Haunting me some more.

Ah, the wonder of a birthday party. A couple months ago, I complained about the craziest birthday party ever.

Apparently, the mother was so happy, she decided to tell the world about how great an idea it was! There is a website called "Birthday Party Ideas".

At least it won an honorable mention award.


See?? I don't make this stuff up!

Odd Ingredient.

I have been showing the CGI video of the Mars Exploration Rovers for almost a year now, it seems. It has provided much Blog fodder.

Part of the video shows the rover drilling into a Mars rock, and then a microscope views the inside of the Mars rock. I mention that this can tell us a lot about what the rocks are made of.

Here is a still from that moment of the video:


I had a fifth grade class today. When that image came on one of them told me, "Apparently THAT rock is made of cows."

It was quite funny.

Still too small.

I know 83% of my Blogs are whining about how the kids are too young for me to cope with. And I know that 60% of those Blogs start with me reminding you all that 83% of my Blogs are whining about how the kids are too young for me to cope with.

This one is one of those Blogs.

Last week was a zoo around here, so this actually happened during the middle of last week.

They were nursery school kids, so they arrive in separate cars. I let some of them in and went out to wait for the rest. When I came back, the kids were all singing "It's a Small World After All." Normally this is a terribly annoying song. But at least it has a couple lines, and eventually the melody resolves itself. NOT THIS TIME: this kids were merely singing the melody of the first line OVER AND OVER. Usually, the song 'ends' at "It's a small, small world." These kids never got off the first line. It was mind numbing. I thought I was being brainwashed for a cult.

As I was standing in the doorway concentrating on not having an aneurysm, a late arriving child blew past my legs and ran into the room. He stopped short and turned around to who I believe to be his mother, who was standing right behind me, and said "HEY! You lied to me!"

I thought he was talking to me!!

"I did?" I asked him. "I don't think I said anything!" I was worried that I WAS being brainwashed!

"He's talking to me, I think," said a voice behind me, the mother.

The kid continued, squealing, "There's no stars on the ceiling!! You said there's be stars on the ceiling!"

"There will be," his mother told him. I nodded in agreement. He still seemed dissatisfied.


I began the program, and some stars started appearing. Sometimes I ask in the middle of the darkening room, "How many stars do you see?" It's obviously uncountable, they are all over the room, and more are appearing every second, but it's fun to hear people try. I use it on the older kids, they know it's a joke, they laugh a little and we move on. I asked this time, and the answer was one kid yelling, "Ten-twenty-four!"

Oh, good. The kids don't even know how to count yet. I love it when I have people in my planetarium that use numbers like "eighty-hundred".

"Ten-twenty-four," I repeated it back to them. "Yeah. That's about right." I was not looking forward to rest of the program.


A lot of the little kid programs discuss how you can't live on other planets or the moon. We were talking about the moon, and I told them that "There is some things we need to live. The moon is missing something, which makes it so we can't live there. Does anyone know what that is?"

Usually I hear "air" or "water" pretty quickly. But there was a long pause this time. About a minute passed, and I was about to let them all off the hook when a kid tried, "...Ba... Ba... Bathrooms?"

I gave up. "True!" I told him. "No bathrooms! Anything else missing??"

Now the kids got into it... they all came up with their own ideas. And I let them go for a while.

"Beds!"
"Forks!"
"Cookies!"
"Swings!"
"Milk!"
"Dogs!"

The teachers tried to shush them after a while but I didn't care.

It actually really made me think about things for a minute. It is likely that this was a list of things those kids consider necessary. There is a quality of life issue here, that these kids have a greater concern for.

Sure there's no air on the moon, but who cares even if there is air if you can't have a dog, and an occasional cookie?! Point well taken, little ones.

Busy.

Over the past 5 weeks here: 2,639 visitors. Yipes.

Working Overtime.

I had a program yesterday afternoon that was supposed to start at 4:30. It was 80 girl scouts coming from a variety of places, so there was no way in the remotest places of hell that we could have started on time. It was remarkably close, but I did start about 5 minutes late.

It was a great program -- the kids were really having a nice time, and dare I say, even learning a few things.

I was getting to the very end, and I was reprising all the slides in an obvious summary when I hear a shrill parent voice say:

"IT'S 5:35!!!"

I stopped for a second in horror of the rudeness. I did notice also that the screeching was coming out of one of the parents that came in last. I recovered quickly, and continued with the last minute of the review in an obvious attempt to ignore the squealer. I was getting very close to the end, when --

"NOW IT'S 5:37!!!"

I just turned to her general area and told her, "You may leave. The door is open."

"Well I don't want to MISS ANYTHING," she told me in what I can only describe as the snottiest tone of voice I have ever heard. I thought, She needs to die. Would any jury convict me?

"Then quit yer bit---" I stopped, but was incredibly close to telling a patron to 'quit her bitchin'. I recovered and said, "Then stop complaining. It's not helping me go any faster."

I hate sounding cynical, of sorts, but I am really astonished at the rudeness of the world.

Today: A Very Special Mr. Astronomy Guy

I had a group of second graders first thing this morning. The reservation request form which came for this group had written on it the following:
"A star was purchased in honor of a little girl in our second grade who died in December... please show children location of that star."

A lot of people ask me about the International Star Registry or the Universal Star Council. The question is usually "Is this real?" Of course it's 'real'. But a lot of people think they will get a nice bright star up there. The star you get will no doubt be invisible to the naked eye.

But it can be a very sweet, lasting sentimental gift. It's a nice idea for someone who will enjoy it.

