WTF

Today the Bunster brought home #68 in the series of tiny little pamphlets that his school uses in place of the old Dick-and-Jane books I remember from my childhood. You know the stuff: "See Spot. See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. See Jane. See Jane run." and so on. Well, compared to these modern little gems, the D & J's were major works of literature.

Here's the latest, in its entirety:

Music
Don likes music.
Don's mom also likes music.
Mom says humans can make nice music.
Mom drops Don off for music class.
Don plays the bugle.
Don makes music with his bugle.
Don is a pupil in music class.
Don likes music class.
Mr. Cupid is starting a new music unit.
It is a unit of new music.
Don is a human who makes music.
He makes music with his bugle.

Yes, it's plotless and written by a robot with a tin ear. Why don't they just have the kids read a random list of words with the "u" sound? It would at least be less of an affront to the sensibilities of anyone who values literature and the English language.

The previous sixty-seven booklets were varying degrees of awful. Meaning that none were actually good, but about a half-dozen of them were passable and at least another dozen were as bad as this or worse.

I know I can do better. Indeed, it would be quite difficult to do worse. So here's my first attempt:

See this pamphlet? It is a unit of words. It is a unit of words with the sound "u." You are a human. You can read the words. You are a human who reads words with your eyes. Mom says humans who read words like this will grow up with no appreciation of the beauty of the English language. Mom despairs for the young humans being taught with this crap.

The Bad Sarah

Bonnie Fuller has a piece in the Huffington Post about Sarah Palin that I wish I'd written. That woman is scary (Palin, not Fuller....well, actually, Fuller is a little scary, too, but for reasons related to women's fashion magazines, not international politics).

I think my least-favorite story about Palin is how, while she was mayor, Wasilla billed rape victims and their health insurance companies for the cost of the rape kit used to gather evidence. And no, they didn't change burglary victims and their homeowner's insurance companies for fingerprint kits used to investigate those crimes.

My theory about her nomination is that McCain believes that he can attract the independent and undecided votes himself (remember...he's a maverick!...not in Bush W.'s pocket at all! No sir!!), but needs someone to turn out the socially ultra-conservative voters in large numbers. By picking inexperienced Palin, he gets that running mate with far-right credentials, but without a lot of political capital she could use to challenge him. So he can run a more middle-of-the-road Republican administration without a powerful Cheney-type VP meddling in his policies.

No idea whether he's correct, but boy do I hope he's miscalculated. Having Palin one fluttering heartbeat away from the presidency is more terrifying than another four years of Bush Jr. Although you could argue that by voting for McCain, we can get both!

 

RIP, not so CoolPix

Last post, I promised something more fun. And then every post topic I thought of after that was some kind of frustrated rant about something or other. My dishwasher, Sarah Palin, political and moral hypocrisy, childhood temper tantrums, same-sex marriage bans...all the really fun stuff in life.

So then I decided to just snap a photo of something cute the Bunster brought home from school. That's heartwarming, right? Good plan, until our little camera died. "No photos for you!" it said, "I'm going to jam my lens cover shut and refuse to open!" Sure, J. opened up the camera and unstuck the cover, no problem. But then the camera decided that if it wasn't the one to open the cover, it didn't count. So no more camera.

Here's a diagram of my camera now:

Same old same old

So how many times today have you heard some variation of "Holy crap, what if we'd/they'd nominated him? McCain would have the election on a platter!"?

For some reason, I find that I am shocked by this whole thing, despite myself. I thought I was cynical enough that this would be just another idiot politician acting like a complete moron...business as usual. But no, I'm actually feeling a certain degree of betrayal. Not on the level of Elizabeth Edwards, obviously. But I had supported this guy and thought he'd make a good president. Yeah, not so much anymore.

I even feel a little betrayed by Elizabeth, actually, if she really knew about this back in 2006 and that's not just spin. Did she really hit the campaign trail with him, knowing about this huge skeleton in his closet? It pains me to criticize her, obviously. But what was she thinking?!

So John and Elizabeth Edwards campaigned knowing what happened to Gary Hart, to Bill Clinton, to so many idiots before him. He would presumably have accepted the nomination if he'd won it, all with this mess lurking just below the surface to blow the Democrats out of the water completely. How arrogant and stupid must the Edwards have been to think that this wouldn't come to light?

So now what? For Edwards, he becomes an minor footnote in history, one of a growing list. For the rest of us? I guess we all have just that much more reason for cynicism.

My, I'm cheery today, aren't I? Next time, something more fun.
 

Entitlement

According to the BBC, some parent in Sweden has decided to prove that Americans don't have a monopoly on raising children with an outrageous sense of entitlement. He's complaining to Parliament that his eight-year-old should have the right to publicly snub other children when handing out birthday invitations at school.

I don't think he should stop there. Here are a few other rights that children in Sweden and their helicopter parents should immediately campaign for, perhaps before the UN Commission on Human Rights:

The right to go first on the swings, every time.
The right to eat paste.
The right to stay up as late as they want.
The right to replace vegetables with chocolate at any meal.
The right to an "A" grade regardless of test scores or homework completion.
The right to slap that one girl who's always so mean.

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, the right to remain frozen in childhood, supported by their parents, until that point in adulthood when their parents finally die, at which point the child's own children can proceed to do the same.
 

Somewhat mollified

So I was at least somewhat wrong in my last post...I did get a form letter, as I expected. But it wasn't just pablum about how "the subject of children's safety is extremely important to us." Nope, this form letter apologized for the last one and explained that the information on paying postage was in error.

Hmmm. Apparently, some Mattel staff got the memo about how to handle the recalls, and some didn't.

I do wonder if this second letter went out to everyone who got the first one, or only to those who wrote angry notes back...

Anyway, here's the full form reply I got from Mattel in reply to my e-mailed rant:

Dear Consumer:

Recently you should have received one or more emails and mailing labels from Mattel, for the purpose of returning products affected by the recently announced recall of Barbie® Accessory Sets, GeoTrax™ Engines or It’s a Big Big World™ 6-in-1 Bongo Band Sets.

The email incorrectly stated that you would have to pay for the postage on the included mailing label. We apologize for the erroneous details on the email, but the mailing label you received IS a prepaid mailing label and will not cost you anything to mail.

We apologize for any confusion created by the previous email(s). Please use the mailing label(s) you received to return only the affected part(s) of your product(s). Your return(s) will be carefully assessed and replacement(s) along with bonus piece(s) will be sent to you within 10 - 12 weeks.

To ensure your package is received by us quickly, please take your package to your local post office to receive a round date stamp on your merchandise return mailing acknowledgement or online e-label record (included on bottom half of mailing label). This confirmation stamp is provided by the postal service at no cost to you. [Bold is theirs, not mine. -SK] Packages dropped at a mailbox or collection box are not scanned prior to delivery and may delay the return of your package.

In closing, we would like to apologize to everyone affected by this recall, especially those consumers who bought the affected toys. We realize that parents trust us with what is most precious to them - their children. And we also recognize that trust is earned. Our goal is to correct this problem, improve our systems and maintain the trust of the families that have allowed us to be part of their lives by acting responsibly and quickly to address their concerns.

If you have any further questions or concerns, please call us at 1-800-916-4957, Monday through Friday between the hours of 9 AM and 7 PM Eastern time, and Saturday between the hours of 11 AM and 5 PM Eastern time.

Thank you for contacting Mattel.

So my Cranky Total Mattel Ban is a bit relaxed. On the other hand, I still don't feel great about buying their stuff. Maybe I should, since they're the ones being tested constantly right now. Although I'll bet Hasbro is just as afraid of messing up. I'm sure they can already see the headlines that would make.

I think I'll buy Legos. Although Lord only knows which chemicals they're made of.

I'm back...and singing the lead toy blues

Sorry about the long hiatus. Blogging doesn't combine well with summer vacation, at least not without camp. The Bunster and I had a good time, but I didn't get a chance to get online very much. Anyway, now I'm back and already ranting. Maybe something on comics next week...

We finally got caught up in the Mattel recalls, after having to run several toys through their online check. The first few turned out okay, but the Bunster's little red Geo Trax engine turns out to be decorated with large quantities of lead. So I sent in the recall info, waited a couple of weeks (so much for 3 to 5 business days...but I guess they're kinda busy at the moment), and today I got an e-mail from them. Turns out the "preprinted mailing label" I've been waiting weeks for isn't postage paid, it's just got tracking numbers for their convenience.

So now I get to pay again for the lead-laced toy, this time to replace it with something safe.

So I just wrote the following extremely snippy e-mail to Mattel:

Excuse me, are you telling me that I have to PAY POSTAGE for the privilege of safely disposing of and replacing the toy that you tried to poison my child with?

You've now put me in a position where I either tell my son that the toy you promised to replace won't be returning after all, or paying even more money to get the toy again. It really doesn't matter to me that the money is going to the post office and not into your coffers...the fact is I have to pay AGAIN to get this toy.

It's bad enough that your quality control is so poor that you have to be caught before you start protecting children from poisons that have been banned for years, but making parents pay to have YOUR NEGLIGENCE corrected? That's adding insult to injury.

I have three birthday parties to shop for this week alone, one of which is my son's. I can assure you that NONE of the presents I purchase will be a Mattel product.

And I'll also be telling any parents who ask what my son wants for his birthday "Legos, cars, trucks, trains, and please, nothing from Mattel."

Sincerely and not at all happily,
Sara Kocher

It's actually four parties now, but it's not likely they're going to actually read it anyway. I get to vent, get a minimum wage customer service clerk to send me another form letter, and then either pay the postage or toss the toy and live with the guilt of dumping lead into the environment.

You know, the post office could really make a fortune on these recalls if they just got a few more Chinese factories to play fast and loose with the lead paint...
 

Moments such as these

On my way out of the Bunster's preschool, there was a big sign "Graduation and Make-up Photos are Here!" I vaguely remembered there being a picture day a few weeks back, so I stopped to check if we had a packet to pick up. Sure enough, there was a thick envelope with a horrendous photo of the Bunster peeking out.

At the Bunster's old school, school pictures were done just as I remember them from my elementary school years. There was one picture day per year. A few weeks later, you got a proof sheet and an order form that featured a variety of options, none of which were exactly the combination of photo sizes and numbers that you wanted. You bought the assortment you compromised on and it arrived not long afterward, along with a copy of the class photo. If your eyes were closed, you got one chance to retake the photo. And that was it.

Not at the Bunster's current school, though.

We've now completed the fourth "picture day" of this school year and I'm not sure we're done yet. We had the Fall photos, the Spring photos, the Graduation photos, and also a Natural Poses photo day, which we skipped (I think Natural Poses means positioning the child awkwardly with his hand curled under his chin in front of a cutesy backdrop, then photoshopping the image to make it look as much as possible like those fake vintage greeting cards. At least, as far as I could tell from the samples.).

With all this practice, we've gotten to know the drill. Each photo shoot involves several poses, some with accessories like wicker chairs or baskets of fake apples. A few weeks later, we receive a large packet with multiple photos of each pose. We select the ones we want to keep and return the rest along with payment for the prints we kept. The Spring photos also include the option to buy a class photo. And of course, each time we are also solicited to buy additional prints and miscellaneous photo-related keepsakes from their handy web site.

The Graduation photos, however, turn out to be a little different. There is only one pose, which they printed in various sizes. It shows the Bunster grimacing in a white gown and mortarboard, while clutching a white diploma tied with a gold bow. If you swapped out the mortarboard for a halo and the diploma for a cardboard harp, he'd look like a little boy who really doesn't want to play the angel in the Christmas pageant but is putting up with it, having failed in his struggles to break free. The photo is certainly a keeper, but not in quite the way they intended.

In addition to this, they included a handy ready-to-fill-out "Graduation Certificate" and photo holder, with gilt lettering (presented to ______ for successful completion of study and active attendance), and a pre-scrapbooked photo, with little mortarboard-and-diploma graphics and the slogan "Moments such as these only happen once."

Mmm-hmmm.

"Moments such as these" aren't going to only happen once. The photos seem to happen at a pretty steady pace. And as for the graduation, if this early start is any indication, moments like this will happen five more times. Maybe more, if he heads for grad school.

Why is there is such a thing as pre-school graduation at all? Sure, leaving preschool and heading off for Kindergarten is a milestone. But it's one that should be celebrated with cupcakes and juice. Perhaps a Spring Concert for parents to admire their kids as they sing and do a little play. Maybe even a bounce-house if you're going all out.

