My 5th grade math teacher would be proud!

I have never been good with numbers. This may explain why...

The Evolution of teaching Math

Teaching Math In 1950
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1960
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1970
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

Teaching Math In 1980
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math In 1990
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers.)

Teaching Math In 2005
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la producción es $80 ...

And we wonder why this world is in so much trouble.

Down South where they say y’all...

So… I had a lovely weekend sharing quality time with the fam, in Southern Illinois. Just to be clear… this is really Southern Illinois. I know many people that think anywhere south of Chicago city limits is Southern Illinois… Not true. Southern Illinois doesn’t truly begin until about 30 miles South of Champaign-Urbana in a little town called Arcola, population 2,652. Why do I believe this? Because starting in Arcola, people name their children things like Billy Bob and Peggy Jean… At lease those were the names of the two newlyweds that were being congratulated on the billboard of the local gas station. It’s also South of Arcola that you will find towns like Ina (population 2,455), Dix, Centralia, Pesotum, Neoga (which, as some will remember, is pronounced Neooooga, with a grunt) and Cairo (pronounced Caro… like the sugary sweet white maple syrup.)

Now, I went to school in Carbondale, so, I should be used to that drive, right? WRONG… it’s 5.5 hours from Chicago to Carbondale… I hit mile marker 300 (just north of “Chambana”) and almost died realizing that I had to go to mile #59. I survived however, it will be some time before I do that alone again. Anyway, I love my family. Dad, Stacy, John (her fiancé), Aunt Erdine and I spend the entire weekend playing cards and shootin’ the shit and I even enjoyed having Stacy’s little nose breathing pugs there… we bonded.

OK… that’s not the reason for this post. I understand that the masses are truly concerned about who won the most Euchre games (Dad and Aunt Erdine I think) or who had the most impressive hearts win (Stacy… the little brat defeated me 67 to 200… I shot the moon twice and still came in dead last! Damn!)

No, no, no… the purpose of this post is to discuss my almamater. Southern Illinois University at Carbondale also known as SIU. The home of the Salukis and what is supposed to be considered my glory days. Stacy, John and I took a “day trip” into Carbondale. I was excited to see the old stompin’ ground… really. I remembered a certain energy that you only find in a college town. Guess what we found… disappointment all around! The place was filthy and more red-neck than I remembered! It was a ghost town! There were no drunk college kids, there were no sun bathers in the fields, there were no students hanging out on campus, there was nothing. The place was dead! I realize it’s July, but, typically there are these things called summer classes that are designed, in part to populate the area. I also realize that we were there on Saturday afternoon but, still, in my vast experience of summer living in Carbondale, I expected to see college kids having fun! Nope.

Here’s the kicker. We decided to go back into the college town for a few drinks in the evening so that John could experience the Nightlife. We walked in to Stix at around 8:30 pm to find 5 people playing pool. I understand that 8:30 is early for college kids, but why, oh Lord in Heaven, why, were there still only about 20 people in the entire bar when we left at midnight? Unbelievable! And even worse… walking out onto the strip was just disappointing… no drunkin’ brawls, no one was puking, there were no rowdy guys cat-calling any scantily clad college girls that look to be 12. IT WAS QUIET, PEOPLE!!! THAT’S WRONG!

Then… I heard a little bell… ahhh… music to my ears… It’s Winston the Bagel Man. And suddenly, Carbondale is a fabulous place again!

80's Mania!!!

Oh my gosh!!! I was just given the gift that keeps on giving! One of my rep friends, in the spirit of friendship and the 80's gave me... prepare yourself... this is totally radical... I mean Crazy to the max, man...

A RUBIK'S CUBE!

Now, you all know how easily amused I am right?! Now imagine my excitement when he invited me to a 80's party complete with TWISTER?! Oh yeah folks... I'll be playing twister and dressing the part of the 80's chick next week with other designer friends... gosh, do I have any AquaNet? How cool is that!

Go on... be jealous!

Now imagine that same person, who's already brought such joy to my day, next offers me tickets to today's Cubs game (Cubs v. Pirates), which I have to turn down because 1.) I don't have anyone to go with me and 2.) I'm road trippin' it down south!!! Much dissappointment but... What a guy that Hunter is... Thanks Hunter!

