Chandra Clarke

A Well-Trained Mind

October 16, 2018 By Chandra Clarke Leave a Comment

So, I’ve been very busy, working on things like house renovations, keeping the laundry at bay, and of course, solving the world’s energy problems.

For the latter, I believe I’ve hit upon a solution. All we need to do is come up with a device that can tap into hobbyist power.

I say this because I was recently taken (read: dragged) to the National Train Show. An event put on by the US National Model Railroad Association, it was a huge display of model trains, Lego, layouts, accessories and more. And because I’m married to, and have apparently given birth to, train enthusiasts (darn defective genes!), we visited all 188,000 square feet. Twice. Slowly.

It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself. Indeed, I learned rather a lot about what is modestly dubbed “the world’s greatest hobby.” For example, I learned that a proper train “layout” (read: play area), includes not just a track and a train, but model buildings and houses, model people, simulated topography, signals, switches, software, sounds and controllers. Given the amount of excited gawking and pointing my eldest did, I also learned that anything I would consider “disposable income” has already been disposed of, well in advance.

I discovered that model trains come in different scales. “N” scale, for example, looks just as painful to step on and as easy to lose as Lego bricks. “G” scale trains are for the backyard, just in case your resident enthusiast(s) feel the need to take over both the entire house and the whole garden.

It also turns out that when train model manufacturers say they build authentic pieces, they really mean it. I am still trying to wash the smell of oil and smoke out of our clothes.

Finally, I realized that I have a new business and marketing god: whoever the genius was at Lego who decided to launch both train and Star Wars-related product lines. Lego already had a cult-like following, so putting it together with other cultish pursuits was like creating a license to print money. Indeed, in the display at the show, just one skyscraper had more pieces in it than I’ve owned in my entire life (although I sense that’s about to change).

This brings me to my point. The entire building was practically crackling with enthusiasm and creative energy. As I listened to two men talking very earnestly about the best methods for creating a realistic granite cliff, I realized that train layouts involved a lot of thought, effort and care. Each one of them must have 1000s of micro-inventions and clever ideas to solve problems. The same can be said about many hobbies, crafts and pursuits.

I don’t know what compels us to devote this much of our time to such things, but I think if we could manage to siphon off even one percent of that personal energy from hobbyists, we’d have enough to power the entire eastern seaboard in North America.

Or at the very least, enough power to keep all those model trains running on time.

I, Roomba

October 9, 2018 By Chandra Clarke 2 Comments

For the past couple of years now, I’ve been saving two-dollar coins, carefully tucking them away in a wee piggy bank instead of using them to buy my weekly cafe mocha at Tim Horton’s. Those of you familiar with Tim Horton’s coffee know the extent of my sacrifice. For those of you who aren’t, think of your favourite caffeinated beverage and imagine what it would be like if it were ten times tastier. Think whipped cream. Think chocolate sprinkles. Right, now you all understand my pain.

I was saving for something that I figured I couldn’t justify as a household budget expense, but that I really wanted. And last week, I finally had enough to buy it.

A robot.

Not one of those Robosapiens, or the cute little Aibo, and sadly, not the big Asimo of the Honda commercials. Nevertheless, something very cool: A robot vacuum.

There, I’ve admitted it. I am a geek. Other people save up for new bikes, or big screen TVs. For me, this was like having a Ferrari show up at my door. Better, actually, because a Ferrari would have screamed “mid-life crisis!” to the neighbours. The only statement my robotic vacuum makes to the neighbours is that I have a cleaning crisis. Okay, it says that I’m a geek with a cleaning crisis.

You see, nature may abhor a vacuum, but I’m rather partial to clean floors. I also have kids. This means that A) It’s impossible to keep the floor clean — the Cheerios dispersion rate alone defies measurement; and B) The floor must be kept clean, because toddlers don’t differentiate between dropped Cheerios, marbles, onion skins, grocery lists, or dirt tracked in from the garden. Combine this with the fact that children have this rather inconsiderate habit of requiring food, diaper changes, and lots of playtime while you’re trying to do frivolous things like run a business … well, you’ve all been there. Or you are there, and really want to leave.