Instead, the Bunster's graduation involves the following:

• Six weeks of almost-daily rehearsal.
• Photo in cap-and-gown, with diploma and little blue "Class of 2007" tassel.
• A $25 "graduation fee" to the school.
• A requirement that we send the kids to school on graduation day in black pants (which is, of course, about the only color the Bunster does not already own).
• A special graduation tee shirt (nice, except that he has about 47 tee shirts already).
• The presentation of a fake diploma, so that the real one can be handed directly to the parents afterward, to preserve it in pristine condition.
• And worst of all, missing his brother's high school graduation, because the ceremonies are, by awful coincidence, on the same day, one hour and 56 miles apart.

I thought, briefly, about skipping the fake graduation in favor of the real one. And then I remembered the six weeks of preparation, the new songs, the constant hype the kids have all received. I thought about how I'd have felt, missing a party all my school friends were going to. And so the Bunster and I will be there, fakely graduating, while big brother G, J, and the grandparents will be doing the real thing.

At least we're sure to have plenty of photos.
 

Snarky

Marc Siry called on bloggers to post our opinions on what he calls "name mockery." You know, changing the name of something, especially a brand, in order to mock it. Like Star-yucks, WinDoze, MicroSloth, etc.

And he's right, it is asinine. And childish. I vividly recall the "chicken a la barf" served at my elementary school's hot lunch. I've never even tried chicken a la king because I always flashback to that name and I just can't bring myself to order it.

Adults who use name mockery in lieu of actual criticism are just showing their level of immaturity. Same for acronym mockery, like Fix It Again, Tony for Fiat.

And yet, nearly all of us do this. Come on, haven't you ever used one of these? Maybe ironically, maybe rarely. But never?

Keep reading...

It's all part of snarking instead of offering cogent criticism. Or maybe the snark is intended to be the criticism, funny and a little mean-spirited, but certainly getting the point across. If I worked in the affected industries, I'd be checking sites like Television Without Pity and Go Fug Yourself to see what people were saying about my work. Since I don't, I read 'em for entertainment. If either site dropped the snark in favor of relevant critiques complete with ideas for improvement, I doubt they'd have a tenth of the readership.

The other reason for name mockery in place of real commentary is that the victim brand can't defend itself, as it could against real criticism. Starbucks could reply to a comment about the burnt flavor of their beans with information on how they're processed and what "true" coffee connoisseurs "should" be looking for. But what are they going to say to "Star-yucks?"

-- We are not yucky!
-- Are too!
-- Are not!
-- Are too!
-- Mom! He's calling us yucky!

Guess this just means we're all immature. Nyah nyah na nyah nyah...
 

Preschool blues

A few days ago, a friend gave me a collection of articles about preschool and kindergarten. One of them was How Much is Too Much? The Influence of Preschool Centers on Children's Development Nationwide, which discussed the effects of preschool on later behavior in kindergarten. The authors analyzed data from the National Center for Educational Statistics and came to the conclusion that preschool has positive benefits for developing cognitive skills, but detrimental effects on learning appropriate social behavior.

After controlling for a number of factors, including family income, ethnicity, and "32 different features of the child's home and family," they found that attending preschool will typically increase a child's pre-reading and math skills, but at the cost of hindering social development in several areas, including levels of aggression, bullying, acting up, sharing, cooperation, and self-control.

Keep reading...

And then today I read this article from the NY Times, in which different researchers not only came to pretty much the same conclusion, but also say that the effects last at least into middle school.

But in each case, since I haven't read the actual studies, I have to wonder, is this negative social behavior that they describing actually undesirable for the child's future development, or just behavior that's inconvenient for the rigid style of instruction used in some elementary schools?

A docile child who does what he's told at all times is certainly easy to handle in a classroom. But does such a child turn into an adult with critical thinking skills?

A child who can sit quietly through a dull lecture and reliably regurgitate the answers to the weekly quiz will probably get good grades and do decently on multiple-choice standardized tests. But will that child actually be educated? Will she know how to learn new information on her own?

I am not arguing for letting bullies run free in the classroom, nor for children to run wild and not have age-appropriate discipline at home and at school. But I do wonder...do we need to tolerate a certain level of disruption and minor misbehavior in order let children be children? And to produce adults who can think for themselves?