Cheers!

The largest muscle in the body is Gluteus Maximus... Yes folks, that's the butt... the derriere, tush, behind, bottom, rear or, my favorite, aft extremity. But the most important muscle in the body is the heart.

From the moment it begins beating until the moment it stops, the human heart works tirelessly, beating an average of 72 times per minute... that's more than two and a half billion times in an average lifetime, without ever pausing to rest. It's no wonder that we use the "heart" in so many daily phrases. Verbiage used to describe a feeling, an experience, a desire, a promise, an emotion, a description or a place.

A heart of gold,
A heart of stone,
A heart throb (like Shawn Cassidy in the early eighties... yum),
A heart to heart talk,
A heart-warming experience,
After your own heart,
Change of heart,
Cold hands warm heart,
Cross my heart and hope to die,
Cry your heart out (been there, done that!),
Have a heart,
Wearing your heart on your sleeve,
Heart and soul (great song),
Heart wrenching,
Heart warming,
Heartbreak Hotel (Elvis IS the King),
Home is where the heart is,
In my heart of hearts,
Know by heart,
Lose your heart,
Melt the heart,
Near and dear to my heart,
Open your heart,
Serious as a heart-attack,
Set your heart on something,
Sob your heart out,
Steal someone's heart,
The heart has its reasons,
The way to a man's heart is through his stomach,
Warms the cockles of my heart,
What becomes of the broken-hearted,
With a hearty hiho Silver,
Young at heart.

While the phrases listed above are appropriate, the most commonly used phrase that includes this human body part is "broken hearted." I have often wondered where this term came from. When, in history, did we begin equating love and feelings with this, the most important body part? In researching this "phenomenon," I did not find definitiveve answer but... I have found that the heart, as a euphemism has been used by Chinese philosophers as early as 370 - 300 BC.

"A Great man is he who does not lose his childlike heart." - Mencius (Mengzi Meng-tse).

Similarly, the heart as a descriptor, has been used in the Bible.

"The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, while the heart of the fool is in the house of entertainment." - Bible. Sacred Scriptures of Christians and Judaism

"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?" - Bible. Sacred Scriptures of Christians and Judaism

And, as I suspected, the heart being equated to love has been used by Poets.

"Whether you call my heart affectionate, or you call it womanish: I confess, that to my misfortune, it is soft." - Ovid BC 43-18 AD Roman Poet

After learning this, I started to wonder where and when the modern shape of the heart begin? I found this:

"There are a few ancient symbols that recur through the ages. One of these symbols - the heart - means many things to many people. Just how did the stylized heart shape become the icon for love and the human soul? Let's work our way back in history:

The heart symbol as we know it today, was popularized in the Victorian era over a hundred years ago. They loved the romantic heart shape and embellished it in many ways; but they didn't invent it. Where did it come from?

Getting closer to the source, the Egyptian ab, or "heart soul", apparently bears a remarkable resemblance to the stained glass Christian iconographs. The story of the ab was that one of the Egyptian's seven souls came directly from the mother's heart, in the form of holy lunar blood and would descend to the womb and take the shape of her child. The Catholic church claims that the symbol of the heart (Sacred Heart) began when Saint Margaret Marie Alacoque had a vision in the late 17th century. She saw a heart shape surrounded by a crown of thorns.
There is evidence that it is still older. Centuries earlier than Saint Alacoque, the heart symbol was incorporated in a number of stained glass windows and cloister decorations. Basically, the heart symbol, in Christian iconography was a stand in for the soul of Jesus. The Centurion who pierced Jesus' heart at the crucifixion with a lance was the first reference to the sacred heart in the scriptures - John 19:34

The most intriguing explanation for the heart symbol is linked to erotic love - and lies within the ruins of a classical city in North Africa. In the 7th century BC, in the city-state of Cyrene, there was a valuable plant called Silphium. The commercial trade of this now extinct species of fennel made Cyrene one of the richest cities in Africa until the founding of Alexandria. We are only now coming to understand why the Silphium plant was so highly valued that it was harvested to extinction. Silphium grew only in the small, upland, ecological zones surrounding the city of Cyrene in North Africa. Trade based on this now extinct species of Giant Fennel was of great commercial importance to Cyrene. Just what was so special about this plant?