Dreaming of my robotic vacuum cleaner has kept me going through many a midnight tidy-up session. Much like my washing machine means I don’t have to take the clothes down to the river and pound them with a rock, I looked forward to a time when the vacuum canister wasn’t getting caught in door jambs, smashing into the back of my ankles, or falling down the stairs. Right, so maybe what I should have purchased was the book Vacuuming for Dummies.

Never mind. What’s important is that it arrived last week. A circular machine about the size of a large pizza, it’s not a very bright little ‘bot. It starts in the centre of the room and works its way out, gently bumping into things and turning away – just like me first thing in the morning before I’ve had my coffee. If it strays too close to the stairs, little sensors warn it of impending danger and it backs away – sadly, not just like me in the morning. Prior to my coffee, all *my* sensors do is throw an “ILLEGAL OPERATION: WINDOWS WILL REBOOT NOW” error and down the stairs I go.

When it comes to dirt though, this little robot is an Einstein. Around and around it goes, sucking up crushed Doritos, crayon crumbs, and the large handful of pine needles my smallest son thought was fascinating until they poked his palm. It hoovers up the dog hair left by our last canine visitor, and it attacks our doormat again and again. Did you know our mat actually says WELCOME and not WE C M ?

I must confess my productivity hasn’t increased yet — I’m too busy following the thing around the house, cheering it on as it successfully clambers over the extension cord strip and scoots under my bed to suck up things that neither broom nor regular vacuum have been able to touch. I’m so enthused, I have seriously considered making it a bumper sticker that says: DUSTBUNNIES FEAR ME.

Once the novelty wears off though, I’ll be able to do any number of things while it cleans the floors. I can spend more time with my kids. I might have a shot at finding my kitchen sink under all those dishes. I might even be able to file my column more than a few hours before deadline.

Well, maybe not. It’s not a miracle technology, after all.

A Labour of Love

October 4, 2018 By Chandra Clarke Leave a Comment

Image credit: Pixabay. Also, dear scientists, please hurry up and invent this delivery method.

As a writer, I see it as my job to ponder some of society’s greatest problems, and, if possible, offer up solutions.

One of the most confounding issues of the 20th and 21st centuries has been teenage pregnancy. The authorities have tried everything from social disapproval of all things sexual to openly teaching sex education in public classrooms. Proper sex education has been hugely beneficial, but not 100% effective.

Of course, I have the answer: All we have to do is invent a device that gives someone a short, but memorable taste of what labour pain is like. Strap it to teens the minute they hit puberty and trigger it to go off every time they contemplate so much as a smooch. This will discourage all sexual activity until they are say… 85 or so. Indeed, not only will this solve the issue of teenage pregnancy, but possibly overpopulation as well.

Yes, as you may have guessed, I have experienced childbirth — four times, and all my kids were north of eight pounds at birth. Yes, I am a special kind of stupid, apparently.

The experience has taught me many things. For example, I now know why the mother-child bond is so strong and so powerful. This is because after giving birth:

1) Both of you are tired, sore, and confused, and you blame each other for this.
2) Both of you are wearing pads and diapers.
3) Neither of you has a belly button, yours having disappeared in pregnancy and his not visible yet.

I also now realize that childbirth is not the private, personal experience of a select few medical professionals and your immediate family, like they show on TV.

In fact, at any given moment, either during labour or in the hours afterward when you’re desperately trying to recover, you will be visited by: the obstetrician, the labour and delivery nurses, the janitor, the food tray lady, the postpartum nurses (never the same one twice), the paediatrician, the blood sample person for you, the empty food tray lady, the janitor, the Ministry of Health official asking you for the spelling of your child’s name when you can’t even remember your own, the blood sample person for your child (whom you would maim for making your baby cry if only you could get up off the bed) and, yes, once again, the janitor.

However, even if you had all of these people in your room at once, they would fail to equal the horror of a visit from: the “lactation consultant.”

A new weapon in the modern medical establishment’s arsenal, the official job of the lactation consultant is to help new mothers and children learn how to nurse. Apparently, several thousand years of human history and instinct simply will not do the job anymore.

