Meggie's grammar

Meg is not yet aware that the word "my" exists, preferring "mine" in all situations. This results in "I need mine apple juice!" So Shakespearean. I'm certainly not going to correct her.

She also has a stock response to "How are you?", which is "Doing well." It's charming when you ask how she personally is, funny when you're asking about a toy, and hilarious when you ask how her blueberries or chicken nuggets are. "They're doing well."

The cabbage

I hate it when I buy a cabbage and can't remember why. It must have seemed like a good idea at the time. In any event, there's an accusing, lonely cabbage in my fridge.

What is a young hyperdrive made of?

That's what you are
What you will always be
Made of my dreams
Close as my heart to me
Bright as a star
Of love's sweet mystery
Here in my arms
Where you should always be
(Egregious Beach Boys lyrics brought to you by this page)

The question is what a hyperdrive is made of and how it works. I'm speaking from within the Star Wars world and its physics, incidentally, assuming it's like ours only more convenient from a narrative perspective. There are two main scenes I can think of dealing with hyperdrives within the canonical SW. The first is in Empire Strikes Back when R2D2 was repairing the Falcon's and there were wires everywhere. The other is in Zahn ("Heir to the Empire," chapters 16-17) when Luke's X-wing gets caught by a tractor beam, jumps free by backfiring the accelerator compensator, but the maneuver fries his hyperdrive and breaks down half a lightyear out.  Luke discovers that the hyperdrive motivators superconducting shields are each full of hairline fractures, and the parts inside are worthless without a shield.

What do we know about hyperdrives? They carry ships from point to point in space and the trips have duration relative to the distance, so it's not like L'Engle's tessering. They have a motivator with a shield and parts inside. Apparently it does not have miles of superconducting wire - R2 has to scavenge wire from the sensor jammer. And above all, hyperdrives don't work in gravity wells.

One of the few things we know about gravity is that (as far as we can tell) it extends everywhere at the same time, which is faster than the speed of light. This bears a striking resemblance to that other phenomenon, hyperdrives which move ships faster than the speed of light. So assume, for the sake of discussion, that gravity occupies a half-way dimension, partly in realspace and partly in hyperspace. And assume that there exist exotic particles which resonate with gravity and the gravitic dimension and can be harnessed to "jump" matter such as, oh, spaceships, between hyperspace and realspace. It's not a question of making your boat engine go fast enough. It's a question of getting into the right river.

Imagine a fluorescent light. It's a tube full of particles. When you excite the particles, they change states from off (off) to on (glowing). Suppose a hyperdrive is like that. You've got a superconductor, and inside is a tube full of exotic gravity-friendly particles which shift states. The motivator must be the thing that energizes the particles. There would be other parts that tune its frequencies and organize the emissions into a go-that-way stream vs. a random stream. Those are technical terms.

Gravity jams, or dampens, or messes with the vibrations of the exotic particles. It doesn't matter what the gravity's source is, whether it comes from a black hole, a planet, or a tractor beam. And, theoretically, there could be a whole nebula of similar exotic particles which you don't want to jump through in hyperspace because they might start resonating with your hyperdrive and change your vector, or stop you cold, or perhaps send half the nebula with you to your final destination. Or your very final destination, depending.

What do you think of the theory?

Macbeth rises (in discussion)

Lars over at Brandywine is talking about Macbeth. Somebody tried to reconcile the Scots and Viking chronologies, but he doesn't buy it.  I'm inclined to agree with Lars because the odds of Macbeth dying in bed are so very, very low, but I know nothing whatever of the Orkneyinga Saga or Jarl Thorfinn, so there you have it.

I am, however, always happy to talk about Macbeth.

Bedspread

I'm on the lookout for a leopard-spotted bedspread for Meg's room. I'd like it to be classic brown spots, not black, purple, hot pink, or rainbow, though colorful trim might work. This season everyone seems to have zebras. It also needs to be machine washable. And not... ugly. I've been haunting Kohl's, Target, Wal-Mart, Ross', Marshall's, TJ Maxx, Bed Bath & Beyond, Sears, Ikea, and HomeGoods and haven't found one, so if anyone comes across a promising specimen, I'd love to hear about it.