One of the other articles my friend gave me seems to say yes. It describes Japanese preschool/kindergartens as places where teachers try to nurture a "childlike child" and allow high levels of noise and activity. The teachers in the article expect the children to be kind to one another and cooperative, but also highly energetic. When discipline problems arise in the classroom, the teachers encourage the children to work out solutions with the teacher gently guiding them.

I wish the abstract and news article said more about what kinds of negative behavior the teachers were reporting. I guess I have some more reading to do.
 

Service call

So I'm sitting here waiting for a repair guy for the Blue Star range. It's only been seven weeks since the grill exploded...they sure aren't in any hurry here. Ahem.

I'm feeling a little cranky in part because of one of those frustrating facts of life. Any time a repair or service person gives you a window of time ("I'll be there between 3 and 5 pm"), they're going to arrive at the very, very, very end of it.

Unless, of course, you're not there on time and then the repair guy'll arrive at the very first second of the time window and be gone by the time you come panting up to the house three minutes late.

Keep reading...

Since I wasn't late today, that means that I've just spent the afternoon sitting at home waiting for the Blue Star service guy, who's still not here. He's got twenty-four more minutes before the window expires. And then another 15 because I'm sometimes late, too (yeah, I know, Steve, I know. Pot, kettle, etc...I got it.). And then I'll be ticked off. And still grill-less.

UPDATE 5:57 PM
Well, he didn't show up at all. I left him a voice-mail back at 5 pm and hopefully he'll have a good reason for standing me up. Maybe he had a flat tire on a wilderness road and a mountain lion ate his cell phone before he could call me to say he's running late. Something reasonable like that.

So much for grilling something when J's cousins come by tomorrow. Oh well.

UPDATE 6:20 PM
The service guy finally called...he's feeling sick and couldn't make it. No mention of how his cell phone is feeling. I sympathize, but only up to a point. He coulda called. Guess we'll reschedule when he's better. Unless Signature Marketing, the Blue Star distributor we're working with, can come up with a service guy who'll actually, you know, show up and do the service.

UPDATE ONE WEEK LATER
The repair guy showed up when he promised and fixed the stove. Nice guy, too. More on this in the comments, if you're interested.
 

It's not your father's Marvel Comics anymore...

What?!! The??!

Marcus blogged recently about what Marvel's been doing to their stable of heroes, but I had no idea how bad it's gotten. Now I do.

Either they're doing a retread on the old Superman death (yeah, he's alive again, what a surprise, sure didn't see that coming a mile away, yawn) or they're actually gutting the character of Captain America and putting someone else in the tights.

Either way, what the hell are they thinking?

I know what I'm thinking. To quote Marcus, "last resort of the hack."

Good bye, Steve Rodgers. We thought we knew you.
 

Bloodthirsty?

I'm the webmaster for a small synagogue and today I was posting some Purim songs onto their site. One song in particular really bothered me. In it, the Jewish people are exulting over Haman's failure to annihilate them, but they're also exulting over Haman's hanging and taunting him on the scaffold. It has lines like "Get up in the tree" and "I hear you almost see your house from there." My first reaction was horror.

It's one thing to rejoice that you are saved, but another to rejoice over anyone's death, even your deadliest enemy's. Civilized people don't behave that way.

But then I thought about my reaction to the US soldiers who raped and murdered a 14-year-old Iraqi girl and murdered her whole family. Would I rejoice at seeing those men tortured for what they did to Abeer Qassim al-Janabi? Part of me, being brutally honest, says, "Yes. Yes, I would."

Keep reading...

I feel sick when I think of what they did. And so angry. And ashamed that they are my countrymen and that they believed (at least at that time) that they were acting in my name and yours. I wish not mere death on them, but the level of pain and anguish that they inflicted.

And then another part of me reminds myself that any death, even of someone as vile as they, or as vile as the 9/11 hijackers for that matter, is still a cause for sorrow, not rejoicing. Reveling in someone's death is taking the first steps into the kind of thinking that creates monsters like them. At a bare minimum, one can be sorrowful that the evil person traveled the road they did, and wish that they'd led a better, more worthwhile life.

I don't know where that leaves me. Would I jeer at the impending deaths of former Pfc. Steven D. Green, former Sgt. Paul Cortez, Spc. James Barker, and Pfc. Jesse Spielman? I hope not. But I can see where it would be sorely tempting.
 

Fa La La la...

