Tuesday Talk: Principal's Office

I know, I know, it's not Tuesday. Three day weekends throw me off schedule.

I'm standing in the school office and I can hear the principal talking to a student (at least, I'm assuming it was a student, I hope it was a student and not a teacher; it could have been several students, I guess).
Principal: Was biting him the right thing to do?
[If the student responded, it was too quiet for me to overhear.]
Principal: Was biting him the right thing to do?
[Again, I don't hear a response.]
Principal: Was choking him the right thing to do?
Parent Standing Next To Me In The Office: What does she expect the kid to say? Yes?
Me: Well, it seemed like the most reasonable thing to do at the time...
Principal: Was hitting him the right thing to do?

Tuesday Talk: Unbelievable

Hannah and I had lunch at Los Bagels in Old Town this weekend. It was a busy weekend for the area, what with the Jazz Festival and all, and there were more tourists around that usual. There are these huge portraits hanging on one wall: Mother Theresa, Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr, Frida Kahlo (One of these things is not like the others...).
Woman (clearly an out-of-towner, not that that explains anything): Who is that woman in that picture?
Bagel-ista: That's Frida Kahlo. She was an artist. She was married to Diego Rivera.
Woman: And her eyebrows really looked like that?
Bagel-ista (looks up at painting and shrugs): Uh, yeah, I think so.
Woman: She wasn't? From this country?
Bagel-ista: No, she lived in Mexico.
Woman: And she really just had one eyebrow like that? Her eyebrows really looked like that?
Bagel-ista (thinks to self): I need to find a new job where I never, ever have to talk to people.

I recently participated in a fun (for me, and others too, I hope) event designed to encourage girls to take more math and science classes and consider careers in science-related fields. I was part of the Science Mall portion of the event where tables are set up with all kinds of activities and the young women can mill about, touch stuff, play around with science gadgets and do-dads, ask questions and so on. My little table was about sound waves. I had some tuning forks and resonator tubes and some other stuff, but the big draw was an oscilloscope with a couple of microphones that the girls could talk into and "see" their own voices. There were some adults there as well, for the most part mothers of participants.
Mother: So, what does this do?
Me: Well basically, the microphone turns the sound into an electrical signal and we can see what that signal looks like on the screen of the oscilloscope.
Mother: Really? Are you sure?
Me: Uh... Yes. The microphone captures the sound of my voice, or of your voice, or of the tuning fork and turns it into electricity--it's still the same information, though--and the oscilloscope shows us what that information looks like.
Mother (tracing the microphone cord to where it plugs into the oscilloscope): So...the electricity goes through here and then we can see it on the screen. Are you sure?
Me: Yes I am. It's pretty cool, isn't it?
Mother: It's amazing!

Both of these mde me wonder where these kinds of reactions come from--what explains them? I don't think it's just lack of education or lack of cultural literacy; it's something closer to a dogmatic essentialism: Sound could never be electricity! No one would let a unibrow grow like that and not take care of it! Call me an intellectual snob, but I find both of these reactions very, very bizarre.

Tuesday Talk: Vive La Revolution?

A young couple and a friend were sitting at the table next to ours at Tomo last night. It's not that they were being particularly loud, it's that our tables were so close together, it felt like we were sitting with them. Which made me privy to the following while they were talking about children's names. Keep in mind that I am not making this up.

Female of Couple: Well, we know we can't give a kid a name that sounds like it might be French.
Friend: Why's that?
FoC: MoC's family is French, but they had to flee the country--
MoC:--Under the guillotine! My Grandfather had to flee during the revolution. He doesn't allow anyone to speak French, because it reminds him of the revolution and all his friends who were guillotined.
Friend: Wow! That's intense for your family.
MoC: Yeah, the French Revolution was really harsh for my grandparents. They still talk about it.
FoC: So, no French names for us.

Female of Couple is, apparently, about to get her Master's degree. I take it that it is not in history (or else that's one really, really old grandpere).