I've considered making one myself out of two leopard flat sheets, or a leopard and a pink one, but I've never quilted* and that would be a lot of trouble. I would really rather buy one if possible.



*I did make a quilted potholder in fourth grade, but I knew more about sewing than my teacher and the potholder doesn't have enough stuffing to be used for holding hot pots. I don't think it counts. It makes for great padding between glass bowls, though.

Falling off a horse

I fell off a horse yesterday.  Poor Navarre spooked just as I asked him to trot, and he went one way and I went the other. I was wearing a helmet and Navarre is pretty short, as horses go, so I don't think there was any damage, but I'm here to say, landing on your backside is not romantic. It's a life experience -- hopefully a once-in-a-lifetime one!

I did get right back up and rode some more. I didn't want to, but it would have been too embarrassing to admit I hadn't. I've read books! I know what you're supposed to do!

Since I'm too sore to hoist her around today, Meg has had to take responsibility for things like crawling into and out of her own carseat and not leaping into the middle of my lap. She's doing an excellent job. She doesn't think much of it and so asked God to heal me, which I appreciated, but I think she was disappointed her prayer didn't take effect immediately. I kind of was disappointed, too.

Quote of the day

As Meg was packing her animals into a shoebox: "It's okay, Sukey. It'll just be a short trip. Squish! Squish!"

A reflection on parenting

Many things change after you have kids, which I expected, but one thing I did not expect was a multiplication of tubs of wet wipes. Wipes are wipes, yes? No.

No, we actually have four kinds of wipes at the moment. There are your common or garden wipes, useful for diaper changes and sticky hands. There are the flushable wipes, which help with potty training. There are the antibacterial Clorox wipes, which also help with potty training as well as more mundane things, like wiping up the sink after raw meat. And last but not least, I have some rather exotic makeup-removal wipes. That's new.

I could use cloths and cleaning solution for most of this. But frankly, I don't want to. Wipes don't generate extra laundry. Wipes are genius.

Life is weird.

There goes that idea

The other day I was telling Jonathan I "needed" a particular kind of corset and speculating as to how hard it would be to acquire the supplies and make one.

Come to find out one of my bloggers has been making a corset all week. She's a much better seamstress than I am, and the short answer is: making corsetry looks really hard. It requires particular equipment with intimidating names and apparently requires a really long attention span, too. You probably even need scissors that cut in a straight line. Drat.

How not to fix a cowboy boot

Cowboy boots: good.

This is actually a two-parter post. A two-step, if you will.

Part One:
These are my cowboy boots I got in Amarillo back when I was in college. I outgrew them while Meg was on the way. This made me sad, because they're great boots.

Then I came across a thing on Pinterest claiming that if you use a little alcohol and a hair dryer, you can stretch out a too-small shoe. I thought it was worth a try.

Whiskey: bad.

I had a few drops of this Scottish whiskey left from our honey- moon and thought it was just too awesome not to try. So I put on two pairs of socks, my boots (with Jonathan's help), whiskeyed them up, and hair dried them.

And yes! It did help! The boots are a little snug, but much better. I can take them off all by myself now.


Part Two:
I went to my sister's baby shower and sat next to the Pink Pixie and her mother. They're shoe professionals, and I thought they would be interested in my cowboy boot fix.

Actually, horrified would be closer to it. Come to find out, you should NEVER put alcohol on shoes, especially leather - that way lies crackage and destruction and all bad things. You shouldn't bombard shoes with hot air, either.

The correct technique for stretching a shoe is to hit it with a hammer. Literally. You work the leather maybe while you're watching a movie and it softens up. Or you can just wear the shoes around the house with extra socks every day until they're comfortable.

When I protested, the Pixie assured me that good things come to those who wait.

Let that be a lesson not to believe DIYs you read on the internet.