I am not a very sentimental or even serious person. The Planetarium is a fun place. I don't want to have to talk about a deceased child. I'm not insensitive, I'm just not outwardly emotional. I told the teacher that our projector wouldn't show the star they wanted to see. She really wanted them to see it. "Besides," she told me, "the girl's mother and twin brother are here, and I told them we would see it."

Ohmigod, I thought. It just got a lot worse.

"All right," I told her. "Show me the star charts."

Of course, it was in Cancer. Why is that a problem? Because that is the constellation with the dimmest stars. IT basically IS THE HARDEST OF ALL CONSTELLATIONS TO FIND. So I get to try to show them the general vicinity of an invisible star amongst a bunch of near-invisible stars, AND show it to a mother and son who have recently lost a daughter/sister.

I was feeling a little churny about the whole thing.

The show began in earnest and enjoyment as it always does. I showed them the moon and some constellations. I had just got done talking about Leo, the last of the constellations I had planned to discuss. Right in front of Leo is the region of Cancer, so it was a natural segue into talking about the little girl's star.

I had no idea what to say. It was quiet for almost a full minute.

I took a deep breath.

"I know that there is a star you want to see. You guys had a classmate named Caroline, and she has a star in her honor. It's just hers, and it will be there forever." I showed them the bright stars of Leo, and the bright star of Gemini -- Cancer splits the difference. "Right here is Cancer. And right between these two dims stars, is her star. Though you can't see the star up on the dome, you can be sure it's there. And will be there forever."

Silence. There wasn't even a breath. I didn't ask for a moment of silence or anything, I couldn't have possible managed to get the words out, and I didn't KNOW the girl. It just spontaneously happened.

After an extremely long moment (it was probably shorter than it seemed), I went on. But the air had been sucked out of the program. I didn't even feel like making my usual jokes. I made it through the end of the show, but I was just hoping I'd never need to do something like that again. I have enough trouble doing light-hearted shows, at this point, anything of a serious note is WAY too much.

At the end of the show, the teacher thanked me for everything. She seemed happy, and that was a good thing, at least. She then reminded me, "The rest of the 2nd grade will be here next week. Make sure you show them the star, too."

I'll try.

Still hurting.

Ouch. This is the third day in a row with 4 shows per day. I will see nearly 300 people JUST TODAY. My brain, sides, neck, and ass all hurt in their own special ways.

I'll try to catch up on some stories before show #4 for today...

Never mind.

I just came in to jot down a couple quick Blogs about the hearing impaired kids I had yesterday, the 4 year olds that continue to drive me crazy, and a nifty show of 5th graders.

HOWEVER, the kids from the show that is starting in a HALF HOUR have already begun to arrive. Those Blogs will have wait. Maybe tomorrow.

So I guess I have to go out and be Mr. Greeter-Man before I have to be Mr. Astronomy Guy.

This week is crazy. 4 shows a day. No time to sit. My back, throat and legs are killing me.

Sorry, there's not much to laugh at here!

Bleah.

Complete Ignorance.

I have to run a quick Blog of a group of 4 year olds I had last week. Setting the stage: there were 28 kids and 3 adults.

When I present for a group of this age, you have to do some Q&A during the show. You ask them questions that you are sure they will know the answer to, they all get to participate, they pay attention, and it builds their intelligence esteem.

So, I started with my discussion of the North Star, and began to talk about Ursa Minor.



I told them we were going to see a little bear and asked, "You guys know what a bear is, right??" Usually the response is a resounding "YES!!"

This time, just a couple kids responded, and they said, "No."

NO?!? Maybe they just misheard. "It's a bear! Big fuzzy guy. Lives in the forest. You know... a bear?"

They all chimed in this time, "NO!!"

That was odd. Usually, by this age, they've heard of a bear. I guess they haven't talked about animals much in the nursery school. "That's OK," I said. "He's a pretty funny looking bear, anyway. To me, he looks more like a squirrel!" I usually get a little giggle here. Kids laugh at squirrels. Not this time. "You guess know what a squirrel is, right?!?"

"NO!!!" They all responded.

Weird. I think they really just had no idea what they were saying. A couple kids said "no" the first time. So I think they just kept doing it. That was how it went for the entire show.

I figured I was safe when I got to Canis Major -- "You guys know what a dog is, right??"

"NO!!" They all told me.

I gave up after that. The next that I was going to show was Taurus. If they claim they don't know "dog", there's no way they will know "bull". I skipped Leo altogether.

I really don't like little kids.

Sasquatch.

I had a road show last Friday night. It was a big crowd (over 100 -- hey! That's a lot for me!). It was for the Chatham area boy scouts, and about 70 of the attendees were actual scouts. The rest were parents and younger siblings.

I was supposed to begin around 7:15 or 7:30, but the scout leaders didn't get done yapping until about 8:00. I tried to keep it short, but I am a verbose person, by nature. Sorry.

It was in a hall connected to a church. OH! And there was a stage! I never worked on stage before. It's pretty cool, actually. I am quite sure I want to be a rock star when I grow up.

The room itself was a public-speaking nightmare. It was basically a box. Any whisper across the room sounded like Chewbacca was screaming in your ear. I think if someone had sneezed, we would have blown all the windows out. So, as I was trying to speaking, the murmur of the crowd was deafening and disruptive.

But nothing was as disruptive as Sasquatch. I also refer to him as leadfoot. He was a 3-year old kid, who just ran back and forth through the room, basically the whole time. Most of his running took place before I started speaking, but it horrified me as I was waiting to perform. Every one of his steps was like a gunshot.

