A photo essay

Kids with longer ring fingers compared to index fingers are likely to have higher math scores than literacy or verbal scores on the college entrance exam, while children with the reverse finger-length ratio are likely to have higher reading and writing, or verbal, scores versus math scores.

Exposure to testosterone in the womb is said to promote development of areas of the brain often associated with spatial and mathematical skills, he said. That hormone makes the ring finger longer. Estrogen exposure does the same for areas of the brain associated with verbal ability and tends to lengthen the index finger relative to the ring finger.

Full Story
On my left hand the ring finger is slightly longer than the pointer finger. BUT on my right the pointer finger is a teeny tiny bit longer.
What does that mean??
(Maybe I'm a mutant!)

I’m crabby today.
Part of it is probably due to a lack of sleep, but I’m also frustrated with some work issues.
New boss does not manage his time/calendar in the way that I want him to.
We are behind, and yet he randomly decides to take a day off.
And I can’t go forward on a lot of things until he signs off on them.
(But she can’t sign off on them because she’s not here).

He’s done this twice in two weeks.
I’m not saying that he shouldn’t be allowed to take a day off.
(In fact, I'm a little jealous! He's taken three days off since January; I've taken none).
But – he’s the one who is paid to worry about deadlines-n-things.

Ryan's Recital was yesterday. T'was a long drive, but completely worth it! The opening notes of the Bach almost brought me to tears. She played the first few lines with a professional sort of confidence. There were some extra juicy slides and a few intonation issues – but she was aware of them and I know that a second performance would have cleaned it up. (In retrospect, it was silly of me not to ask her for a private recital afterwards – why didn’t I do that?????) It’s too bad we were in a room with dead acoustics. I’d love to hear it again in a concert hall (or better yet a cathedral!) where the sounds can bounce off of each other.

You should have seen the way she moved during the Mozart! And the way she cued her accompanist (complete with sniffs!) She was in control but the music flowed through her whole body. The last movement of the Franc was incredible – she was rocking.(And I need to get a recording of that piece!!!)

It was weird to have strangers recognize me as “The First Violin Teacher.”
(And, as The First Violin Teacher I have to confess, the bows were a little disappointing). They were more of an embarrassed, half hearted Please-Stop-Clapping-Sort-of-Bow rather than a gracious Thank-You-for-Your-Applause-Sort-of-Bow. Bowing is one of the first dozen things I taught my public school students and I was going to tease her about it – but the I realized that her dress, was probably not very conducive to deep gracious bowing.

Ryan’s mom makes the best peanut butter cookies (and I was very excited to see lottsa peanut butter cookies at the post-recital-party!) They were even better than I remember, and I was sent home with a plateful of leftover cookies. (FYI – Peanut Butter Cookies and Earl Gray tea make for a great driving snack!)

* * * *
This summer, Ryan is teaching in the Summer Strings program,
which means she officially becomes my colleague.
How cool is that?!

Joyce and Bill were cool
They were among my non-related “grown-up” friends.
Also, they were foster parents.

It was an exciting thing when one of their foster babies got adopted.
And it was exciting when they got a new baby.
Sometimes I babysat for them
(and Joyce always left out the BEST snacks!)

Bill and Joyce had a granddaughter who lived out east somewhere
I never knew her, or even knew about her -
until she decided to go to the same college I decided to go to.

Suddenly I heard all about from Bill & Joyce was their granddaughter.
And how “wonderful” it would be if we because roommates.
And how I should look her up.
And become friends with her.

I arrived at college,
And did look her up.
And it was obvious that Joyce had told her all about me.
We never became friends.
We saw each other a few times
And had some common acquaintances
But she was . . .. just not friend-material.

I know Joyce was excited about the two of us going to the same college.
But it was probably a little silly of her to hope that we’d become friends.
The only thing we really had in common with each other was Joyce and Bill.
And (as cool as they were) Joyce and Bill are hardly the foundations of a friendship.

Years and years and years later, I can understand Joyce’s excitement.
I just found out that a teenager from one area of my life is going to the same college as a teenager from another area of my life.
And I’m having a hard time not telling them about each other.

If they did meet of become friends,
It’s highly unlikely that their conversations would lead back to me.
(Believe it or not, their lives do not revolve around me!)
But I understand a little bit about how Joyce felt.

I’ve been offered a Girl Scout “promotion”
Instead of simply being a Troop Leader, I’m also going to be a Trainer.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about the title “Trainer”
It makes me think of a dolphin trainer
(Except GS Trainers don’t get a wet suit).


I’ll be helping adults learn how to be Girl Scout leaders.
And teaching outdoor skills (like firebuilding and knife safety).
This is kinda funny because I’m not very good at making fires.
And I’m not a big fan of that nylon/soap contraption.
Or sit-a-pons.
And I much prefer plain ‘ole graham crackers to s’mores.

But other than that, I love GS overnights.
And I think more adults should be GS leaders.
So I’m excited that I’ll get to be a part of getting more leaders/overnights.

Being a Girl Scout Trainer will give me experience teaching adults – which is a hole on my resume.
It’ll also even out my presenting experience.
AND I’ll get a special pin.
Plus an official GS Leader Trainer Shirt!
(Who doesn’t love having an official shirt?!)

My school is a donut, with the courtyard in the middle. I have a back door that goes out into the courtyard, which is great this time of year when I can let the kids go out and have their silent reading time.

Two of my boys were staring at the tree in the middle of the courtyard with the most horrified looks on their faces, having a pretty animated conversation. They come running up to me and T asks, "Mr. Rain, is there a dead kid buried under that tree?!?!"

Read the answer at this first grade teacher's blog!

The Emergents and the Evengelicals are having another blog-fight.
It looks a lot like every other blog fight they've ever had - with same people expressing the same opinions/insults from their last blog-fight (which was about the same issue).

Yawn.

Except this time someone made a video.
And while I don't want to join, contribute, engage, or otherwise acknowledge this so-called "conversation", the video is beautiful.



I grew up in a very conservative church - the kind of place where women did not even serve as ushers/greeters much less decons, elders, or pastors.
But that didn't bother me as much as the fact that I was never allowed to sit at the end of the pew. (Only men sat at the end of the pew, and I was well into my 20's before figuring out that this was supposed to be a polite/chiverlous thing)

In high school I went on a brief campaign to nominate a woman for consistory, but when I asked her permission, she quickly told me it was NOT a job she wanted. (Who can blame her? We all know that being on consistory is a suck-y job!)

I might have been in an ultra-conservative church, but (with the exception of not being able to sit at the end of a pew) I never felt put down because I was a girl. I'm fortunate to have had lots of strong female church role models (Diane, Mrs. Mooi, Sue, Mrs. Aggen, My Grandmothers, My Mom, Chris, Donna, Aunt Lynnie).

A man can only do what he can do.
But if he does that each day
he can sleep at night and do it again the next day.

- Albert Schweitzer