Posts from — April 2012

When I wrote about Nadya Suleman a few years ago (years ago?), commenting on how much stories like these harm the general public’s perception of infertility as well as fertility treatments, I never thought that I would be writing about Karla Vanessa Perez and her nine babies during NIAW.  The timing of it almost makes it feel like a hoax, especially after you discover that she already had triplets from a prior pregnancy.  And yet, even if it is a hoax, the comment section on Huffington Post reveals so clearly what NIAW is all about; why we need awareness and what the general public thinks about infertility.

More thoughts on this to come when my brain has stopped spinning around in my head. (And a warning — do not dive into the Huffington Post comment section unless you’re ready to read what you know you’re going to find.)

Thank you, Tara, for the heads up and discussion this morning.

When I first wrote that I was reading 50 Shades of Grey, people said that they were waiting to hear my review.  Which is ten kinds of flattering, by the way.  And makes me feel even more sheepish when I forgo reading the copy of Moonwalking with Einstein I checked out in order to read dominant-subservient chicklit.  I feel like I’m sort of failing you on the intellectual front.

At this moment, I’m finishing up the first book and moving into the second.  Which is to say that I am committed to the cause and going to eventually move on to book three.  This is more out of curiosity than burning desire.  The difference: I really love Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse books.  The last few ones have been so-so (I think I’m around book 6 or 7 in the series), but overall, I enjoy them.  Which is why I keep reading them.

I am reading 50 Shades of Grey because I feel like I can’t not read 50 Shades of Grey.  After slogging through the first book, I feel like I’m in too deep to give up.  It would be like opening up a box of stale cracker jacks, eating a handful, commenting that it tastes like sawdust, and then throwing out the box.  Okay, so looking at that analogy, that is what a sane person would do.  But I am committed to continuing to eat those stale cracker jacks until I get to the prize at the bottom of the box.  Even if I suspect that prize is more like a temporary tattoo of a clown rather than a coupon for a free iPad.

The writing is awful, but that doesn’t phase me.  There are plenty of blogs I read where the writing isn’t amazing but for whatever reason, I connect with the author.  So I keep reading.  Religiously.  Their bad writing doesn’t bother me.  I am not turned off by the fact that they are listing what they ate that day and recounting their weird dreams.  It’s the same phenomenon of being in love.  You can point out various things that you like about the person, but no one can really pinpoint what made them fall in love with this person rather than that person who shares the same qualities.  And that is how I feel about blogs too: the draw of well-written ones are clear.  The draw of poorly-written ones is not quite as clear, and yet I remain with them, loyal to the end.  So I can get through bad writing in blog or book form.

And because this book is LITERALLY Twilight sans vampires avec a dom-sub relationship (I mean, you can literally point at each scene and state how it corresponds to a scene in Twilight), reading this book is like revisiting an old friend.  I’ll think to myself, OH!  This is where Edward… I mean, Christian… I mean, Edward… saves her from the car… I mean biker.  Remember those good times, Mel?

So, should you read 50 Shades of Grey?  I guess the real question is how you feel about your time.  If you are the sort who would walk out of a bad movie because you hate wasting time, this book probably isn’t for you.  But if you are the sort who likes to go to the movies, and you’ll even sit through a bad one or two because your best friend loves it and then you can quote it afterwards (and yes, I do plan on calling my friend at 3 am and waking her up this weekend, breathing heavily into the phone while I growl, “are you biting your lip?” — shout out to all my fellow Greyers!), then I highly recommend 50 Shades of Grey.

So that’s my take at the moment.  Anyone convinced to give it a try?  Or are you now running screaming from the bookshelf?

I curated a great post on BlogHer this week about how you know whether or not you can use an image on your blog.  It’s a must-read if you ever:

• Include pictures in your blog posts
• Used one in your header
• Use them to create badges on your blog
• Upload cartoons you didn’t draw to Facebook
• Right-click and save other people’s images
• Pin images on Pinterest

Actually, it’s a must-read for everyone.  So go over and read it.  And then come back because we probably need to talk some more.