SO, you could only understand every other word of anyone who was speaking... "Good eve*--boom--*, everyone. Hope you ar*--boom--* having a *--boom--* night. Now, we a*--boom--* to hand *--boom--* out the badge*--boom--* that the *--boom--*y scouts hav*--boom--* earned."

It was pretty horrible. And, about 20 feet behind Sasquatch was his father, meandering slowly behind, but doing nothing to stop the cacophony.

There was all sorts of noise during my presentation, and the scout leaders kept issuing "HUSH"es at the scouts. The leaders were directing their scolding at the wrong audience. It was the ADULTS who were being constantly disrespectful! The kids were really paying attention, the adults were using this time to catch up on each others' life stories.

Really the show wasn't too bad, except for the fact that my throat was pretty burnt by the end.

I just did a count of the people reserved for May. The count: 3070. Previous record: an ass-wrenching 2168.

I am fairly certain that I will not survive.

I am off to go cry in the corner for a little while before the Boy Scouts get here.

Did anyone bring a snack?

I just did 3 shows, back-to-back of ALL little tiny kids -- most were 4 years old. They really weren't that bad for this age group, but I just don't like small children, well-behaved or otherwise.

At least there was no vomiting today.

At the end of the last show I was doing my usual question and answer session. When the 4 year olds ask a question, often the shy ones talk very quietly. In this case, there was a girl in the second row talking so low, I could not hear her. So, as I need to do sometimes, I leaned over a kid in the front row to hear what she had to ask. I forget what the question was, but as she was asking it, I heard one of the teachers yell out:

"Tyler! Spit that out!!"

I looked around to see what Tyler had eaten. I didn't have to look far -- just straight down. Tyler was the kid I was leaning over, and he had about 3 inches of my tie in his mouth and was chewing furiously. The kid was EATING MY TIE! I'm pretty sure he is part goat.

HEY!

I just passed my Blogaversary! Over one year of Blogs! It has gone by quickly. I'm amazed that I am still doing it. Most of the blogs I check have 1 or 2 entries, and then seem to have died.

Thanks for reading. I shall try to keep it up.

What the Chuck?

Third program for the day: A group of pre-Kindergarten kids. All of them were 4 years old. They seemed like they might be a decent group... I asked them what they should do in the halls, and one kid raised his hand and told me, "Zip it up!" That was exactly right! So, I told the group to all "zip it up!" and we went into the Planetarium.

They were relatively quiet as we got going. I turned the lights off, and we got to talking about the moon.

Then, one kid yelled out the sentence I had hoped I would never hear: "I'm going to throw up!"

It was followed by a sound I refuse to describe, but I'm sure you can imagine it.

I turned the twilight, moon glow, red floor lights, and a couple big slides on to give us some light. The kid had succeeded in getting 40% of the vomit on his own shirt, 40% on the floor, and the other 20% on the chair. (NO, I didn't measure it exactly. These are rough estimates made in a moment of panic, just for ambiance.)

One of the teachers left the room immediately, which I thought odd. I'm not sure where she was going. Another teacher was tending to the kid -- trying to get his shirt off while keeping the majority of the upchuck on the shirt and off the boy. She asked, "Do you have some paper towels?"

I was way ahead of her. I had grabbed a roll from behind the control panel, and was holding them out to her as I told her, "Yes, I do."

"Oh, good!" she said. And then she left with the kid.

Apparently she was glad that I had paper towels for my own sake.

Let me take a little snapshot of what is happening at this moment. The teachers have left the room. I am there with 29 four year olds who have realized that one of their friends has vomited, and that there is no show currently going on, so they all start climbing all over the seats. I am hunched over a pile of puke in the near dark with college-grade paper towels (think extra-thick tissues).

"WAKE UP!" I screamed inside my own brain. "Ohmigod, please, please, PLEASE wake up." But, alas, this was no dream. I don't think I've ever had a Planetarium nightmare this bad, anyway; I should have known immediately that it was real.

I cleaned up the cookie-toss in the dark as best I could, and sort of zipped through a show. The kids were all completely lost by the time I got back to any actual information. How can I compete with an actual up-chuck?? Once someone blows chunks, you can pretty much cancel the rest of the program.


Apparently, there is an epilogue to this -- they first teacher who went out went to call the boy's mother, to have her come pick him up. The mother said 'no'. She said that she had a 9-year-old at home with an ear infection, and couldn't go out. It seems that the head of the preschool came and got the boy. I'm not sure what she did with him.


I can't say that I've had a good day.

The class commenter.

Show number 2 was a group of second graders. There was one girl in there, sitting right next to the control panel, who had something to say about just about everything. It was odd, because nobody else seemed to notice she was saying anything at all. The rest of the group was real quiet. No students laughed. No teachers shushed her. It was like she was making these comments for me only. It was quite odd. And the comments weren't your classic 2nd grade fare. It's difficult to describe, really...

I put up a picture of Orion, and she said, "Whoa. He's creeping me out. He looks Russian."

What does that mean?

During the Mars Rover information, she had a bunch of things to say...

When some of the booster rockets fell off she said, "Whoa. If one of those falls onto some guy's house, that guy would be bummed out."

I silently agreed.

When the landing pod opened up to reveal the Mars Rover itself, she starting quietly singing "Happy Birthday" to it.

I thought it a nice sentiment.

When the Rover started moving, she mentioned, "It's roverskating!"