Silphium has left its mark in modern society in a way that has not previously been recognized. Have you ever wondered why the human heart - the repository and the embodiment of romantic love - is always drawn stylized instead of in the natural shape of the human heart organ? The answer is rooted in the ancient function of Silphium! And the connection between this artistic convention and Silphium is found in the coinage of Cyrene, which features a seed pod of the revered plant."

Huh... Chinese philosophers and a plant seem to have brought us to the "heart of the matter." Who'd-a-thunk?

Lastly, in my research, as un-scientific as it may be (thanks to Google), I have uncovered that there is actually a Broken Heart Martini. Yup... we've taken our collective devastation into the bottle.

I'll be perfecting this recipe over the next few weeks. Cheers!

31 And Loving It!

So, I haven't blogged in a while. My apologies to those who have been waiting for me to get my act together (Daddy).

I could say that I've been busy, and while this is a true statement, it's not entirely accurate. Yes, I have been traveling for work... Canada 3 times in the last 4 weeks (Toronto is beautiful). But the truth is that I've been trying to wrap my head around the inevitable appearance of my 31st birthday. Yes, I turned 31 on June 5th. No, it was not traumatic. No, I didn't cry. And, no, I will not be one of those women who lie about their age and stall the clock at my 29th year. I did however, have to do the math (which is quite amazing given that numbers make me nauseous). So... I apologize if this seems a little "rent-ish"... feel free to correct my math if necessary.

31 years = 1,612 weeks
31 years = 11,315 days
31 years = 271,560 hours
31 years = 16,293,600 minutes

I thought about those numbers for a while and realized a few things. Of the 16+ million moments that I've lived this life, I have been on vacation for about 35 weeks, I have been in school for about 2,600 days, I have been at work for about 20,800 hours and I have smiled for at least 14 million minutes. Most importantly, I have loved and been loved for every single one of the 16 million + moments of my life. There is a phrase that I've been saying for years and years... most recently made popular by a certain "movie" "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and be loved in return."

I now feel it necessary to throw out into cyber space a few "shout-outs" to those who have graced a large portion of my 31 years...

- Daddy, I thank you, for teaching me everything I know. I learned how to love because you and mom loved so generously, easily, honestly and truly.

- Stacy, from you I learned that loving is hard work but the rewards are sooooo great. You are the best sister I could possibly hope for. Thank you for loving me... I'll miss you, you Cincinnati bound diva, you!

- Katy, I will never truly be able to articulate how much you mean to me. My life is better because you're in it and there is a certain safety in our friendship that allows me to live my life knowing that you'll be there loving me and giving me shit no matter what I do... I love you for that!

- Girlfriends, I thank you for allowing me to love you and learn from you. My mom told me when I was young that girlfriends were the most important friends you could have. I receive cheesy e-mails daily about the importance of girlfriends and I believe all of that crap to be true! I had the pleasure of joining girl power forces with the wonder quad a few weeks ago! This foursome of fantastic women included Mrs. Ann Hermes-Tudor, Mrs. Gina Witt, Mrs. Lindsay Wookie (Bigler) and Ms. Briton Pyne. Thank you ladies for sharing your thoughts, opinions, strengths, weaknesses, passions, disappointments and hearts with me. (Hey, Laura...warm and fuzzy girl love goes to you too... you have been a blessing as a friend and a roommate.)

- Boys, Ed, Brandon, Greg, Cameron, Mike, Chris, Jason, Jac and Whitey, like it or not, you will forever be "my boys." I thank you for your hugs.

So, I'm 31 and I love it. That's only a surprise because I'm not exactly where I thought I'd be at 31. I thought that I'd be married with a kid or two by now. I thought that I'd have a great house and a successful career and a lot of things that reminded me of the place in society that I'd earned. Instead, I'm single, in a new relationship, renting an apartment, leasing a car, still defining my career and happy! It's funny, when we're young we dream about big houses, marriage, family, success and careers, but never do we dream about the people that will help us get there. Never do we dream about the types of relationships we'll have or the friends we'll make along the way. I could have never dreamed up this life... but I'm sure glad that if found me.

