Change of address

http://www.fountainprairie.blogspot.com

Outlier Is No More

Oh thanks, acclaimed talk-show-friendly bestselling author dude.

So... a few election cycles ago, I tripped across this beguiling, very short word in an article, which was a detailed statistical analysis of polling results from precincts that were mostly easy to predict (Yeah... I know.) Of course, in any scenario with a predictable outcome, there are usually a few spikes on the graph-- results that do not affect the outcome, but are nevertheless anomalous to the general trend.

I recalled that word four years ago, when a pollster called my house. She seemed to enjoy her job, which makes it fun for both of us. After giving a series of answers that didn't seem to fit what I assume she'd been mostly getting from the local survey area, I said, "Well, I guess I'm kind of an outlier." She chuckled.

The word came up again when I was planning this blog, months before I actually got around to posting. "Outlier," I thought, could be used to suggest more than a statistical anomaly; it also sounded akin to "outlying area" and so was an apt description for this writer's location.

Now comes Major Publishing House Dream Date, with his splashy new book and its one-word title. Which I'm sure was in the works before I set my gears in motion... but I was not aware. It didn't show up in my preblog-vetting Googling.

So now I've been feeling that my blog title is no longer an unusual neat word. Instead, it puts me in the position of seeming like a salivating self-satisfied trend follower... someone who preciously rips off a popular book's title in hopes of identifying with its richly-rewarded rogue-genius subjects. The '08 equivalent of brightly announcing: "I am a yuppie!" or "You've heard of MILFs? Well-- I am one!"

Nuh-uh.

All blog titles are labels, sure, but mine's been kidnapped to mean something totally different from what I intended. Malcolm Gladwell: you can have it.

So welcome, guests and friends, to Firelight Hill! I like it. It's warm and inviting, and best of all-- so far as I know-- it isn't about to betray me for someone with more flash and glamour. Sure, some of you may sense that the name suggests you're about to be pinioned with a medley of radio-ready bluegrass-tinged country tunes, or asked to buy a starter set of candles, room scent and a calendar. It is kind of earnest-y. But in a good way. And there's a previous post with pics from the firelit hill itself, so it's not out of nowhere.

And for those of you who have been kind enough to link to Outlier in your own blogs... thank you for changing to Firelight Hill. I'll be playing with making a different site address too in the coming week; you might actually have to change the link on that but I'll let you know.

When I Was 10, I Watched "Gilligan's Island" Reruns

The species propogates, and then we do our best.

Our offspring are subject to a Tilt-a-Whirl of influences as they grow from sheltered bundle to way-too-tall microadult straining for independence: parents, wise and hapless hour by hour; teachers, likewise; peers, powerfully so if one puts stock in recent socioscientific studies; and a culture full of inescapably strong messages both uplifting and degrading.

Living in an isolated rural area has added an extra challenge to bringing up a thoughtful, responsible member of society. No relatives within a generation nearby, few opportunities for exposure to people, places, and things that resemble the world she will eventually encounter without a detailed plan and a long drive.

I was puzzling over this with a friend who lives in a nearby city a few years ago. She suggested we at least visit the martial arts dojo her own older children attended, and which she claimed had been a positive force in their own development.

Thus began an odyssey that we are so incredibly grateful to have had as part of C's life, for over half of her years. This Saturday, C. earned her Second Degree Black Belt. So if you don't mind a particularly personal post-- we're mighty proud of the kid.

We've been astoundingly lucky to have found a fantastic school from the beginning: Karate America- East Madison, which has become Karate America- Cottage Grove. This school is serious about what it offers its students, from preschoolers to adults: a mixture of traditional and extreme martial arts forms and fighting, weapons training, responsibility and leadership skills. My husband and I have never had one issue with this school, its programs, or its instructors. It's taken quite a commitment and investment from our family-- but when we consider the impact we can clearly see, we reaffirm its status in our lives. Owner Master Randy Beck has found three wonderful main instructors over the course of C's tenure: Brian Quamme (who now owns Karate America- McFarland), Jonathan Grosz, and her current instructor, Tyler Shaub: a young man we first encountered as an assistant, and whose infectious charisma and dynamic teaching style have been astounding to watch as he continues to successfully develop the school he started four years ago. I don't usually name names on this blog, but this is an exception I'm honored to make.

Black belt training is intense. As a second-degree candidate, C's regular schedule of classes expanded to include 2 and 1/2 hour weekly sessions last July. The first test, a few weeks ago, ran four straight hours. Then the final test and graduation Saturday was about seven hours. At this level, the expectations and requirements are identical regardless of the candidate's age-- the youngest students did the same work (depending on level of degree being sought) as the oldest. It doesn't mean anything unless it's truly and fairly earned.

The students who make it this far are dedicated and confident, and watching them take this journey has been a privilege.

I also want to thank my Friday night friends for welcoming C. into the fold, after her workouts. You guys, and the support and interest you offered her, will always be a part of her black belt too!

Thanks again also to Ms. D for the delightful afterparty! Love the musicians!

Sadly, my action pics from each test did not work out. Glinting sharp kamas, sais, and bo staffs and lethal high kicks are truly cool to behold. I'll have to try again in three years.

Weekend on cold meds special: NASA Channel!

For someone with both a fear of heights and claustrophobia-- I sure get all amped when something leaves the launchpad in Florida!



When I was a kid I had a collection of Apollo mission decals, replicas of the real uniform patches. I can't remember where they came from-- want to say McDonalds, but we didn't eat there that often. Never wanted to be an astronaut, but I always thought astronauts were the coolest.



Whenever there's a shuttle in low earth orbit, my TV has only one channel: The NASA Channel!



(If you have not read the "Get A Life" post from last week, now might be a good time to refer to that.)