I have no idea why, but that cracked me up.


The odd thing: She really wasn't bothering me a bit with the things she was saying. Normally, when someone is making comments, I am just terribly annoyed. I was actually amused, and pleased that she was paying attention, and absorbing stuff so quickly that she could make some unique comment about it. And she never stepped on my lines; she was quietly saying stuff in my down time.

Is it raining in here?

What a day. 3 back to back shows.

The first one showed up way too early, but I jumped out and got things going. It was a pretty good group, really. It was a fifth grade class.

At the end, I asked if there was any questions (most of my loyal readers are familiar with this part).

One kid in the front row raised his hand. I gave him a point and a nod, indicating that he should let me know his question...

"Do you know you spit on me?" he said.

"'scuse me?" I responded.

"You spit on me. Seriously."

"I don't think so," I said.

Now I realize I do get all wired up during a show. But saliva does not fly out of my mouth, so far as I know.

"No, seriously," he told me. "You were yelling something about the moon, I think, and a piece of spit hit me right in the neck."

"I guess I might have. I didn't mean it," I said.

"I know it," he told me, sincerely. "I just wondered if you knew you did it."

"I didn't!" I said. "I had no idea. Sorry, man." I really said 'sorry, man' to a 5th grader.

"Don't worry. I just wanted to let you now." He really didn't seem upset at all.

I guess I'll have to calm down the shows a little -- at least the moments where I start to froth up.

Go into the Light. There is Peace and Serenity in the Light.

Last Friday there was a small group of cub scouts -- 2nd grade. There was 9 of them, and 6 adults. A small group, to be sure; basically not worth staying late on a Friday night for. (That sentence feels grammatically icky for some reason, but I'm leaving it. Sorry.) As long as they are enthusiastic about the trip, and cooperative during the program, it's not bad, and makes it feel worth while.

Of course, that was not to be.

A few moments into the program, as I was talking about the moon, one of the kids lit up. He just started to glow. It was rather disconcerting! I realized soon enough that he had brought a flashlight. A FLASHLIGHT! Into my Planetarium. I figured he had his little fun with it, and then would give up.

But, alas, I was so wrong.



This was a plastic flashlight -- I guess I would call it "regular" sized. Probably something that took 2 "C" sized batteries. As I was talking about stuff, he would turn it on for a few moments, shine it around the room, and then turn it off. I just kept hoping he would get bored with it and stop. I should mention that he was sitting next to his mother. She had nothing to say.

The camel-back-breaking-straw was when he decided to shine it right in my face.

"I realize that's fun," I told him nicely, "but it makes it a little hard for the rest of us to see when you turn on the flashlight. If you could stop turning it on in here that would be great. Thanks."

I could have said it in a much more sarcastic tone than I actually did. I was actually very nice about it. I should have ripped it out of his hands and slammed him over the head with it. But I didn't. I asked nicely.

His mother then told me, "But it's his flashlight!" She sounded completely pissed off that I would ask her kid to not disrupt the rest of the room.

"I'm not taking away from him. I just need him to not use it in the dark. It ruins the night vision of all of us in the room." I was flabbergasted.

Her response: "But he likes playing with it!!"

What the...? This was not a kid with any mental deficiency, he was just a regular 7 year old kid! Apparently mom lets this kid do ANYTHING he LIKES to do!!

The rest of the show was very subdued. It was as if the rest of them were pissed off that I asked him to turn off his flashlight, too.

The showed ended, they said muted, 'Thank you's and left.

There's been a lot of talk lately about Sedna, that little doodad way out there in the Solar System. I even blogged a little whiny blog as people were calling it a planet.

I just had a group of Girl Scouts, and we did mention that we are planning a mission to Pluto, and that it would take at least ten years to get there. One girl, at the end, asked me about going to Sedna... and I told her that Sedna was 4 times further away from the sun than Pluto, and suggested that the distance was too great to reasonably send something out there to check it out. She didn't seem to get it, so I tried to give her a little perspective...

"How old are you?" I asked her.

"Nine," she told me.

"Well, if we packed you up into a spacecraft and sent you off to Sedna, you be FORTY-EIGHT when you got there!"

"Wow," she said, "If my mother is still alive then, I'll be older than her!"

Their First Taste of Continuing Education

Yesterday I had some 3rd graders come for a program. Right inside the door is a row of chairs. In one of the chairs, a student was sleeping -- he was sitting legs stretched out, head flung way back, mouth open. It was obvious he was asleep. It was, of course, the first thing the 3rd graders noticed. They were all buzzing about it on the way in -- "Did you see the sleeping guy?" "That guy was just sleeping in the hallway!"

I did my signature Planetarium performance. I thought it went well... they seemed to be engaged and well-behaved.

The group needed to get the buses back, so they had some time constraints. This is always nice, because sometimes the Q & A part of the show goes on for a LONG time. This time, it was 1:19, and they needed to leave at 1:20. I asked the teachers if there was time for any questions -- one told me that we could do TWO questions. Cool.

One kids had an excited arm outstretched, with the hand fluttering back and forth like a leaf in the wind. If I didn't call on him, I was afraid that his arm might actually fly off, and zip around the room. "What's your question?" I prompted him.

"Why was that guy sleeping out in the hallway?"

Hmmm. Apparently he had been sitting there the whole time just thinking about the sleeping guy. It was like this show, chock full of cool and exciting astronomy, never occurred.

"Umm," I said, "I guess he was tired."

"Oh," the kid said.

"OK, I can take one more question," I told them.