Let’s start with attribution because it’s black-and-white: if you use an image, you need to attribute it.  Just as you wrote your blog post and receive credit for your blog post, people who create images need to have their work credited.  So unless you’re cool with other people taking your work and passing it off as their own, don’t post images without attribution.  A simple note at the bottom of the post listing the photo credit is fine.  If you have multiple images in the post from different sources, attribute beneath the photo.

Now what images can you use?  This is still fairly black-and-white.  Here are acceptable sources:

• Any photo you take within reason (discounting images that the subject would object to being published)
• Any photo you receive permission to use (someone else took it, but they tell you that you can post it)
• Any photo you purchase the rights to use with attribution from a site such as iStockphoto.
• Any photo that people have attached a creative commons license to use*

* How do you find photos with a creative commons license?  Go onto Flickr, put in your search terms, use the “advance search” hyperlink to the right of the search bar, scroll down and check the box that says “Only search within Creative Commons-licensed content.”  Additionally, if you have ads on your blog, accept product for review, or make money off your blog in any way, it is best to check off the box that says “Find content to use commercially” to be safe.  If you plan on using the term to create a badge, header, or alter it in any way, check the box marked “Find content to modify, adapt, or build upon.”  Now search again and those are the images you are allowed to use with attribution.

There are sites where photographers can upload their work such as Stock.xchng or Morguefile, and others where people upload photos that would be of use to the public such as Wikimedia Commons and some of these free photo sites are reputable and some are not.  So use with caution.

So what can’t you use?

• An image you find on Google even if you attribute it
• An image you get on another site that you right-click, save, and upload to your own — no, you can’t take that picture of dreamy dreamy Ryan Gosling and upload it to your blog or Facebook or Pinterest in most cases unless you have permission from the original owner of the photograph
• An image you find on Flickr that doesn’t have a creative commons license

And how does fair use apply to photographs or drawings?  Did you read that post I told you to read above?  If you did, you’d know exactly how fair use applies to photographs… cough.  It’s easy to apply fair use to words — I am allowed to pull a small quote from your blog as long as I attribute it to you.  I am never allowed to take your whole blog post or multiple paragraphs of it and reprint it on my blog just because I like it so much, even if I attribute it to you.  You may only use a small portion of the whole.  But it’s impossible to apply that sort of fair use to a photograph — you can’t show a small sliver of the photo — therefore, there are fewer ways you can claim fair use and it’s a very grey area of the law.  For instance, can you use a book cover images when you are doing a book review?  If you are writing a whole post about a photograph, such as the time when Hillary Clinton was photoshopped out of the Situation Room, can you include the two photographs?  These are grey areas, and it’s best to consult someone with legal authority when entering those grey areas.  I’m not a lawyer; I’m just someone who has been taught well (by BlogHer mostly) on how to use images on the Web.

I am this mindful of images because I want people to be this mindful of my words and ideas, especially projects that I have taken a considerable amount of time to formulate and execute.  I believe that 95% of people who misuse images on the Internet do so because they don’t know any better.  But it sort of sucks because if you read this post, now you know.  So use images mindfully, pin images on Pinterest mindfully, and people will hopefully do the same for you.

One thing I didn’t say in that last post on asking is that I am excellent at teaching but not so good at doing myself.  I excel at putting down a note for myself on a to-do list, but then will choke up when I get to actually doing the asking.  I find it much easier if I’m asking for someone else (such as the twins wanting the White House visit) or doing it via email.  But face-to-face or over the phone for things that are for myself?  I am terrible at making a request.  I am so bad that I ask Josh to order our carryout, especially if we are straying at all from the menu norms such as asking them to leave the mushrooms off the pasta dish.

Why are some adults so terrible at asking for things, and why do I assume that those adults are mostly women?  Someone brought up the salary discrepancy between men and women in regards to asking, and thinking back to how I didn’t speak up at interviews or jobs (even when asked what I thought a fair salary would be), I can see how this fits neatly into the concept of asking and just how far-reaching the effects are of not being able to do it.