The fact that at any given hour, NASA TV's programming can be like watching corn tassel is completely part of the appeal. Right now I can see an arm of the ISS just floating above the curve of the Earth, and there's no sound at all except for an occasional burst of static-y info exchange. Oh, now they've flipped the camera to an ISS crew member doing something with tools, except whatever he's doing with his hands is just off the screen. He looks focused though. I love this!



Well, I do have my limits. If there's no shuttle aloft, the occasional shot of work on board the ISS is sandwiched between what seems to be the world's most interminable press conference. Now that's boring. I save my NTV viewing for the fading shuttle mission program.

Mission Control shots are fun too. Either they don't mic the room much, or it's a very quiet room... except for Audio Wakeup Call time when CAPCOM gives the crew a nice song and their daily chore roster. Bonus when it's Shannon Lucid at the desk with an obscure blues tune.

These maps are interesting, but I just don't understand the closed circles. They show up on every graphic like this. Someone is going to have to explain this to me with a globe and a Hot Wheels toy, as I have a tough time conceptualizing spatial information. Man, I would be the worst astronaut ever.

Sometimes worlds collide when the map shows the ISS, the shuttle, or better yet the doublebacked beast flying right overhead at night, and I just walk outside and look up. Hello, Google Maps camera!

Here are two different sites for tracking the orbits.

And if you don't get NASA TV on your television (we have DirecTV), here it is. Enjoy the volumized hair and the colorful socks without having to go to a 1980s party!

A Tribute to Veterans

Every time I vote, I'm a little taken aback at how easy it is. Now granted, I live in a rural area, and when I walk into the Quonset hut town hall they know my face... but still. Smile, take a piece of paper, go behind a half curtain, wield the felt-tipped pen, and I've participated in the world's greatest democracy.

One week to the day later... it's time to thank the people who helped make that possible. There is something about the sight of a soldier that makes me sober right up and realize that for every freedom we Americans enjoy, men and women have sacrificed. With courage and commitment, they have put on a uniform, endured basic training, left their homes and families to serve wherever needed in this country or abroad-- wherever they were told to go, whatever they were told to do, for however long they were told to be there and do it.

I am honored to know living veterans of WWII, veterans of the Korean War and the Vietnam War, veterans of the Iraqi and Afghan conflicts, veterans who served well in peacetime. I admire them all from the bottom of my heart, and am grateful.

Some people get the day off today; oddly, many of them are not veterans, while many veterans have to get up and go to work as usual. That's always puzzled me. Anyway, at least I can salute them and let them know that all that they have done is appreciated. Veterans, THANK YOU!

(The smiling fellow above is my dad. More about him, maybe, closer to Memorial Day. I know that he always considered being a soldier and a veteran a crucial part of who he was, and why. I never saw these photos until he'd long passed... wish I knew more of his story.)

Insult improvement/ Barraigh O'Bamagh

So a friend of mine is throwing a bash this weekend in honor of Obama's victory. (Sadly I can't go-- more on why in a post next week.) Among the email RSVPs, some who hit "reply all" shared their personal stories of jubilation, celebration, and even tears from last Tuesday night.

The internet, TV, and newspapers are packed with stories and photos from people who, in crowds or in private reflection, felt deeply moved and overjoyed by the results of the election.

And in less than a week, a reaction to this that I've heard and read several times: "Get a life!"

Get a life. I've always pegged that as one of the lamest and least inventive of insults. It makes "your mother wears army shoes!" sound like Oscar Wilde, and "I know you are, what am I?" more Dorothy Parker than PeeWee. In the pantheon of quick putdowns, it's one of those that kind of suggests more about the dis-er than the dis-ee.

When did enthusiasm become an emotion worthy of sneers? Why does the excitement and involvement with hobbies, pastimes, and passions of some prompt a predictable group of others to belittle? Okay, it was pretty funny when William Shatner blurted the invective at a roomful of Trekkies on "SNL" years ago... but since then, the snot-colored catchphrase has been reached for too often to apply to anyone who has found something in life that helps them get a lot more out of it: Nascar fans, scrapbookers, Dr. Whovians, political wonks, Oprahlytes, WoW gamers, dog show attendees... old dudes whose basements are covered by model railroad layouts... dreamy coeds who follow the Dave Matthews Band around each summer. I may not "get" your specific brand of bang, but I do try to get that it gives you something above and beyond the daily grind. Thoreau said, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation," and if you are lucky enough to have found something that lifts your spirits at the end of the long day, something that makes you smile and socialize and see that sometimes things are all right... then you don't need to get a life, you already have a pretty good one.

There is a time when "get a life" has its place. If the rallying cry is one that either intentionally or unintentionally has an adverse effect on others: when the fun becomes a family-neglecting obsession, you need to get a balanced life... or if your raison d'etre's very purpose is to disrespect others by, say, protesting at the funerals of soldiers, you need to get a much better life.

But if you really, really, really like Star Trek, the Packers, Johnny Depp, volunteering for campaigns, making your own beer, or collecting Hummel figurines? Party on, people! And when someone looks at you and says "Get a life"? Just keep on smiling. You're good.

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This is pretty cute: Ireland's newest favorite son!

**ELECTION SPECIAL** Haiku break!

C'mon, this is easy and a great way to wait for the results of the contest: which media outlet will rush to project the correct results first! Five syllables, seven, five. The challenge: non-partisan. Have at it!

I voted last hour

My pet breezed through surgery

A great day so far!

Where to turn tonight

For unintended humor?

I miss Dan Rather.

Changechangechangechangechange

Maverick, hope, maverick

Catchphrases end now!

Nonstop coverage

so awful? No: now, back to

Paris Hilton news.