An intelligent looking girl on the other side of the room had her hand politely up. I decided that she would have something related to what we just did, so I called on her.

"Why was he so tired?" she asked.

"**--sigh--** I'm not sure. I guess he's just been working hard," I said.

"Oh," she said, eyes wide. "Is college that hard?!" She sounded quite concerned.

"It can be," I told her. "For the students and the teachers."

Last weekend I had some public shows. At the end of the first show, after everyone else had gone, there was one family in the hallway...

I wasn't going to Blog about this -- it's certainly not a funny incident -- but it's been bouncing around my brain, and it seems the only way I can dump this stuff out of my brain is to Blog it.

...Anyway, the father-figure of the family came up to me and told me, "That was a really great show. We had a very nice time..."

As he was talking, I could tell there was something on his mind. He had a sort of wistful melancholy about him.

He continued on about the things he liked about the program, and went on to say, "I just had to tell you -- One of my best friends in the world died a couple years back. He was a great guy, very dynamic. I miss him a lot. He was unique, and had a unique way of speaking. Your presentation style is exactly like his. Your voice, the way you vary your volume and tempo -- it was exactly like his. A couple times I just closed my eyes and it was like he was right there."

What do you say to something like that? I'm not even sure how I felt... flattered? honored? I certainly never had anyone mention anything like that before.

That Sinking Feeling

I should be doing some work -- I am currently writing our newsletter. It's about 2 and half months late, so I really can't afford to jump over to here and jot down even this quick message, but I had to do it. It's been a crazy day filled with awful children, so I'm having trouble focusing on work, anyway.

The Planetarium has been crazy busy -- I've mentioned that. It's really been insane. I keep getting the dreaded birthday party calls, but now it's almost fun, because most of my weekends are already spoken for. The mean streak in me enjoys listening to the crushed tone in their voice when I tell them the situation. I just had a call from a bubbly Dad... usually it's Mom who calls, so this was a little different...

"Hey there," Bubbly Dad said. "My kid is going to be turning seven and he would love a birthday party at the Planetarium! You do birthday parties, right?"

My new line is: "You can reserve the Planetarium for a private show." This always confuses them.

"But do you do birthday parties??" he asked.

I hate 'doing birthday parties'. I don't 'do' birthday parties. I put on my most serious businessman voice and told him, "You can reserve the Planetarium for a private function. What that function is for is up to you."

I won't say it anymore -- I refuse to say 'Yes, we do birthday parties.' I really can't tell them 'No', but that doesn't mean I have to say 'Yes.'

"So, what about birthday parties?" he asked.

My sarcastic, evil personality drifts in at this point, "What about them?" I'm kind of having fun at this point.

"Do you do them?" he asks, obviously confused.

You can't make me say it!! "One can reserve the facility for a group."

"Like a birthday party?" he asked.

Nice try! This felt like a skit on Whose Line is it Anyway? "Any private function, really."

He just got real quiet for a little while. Eventually I think he kind of got it, when he asked, "OK, good! Because my kid loves Astrology!"

I know I am a pedantic bastard for this, but as soon as he said that his kid loves Astrology I was looking forward to dashing his hopes and dreams. Astrology. Sheesh.

"You mean astronomy?" I asked him in a disgusted tone.

"I guess so," he said. Oh, my. "So can we reserve a spot on the last Saturday in April? The 24th?"

I immediately perked up. "You were looking for a Saturday?" I said.

"Yeah," he replied.

"The next Saturday I have available is in August," I told him. It's true!

There was an odd sort of snorting noise on the other end of the line; it sounded like he was choking on a jellybean.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

I thought it was obvious, but I explained it to him: "We're filled up. Every available Saturday between now and August has at least 3 shows scheduled. That's all I can do in a day. We're filled up until August."

"What about April 24th?" He wasn't getting it.

"That day, too," I told him. I had the urge to twist the knife and add, "...especially that day." But I figured that I'd already slapped him in the face hard enough.

"Oh," he said, obviously crushed. I wonder if he had already promised his kid the astronomy party?! Yipes.

I couldn't help it -- I said, "Hey, maybe next year. Be sure to book it early!"

When Visitors Get Angry -or- Things I Can't Say But Wish I Could

I had some public shows this weekend. They really went pretty well... the program is a reprise of one I did about a year ago called "Postcards From Space"; it's about some of the space programs: Apollo, Viking, Voyager, Hubble. It's a nifty program -- and there's a bunch of multimedia stuff that I use in it. I especially like the way it flows -- Moon to Mars to Outer Planets to Beyond.

The second show I did had a whole horde of families that all seemed to be Russian. They all had similar Russian accents, and the ALL had tiny little kids -- they looked about 4 years old. Through most of the first half of the show, the kids were running around, and the parents were yakking to each other in Russian. It was horribly annoying, and I drifted by them and kept talking really loudly and annoyingly right by their heads. I had hoped it would be a subtle indication of their annoyance, but it just seemed to make them talk louder, so I gave up.

There was one fellow in the front row. He was there with his 9 or 10 year old son, and they were really enjoying the program. But he was getting more and more annoying with the chatty Russians.

As you read the next part, remember that he says this in a VERY American way, AND that the people to whom he is speaking were chatting in RUSSIAN...

He turns and growls at them: "Parlez vous 'shut the hell up'?"

It was hilarious.


Maybe you had to be there...

New and Exciting Torture Methods.

I amazed at how well the little kids can continually come up with new and exciting ways to torture me.