Note: I wrote this post on December 12, but didn't have internet access to put it onto the blog (thanks to a goof by my service provider...they forgot to update the build on a server). By the time I got DSL up and running again, I'd forgotten about this and didn't post it. So here's my last curmudgeonly post of 2006, backdated to avoid confusion (mine).

Today I received the following in a mass e-mail from the "room mom" for the Bunster's Pre-K class:

[About] Friday's concert/potluck: Thanks to all of you who have signed to bring something and those who will. The children will be singing "Jingle Bells" and "Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer", however, the songs will be changed so that the word "Christmas" doesn't appear. Ms. Tonya wanted me to make sure that you all knew that.

What. The. Hell???

How does removing the word "Christmas" make "Jingle Bells" and "Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer" into anything other than screwed up Christmas songs?

I'm Jewish and I'm offended by this.

Why? So glad you asked...

For one thing, since taking out one word doesn't actually make these into anything other than Christmas songs, they're still completely ignoring the holiday I (and quite a number of the children) celebrate. So much for multi-cultural educational experiences.

For another thing, I'm bothered by the attempt to disembowel songs and strip them of their meaning. While these particular tunes aren't evocative of much in the way of religion, they are still symbolic of the holiday they belong to. And I'm generally against stripping the meaning from the various symbols and icons of a culture. Changing and evolving the meaning, sure, either as the culture changes or in an attempt to change it. But not stripping away all meaning until they're just hollow shells to hang crass commercialism on.

Maybe I shouldn't be. Perhaps the answer is to pervert every holiday and meaningful icon into complete unrecognisability, so that absolutely everyone can spend each holiday being offended and excluded. It would be very egalitarian.

So we can sing "I had a little top, I made it out of clay, and when it's dry and ready, oh top I will play" on Lighting Candles Holiday, salute the Lady of the Flowing Dress as we enter New York City Harbor, and of course fly our Strawberry/Blueberry/Vanilla Flag high on National Relax With a Picnic Day.

Nope. I'd rather keep Christmas, Santa, Chanukah, dreidels, the Statue of Liberty, American flags, and Memorial Day. We can just add more holidays and icons to our cultural pantheon until everyone is represented, instead of no one.

---

Update, 12/15: Turns out the lyrics in question have been rewritten as follows:

Then one foggy winter's eve,
He-ee came to say,
"Rudolph with your nose so bright,
Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

As my next door neighbor said, "He-Eee? Who the hell is He-ee supposed to be, Baby Jesus?"

And people wonder why younger generations sometimes seem so ignorant. We've taught them to be.

Conspiracy theory

For a couple of weeks now, Bob McCormick, host of KNX's "Money 101" radio talk show, has been going on and on about conspiracy theories that gas prices were being artificially lowered by the oil companies in order to influence the election. He said that the claim was the companies were forgoing profits in hopes that they'd get more $$$ later with Republicans still in power. Although he didn't exactly endorse the idea, he left me with the strong impression that he agreed with this theory. But I kind of laughed and blew it off as more wishful thinking than reality.

And then I was pumping gas at Costco this morning and overheard someone at the next pump asking the attendant, "Do you know why gas prices are suddenly going up again." And the guy on the other side of my pump and I simultaneously replied "The election's over!" Apparently, I am a nutcase conspiracy theorist after all.

Put on your tinfoil hat and read on...

So I emptied my purse and found my three latest Costco gas receipts. On October 26, I paid $2.26 a gallon there. By the day before the election, November 6, it was down to $2.18 a gallon. And today? Only three days post-election, it was all the way back up to $2.28 per gallon. Hmmm....

Maybe there is something to this. Wish someone would do a real audit instead of just compiling anecdotal experiences. Also, is price manipulation in order to influence elections just good old fashioned capitalism? Or is it illegal? With major commodities like oil, I'm thinking that laissez-faire capitalism is not the right answer. So if this is legal, it shouldn't be. And if there really was an attempt to influence the election this way, I'd like to find out.

R Toys Us?

I was doing some birthday party shopping at Toys R Us the other day, since the Bunster is now totally on the pre-school party circuit (he has a better social life than I do). And I'm standing in the massively pink-saturated doll section debating the merits of Glitter Princess Sleeping Beauty versus the Rapunzel's Wedding Flower Girl 4-pack, when it suddenly hits me...there are no black Disney Princesses.

