However, now that I’ve become domesticated I have acquired hobbies. Here in the United States people inquire about your profession.  But in other places, the interesting thing about a new acquaintance is their hobbies.  I guess in other countries people have time to have hobbies?

Whatever.  I’m not sure how I can possibly keep the scrapbooks that I began when I realized the inherited 70s collections were rotting.  I don’t know how I’ll ever finish them.  That’s a whole accidental hobby by itself.  And there is the related and completely time-consuming family history and genealogy.

Unrelated I have sewing.  Sewing is practical.  And I might argue that it is necessary.  But that would be silly since we won’t go naked if I don’t sew.  I rarely sew garments.

I also have this blog.

So now I have acquired hobbies, a fair amount of accessories for each, and have very little time.  If the girls didn’t just look elven, but could actually behave like elves and help me, then we could do all of the hobbies.  That is not likely to happen anytime soon.  DD7 has her own scrapbook.  It’s great.  But it looks like a seven year old did it (as it should).  So I probably shouldn’t hand over the scrapbooking scissors and irreplaceable photographs.  DD1 harasses DD7 from under the kitchen table, trying to climb up into her lap and grab things off the table.  So… scrapbooking is out as a family activity.

Ditto genealogy, blogging and sewing.

Boo, hiss.

We do sort of exercise together.  I have rubberbands that I use to work out.  I purchased more of them so that we could all share and nobody would fuss over not getting to hold one.  But DD1 wants whichever one someone else is holding, regardless of whether or not she has one, nearly identical, in her own hands.  DD7 has only a marginally better attitude.  She doesn’t covet the rubber band I’m using.  She instead wants to jump over one like jump-rope, in the house next to lamps, hook one over her sister, or swing one wildly like a whip.  She appears unable or unwilling to remember this from day to day.  Either way, somebody ends up laying on the floor yelling.

Sometimes I think it should be me.

DD7 complains incessantly. Not about ballet, which she loves again, now that the child who was bothering her in class is not attending. She just complains, about homework, which generally takes ten minutes of actual work and twenty minutes of complaining, about her sister, being bored, doing any task, and pretty much anything that she can articulate into a sentence.

Though annoying, the complaining is tolerable, or ignorable, except on Thursday. Then, the three of us are trapped in a van for the round trip, tired and hungry. Even the snack creates drama.

DD1 dislikes it when I (or anyone) is doing something that does not involve her. On Thursday, the exclusionary tasks make up a long list. She throws regular tantrums while I wash dishes, prep everything for dinner, do emergency laundry which inevitably happens, pack snacks and run everything to the car. Sometimes she naps. On Thursday, not so much.  It could be a form of protest.

Then we get into the van and head for the car rider line.

Today DD7 told us about her friend not being polite, then bursting into tears. DD7 clarified that yes, the person being mean was the one who cried. She didn’t understand why either. Immediately, DD1 grabbed the snack bag. Then she threw a cracker at her sister. Then all of the crackers, one after another. Instead of taking the bag back, DD7 complained loudly, in an indignant tone.

I couldn’t stand the drama a moment longer, so I said, “There, now she’s run out of crackers. ”

DD1 then threw everything else she could reach – sip cup, pacifier, a toy, and a brush.

I was unable to find sympathy in my heart for DD7, who declined to sit a row away from DD1, because she didn’t want to be bothered to move her booster seat.  Moving the booster seat involves simply picking it up, and carrying it back one row.  It takes seconds.  So, she was in no way ambushed by DD1, and had actually begun to complain prior to the cracker attack.

Gaah!

DD7 says she would like to also do gymnastics, karate, and pretty much any activity that a friend is doing or she hears about on the radio.  I have informed her that unless she plans to be say, an entirely different person, one not prone to injury or getting sensory overload when more than one afternoon per week is scheduled, she can forget about it.  For years I told her she could do something instead of ballet and she said no.  Now she just has far too good a time, has too many friends in class, and is too good to quit on a whim.  I have seen what it looks like when she genuinely isn’t interested in something – this isn’t it.

Interestingly, See writes about her paternal great grandparents, the grandfather being Chinese, the grandmother American and Caucasian. See herself, several generations later, has only one eighth Chinese ancestry. But she considers herself Chinese.

I think that people identify with the ethnicity of the culture that they’re given. I grew up with a French grandmother, but often think of myself as having French ancestry because that is the grandparent who spent time with me, and told me about her family and traditions.

The research that went into On Gold Mountain must have been incredible. I imagine that it took years of combing through records and interviewing relatives. I especially enjoyed the photographs of the See family that were included.

Also included in the family history was information about adultery, unplanned pregnancy, and alcohol abuse. I wonder how a family historian manages to pull that off – getting permission to publish deeply personal events. I have, now about a year and a half into the family history adventure, had a few conversations about sensitive family events. But releasing them to the world in print is something else entirely. I think the inclusion of these traumatic events is what makes the book authentic, and a tribute to the family. Because real people have problems, and sometimes make poor or hurtful choices.

