The Penny and the Twenty

Image source: Wikipedia

Image source: Wikipedia

Recently, it has been announced that the familiar face of the twenty dollar bill will be replaced by a newcomer after protest of society's softies. Harriet Tubman will take the place of President Andrew Jackson. President Jackson owned slaves, an unheard of thing now, but a legal and acceptable practice during that time period. Harriet Tubman is a better choice for symbolizing freedom and the modern world. Nevermind that she was a slave which are purchased, you know with money. Now her face shall represent it? Seems a little backwards. Plus, I feel it's stepping on the face of our former leader. Admittedly, I don't agree with this change. I'm tired of so-called political correctness.

Unfortunately, money fuels the greed of pop culture and fame. The faces on currency carry a sense of power. There are other ways to signify an individual's importance. What about postage stamps? History books? Friendly conversation? Do people care about those things anymore? Of course not! America is obsessed with money money money. Maybe the mint should print geological landmarks on our currency instead, such as Old Faithful, the Grand Canyon, a Hawaiian volcano, etc. Then, perhaps, money won't be associated with a person's power. And the arguments over who is more important will cease.

There has also been debate over abolishing the penny. The one cent. The coveted collector piece for kids. It's the filling for glass jug lamp bases. It's provided luck when finding one face up on the pavement; avoidance if face down. It checks wear and tear on tires and provides exact change. Yet, the penny has suddenly become a nuisance. It weighs down wallets. Putting elementary math concepts in place to trade a merchant for goods, is a time constraint. Nothing is worth a penny anymore, so why have it? (Although, I remember a time when I could purchase a tiny Tootsie Roll for a penny at the local gas station.)

But has anyone noticed who is on the penny? Abraham Lincoln! The man who freed the slaves. Why remove a president from the twenty dollar bill in favor of a slave; yet propose to eliminate the penny, when it houses the face of the very man who set them free.




Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

The Evolution of Thermometers

The day after the Color Me Rad 5K, G came down with whatever bug I had. She woke up Sunday with a sore throat. Throughout the day she napped and was not interested in her usual weekend shenanigans. Her forehead felt warm so I dug out the digital thermometer which reads temperatures in eight seconds. Of course, sticking anything other than a toothbrush or candy into a youngster's mouth is met with a fight.

The first reading was about 102. Wow really? I took it again. It stopped around 101.5 then the numbers quickly climbed to 102.9. Whoaaaa! I performed a third reading. The same thing happened: reading stopped at 101.5 and then, oddly, zipped to 103.2. Ack! The thermometer's alarm went off and the screen flashed red. Hmmm. Well, regardless, she's sick so I gave her a dose of children's Advil. After some basic troubleshooting, I sent T to get a replacement thermometer since the device was acting strange. "Ask the pharmacy for a recommendation," were my instructions.

The pharmacy recommends the temporal thermometers like hospitals and doctors' offices use. At ten bucks it's about the same price as digital thermometers, and they are more accurate. Plus there's no refusal over an object in her mouth; just slap it against the side of her head. I can do it while she sleeps!

This process got me thinking about the evolution of thermometers. I used glass mercury thermometers when I was a kid. They're considered sinful to use now, due to the risk of mercury exposure if the tube broke. But back then, they were advanced technology. And every kid, desperate to play hookey, placed one against an incandescent light bulb. Ah! the fond memories of the poisonous glass stick! As a tiny tot, temperature was taken under my arm. As I grew, however, it was customary to change tactics: mouth readings. Mom shook it, ran the water over it, and popped it under my tongue where it remained for-ev-er! The thermometer had to practically poke my tonsils for a proper reading, enhancing discomfort. If mom thought it read too low, it went back in. If she thought it read too high, it went back in. When it showed the number she expected she'd say, "Yep, just what I thought." Mother's intuition was always right, I suppose.

At some point, digital thermometers hit the market. They worked the same way, in the mouth, yet came with so-called advantages. First, it was fast. Instead of forever, it only took half of forever. (Hey, any improvement is welcome!) Second, instead of straining to read a bubble of liquid against etched numbers, it gave a foolproof, digital reading. Third, they were safer. No glass to break or calls to Mr. Yuck. There were also thermometer tip covers for sanitation. Ugh! I hated those! The thick seams scratched my mouth, like a paper cut. There was always the worry that perhaps the cover didn't give an accurate reading. I was forced to endure another reading, this time without the cover. Poke poke poke! The first digital models were bulky. A cord connected the thermometer to the display unit which was about the size of a paperback. Eventually, battery operated ones emerged, with a reading in seconds.

The next new thing were ear thermometers, followed of course, by temporal models. These new devices are easy to use, but where's the fun and drama that came from the good-old-days?!




Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

Color Blasted

G and I participated in the Color Me Rad 5K today, Saturday, June 11, 2016. We walked it as the event is not timed and is simply for fun. By the end, runners are transformed into a rainbow (you'll see). It was cold, but at least it wasn't raining like the last few days. We had fun albeit a few kinks along the way.

I have done a couple of these color fun runs in the past but through a different organization called The Color Run. It zigzagged runners through the streets of downtown Spokane with various color stations throughout which splashed participants with dyed cornstarch powder. The first experience was 2013. The second was in 2014 with my mom. G had intended on participating; however, that year was particularly bad with her asthma and I decided it was best she sit it out. I wasn't sure how her little lungs would do with all that colorful powder. With her asthma under control the following year, 2015, I agreed to let her do it as long as she wore a dust mask. One problem. The Color Run was not coming to Spokane that year. She was quite disappointed and so was I, as I looked forward to experiencing this together. I promised we would do the next one that came to town.

The next one was Color Me Rad in June 2016. A different organization but the same concept, nonetheless. (The Color Run, as it appeared, was just not returning to Spokane.) I signed us up for Color Me Rad four months in advance because there was a two-for-one special, and you all know I'm all about good deals!

The week preceding the event, I came down with a sore throat. At first I thought it was allergies because scratchy throats aren't uncommon for me. When it stuck around and gradually got worse, I decided I'd better get it checked out. Lucky for me, no strep! I explained to G that we may not be able to do the Color Me Rad run if mommy didn't feel well enough (and hopefully she wouldn't catch my bug either). Friday night, I went to bed early. When I woke Saturday morning, my throat didn't feel like razor blades and my head felt much clearer. G felt good, too. Off we went.

Color Me Rad was held at the County Raceway, near Northern Quest Casino. It was a rather brisk morning at about 53 degrees with wind. We got started right on time at 9:00 am. As we approached the first color station (purple), I reminded G to put on her mask. I also brought one for myself so she didn't feel singled out. I'm glad we used them. The gal who dispensed color on us got carried away. She doused me directly in the face with purple powder! She threw so hard that, even though I was wearing the mask and sunglasses, the stuff managed to coat my eyeballs and fill my mouth! I couldn't see for a bit and thought my contact lenses were going to fall out; which would have caused a big problem when it came time to drive home. They stayed in place, but over the next half mile or so, I was spitting out purple loogies; which surely all the other runners appreciated! Luckily G was spared the pandemonium, although she felt compelled to frequently ask me if I was okay. And pointed out that I was already "really colorful."

There was another station, this time with slime, where the gal squirted my face. What is so hard about aiming below the neck?! She could have easily squirted it skyward and let it drop down on people. Sigh; whatever. (I did submit an email to the organization afterwards with feedback regarding this issue.) The remaining color throwers saw that we were wearing masks and were more respectful about where they doused us.

G got kinda whiney about halfway through and was ready to go home. She was upset because I forced her to wear the dust mask. She was cold and the wet slime was intensifying this predicament. As any parent knows, once a kid starts whining it becomes difficult to make them shut up. Sooooo the remainder of the experience was little....tense:

"I'm cold! I wanna go home!"
"Me too, but we have to finish."
(As she's literally dragging her feet in exaggerated agony.) "How many more minutes?"
"I don't know. Maybe fifteen."
(Time advances approximately 47.34 seconds.)
"How much longer nowwwww? I'm hungryyyyy!"
"If we run, we can be done sooner."
"No I'm too cold to run!"
(Mom starting to loose it.) "Quit whining and just move along."
(Wind picks up slightly.)
"Mom-myyyyyy....I want my gloves."
(Luckily, I brought them along.)
"My feet are tired. Are we there yeeeetttttt?"
(Me rolling my eyes and contemplating zipping over to the casino for alcohol.)

We both breath a sigh of relief when crossing the finish line. G's mood improved and she was even compliant for a few photos.

Overall, I like the The Color Run better. I felt it was more organized, had more energy, and the color throwers were more respectful. Surely it's a pain to block off all those downtown streets, but it's a prettier course, in my opinion. The County Raceway is more convenient as far as setup and cleanup, but walking around a maze of automobile racetracks doesn't make for an encouraging or enthusiastic atmosphere. Plus, spectators have to make an effort to come to the venue, where as downtown naturally attracts herds of people making it easy to join the vibe. We might just be done with these types of runs anyhow based on this year's experience. By now, I'm sure you want to see photos so here they are:

Before. Nice and clean.

After. She really wanted to show off her green hair

This was one of her grumpy moments.Apparently skipping over the rumble strips was therapeutic.    

   She finally stopped to let me get a mid-race photo with a sprinkle of color.

                                          

G wanted to take my picture.....      

 ....after I snapped hers.

                                                

And here we are, all colorful and cheery and rad.

Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller