Scene: Kitchen table at my friend B's house. There are about 8 of us women sitting around and chatting.
L [examining table cloth]: B, do you always use a table cloth? I like it.
B: Yes, I always use a table cloth, but this one is one of my nicer ones.
L [thinking of her 3 kids 4 and under]: It would never stay nice at my house.
B: This one might. It's all polyester, and totally easy to clean--everything comes out.
M: Yeah, these polyester ones are great. An oil stain might take some work to get out, but everything else is a breeze!
Sonnet [with images of refineries and motor oil dancing through her head]: Like petroleum?
Friday, March 23, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Science Experiments
When I was younger, maybe 4 or 5, I remember riding in the car and wondering about the how the lock and the door handle worked. Specifically, I wondered if I could open the door from the inside even if it were locked. I understood that the door needed to be unlocked in order to open the door from the outside of the car, but what about from inside the car?
So I designed an experiment--complete with hypothesis. And then I tested it.
Turns out my hypothesis was wrong. In that particular car, the car door would, and did, open from the inside, even when locked.
Did you remember that I said I was *riding* in the car as all that went on? Fortunately there was someone sitting not too far away (and not driving) who could help get the door closed tightly and safely. It was about then that it occurred to me that it might have been better for me to perform this experiment when the car was parked.
So I designed an experiment--complete with hypothesis. And then I tested it.
Turns out my hypothesis was wrong. In that particular car, the car door would, and did, open from the inside, even when locked.
Did you remember that I said I was *riding* in the car as all that went on? Fortunately there was someone sitting not too far away (and not driving) who could help get the door closed tightly and safely. It was about then that it occurred to me that it might have been better for me to perform this experiment when the car was parked.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Self Worth?
After graduating from BYU I worked in a research lab at BYU for the summer before I started graduate school. Because I hadn't specifically done hard wage negotiations before some of the paperwork was filled out, a secretary determined that I would be paid $6.50/hour*. This really bothered me. I was a college graduate. I was the pride of the department and they could brag about the quality of their education based on the graduate schools and programs I was accepted to. And yet I was still only worth $6.50 an hour. After a number of pep-talks, I went back to defend myself and my value. They gave in and upped my wage.
When I started graduate school I was in awe--I was making more money than I ever had--a whopping $17,500 per year. To go to school! At some point in the course of my five years of graduate school, things changed. As I became more independent and needed less hand holding, I also realized that my stipend didn't feel as generous as it once had.
So I graduated, and moved up to the postdoc payscale--a considerable jump over the graduate student stipend. But now as I'm looking into "real jobs" I realize that I'm still undervaluing myself. Yesterday I was talking to a recruiter, and she asked about my salary requirements. Fortunately I knew enough to answer that question by turning it back on her and asking what they considered competitive for that type of position. She hemmed and hawed a little about experience and education and the role they play in determining salary. She then acknowledged that I met all of their experience and educational expectations and she gave a salary range. A range that puts my current salary to shame.
Since then I've been thinking about how effectively I've been "trained" into underestimating my worth. And it sort of scares me how much I might have undersold myself. Taking it beyond the job and the salary situation, I wonder--how often do I sell my birthright for a mess of pottage and imagine that I'm getting the better end of the deal?
* I think it was $6.50, but my memory may be off a quarter or two.
When I started graduate school I was in awe--I was making more money than I ever had--a whopping $17,500 per year. To go to school! At some point in the course of my five years of graduate school, things changed. As I became more independent and needed less hand holding, I also realized that my stipend didn't feel as generous as it once had.
So I graduated, and moved up to the postdoc payscale--a considerable jump over the graduate student stipend. But now as I'm looking into "real jobs" I realize that I'm still undervaluing myself. Yesterday I was talking to a recruiter, and she asked about my salary requirements. Fortunately I knew enough to answer that question by turning it back on her and asking what they considered competitive for that type of position. She hemmed and hawed a little about experience and education and the role they play in determining salary. She then acknowledged that I met all of their experience and educational expectations and she gave a salary range. A range that puts my current salary to shame.
Since then I've been thinking about how effectively I've been "trained" into underestimating my worth. And it sort of scares me how much I might have undersold myself. Taking it beyond the job and the salary situation, I wonder--how often do I sell my birthright for a mess of pottage and imagine that I'm getting the better end of the deal?
* I think it was $6.50, but my memory may be off a quarter or two.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Not in the Club
The other night I went to a baby shower for a friend of mine from church who is expecting her first child. One of the things that we did while at the shower is make an advice book. So we each were given little cards with instructions. On the first card we were to write advice for a new mom. The second was for our favorite baby products (or least favorite). And the third we were to write our favorite things about being a mom.