I had no idea of the significance of the area called China Camp, before reading the book. I once asked my father how it got the name. In his usual, brief way,he said Chinese lived there, life was terrible for them. And that was most of the conversation.

I may read the book again. The characters seem like friends.

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I began stalking the eBay auctions. These American Girl dolls are pricey, even used! It seems the least expensive dolls, in good condition, sell for about $76, without any accessories. Those with accessories, often go for over $100, which is more than a new doll. Hands down, the Jess doll is the most frivolous thing I have ever wanted for my birthday, as an adult.

Oddly enough, women seem very understanding about this. And even DH, who often looks baffled by female behavior, didn’t appear surprised. My very practical sister in law said that she would like to have one too.

I bid on a doll after Christmas, and won her. She arrived early, on my actual birthday. And amazingly USPS delivered her to our house, instead of to a neighbor. She came with her pet monkey, passport, notebook, purse, two bathing suits, and her meet outfit.

We call her Jessie. DD7 and DD1 love her. DD7 is crazy about the bathing suits, which she puts on Kanani and Jessie most of the time. DD1 is most interested in brushing the dolls hair. (And her own, and mine.)

We’re really having a good time with the dolls.

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As it turns out, the book is famous, and controversial. And somehow I missed hearing about it. I just stumbled on it in the e-library.

Our family had Chinese and Korean American friends growing up. I knew that we would only ever see them at functions that included the whole family, once per week or less often. I knew that for them, piano lessons were mandatory. And so were Chinese language lessons. (I don’t remember if my Korean American friends had language school.) I thought Chua’s book might tell me why, what thinking made piano better than sports.

Chua argues that the most important thing that she can do for her children is to help them to succeed, driving them, nagging them, and chastising them if necessary. She goes to great lengths to take her daughters to the best instructors, and ensure that they practice, study and obey. While not offended by her practices like some readers and friends (that she mentions in her epilogue) I’m far less extreme.

As a non Chinese mother, I have no interest in arguing with my children for hours about school, Chinese lessons or anything else. It’s not because I think it’s ok for them to be lazy failures. I just have a more moderate (Western) approach. I think they need to do well in school, and make certain homework gets done. I think children need positive extracurricular activity. I just don’t think that it has to be painful or needs to exclude playdates.

Though I do not subscribe to extreme parenting, I found the theories fascinating. Definitely an interesting read.

We celebrated Christmas early, on the 17th, a Saturday.  Someone brought germs. DD1 was extremely fussy Monday evening.  In the wee hours of Tuesday morning she woke screaming with a fever of 104.  I gave her some medicine, which brought her temperature down.  But didn’t help with the fussiness.  And she was seriously congested.  There was no going back to sleep.

She stayed miserable and developed a red eye.  We were up all night again.  Wednesday, we went to the pediatrician, who confirmed a nasty virus and conjunctivitis (pink eye).  Giving a one year old stinging eye drops three times per day in each eye is a miserable task.  DH helped.

I got sick next. This surprised nobody since I’d been up all night with a sick baby for two nights in a row.  DH tried to help me at night so that I could sleep.  But DD1 wasn’t having it.  During the day, while healthy, she thinks him a rock star.  At 2:00 AM, with a fever, she wanted mommy.  I got a 104 fever too, and now understand why flu can actually kill elderly people.  I haven’t been so miserably sick for years.

DD7 did not get sick, which is fantastic for her health.  Unfortunately, she was bored to tears being stuck in the house with all of us sick people.  DH got sick last.  And he, DD1 and I still have lingering sore throat and congestion.

I need to remember this next year, and actually get the flu shot, instead of thinking that I will, but forgetting.  DD7 got the flu mist.  DD1 got something else, because she is younger.  DH and I did nothing.  Not a smart move.

I just printed a free tee shirt pattern, two actually, to get an idea of the size and arm shape. Then I drew what I wanted on a sheet of paper and used it as the pattern. It came out shorter than I meant for it to be. So we’ve decided that it can be a top or bathing suit cover up.

The fabric was originally a dress of DD1, which fit poorly. So I recycled it into doll clothing. It was a fun project because I was able to finish it before the girls had a meltdown. I didn’t have to put everything away and get it out again later.

DD7 hasn’t done a lot of sewing. She doesn’t want to cut the fabric. I asked her to try, being careful not to cut her hands. And she got worried that she’d make a mistake and ruin the dress.

I explained that it is just fabric. More fabric is available. Just don’t snip yourself. But she didn’t want to cut fabric. Instead she snipped loose threads after I sewed. I showed her how to assemble the pieces and line them up with 1/4 inch seam allowance for doll clothes, 5/8 inch being standard for children’s clothing.