Is it the Nice Girl Syndrome, where we want so badly to fulfill that idea of the “nice girl” we were presented with as a child (think back to sentences that began, “A nice girl…” to explain to you what the adult wanted you to do)?  Am I better off working hard to raise a bitch?  Because isn’t that the word we use to describe the non-nice girl?  The one who goes after what she wants and sticks up for herself and asks.  Even when she knows her asking may be putting someone else out.

I came up with this brilliant plan that would enable me to keep taking my morning yoga classes through the summer while the twins are out of school.  We don’t use babysitters therefore, if they’re home, I’m not going.  Except that I concocted this fantastic way that I could go, the twins would have a crash course in the work world and budgeting, and the yoga studio would still have my membership dollars.  It is a major three-way win that could possibly make everyone very very happy.  I asked the twins if they were on-board and they were excited.  Now I just need to ask the yoga studio owner.  And everything has screeched to a halt.

The worst is that the twins are asking daily if I have an answer yet.  I’ve made up all sorts of excuses about trying to catch her at a good time, etc.  Maybe I should ask via email so she can save face if she needs to reject the idea.  We still have many weeks until summer; I don’t want to bring this up too early.  But the reality is that I’m finding it very difficult to simply ask.  To be frank: “I won’t be able to take yoga this summer if I don’t have a plan that works with our limitations, and this one could benefit all three parties.”

Why?  Because I don’t want to be judged (“why don’t you use babysitters?”), because I don’t want to hear something that makes me believe that she doesn’t give a crap about my presence (“that sucks that we’ll miss you this summer, but we’ll see you next fall.”), because I don’t want to ruin my cultivated image of Melissa the Nice Girl?  I don’t know why I’m dragging out the asking, I just know that I am.  And I know it’s something I do often.

Do you find it difficult to ask for things?  Harder to ask strangers vs. family members or the other way around?

Something that we’ve tried to get into the twins’ minds is that those who ask usually get.  Actually, those who ask sometimes get, and those who don’t ask rarely get.  Therefore, we make them spell it out — admit aloud what they want — whether that is another cookie or a trip to the beach.  It’s not an easy thing to do most of the time.  It is hard to ask for what you want.

But, I mean, the worst anyone can say is no, right?

We’re lucky that the majority of the things the twins have asked for have been experiential.  It would have sucked big time if they were toy hoarders mostly because we don’t have the means to finance an army of Barbie dolls.  Their experience requests have ranged from highly do-able to not a chance in hell.  Hang out at the Apple store for the afternoon — I can do that for you.  Meet Princess Kate — we may have some problems making that happen.

I allowed both of them to vote in the last presidential election (the one where the Wolvog showed his belly instead of his nipples).  Meaning, I let one vote, erased their answer, let the next one vote, erased their answer, and finally cast the vote that we saved on the machine.  And since then, they have been deeply interested in all things governmental.  They asked for a letter from the President as their birthday gift last year, and some fabulous adults made that happen (there is nothing like seeing your childrens’ faces when there is a knock at the door and someone hand delivers a letter from the White House).  And then, after this past meeting to discuss the Affordable Care Act, the twins asked if there was any chance that they could see the White House too.  They told me that going there was what they wanted more than anything in life; to see where the President worked.

“I don’t know,” I said, thinking that this might be up there with the ChickieNob’s request to hang out with Princess Kate after her wedding.

“Could you just ask?” The Wolvog questioned.

So I just asked.  And the person I asked said yes.  So she set up two tours of the White House for the twins and my parents — one of the East Wing which we went to over spring break and one of the West Wing that we went to last week.  All because we just asked.

*******

A few weeks ago, the ChickieNob was talking with Josh while he tied his shoes and she started absentmindedly doing this bizarre walk in the front hallway.  She sort of half-squatted and lurched around with her arms sort of outstretched and her fingers curled.  She told us that it was her zombie walk, and Josh had her add in a raspy delivered, “brains!”  I saw her do the zombie walk at random points in the house maybe three times after that.