The consultant’s technique during the first twenty-four hours after childbirth is to lie in wait outside your hospital room, and burst in during those precious quiet five minutes between visits. The amount of noise this person makes will be directly proportional to how long it’s been since both you and baby have managed to drift off to sleep.

The consultant will then insist your baby is starving and must nurse, now. This is in spite of the fact that babies are too busy wondering what the heck happened to their nice warm, dark, environment to be very hungry in those first few hours, and mothers are too busy saying “ow, ow, ow, ow” to produce any serious meals.

During the next 24 hours, this evil person will bring and inflict a variety of torture devices, like shields, pumps, vents, flanges, valves, pipes, shells and pads – all of which will just make you and the baby increasingly cranky. The only way to make her stop will be to have your husband whack her over the head with your IV stand, and escape the hospital by signing your own discharge papers. Remarkably, you’ll probably find out you can nurse at home just fine.

So childbirth is painful and postpartum recovery can best be described as a circus. The only thing missing is the lions. On the other hand, that’s a good way to describe your hungry tot at 2 a.m., so never mind.

Incoming search terms: pregnancy stories

Giving you paws for thought

October 2, 2018 By Chandra Clarke 1 Comment

Researchers have recently discovered some amazing things about dogs that will absolutely astound you … if you’re a cat owner.

In one study, scientists found that dogs may have personalities. That is, dogs apparently have enough unique characteristics and traits that you can actually tell them apart.

If you’ve ever been owned by more than one dog, you know this already. However, as a self-confessed dog companion you have shown yourself to be mentally suspect, and thus scientists don’t trust your judgement. This is because you regularly allow yourself to be smooched by something that may have just drunk out of the toilet.

So, how did scientists come up with hard proof of doggy differences? They recruited a thousand Labrador Retrievers and had them fill out the “What’s Your Party Style?” quiz in a recent issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. A control group of was asked to complete the “Which Star Trek Captain Do You Most Resemble?” quiz. (Incidentally, scientists had to choose this particular breed; otherwise it wouldn’t have been a lab test.)

The results showed that 40 percent of the test subjects wanted to play phaser fetch with James T. Kirk, while 30 percent wanted to discuss time travel with Captain Janeway over a cup of coffee. The remaining subjects went to the door and asked to be let out.

Okay, not really. What the study did do was have dog owners rate their dogs for various personality traits (aggressiveness, curiosity, friendliness) and then had strangers rate the dogs the same way. Most of the time, the owner’s assessment and the stranger’s assessment agreed, thus proving that dogs probably do have recognizably different personalities. Either that or they downloaded the personality test answers for their owners from the Internet.

A second, more interesting bit of research has demonstrated that dogs are very good at reading human social cues — better, in fact, than their cousin the wolf, or our cousin, the chimpanzee.

In this study, a graduate student approached a group of dogs, a group of chimpanzees and a pack of wolves, pointed at a wet spot on the carpet, and said “Bad! Very bad!”

No less than 100 percent of the dogs responded by ducking and whining apologetically. About half of the chimpanzees threw a banana at the investigator, while the other half pointed indignantly at the dog. No one is sure what happened with the wolves, as they’re still waiting for the graduate student to get out of hospital.

Right, okay, what really happened was that researchers hid a bit of food under one of two cups. The experimenter would then indicate which of the two cups the animal should investigate by either looking at the right cup or gesturing at it. Dogs were much better at recognizing the clues given by the human.

Again though, if you have ever been owned by a dog, you know this already. This is because you have to spell things like “car ride” or “cupcake” or “veterinarian” so that your dog won’t know what you’re talking about. Your dog will wake from a sound sleep and go to the door because he can tell you’re wrapping up that phone call. Or she will hide because she can tell that’s flea shampoo you’ve just taken out of the medicine cabinet, and not your own body wash and loofah.

Will there ever be definitive proof about cat personalities or a cat’s ability to read humans? We’ll need more subtle and sophisticated tests. When asked to fill out the personality quiz, 95 percent of cats tested bit the investigator’s ankle and wandered off. When asked to find the food under the cup, 97 percent of cats scratched the investigator’s ankle and wandered off.

So for now I guess, the dog is having its day, while the cat remains resolutely out of the bag.

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