even the ones who got defensive, or who never finished all their essays (and still came to every class!).

Gah!  I think I need to go to that barbeque after all.

I don't even want to THINK about future graduations--especially those that'll happen fifteen to seventeen years from now.  But then I found this image...

Portal 2 is...

...hilarious.  Brilliant.  The kind of game I dream about (literally, last night).  Games with a story, with compelling characters to go along with the playing--those are the kinds of games I love.  Because I have student emails to respond to, I'll just give you a brief sample of some writing from Portal 2.  Enjoy!  I know I do...and it's even better when you play and earn each piece of the story as you go!

Chore charts

I spent a few hours this week putting together chore charts.  I'd like to say it's because I'm finally becoming responsible and adult-like, but actually it's because I like an excuse to paint.  If our house stays a little neater...well, that's just awesome bonus sauce.  There's one circle on each chart for every day of the week, and they're attached with Velcro so we can add/detach them.  Good idea?  We'll see.

Anyway.  Pictures.

Here's my husband's.  He ordered a pizza, with ONLY pepperoni (although in real life he eats lots of toppings--I think he was being sweet and keeping it simple for me):

And here's my three-year-old's.  He didn't care about difficulty level (or Mommy's lack of interest in construction vehicles), but his was still fun to paint:

Mine...well, all the initials on the spines of the books correspond with real authors.  Ooh!  And there's a raven!  I like ravens...

The initials are G.C., T.P., M.R., R.D., E.B.W., W.S., and E.S.  Make your guesses in the comments (if you dare...)

Jobs for biology majors

Well, I'm off to eat dinner with my little sister and help her look for a job.  It's funny--people celebrate graduations, but they're a big time of change, and the whole "finding a job" thing is never all that fun.  Until you find one.  Then...it depends on the job.

Anyway, here's a cute video of kittens.  Because my post tonight needs to be faster than 10 minutes (10 minutes is a freeing time to write in--although it probably does lead to typos, which don't exist if I don't check my archives, so there!).  Yup.  Yay kittens!

Woodlouse spider

Earlier today I spotted one of these skittering across the carpet:

I ran upstairs, grabbed a glass, trapped it, and took it outside.  I was calling it a Mongolian Death Spider (although I don't know why I picked Mongolia when the worst spiders seem to be in Australia--I think I just like how "Mongolia" sounds), but a quick search reveals it's actually a "woodlouse spider".*

One bit our cat Scout on the tongue, several years ago, and I'm glad I caught this one before it managed to creep near either cat (or Lightning, or baby Ninja).  At least I warned it that I'd kill it if I saw it in the house again, which will solve my problem if it's brilliant and understands English...**

*Psh.  Whatever.  Do you see that crazy red-head-white-body-ack-pincers thing?
**Actually, I'd rather it be stupid, like a normal spider--intelligent spiders don't really make me feel better, come to think of it

Semi-colons

If em-dashes are my favorite sleek and cute punctuation mark, semicolons are the ones I think are loneliest.  Listen to some of these quotes from various awesome people about the semicolon...

"Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college." 

--Kurt Vonnegut, A Man without a Country 

 

"Let me be plain: the semi-colon is ugly, ugly as a tick on a dog's belly. I pinch them out of my prose."

--Donald Barthelme

"I have been told that the dying words of one famous 20th century writer were, 'I should have used fewer semi-colons,'--and though I have spent months fruitlessly trying to track down the chap responsible, I believe it none the less. If it turns out that no one actually did say this on their death bed, I shall certainly save it up for my own."
--Lynne Truss, "Eats, Shoots and Leaves"

And, because I'm starting to pity the poor semicolon:

"With educated people, I suppose, punctuation is a matter of rule; with me it is a matter of feeling. But I must say I gave a great respect for the semicolon; it's a very useful little chap."
--Abraham Lincoln

When I picture the personality of a semicolon I see something that's sort of awkward and mawkish, like this dog I used to know.  Mr. Pugs.  He was fat, and every time you pet him you got weird bits of dead skin on your hand, but that little pug dog really, really wanted to be liked.  He'd waddle right up to you, desperately trying to wag his curly little tail, snorting softly because he couldn't breathe very well, and you'd try to avoid him but you'd kind of feel bad because you knew that, deep down, he wanted to be useful.  He wanted to be loved.  He couldn't help the way he was.

So.  Mr. Pug in a floppy hat, looking sort of sad.  Oh, and maybe he's from France, because semicolons seem French.

 

+

=

What a clumsy, awkward punctuation mark.  It's called a "useful little chap" by Abraham Lincoln, though.  That's something it can be proud of.

The happiest baby in the world...

...is also very small.  We're trying to help him grow by feeding him baby food and bottles (he's not sure about either one) and finger foods (he likes those), but he'd prefer his fingers (or any other inedible plastic/metal object he manages to snatch), thanks all the same.  Gah!  I'd love nothing better than to help him learn how to eat, and walk, and talk (well, he does talk a little), but babies choose their own time to do things.  At least they're cute while they learn.

Your fingers don't have calories, silly little guy!  Here, try this avocado...

 Oh, the stress I get from learning that I can't fix all of my children's problems, even with careful planning.  And Baby Blue-Eyes here isn't even a year old yet! 

He smiles all the time, though--he's a joyful little guy!