I just dismissed a group of 3rd graders that were one of the most insane I've ever seen. The entire group was crazy. These kids should just be served Ritalin™ burgers for lunch, and a side salad with quallude dressing. These kids were nuts.

I had to tell about 20 kids to sit in the seats the right way -- put the folding seat down, stop standing on the seats, please don't sit there upside down -- stuff like that.

About 5 minutes into the show, as I was discussing the North Star, for some unknown reason, they started playing Marco Polo. One kid would yell out "Marco!", and the rest of the class would scream "Polo!". This went on for a little while. I just stopped talking. Eventually they figured out that the show had ceased. Once they quieted down, one kid yelled out, "Oh, did you stop because of us?"

I almost killed him.

They were really pretty uncooperative throughout. At the end of the show, after the lights came on, we did some questions, and then they started to get up to go.

In the middle of the room, at the base of the Planetarium projector, there are 250 watt floodlights that light up the room. They are behind a short wall of Plexiglas™, but it is very easy for 3rd graders to reach over that and touch the light bulbs. And for some reason every kid wants to. I told the class, "Be careful near the middle, those lights are really hot!" They were too busy laughing and goofing of to pay attention to me, though.

This is were it gets mean, on my part.

I saw one kid reach over to lay his hand on one of light bulbs. Really, I couldn't have said anything fast enough to stop him -- to tell you the truth, I wouldn't have anyway. I saw him yank his hand away very quickly and start blowing on it.

One of the chaperones went over, and they had a first aid kit with an ice pack, and they gave it to him to put it on his hand. The chaperone came over to me and asked, "Are those light bulbs hot?" In an incredulous voice.

"They are light bulbs," I simply told her.

"Oh. I think he may have burned his hand on the light."

"That's possible, "I told her." I told them not to touch them."

"He didn't hear you," she said.

"Huh," I told her.

I turned to the injured boy, "Do you touch light bulbs at home?"

"No," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I'll get burned," he told me.

"There ya go," I said to him and the chaperone.

The breast show ever.

I had a bunch of scouts just come through here. It was actually two boy scout troops, and one girl scout troop all lumped in together. There were some siblings, and a couple were very small; infants, really.

And one of them was still breast feeding. This must not be Mom's first breast-fed kid, because she just plopped down, flopped out a teat, and started setting that kid loose. She could have waited TWO MINUTES, and the lights would have been out. I'm not anti-breast feeding, I just need to be warned before it happens. The baby was suckling as the lights went down.

As the lights came up, I was walking around answering questions, and the baby was STILL AT IT! Do they usually go for over an hour? I did notice that it was on the opposite breast. Number one must have run out.


In an oddly related story, as we were watching the mars Rover video, there is one part that shows the landing -- it shows the landing capsule bouncing down. It's entirely covered with airbags. Most kids say it looks like grapes or a raspberry. You can make up your own mind:



During this particular show, one of the boy scouts yelled out, "It's covered in boobies!!"

Back in the thick of it.

Well, I took an extended weekend, and have returned to four shows today. I am tired. Three are done, so I have one more to go. It will be starting in a few seconds, so I have only a little time to note this:

I knew it was going to be a bad day pretty early on. The first group had today (it was first graders) just made it to the bottom of the hill (15 minutes late, of course), and one girl said to the teacher:

"Miss Parker?"

"Yes, dear what is it?"

"I'm bleeding."

It can only go downhill from here.

It's not a planet.

All day I've had people run up to me and ask me, "Did you hear about the new planet??" It has happened at least 10 times already around campus.

It's a ball of likely rock and ice far away from the sun. This is kind of nifty -- but not much else is that exciting about it. Mainly because we don't know much about it yet!

Here is what is basically the best picture of this thing (we're calling it Sedna):



Wow.

It's a speck.

We don't know much about Pluto, and this thing is likely smaller, and about 4 times further away from the sun.

Here's what makes it interesting: it's the furthest thing from the sun in our solar system that we have seen and cataloged. That's pretty much it. We basically are pretty sure that there are tons of these things out there.

We don't know how big it is -- it could be as big as Pluto, it could be less than 1/2 the size.

There's stuff out there. BILLIONS of things. Planets, comets, asteroids, and probably other stuff that goes around the sun, basically like the planets do. This does not mean we 'found another planet.'

We're still deciding what we call a planet -- astronomy is a science in its infancy... we'll be studying these things for a long time.

We did not find another planet -- we found a far-off, big-ass snowball.

MARCH MADNESS!!

Ok, I'm not sure what the title means. I know I hear it in March, and it has something to do with sports, but rarely do I feel any Madness in March, to any real extent.

But the Planetarium is SWAMPED!!! Thus, I have not been updating...

Let's see if I can catch you up... this is just the highlight reel.


I had about 225 girl scouts over the weekend.


The first ones arrived, and one of the girls told me, with the utmost glee: "I've been to the school before! Last time I was here, I got attacked by a goose!"

The parent with her assured me, "She did. Bit her right in the butt."


During one of the groups, I was showing the Mars Rover Video (mentioned in a few hundred other Blogs), and when the Rover's robotic arm came out, there was a boy, a brother a girl scout, who just started chanting in a mechanical voice: "De-stroy! De-stroy!" It was pretty awesome.


Yesterday I had TWO groups of 3, 4, AND 5 year olds. THIS IS JUST TOO YOUNG to come to the Planetarium. Over the weekend, a woman told me that she does puppet shows for kids, and had just made up a show about the solar system. I am going to be forwarding the tiny child information to her from now on. A puppet show is a appropriate. A big, dark, scary room is NOT appropriate.