Sleeping Beauty, Ariel, Snow White, Pocahontas, Jasmine, Mulan...they've had blonde, brunette, redheaded, Asian, Native American, and Arab princesses. Unless I've forgotten something obvious (please let me know) only one major ethnic group is missing.

Disney does have an animated movie set in Africa, but The Lion King has animal characters, not people.

I guess you could argue that Pacific Islanders aren't really represented, since Mulan is Chinese and Lilo isn't a Princess. And there hasn't been an Indian princess, nor a Hispanic one. But while this is true, to a four-year-old, Mulan, Jasmine or Pocahontas dolls make fine stand-ins for those ethnicities. But there's no doll that looks like you if you're an African-American four-year-old.

I'm hoping this is just because the Disney marketing machine is still generating new Princesses.

On the one hand, the whole pink-glitter-fluffy-princess thing sets my teeth on edge and I can't wait for this craze to die down. But on the other hand, I'd hate to be that little left-out girl.

Age

Marie Javins is trying to determine whether to go to Kuwait for a short-term job or settle down and stop cavorting all over the world while entertaining her friends and assorted strangers with her travel journals. Among other things, she wrote this:

But it feels like I missed something. Like I went to sleep one day at age 34 and when I opened my eyes, everyone else had moved forward by five years while to me it was January 5, 2001, the day after I got on the Amtrak to head west. Others had saved while I had spent. Advanced while I’d ignored. I’d let a lot of friendships slide and constantly have to start over. It’s like everyone else has aged gracefully but I’m still casting about trying to work out what to do next.

I expressed this to Sean, a friend in Sydney. He told me I was flat-out wrong. That I’d been living while others were chained to the desk. Maybe he’s right, but I still feel like I missed some vital personal-growth part of life, or at least realized too late that I’d been ignoring it.

I have no useful advice about world travel or whether or not to go to Kuwait, but finding-yourself personal-growth type angst? I think everyone's been there, unless they're one of the rare few who've known exactly what they wanted to do in life from very early on. Or maybe one of the not-so-rare ones who's too stupid to think about it.

Growing up, I always thought that this kind of worry and angst was a feature of your teens and early 20's and that once you settled into your "real" life (whether marriage-kids-white-picket-fence or world travel), it would go away.

But no.

Keep reading...

I feel as though my old self simply ceased to exist in 2002 when the Bunster was born. One minute I was me and the next I was someone else entirely. The part that feels like me has been slowly coming back, plus I've been getting used to the new me, so it's not bad. It's just kind of surreal. And I'm still figuring out what kind of person I'd like to be.

It's not that I'm discontented with my life...I love nearly all of it and the parts I don't love are pretty typical (want more sleep, cuter shoes, more time with my husband, and so forth). It's just that I can't keep being a work-at-home mom of a preschooler forever and so I feel the need to have some kind of direction to guide my future choices. And I don't really know what that direction should be. Like Marie, I'm still casting about trying to work out what to do next.

And then it strikes me that this is normal. Average. Typical. Basically, all the things it doesn't feel like when you're in the middle of it.

Of course, there's the classic mid-life-crisis cliche of the middle aged man with the convertible sports car and the trophy girlfriend half his age. It's certainly one answer to the question of what to do next, although kind of a sad one. Robert Cilley, writing about keeping mementos of the past, says, "It is the smudgy ink stamp on the wrist that says he can get back into the nightclub of youth." And I think he'd agree that the red Miata and the 23-year-old fall into that category.

But this questioning and searching isn't about recapturing youth. It's just about which path to take next.

How many people really know what to do next?

Would Marie's "aging gracefully" friends recognize themselves in that description? Or are they also trying to figure out what comes next, wondering whether to reinvent themselves or continue on their current paths?

The urge to recreate yourself, the feeling that perhaps whatever it is that you're doing isn't taking you in the right direction and you should be exploring another, is something that comes and goes for most people.

I was going to write something pithy about how nice it would be to be able to buy a compass to provide this direction. But then I remembered the bookstore's worth of shelves of self-help books, the thousands of "career counselors" and all the various videos, songs, poems, etc. intended to instill or inspire exactly this kind of direction. Perhaps I should try composing something about how nice it would be to buy an accurate life-compass.