Everything changed for me when I finished reading the instructions. All of a sudden I felt out of place. It was like that Sesame Street song was playing "One of these things is not like the others...." and I'd just figured out which it was--me. My first reaction was to re-bundle my set of cards and offer them to the next person who arrived.
After a few minutes I decided to adapt the cards for me. And I told myself not to be so sensitive.
Later in the night a little quip someone had written about changes after becoming a mother was being passed around for everyone to enjoy. As it approached me someone said, "Oh, better not let Peanut read it, or she'll never want to have kids."
And there I was, again. Odd woman out.
Here it is, days later, and it still bothers me to think about it. Part of what bothers me is that I feel more connected to this Relief Society and these women than I have with any other ward I've been in--even my single student wards. Now there's this part in the back of my mind that wonders if I've just been fooling myself, and I'm not as connected to these women as I thought I was. How could I be? I don't have kids.
Everything changed for me when I finished reading the instructions. All of a sudden I felt out of place. It was like that Sesame Street song was playing "One of these things is not like the others...." and I'd just figured out which it was--me. My first reaction was to re-bundle my set of cards and offer them to the next person who arrived.
After a few minutes I decided to adapt the cards for me. And I told myself not to be so sensitive.
Later in the night a little quip someone had written about changes after becoming a mother was being passed around for everyone to enjoy. As it approached me someone said, "Oh, better not let Peanut read it, or she'll never want to have kids."
And there I was, again. Odd woman out.
Here it is, days later, and it still bothers me to think about it. Part of what bothers me is that I feel more connected to this Relief Society and these women than I have with any other ward I've been in--even my single student wards. Now there's this part in the back of my mind that wonders if I've just been fooling myself, and I'm not as connected to these women as I thought I was. How could I be? I don't have kids.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
sick
I'm sick. Wednesday morning I felt good. By Wednesday afternoon I was developing a cough. Thursday morning, though I felt like crap, I felt optimistic and thought I'd go ahead and go to work. I got a couple miles down the road before I realized what a dumb idea that was and turned around. I went to the doctor on Friday. He agreed--I'm sick. Fever. Congestion. Irritated throat.
So here it is, Sunday morning, I'm still sick. But it's Sunday morning, and I have stuff to do. So I got up with my alarm at 7:30, and called my RS president, Ruth, just in case she could take care of some of the stuff. No answer. Oh yeah, she had a 8am meeting this morning. OK, proceed with doing what I need to do. I shower, find appropriate church clothes, get my things together and leave. I pick up the woman and her baby who need a ride to church. We get to church. I make the photocopies I need. I see Ruth--she tells me to go home and be sick. I tell her that I'm planning to, but I still have things to do. Fortunately, I can transfer most of my things to do onto her, but not everything.
I sit in the foyer to put the copies I've made into the binders before I hand them off to someone else. Oh! There's Megan. I give her a copy of our latest book for book club. I was supposed to give it to her on Thursday morning when we walk in the morning, but I was sick, so I didn't walk.
Eventually, I have redistributed all of the things I needed to take care of. And I head back out to my car to go home, get in bed, and work on getting better. It's an hour since I left home, two hours since I got up. Sometimes I wish I weren't so responsible and on top of things. But I also know that's why I get asked to take care of some of the things I do--because they know I won't drop the ball. Even if I'm sick.
So here it is, Sunday morning, I'm still sick. But it's Sunday morning, and I have stuff to do. So I got up with my alarm at 7:30, and called my RS president, Ruth, just in case she could take care of some of the stuff. No answer. Oh yeah, she had a 8am meeting this morning. OK, proceed with doing what I need to do. I shower, find appropriate church clothes, get my things together and leave. I pick up the woman and her baby who need a ride to church. We get to church. I make the photocopies I need. I see Ruth--she tells me to go home and be sick. I tell her that I'm planning to, but I still have things to do. Fortunately, I can transfer most of my things to do onto her, but not everything.
I sit in the foyer to put the copies I've made into the binders before I hand them off to someone else. Oh! There's Megan. I give her a copy of our latest book for book club. I was supposed to give it to her on Thursday morning when we walk in the morning, but I was sick, so I didn't walk.
Eventually, I have redistributed all of the things I needed to take care of. And I head back out to my car to go home, get in bed, and work on getting better. It's an hour since I left home, two hours since I got up. Sometimes I wish I weren't so responsible and on top of things. But I also know that's why I get asked to take care of some of the things I do--because they know I won't drop the ball. Even if I'm sick.
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