They weren't scared at all really. In fact the just laughed throughout the whole show. At the end, I ask whether anyone has any questions. The kids either continued to climb the seats like a playground, or look at me as if they didn't understand the request. After a minute or two one small boy raised his hand gingerly.

"Do you have a question?" I asked him. He nodded slowly.

"What is it?" I prompted him.

"I like horses," he told me.

"That's nice," I said.

"I like to watch them run," he followed up.

"Great," I said. "That's just great."

Oof.


One boy was in there named William; he was 5 years old. He had been here last year, when he was 4 (do the math, it works out). He knew just about everything I was going to say, and he said things out loud as I was about to say them. He even phrased things the same way -- a lot of times when the little kids are there, I tell them that the daytime side of Mercury is "at least 700 degrees. That's hotter than an oven! Can you live inside of a hot oven?" They all scream "NOOO!" excitedly. And I tell them, "So, you can't live on the hot side of Mercury."

I put up Mercury and mentioned that it was hot during the day, and he told the room, "It's hotter than an oven! And you can't live in a hot oven!" He went on to tell them what I usually say next... "And the nighttime side is WAY colder than a freezer! And you can't live inside of a freezer!"

Next time he comes, I'm going to let William do the show. The 3 year olds will probably pay more attention if their teacher is a 5 year old.

Jackpot!

After each show, I drift through the now empty rows of seats searching for things that people have dropped. I generally police the floor to just pick up whatever nastiness has been thrown on the floor. Usually it is just useless detritus.

But sometimes, there a keeper. And this weekend, after all the Girl Scouts left, I had one of those.

On the floor, under one of the seats, I found a brand-new whoopee cushion, emblazened with the logo of Captain Underpants.

I knew this job had fringe benefits.

A Captain Underpants whoopee cushion. Glorious!

The Great Sports Debate

I had a bunch of girl scouts here over the weekend. The local Girl Scout council has actually set up 24 private shows, all basically filled. That's over 1800 girl scouts. That's certainly a heap. And there are plenty of girl scout troops that are not part of this group that come, as well.

I never thought that a Planetarium show filled with Girl Scouts would degenerate into a debate about the legitimacy of certain professional sports. Silly me.

A lot of comments in shows come from when I show the Mars Rover Video (HEY! They now have it set to MUSIC!).

There is a part, near the end of the launch sequence, where some jets get the probe spinning. It generally confuses the kids, and I try to explain that "spinning helps to keep it going in a straight line. It's really the same technology used when someone throws a football."

They generally get a general idea at that point, and are satisfied with the explanation.

Not this bunch.

When I mentioned it being similar to throwing a football, one girl shouted out, "WELL, I don't like football!"

Another girl yelled, "I like hockey!"

Someone else, "I like volleyball!"

Another: "I like skateboarding!"

This went on for a long time. They missed about half of the video. And there was no stopping them.


When the Mars Rover lands, it is surrounded by airbags, and it bounces down onto the surface of Mars. Many times I will say something like, "I bounces like a basketball." This time, I decided it would be better if I mentioned no other sports by name.

TWO years later...

Well, I have just passed my 2 year anniversary of employ here at the college. It's just a bit less than that of doing shows (my first month was a lot of learning how things go), but as of March 8, 2004, I have been an Astronomer for 2 years. Crazy. Seems like longer.

Here are a couple quick stats:

I just (literally! 2 minutes ago!) did my 600th show.
I have had 24324 visitors in that time.

They certainly keep me hopping.

More of the Same...

This is more info on the two Blogs mentioned below...

They have made personalized t-shirts with NASA logos on them for every one of the kids.

Some kid has already broken the space shuttle model.

There is more stuff being set up that I really can't even describe.

The birthday boy is just sitting down there screaming, "Mommy! I'm talking to you, Mommy! Mommy! I'm talking to you, Mommy! Mommy! I'm talking to you, Mommy!"

But she's too busy setting things up to even pay any attention to him.

It's a zoo.

I'm So Scared Right Now.

I found out why this group was here WELL OVER an hour early. I just went down to the cafeteria where I told them they could bring cupcakes, and sit and have them after the program.

The first thing I noticed was the 3 foot high cake. I wish I had my camera. They have a cake in the shape of a rocket. I'm not exactly sure how it is standing up like that.

They have a space shuttle large enough for kids to sit in with little sound effect buttons on it.

They have a pinata in the shape of a space shuttle.

They have covered an entire wall with black paper. It's apparently where they are going to make their "space mural".

I cannot even begin to explain how many balloons there are in there. This thing is set up like a small wedding. It's out of control.

I am currently hoping that I will be stricken with a heart attack in the next 15 minutes or so.

OH! OH! I just remembered something semi-related. When I made this reservation I had a wrong preconception. The kid's name is "Misha", so I thought it was a girl. It's actually a boy.

The Dreaded Event.

Here I am again, about to do just that which I vowed to never do again -- a birthday party show.

I am really not looking forward to this. Right now the birthday mom is outside pounding stakes into the ground to support signs directing people where to go. Don't you think you might want to ask before you start pounding things into the ground? Isn't that common courtesy?

This is the mom who signed up (I may have Blogged about this before) for the birthday party, and as she was making the reservation asked me to shorten the program to 40 minutes (it's usually an hour).

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Oh, my son is only 5 years old. He won't sit still for that long."

"I've done shows for that age before, they seem to handle it OK."