Tuesday Talk

Young Man #1: I could bring some Jack Daniels.
Young Man #2: I'm totally burned out on Jack Daniels dude. I mean it's good, but it's all my friends were drinking for a while. Nah, not Jack Daniels.

Tuesday Talk: Election Day

If you voted at the same place I did, about 5pm, you may have caught the following exchanges between a young girl and her mother.
H: Is dad running for govenor?
N: No....
H: But you voted for someone named John. You should vote for dad. He should be govenor.
N: Dad's busy enough already. You need to be quieter please.

H (whispering): Yes, No, Yes, Yes... Can I fill some of those out for you?
Jonah can't believe 3-year-olds can't vote. And they call this a democracy!
Nice long post coming tomorrow, I promise.

Tuesday Talk: Trick or Treat

If you had been on the Plaza this evening (where we got all of our candy gathering activities wrapped up by 4:45 pm and the kids were both asleep before 8 pm--oh yeah) you might have overheard the following exchange between Super Dog and a Random Store-owner Handing Out Candy.
RSHOC: Are you Super Dog?
SD: Yes! I'm Super Dog!
RSHOC: Do you have any super powers Super Dog?
SD: My leg has the power of bandaging! If anyone is hurt, I can put a bandage on them with my leg. And my eyes are laser eyes. I help people with my laser eyes. And I have the power of disappearing!

Tuesday Talk

John and I checked out the new fish and chips place in Eureka today at lunch. It was a pretty hoppin' place; in the section where we sat, everyone seemed to know each other.
A former mayor--now running for District Supervisor (or, um, something...honestly, I don't know)--and her husband were at the table next to ours. All I can tell you though is that they really liked the clam chowder. Both varieties.

John and I shared the crab cakes and the Fisherman's Platter. The crab cakes were very simple: lots of crab, not much else. They were good, though I would have liked a little bit more crunch (same problem with the tartar sauce; I like mine with lots of pickly goodness). The scallops and the shrimp on the platter were excellent, but the advertised 2 pieces of cod together barely amounted to a single piece. There wasn't enough batter on anything to stand up to vinegar, but the cocktail sauce was tasty (from a jar?). The fries were pretty typical skin-on fries. Service was quick and friendly. We'll take the kids some time.

Tuesday Talk

I was 10 years old when I bought a beat up copy of Harriet The Spy. I immediately recognized in Harriet a kindred spirit (extra credit for identifying another of my childhood favorites here). I had never, ever met someone else who played Town (heck, I thought I had invented Town); if any of my friends kept a notebook handy like Harriet and I did, I sure didn't know about it; Harriet was the first fictional character I came across who was as struck by absurdities of all kinds--and who was having as hard a time as I was figuring things out.
Harriet would sit in public places sometimes and eavesdrop, imagining what the people whose conversations she was listening to looked like. She would not look at them until she got up to leave unless someone said something so fantastic that she just had to look. I do the same thing when I eavesdrop. Recently, were two instances where I just had to look.

Standing in line at Costco, a woman a couple of lines over is having a rather loud cellphone conversation.
Woman: Has she had the baby yet?
Woman: She went to the hospital this morning? Oh! Everyone must be so excited!
Woman: Does she get to keep this one?

At dinner, a young couple is dining with the woman's parents.
Dad: Will you get to keep your email address?
Young Woman: Well, I won't keep my school one--
Young Man: But we still have the Yahoo! one to check while we're in Europe.
Dad: Yeah, I guess you could have just as many email addresses as you want.
Mom: So...Is there such a thing as?...International?...Email?...
(I had to look because none of them were laughing their heads off the way I would have been if that had been my mom.)

Tuesday Talk

Overheard, walking from the Plaza to Northtown Books, this exchange between transients.
Transient #1: So, you're liking it here in Humboldt County?
Transient #2: Oh, yeah, it's so great man.
Transient #1: I know, I just got my first DUI and I've been driving like this for years.

Overheard, woman on cellphone in front of Sacred Grounds.
Woman: So, he's trying to convince you to marry him?
Woman: He's that confident?
Woman: You should tell him he should buy a house.

Tuesday Talk: Henhouse Edition

I must be hard-wired to eavesdrop. I just cannot help it. Anything that is said in a public place is fair game. If you see me sitting in a coffee shop with my laptop on a Tuesday--you'll know me by the fashion statement I'm making*--you might just want to watch what you say because I will put it on my blog.

Today John and I are at The Coffee Break in Sunny Brae. The quality of the eavesdropping here is typically very good. Today, however, there is a group of 8-10 older women in the middle of the room. They are loud, but they are covering too many topics at once. Even I cannot keep up without making it obvious that I am listening to them. One of them has recently lost an older female family member (mother, I think, but it could be an aunt). Another is teaching an online history class for a community college in Southern CA. They are making jokes and laughing; that makes me grin. I should age so gracefully, though perhaps more quietly.

*The promotional copy, touting this machine as "Fashion statement.Productivity Tool." cracks me up. Yes, that's what I'm after in a computer, that it make people think I'm fashionable. "Hey, look at me! I made it out of the house! With a clean shirt on!" is about all I've ever been able to muster.

Earplugs might help

Tuesday finds me once again sitting with my laptop (this is how John and I "spend time together" these days, and it's very nice) at another of our local coffeeshop hotspots. They've got great banana bread here at Has Beans, but the eavesdropping might just kill me.

One of the fellows behind me was asking his friend if it would work to take pictures of things he was looking at on his laptop with his cell phone so that he would have a copy of them. The friend was all for it, even telling him he could then send the pictures from his cell to his email and then he'd have copies on his laptop. Ever heard of right clicking and saving to your laptop? I'm assuming, of course, that the cellphone even has a camera.

In between coming up with cutting edge IT solutions, they've been discussing "moral values". This includes, apparently, dressing up before you leave your house. "Like, in Sacramento, where there are 2.5 million people, everyone dresses up. Have you been there lately? It's not like here." Huh? Another winner: "I've been convinced that the Bible is a great guide to living since my father left me and my mother when I was a little kid." Care to explain that one?

And awful as all of this is, the women to my left are far worse. They are not only misquoting Napoleon Dynamite, they really did not get the movie. Somehow the fellows behind me get pulled into that conversation, and since neither has seen the movie, one very loud woman explains: "It's set in rural Idaho in like the 80s--you'd totally dig the moonboots and the haircuts and the shirts with pictures of unicorns--I watch it all the time." Oh, then how did you miss the part about chatting online with hot chicks? There wasn't too much of that going on in the 80s.

My ears, my ears!

Overheard

j: Knock knock.
N: Who's there?
j: Cows say.
N: Cows say who?
j: No, cows say moo.
j: laughs

H: Mom, what's a vision?
N: Stumbles through various definitions of the word "vision" (sight, having a plan and being able to see how to get that plan done, vague discourse on spirituality) and wonders, again, who made me the OED?
H: So what is laser vision?
N: I don't know.


j: Knock knock.
J: Who's there?
j: Cows say.
J: Cows say who?
j: No, cows say moo.
j: laughs


H, showing me a picture she drew: This is Tarzan. And that's his loincloth.
H: I don't know where gorillas would get a loincloth. Maybe it's the diaper he was wearing when they found him.


j: Knock knock.
N: Who's there?
j: Cows say.
N: Cows say who?
j: No, cows say moo.
j: laughs


H, showing me a picture she drew of a dragon, fire coming out of his mouth, and a frightened knight. The knight has a speech bubble above his head: Do you like my picture?
N: Yeah, it's very nice. What is the knight saying?
H: Can't you read it?
N: Well, yes, it says "Ha Ha", but the knight looks like he's afraid of the dragon.
H, disdainfuly: It says "aaaaahhhhahhhhh". Dad is better at reading than you are.


j: Knock knock.
N: Who's there?
j: Cows say.
N: Cows say who?
j: No, cows say moo.
j: laughs


Jonah was telling that "joke" in his sleep a few nights ago. If I hear it one more time, I think I'm going to cry.