She had good questions. And she was able to tell me what I was doing and why when we got to the same steps on the velvet dress. So the informal lessons are going well.

When I first heard that American Girl Dolls cost $100, I couldn’t believe anyone would buy them. I thought it was the most outrageously expensive toy. And I couldn’t come up with any type of scenario in my head that would justify such a purchase. Really, just how educational could they be?

And then, I heard parents and children extol the virtues of the dolls. Again. And again and again.

Hmmm. Finally, my most practical friend, said she had purchased one doll for each of her daughters. This friend proudly refers to herself as cheap. I stared in disbelief. She said the girls read all of the books.

As a parent, I am not above material goods as a form of motivation, within reason. Most particularly motivation to read.

And so I began researching the dolls. The quality, price, social aspects. We live in an ordinary middle class suburb. Every little girl seems to have one of these expensive dolls. And, turns out,  I like the dolls. Oh, the horror.

DD7 gets one for her birthday. Kanani, a little girl from Hawaii. We have tea at American Girl Place. DD7 gets the dog. And all she wants for Christmas is stuff for her doll.

I’m teaching her to sew the doll clothes. She had no interest in constructing  clothing for human beings. She’d leave that to me. But for Kanani, that is different, interesting, fun.

And she’s reading the books. All of them. We own two. The library has 74. She’s read about one per week since November.

Yeah, anything that gives me a positive activity with my daughters, and promotes reading is a good investment to me.

And they’re cute. Even I couldn’t resist.

I’ve been reading on the Kindle for Android for months. I chose it because I wasn’t able to make the adjustments that I wanted with the Google reader. And DH had good things to say about the Kindle software. So it was an easy decision.

This week I became frustrated with the (meager) selection of magazines available for reading on the Kindle. So I decided to try the Nook for Android. I had previously browsed  a magazine in the Barnes and Noble, hoping to purchase an ereader at a later date. And it was really slick. Unfortunately, the price was and still is pretty high as well.

The Nook for Android is nice. Terrific even. I understand completely why my SIL raves about her Nook. The interface is clean, and intuitive. It took minutes for me to find the software, install it, and download a book. And it looks like a book.

Ironically, one of the books I tried to read on Google reader has been scanned for Nook. Pamphlets on Agriculture in Guam, by William Edwin Safford, which sounds like dry reading, but isn’t. The OCR, or whatever technology is used, created a lot of misspellings. But, being able to adjust the font makes it legible.
The super irritating thing about the Nook for Android  is that it refers to the Merriam – Webster Dictionary, that tries to force you into a paid subscription, and thereafter spams you with lots of JavaScript and popup boxes. It is a huge interruption to train of thought. It discourages me from using the dictionary. And it is just plain greedy when you’ve already charged the reader a high premium for a propriety device, and the book.

My book buying experience with Nook for Android wasn’t great either. At the end of the sample, there isn’t a link to buy the book. And there isn’t one on the sample menu. You have to return to the main menu, then you can buy the book. Choosing the buy book option got me an error. To buy the book, I had to find it again in the virtual store. Then buy it.

I did not feel encouraged. And am now disinterested in buying the Nook Color that I’ve coveted for several months.  Nook looks awesome. Kindle actually works.

And now I can read library books on the Kindle. One might think having access to free books (not really free, since we pay taxes) would prevent me from buying books. But instead it gets me into a mood of wanting a greater selection. And then I buy books in addition to checking them out from the library, more of them now that I don’t have to find storage space or lug them around.

So my personal assessment, at this moment, is that Nook beats Kindle in attractiveness; Kindle beats Nook in useability. And both Kindle and Nook have better features than Overdrive.

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I would guess that I’ve been indexing since last December. I find it very interesting to look at old records. I can see how the forms are organized. And by reading an entire group of records, see possible trends in the information. For example, a lot of marriages that include the surname Bailey, who may be related.

I also like that someone else is going to proof my work. But strangely enough, the past two index images that I downloaded asked me to do the proofreading! I make constant use of the handwriting helps screen, and blow images up to enormous proportions sometimes to read them. I did not feel qualified.

I got stuck on a humorous error : mole destroyer. That is what was transcribed. I can see why the person was confused. The words were in French, IMHO. I think louer (to rent) , or noyer (walnut). It was a very old UK form. And the professions of other people on the page related to fishing. And the master list of professions had nothing that looked like it could be handwritten as the words in the field. Ah well, I did my best.

I even waved DH over to help. He was a good sport. But he couldn’t read it well either.

This error plagued me. I imagined this person to be the very old, beloved Uncle Dave of someone else. My Uncle Dave, I eventually found, his name incorrectly transcribed as Atiegna rather than Atienza. So I felt duty bound to transcribe correctly.

Usually, there’s no pressure.

I received a congratulatory and thank you email for transcribing 100 batches. Congratulations, you’re qualified to do more difficult things! Ha.

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