Category Archives: Mrs. Charm

Cold As Ice

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I enjoyed this 1992 scifi novel of physicist Charles Sheffield’s, though it seemed unnecessarily complicated in the beginning. A little more action before establishing the seven main characters would have prevented me from putting it down so often. Sheffield died of brain cancer in 2002, which resonates because a good friend of Mrs. Charm’s is struggling with it. Seems to have it licked for the moment, though the odds of that lasting are very low.

I bring up Sheffield to point out how easy it is to fall into these stories of ordinary life in the solar system, as if we had gotten off the engineering dime and were actually living in/on Luna, Mars, and the Asteroid Belt. A lot of Cold As Ice occurs on (actually, under the surface of) Ganymede, which recalls Heinlein’s impossible young adult novel, Farmer In The Sky, which Mr. B. and I started as a bedtime story but never finished.

We had the space probe pictures and details of Jupiter’s radiation to consult, as Heinlein did not. Also life on (under, actually) Europa, which seems plausible, despite Sheffield’s scientific realism of the dangers of Jovian radiation. I hope all this verisimilitude means humanity really will do these things and not just wallow forever in political corruption and the threat of war. But a posed result of the latter is limned chillingly in Cold As Ice as one of the spurs for continued colonization.

The Real Deal

That’s the name of Mr. B.’s "newspaper," a two- to three-page stapled collection of brief items, generally about favorite video games, bloopers at recess or clandestine food fights in the cafeteria. Some kids sell lemonade. Mr. B., being the child of two ink-stained wretches, is venturing into journalism.

I worry about possible angry administrators or even parents if some of his items wind up embarrassing another child. Mrs. Charm says I’m making too much of it. Mr. B. wants to sell his papers for twenty-five cents each at recess. He’s got visions of more than a hundred potential dollars. I demur, figuring the school will not like him doing that. Mrs. C., well, you know. It’s certainly not at this level, but I worry that the consequences could be similar. So far I’m losing. So we shall see what we see.

Green pool

We happy band of pool fools have seen the water turn hazy green again since the last rainstorm a few days ago. Mrs. Charm says we must spend the weekend mixing chemicals and scrubbing the walls and vaccuuming the bottom to get the water back to its normal sparkling blue.

Alas, the weekend forecast calls for more storms, in a Pacific tap as it’s called, of moisture streaming up here from the remains of TS Olaf, predicted to go ashore on the Baja tomorrow night. So we may just have to start all over again on Monday. Pool fools, indeed.

Removing labels from 2-liter soda bottles

Mr. B.’s fourth grade teacher wants empty 2-liter soda bottles for a classroom ecology study. Being a classroom parent, I didn’t stop at one Coke Zero bottle for Mr. B. but have plunged on to get more. The only hassle is the label. Most of it can be cut off, but it always leaves some where the glue is.

The glue comes off easy enough with WD-40, something I discovered years ago trying to get dried glue off fiberglass. But the label residue itself, ugh, what a pain. Scrape, scrape. Mrs. Charm suggested immersing the bottle in hot, soapy water. I even left it soaking overnight. Didn’t work.

This fellow managed it with slightly-cooled boiling water poured into the bottle. I may have to try it, though it sounds like a great way to ruin, or at least deform, the bottle’s thin plastic. If there’s a surefire trick here, I have yet to find it. Anybody have any suggestions?

UPDATE:  Have noticed several visits from folks seeking info on this subject. Therefore will add that I wound up doing in the neighborhood of twelve bottles and this process works best: cut off the label and spray the label residue with WD-40. Let it soak a while and then use a razor blade in a holder to scrape it off. Corner of the blade works best. Once the label is off, spray more on the glue, wait a bit and then wipe it off. Wash and dry the bottle to get the WD-40 off. 

Decimals

I figured when Mr. B. starts on algebra, either in late middle school or early high school, that my ability to help him with his homework would be at an end. I never understood it and have happily ignored it ever since.

Then Mrs Charm and I got into a mild dispute the other night trying to correct his math homework on decimals. We realized that neither of us was entirely comfortable with fourth grade math, nevermind the harder versions to come.

Out of touch, and likin’ it

Cobb links to a piece purporting to list the best rock albums of the past twenty years. I’m not familiar with a single one. Worse than Cobb who at least likes three. I should be ashamed, I suppose, but I’m not.

In fact, I am loading the new IPod Mrs. Charm gave me with the stuff I grew up with: Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie, and Charlie Parker. Next up: Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, Stan Kenton, etc. Stuff I can whistle. I’m too retro to live, maybe…

Kid’s got my number

Mr. B.’s homework assignment spiral notebook has a spot on the first page for his parents’ phone numbers. He dutifully wrote in Mrs. Charm’s office phone. For Dad he put the home landline number and wrote under it: "Never answers the phone, so don’t bother."

Smart kid. Wish the sales callers would get the message, but they continue to call and I continue to ignore them. We’ve debated getting rid of the landline but are keeping it for the older relatives who don’t have cell phones.