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Jun. 7th, 2004 12:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missroseroseThings are going fairly normally, I suppose. On Saturday the library was inundated with younger children, thanks to the start of the Summer Reading Program - there was a scavenger-hunt type thing going on. I'm proud to say that although I was surrounded with kids for five hours or so, I didn't panic; of course, this could've had something to do with the fact that I wasn't required to interact with them much.
Saturday night![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
taktukbrightsea and I watched Minority Report. I proceeded to have a couple of interesting debates with eventhewaves over the next two nights about just how much of the story is actually happening as we see it, the applicability of Occam's Razor to Phillip K. Dick stories in general, and the use of happy/sad endings where they don't fit. In among all the usual trite BS we talk about, anyway.
I spent some time yesterday with Clara, the six-year-old that Mella's planning on adopting. She's a nice enough kid, if a bit unused to living in a structured environment - the Inupiaq version of child-raising is rather permissive by our standards. She's also rather needy, attention-wise; being shuffled from foster family to foster family for six years will do that, I suppose. I didn't have any huge problems with her; she did some of the usual boundary-testing things (blinking the light on and off while I was brushing my teeth, for instance), and seemed surprised that I didn't react.
An interesting thing I noticed, while I was helping her read a book - while she can sound out a word well enough, she has a hard time putting the sounds together. I'm not sure if this is common with FAA kids (like most of the Native children in this town, she has signs of being fetal alcohol affected) or whether my standards are just a bit high - after all, my mother likes to brag about how I could read her the Wall Street Journal when I was Clara's age. She doesn't seem to like reading much as a result (not that I can blame her), which is a bit unfortunate given that she doesn't live in a culture that encourages reading for recreation (not that they discourage it, but as a subsistence hunting culture they didn't have much time for it). I guess this also explains to an extent why so few of the kids who come to the library have any interest in reading; they just want to use the computers to have incredibly OTD'd discussions about who-knows-what.
I also did some sewing for my mother yesterday. It's been a while since I did much of it - I had a project going awhile back that cost over $100 to get supplies for, but the pattern was a bit complicated and I ended up losing interest. Unfortunate, really. In any case, now that I'm a bit older and wiser (ha!), I'm remembering how much I liked sewing and thinking I might see about getting myself another project started. The thing is, most of the patterns I like are from the Simplicity "Begotten" collection, which is out of print and a bit hard to find these days. If anyone knows a site that specializes in out of print patterns, please let me know.
And to close off this semi-disjointed ramble of an entry, I present you with a conversation I had with my mother yesterday:
MOM: Rose, please don't drive 80 miles an hour.
ME: {expecting the usual stuff about endangering yourself and others on a clear road on a clear dry day} Why not?
MOM: Have you seen what happens to a bug when you hit it at 80 miles an hour? It's cruel and unusual!
ME: ...
Saturday night
taktukbrightsea and I watched Minority Report. I proceeded to have a couple of interesting debates with eventhewaves over the next two nights about just how much of the story is actually happening as we see it, the applicability of Occam's Razor to Phillip K. Dick stories in general, and the use of happy/sad endings where they don't fit. In among all the usual trite BS we talk about, anyway.I spent some time yesterday with Clara, the six-year-old that Mella's planning on adopting. She's a nice enough kid, if a bit unused to living in a structured environment - the Inupiaq version of child-raising is rather permissive by our standards. She's also rather needy, attention-wise; being shuffled from foster family to foster family for six years will do that, I suppose. I didn't have any huge problems with her; she did some of the usual boundary-testing things (blinking the light on and off while I was brushing my teeth, for instance), and seemed surprised that I didn't react.
An interesting thing I noticed, while I was helping her read a book - while she can sound out a word well enough, she has a hard time putting the sounds together. I'm not sure if this is common with FAA kids (like most of the Native children in this town, she has signs of being fetal alcohol affected) or whether my standards are just a bit high - after all, my mother likes to brag about how I could read her the Wall Street Journal when I was Clara's age. She doesn't seem to like reading much as a result (not that I can blame her), which is a bit unfortunate given that she doesn't live in a culture that encourages reading for recreation (not that they discourage it, but as a subsistence hunting culture they didn't have much time for it). I guess this also explains to an extent why so few of the kids who come to the library have any interest in reading; they just want to use the computers to have incredibly OTD'd discussions about who-knows-what.
I also did some sewing for my mother yesterday. It's been a while since I did much of it - I had a project going awhile back that cost over $100 to get supplies for, but the pattern was a bit complicated and I ended up losing interest. Unfortunate, really. In any case, now that I'm a bit older and wiser (ha!), I'm remembering how much I liked sewing and thinking I might see about getting myself another project started. The thing is, most of the patterns I like are from the Simplicity "Begotten" collection, which is out of print and a bit hard to find these days. If anyone knows a site that specializes in out of print patterns, please let me know.
And to close off this semi-disjointed ramble of an entry, I present you with a conversation I had with my mother yesterday:
MOM: Rose, please don't drive 80 miles an hour.
ME: {expecting the usual stuff about endangering yourself and others on a clear road on a clear dry day} Why not?
MOM: Have you seen what happens to a bug when you hit it at 80 miles an hour? It's cruel and unusual!
ME: ...