OK... enough of that mushy stuff... I have one question...
What's the deal with men in suits wearing tennis shoes? I understand the ladies perspective, I mean, come on, heels and pointy toes, who wants to walk around in that all day? But gentlemen, can you explain how the flat loafers are just too much to bare?

Courtyard Bliss

Have you ever stood in your court yard and listened to a chorus of laughter fall from the windows of your neighbors? I have.

Friday night, around 11:30, I was standing in my concrete jungle, so that the Dingo dog could do his "before-bed-business," when I heard familiar giggles from the lit windows above.

First, there was the chuckle of a certain long haired frat boy that lives on the 3rd floor. Then the belly laugh of the one and only "Chocolate Danny" on floor 2. Next was the Fran Drescher-like chortle of my dear room mate. Followed by the shriek of our neighbor-down-da-street, Greg.
Back up to the 3rd floor where the visiting Billy let out a little tehee. Then to floor 2 where roomies Ed and Mike cackled in unison. Then, as if the center section of the building woke up, Mike # 2 (1st floor in the middle) began laughing at his TV. Cooper, Hadley's dog (2nd floor in the middle) let out a yelp to which Hadley hushed him and then giggled at his invisible reaction. Back to my window where Laura and Greg were reveling in some sort of comment about something.

For about 15 minutes, I stood with my dog... smiling at the happiness of my friends... this is my life, my world... and I'm so glad they're all in it.

Alternate Word Art

I've decided that one of the coolest things on the planet is the Thesaurus.

It is a tool (apparatus, appliance, bucksaw, contraption, contrivance, dojigger, engine, gadget, gizmo, implement, job, machine, means, mechanism, utensil, weapon, whatchamacallit) a device, if you will, that allows one to elevate descriptions to a level verging on an art form. Seriously people... what's more interesting, "Congratulations (Mike and Abby) on the announcement of your pregnancy!" or "Ovations on the communique of your fruitfulness!" See... art.

I used the Thesaurus a lot in high school and college, when writing papers but forgot how much fun it was. Now, in the age of computers and the information super-highway, I have a thesaurus link saved to my favorites and I find myself using it daily to describe things like "ambiance" (atmosphere, aura, backdrop, background, circumstances, climate, conditions, context, domain, element, encompassment, entourage, habitat, hood, jungle, locale, medium, milieu, neighborhood, purlieus, scene, scenery, setting, situation, status, stomping ground, surroundings, terrain, territory, turf, zoo.) to my clients.

I have however, discovered that the thesaurus can also be used to vent! This prodigious form of therapy has resulted in turning sheer anger and frustaration into hilarity and merriment (amusement, cachinnation, cackle, chortle, chortling, chuckle, chuckling, crack-up, crow, crowing, fit, gesture, giggle, giggling, glee, guffaw, guffawing, har-de-har, howling, laugh, mirth, peal, rejoicing, roar, roaring, shout, shouting, shriek, snicker, snigger, snort, snorting, sound, tehee, titter, tittering, yuck), when used to secretly insult the kingpins in my office. It's funny how "Kiss my butt, you pompous twit" almost sounds like a compliment when alternating typical words used daily with words found in the Thesaurus... "Osculate my aft extremity, you magniloquent dolt!"

I have also found the Thesaurus to be educational and useful when playing on-line scrabble with cute boys that reside in Pittsburgh. Let's say you have letters r, x, h, a, t, n and q. You need a 4 letter word starting with a 't' to get to the triple word square. What do you do? Remembering that there is a funny little word, meaning "creek," that grandma once used in a scrabble battle past, you look to the thesaurus! Cheating? Well, maybe (sorry honey)! Sidenote: that very same funny little word (tarn) was published in the May edition of Hemispheres (United Airlines in flight magazine), in an article about the french countryside... interesting!

And, at that, I will end this blog with my favorite "alternative word art" to date... fun (absurdity, ball, big time, blast, buffoonery, celebration, cheer, clowning, distraction, diversion, enjoyment, entertainment, escapade, festivity, foolery, frolic, gaiety, gambol, game, good time, grins, high jinks, holiday, horseplay, jesting, jocularity, joke, joking, jollity, joy, junketing, laughter, merriment, merrymaking, mirth, nonsense, pastime, picnic, play, playfulness, pleasure, recreation, rejoicing, relaxation, riot, romp, romping, solace, sport, tomfoolery, treat, whoopee)!

