afongen

The other day Owen sat down to a snack of crackers and cheese: a round of camembert and French raw sheep milk cheese whose name escapes me. It was the first time he had ever had either one. Owen bit into a cracker and his face lit up.

“I love camembert. Camembert is my favorite cheese in the whole world!”

We are warping the poor kid.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, and since Owen has amazed me by going to sleep on his own for naptime, I thought I’d share a couple cute Owen stories.

1. Kiara overheard this when he was playing by himself: “‘What a fascinating passenger,’ the dinosaurs giggled.” Tee hee.
2. Unrelated, but still a dinosaur story. “These dinosaurs are in packs,” he told me. “Some of them are in smaller packs. I call those ‘packets’.”

   

He’s so fun to have around.

And yes, Brian, if you’re reading, these are those plastic dinosaurs.

Kiara has written about Alec’s birth.

Kiara brought our iBook into the Apple Store yesterday. Owen filled me in on the details this morning:

“Papa, there’s no computer here for you to use.”

“Oh no? Why not?”

“Mama brought it to the Apple store. It has a board inside that’s broken, so when you use it, the screen doesn’t work!”

“Oh no!”

“They took it and they’re going to put in a new board so it will work.”

“Well that’s good. How long will it take?”

“They said they would keep it there for seven days.”

That about sums it up. Don’t believe for a minute that young children don’t understand what’s going on around them (Owen turned three a month ago).

The video card is shot. After the computer warms up, the screen goes bonkers and displays a not-entirely-pleasing set of vertical lines. It seems the card is placed above a significant heat source and over time, all the expanding and contracting of the connections wears them out. Although the iBook itself is out of warranty, this is apparently a known issue and is covered by some special hardware warranty, so we’re told the repairs will be done at no charge. I doubt it will take a whole seven days: the repair status page shows that it arrived in the repair center the same day it was dropped off in the store.

We have three trees in our front yard; I’ve been waiting for the basswood to drop their leaves before I bother to rake. It’s a small yard and I’m lazy. Well, I woke up this morning at 3:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I’ve been sitting in the living room listening to the rather strong wind raging outside. I just took a peek and not only are the basswoods’ leaves mostly gone, the front yard has been swept clean by the wind. Now they’re Somebody Else’s Problem. Sweet! :)

I just hope that my being pleased about this doesn’t mean that I’ll step outside to find that a tree has fallen on our garage.

I used to be a runner. I started when I was nine years old, and kept at it diligently almost all the way through high school. I can’t imagine that now: how many fourth graders do you know who take up long distance running for fun? By high school I’d developed an unfortunate habit of running at night, through areas that weren’t very well lit: wooded, hilly trails around the lake. (Or maybe it wasn’t so unfortunate, since it meant that I often got to stop by my friend Faye’s house for some late-night lasagna. :) One night, though, I stepped in a hole — that happens sometimes when you can’t see the ground in front of you — and hurt my ankle badly enough to keep me out of running for about six weeks. By the time I was physically able to run again, I discovered that I was no longer interested. It just didn’t do it for me anymore: I was no longer a runner at heart. So I stopped.

Two weeks ago, overweight and out of shape, I started to think about running again. I’d take it slow, ramp up to some more serious effort when the coming winter fades. I had just decided to go buy a pair of shoes when I sprained my ankle. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t start running quite yet. After a couple weeks my ankle starts to heal, I finally start walking on it comfortably again, maybe start thinking about looking at those shoes soon — knowing full well that it will be a few weeks before the ankle is strong enough to run on — and bam! The ankle goes out again. It seems that Something is telling me that I should have taken the hint in high school: I Am Not a Runner.

I was all ready to except the cosmic omen explanation, but then today it happened again, this time about as bad as the sprain two weeks ago. At no time today or yesterday did I give any serious consideration to buying shoes. So that’s probably not it. On the other hand, this time I did call a doctor. Appointment’s later this morning. Hopefully I can make it there. :)

I am an introvert.

This should come as no surprise to those who know me. It doesn’t necessarily mean that I am shy, although I am a bit. Shyness and introversion are quite different things. Those familiar with the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator will recall that introverts are characterized by drawing energy from within, easily overstimulated by the external world. Too much stimulation and we need to spend some down time, recharging. Extroverts, by contrast, are energized by the outside world: people, places, things, activities. I’m getting tired just thinking about it.

I’ve known for a long time that I am an introvert. I cannot handle crowds or too much activity, which is why I eschew going places like the State Fair, the Mall of America, and parties. Sometimes even getting together with a close friend is too much to handle. Kiara’s the same way, although less noticeably: she’s not only more extroverted than I, she’s more right-brained, so is a less typical-seeming introvert. On a lark, I picked up a book for her this Christmas: The Introvert Advantage, How to Thrive in an Extrovert World. I expected that it would be fun to read through, pick up some tips for dealing with ardent extroverts like her father. Turns out that it’s packed with all sorts of great information.

What first grabbed my attention is the discovery that introversion is physiological (as opposed to shyness, which is behavioral). Extroverts and introverts actually use different neurotransmitters and different neural pathways to the brain. Introverts’ dominant neurotransmitter, acetylcholine, is associated with the energy-conserving parasympathetic nervous systems and with moving memories into long-term storage. Because introverts operate heavily in long-term memory, when speaking we tend to pause or speak more slowly than most extroverts are comfortable with. I can certainly relate to this, as I’m sure anyone who’s spoken with me much would agree.

Too, the book lists personality traits and habits that I had not associated with introversion, but that I clearly exhibit:

• Reduce eye contact when speaking to focus on collecting words.
• Start talking in the middle of a thought.
• Have a good memory but take a long time to retrieve memories.
• Can forget things they know well — might stumble around when explaining their job or temporarily forget a word they want to use.
• May think they told you something when they just have thought it.
• Rehearse things before speaking (even for casual conversation).
• May not be aware of their thoughts unless they write or talk about them.
• Clearer about ideas, thoughts, and feelings after sleeping on them.
• Immerse themselves thoroughly in a very few subjects.

These are all traits that have their root in physiology. Amazing.

The author is a psychotherapist, and about two-thirds of the book is devoted to suggestions for navigating life as an introvert in an extroverted world, as well as advice to extroverts for dealing with introverts. There are chapters on relationships, work life, parenting, socializing. Frankly, it smacks a bit too much of the self-help genre that I typically avoid, and with this prejudice in mind I doubt that I’ll take much of the author’s advice. Still, it has helped me remember how important it is to take time throughout the day to slow down and recharge.

Fascinating read.