And then we went to the White House.

My parents, Josh, the Wolvog, and the intern who was walking us through the East Wing had all passed into the blue room from the green room.  I was walking behind the ChickieNob when I saw her squat down and do the walk between the two rooms and then turn around to grin at me.  I didn’t comment on it until we were home and I said, “I noticed you doing the zombie walk in the White House today.”

And instead of looking bashful, instead of looking contrite, instead of giving me any sort of nod that perhaps zombie-walking wasn’t appropriate for the space, she just looked at me with pride and said, “did you see how low I got?”

My friend told her that the move was probably caught on film by a camera in the room, and she was delighted at the idea of someone viewing the tapes and getting to see her excellent zombie walk.

*******

The East Wing was fun, but the West Wing blew their little minds.  First of all, it had to be at night when S could bring us around.  So at an hour when we’d normally be getting ready for bed, we dressed up and drove downtown.  We got there a bit early, so we sat outside enjoying the warm night, and the twins ran around in a circle in front of the Executive Office Building.

It was night time and very quiet — all the frenetic energy from the daytime dissipated from the building.  We couldn’t go into the Situation Room (much to the Wolvog’s disappointment, since he heard that it was “filled with computers”) but we peeked into the Navy Mess and headed upstairs where S took us out into the Rose Garden at night.  She framed the shot we often see of the President speaking on the lawn, and then continued to talk to my parents as we walked back inside so she missed the ChickieNob crouch down once again beside me and zombie walk between the Rose Garden and the Cabinet Room. (“I did it,” the ChickieNob whispered to me, “I reached my goal of zombie walking on both sides of the White House.”  Everyone should have goals.)

It was emotional to look into the Oval Office and see the Resolute desk (my brother seemed cranky that I marveled more at remembering John-John playing underneath than focusing on all the Presidents who had sat behind it).  I hadn’t gotten to see into the Oval Office when I was there a few weeks ago because the President was working, but now the two doors were open between the Oval Office and the Roosevelt Room, and you could see the small distance between the chair I sat in and the chair he sits in while bring briefed (which still held the impression of his body in the leather).  We tried to explain to the twins about how they were standing inside history; that the White House is this living, working, well-used museum of American history.  But I don’t think they could comprehend the enormity of that even if they loved being in that space.

Which is to say that they are neither impressed nor jaded right now: all is as they think it should be.  In their world, it’s a given that if you want to go to the White House, you ask and go to the White House.  They thought it was cool and kept saying, “it’s amazing.”  But they bring the same level of excitement to a trip to the Baltimore Aquarium.  Everything in this world is so. damn. interesting. (And every important building needs a good old-fashioned zombie walk.)

I hope they’re able to hold onto that world view for a very long time.

Of course, the ChickieNob asked the best question of the evening: “why did the President get a pet dog instead of a pet squab?”  Why didn’t he?  I mean, of all the pets in the world, why would he opt for the most common instead of using his immense power to bring a small, domesticated pigeon into his home?  Why not indeed?

*******

We couldn’t take photographs in either the East Wing or the West Wing, though S brought us outside the front door of the West Wing beneath the seal so we could take a family picture and a few of the twins.  And then the Wolvog turned the camera on me and the whole world tilted somewhat to the side.

Then we got in the car and drove back home, the twins falling asleep a few minutes into the ride.  The next morning we had a school field trip to the facility where they make and package school lunches, and that was equally as exciting and wondrous as the White House so it couldn’t be missed.

*******

Our kids have gotten to do and see and receive some pretty amazing things considering they are only seven, and every single moment has been either because someone noted how much an interaction would mean to them and made it happen, or because they asked and received.

Though the ChickieNob dreamily announced at the seder table that her wish for this upcoming birthday is to meet the real Harry Potter, meaning, not Daniel Radcliffe.  She wants the real deal, the boy who lived himself.  Er…