The Great American Past Time

On Saturday, I , princess of art, musicals, fine dining and all things creative, joined 39,000 others to cheer, drink beer and sing "take me out to the ball game." The venue, Wrigley Field. The competitors, Cubs and Phillies. The weather, freezing!

Those who know me understand that I am not, nor have I ever been a fan of baseball, football, basketball, hockey or that sport where crazy people grease up little pigs and run around trying to catch them. I will admit that my lack of enjoyment for sports in general, has been due to the fact that I really don't grasp the rules or objectives... But I'm learning!

My first goal, to understand the most American of all past times, baseball, is coming along at a great pace (with a little help from other lovers of the game). And one trip to the ball park has given me a new found affinity for runs, outs, bases and the like.

There was something magical about entering the stadium and seeing the technicolor green of the field sprawled out in front of me.

There was something nostalgic about the smell of peanuts and beer. Stepping on the shells and sticking to the concrete.

There was something admirable about the "fan." Cheering and fighting and wanting so desperately to be part of the action.

There was something comforting about snuggling for warmth under an over-priced Cubs blanket with someone special.

There was something beautiful about staring across the space and seeing the team colors of the club you're rooting for... Dots creating a Seurat type backdrop to the action.

The noise, the anticipation and the sheer joy emanating from those around me placed me in the front row of a Broadway musical. The applause, cat calls and smiles (minus the profanity) reminded me of the curtain call.

I won't pretend to be a fan, as I still have a lot to learn. I will say that I am excited about the potential of joining the leagues of others who get excited when opening day rolls around. Maybe it will happen by the time the playoffs begin!

Dad said I should...

Well, for years my father, has been urging me to write... anything... A book, a movie, inspirational cards to trailer park trash so that they can feel special too! Today, I took the plunge. I'm certain that this blog is not the type of literary genius that my father had hoped for however, it is a start, and I am proud to join the leagues of others who litter cyberspace with their un-important, un-funny and un-interesting thoughts.

For my first entry, I will share with you (the hordes of nameless and faceless people staring balnkly into a computer screen) an e-mail that I wrote... to my dad... and his response, prompting me to finally start this "publication."

Hi daddy!

I try to send Neil an interesting observation every day. Mostly they're silly, like the older woman I noticed walking down the street with her ipod last week. She must have been 70, in her knee-hi's and house dress, hunched over from osteoporosis and years of living life. As she walked and listened to her music coming from the most recent electronic trend, I could only guess the tune that was making her smile and bop her head like a teenager. She made me smile that day.

Anyway... this is what I sent Neil today... I thought you would enjoy it as well.

So... today is a good day... partially because you will be here in Chicago the day-after-tomorrow... but also because it was the running of the sailboats day. Let me explain. My office window looks down 15 floors to the Chicago River, in all it's glory. There are several days at the beginning of every spring and toward the end of fall where they designate days that sailboats can go from the storage harbors, inland to the marinas on Lake Michigan. Today was one of those days.

The best part of the sailboat parade, aside from being amazed at the sheer quantity and beauty of these yachts, catamarans and sailboats, is the raising of the bridges. These steel and concrete structures rise and fall in this wonderfully choreographed dance, starting with Franklin Street, then Wacker, LaSalle and on and on. I stare in amazement, every year, at the complexity of these man made planes of metal and how they gracefully stand at attention as the vessels pass, as if to salute them and wish them well in the waters of the lake. To me it signifies spring, but more than that, it reminds me of what people are capable of. Being surrounded every day by a jungle of architecture, I forget, even as a designer, that towering buildings, bridges, elevated train tracks, parks and fountains are all creations that come from deep within people. Individuals and teams work to create these elements that make up the Chicago skyline that I so happily say good morning to on my way to work. Powerful stuff.

That's my observation for the day. Enjoy!

I love you, Dad!

And Dad's response....

Jenny... You are amazing. Your observations are not only enjoyable, they're literary and would grace the pages of any of our better magazines and/or dailies. You should present them as a possible column to some of the local "rags". Who knows my amazing daughtrer may be the next Kup, other gender! Love ya...DAD

I know, I know... daddies are supposed to think their daughters are wonderful. I won't let it go to my head!