"Not my son. He's been to your shows before she can't sit still at all."

SO WHY TORTURE ME BY BRINGING HER BACK FOR A BIRTHDAY PARTY?!?!

You Know What You'd Be Good At...?

I had a big group of girl scouts here last Friday night. There were 69 altogether. They were a large, lively, Friday night group, as would be expected of a horde of girl scouts facing a trip to the Planetarium leading them into their weekend.

I did a nice program for them, and they were all very excited.

They had LOTS of questions afterwards -- good questions. We talked about "Planet X", and the possibilities of extraterrestrial life, and comets, and gravity. It was a great end to the week, really. The kids were engaged, and making connections. And my explanations seemed to make sense to them. I was pleased.

One girl raised her hand, and I acknowledged her, and she told me, "Wow. You know what? You should be a scientist."

Should be? I said it my best pouty four-year old whiny voice: "But, I am a scientist. I'm an Astronomer."

"I know, I know," she said. "But I mean a real scientist. One that does stuff."

"I do stuff," I said quietly, still whining and pouting a little bit.

"I mean science stuff," she said.

"I do science stuff," I really probably should have tried to sound more confident. "And I teach science stuff." I grinned and nodded my head in an attempt to convince her.

I don't think she was convinced.

"It's OK, we like you," she said. Even though you're not really a scientist, was the subtext.

I had no idea I was perceived as the "well-liked non-scientist". At least they like me, I suppose.

I have a high school group coming tonight. They're supposed to be here for 2 hours. Some of which was supposed to be outside using a telescope and looking at some real things in the sky.

I came in the morning to a beautiful blue sky, perfect for viewing.

Of, course, as always, as the sun has set, the clouds have moved in.

I hate the weather. The spiteful, spiteful weather.

Now I'll have to try to do 2 HOURS of stuff in the Planetarium... I don't think it's be possible. Especially from 7 to 9 pm! It'll be sleepytime for everyone involved. I might as well just put on some sleepy music and let the stars drift across the sky, and set my alarm for 9 pm.

Hmmm... that's a pretty good idea.

The Seat is Reserved.

I had a show of second graders last week (maybe it was 3rd). It was 2 classes... there were 45 or 50 kids, and two adults (the teachers for the 2 classes).

I usually stand at the door of the Planetarium, holding it open for them as them come in, and shut it tight behind them. So, I am usually the last one in. The seating method is usually self-explanatory.

I see that the kids are all seated, but I don't see the teachers! I am pretty sure they went in before me... hmmm.

I made my way around to the control panel, where I stand and make all the Planetarium magic happen. I keep two chairs back there, stacked on top of each other, just in case there are more that 80 people. It happens sometimes, as my loyal readers will attest.

The teachers had taken the chairs, unstacked them, and were sitting together talking in a manner reminiscent of two high school girls at the cool table. It was as if their teaching status had ceased to exist.

I just stood there, arms wide, look of incredulation on my face. They didn't notice.

"'scuse me?" I said. They kept talking.

"Ummm...." I said, rather loud and drawn out until one of them looked at me.

She just tiled her head slightly with eyes wide. It was a look that said, "Hello??! What??! We're talking here!"

They did stop talking for a second so I decided I'd better jump in. "You can't sit there!" I told them.

"Wha..? Well, why not...?" one of them said. Say it in a valley girl accent, with a little sneer, and you'll have a good idea of her tone.

"First of all, I will need to use the control panel. Second of all, those are just some extra seats we use in emergencies. Third, you will be unable to enjoy the program from back here, since you can't see the dome."

She huffed. She gave a little "Fssshhh!" sound. (I swear I am not making this up.) The other said, "Whatever." And they got up and went to sit in "actual" seats. They did end up sitting together, in a back row, kind of away from where the kids were sitting. And they did talk the whole time. A couple times when I was walking around, I stood directly behind them, and increased my volume just a smidge to purposefully annoy them.

Remarkably, it was a good group of kids.

They sure didn't get it from the teachers.

BUSY.

Eright, this is the busiest time in the Planetarium. The good: lots to blog about. The bad: no time to actually enter the blogs! Ah, the great Bloggery Paradox....

I'm trying. Trying hard. Really, I am.

Encore! Encore!

As the last of the people on the waiting list went into the Planetarium (see blog below), I saw a group of people tearing down the hallway. I panicked. I had just packed 83 people into one that the fire codes said could only handle 83. "Officially" I couldn't enter at this point. This was a group of eight more people. I knew they weren't going to get in.

They were completely out of breath, having dashed down to the planetarium -- it's kind of a hike. "Are we too late?" one of them gasped.

I told them that they were. We were totally filled up.

"But we made a reservation!" I've heard that before.

"I'm sorry," I told them. "I've filled the room." AND I knew there were no reservations on there for 8 people.

"Oh, man, and our friends are parking their car and coming down now."

There were more of them?!?!

"How many more?" I asked. I was just curious now, I knew there was now way they were going to get in.

"Eight more." SIXTEEN all together. That's 20% of the entire room. There really was NO WAY they were getting in.

"THEY didn't have a reservation, but we brought them along. We thought there'd be room."

They seemed like nice people. I quickly ran over to my office and grabbed 16 free passes to the Planetarium. I handed them out and told them, "I'm sorry, you just got here too late. But if you ever want to come back, it's on me."

And then, I did something stupid. I was about to go into my THIRD show of the day. I rarely make it beyond 3 in one day. It was a SATURDAY, too, for crying out loud. But, I told them, "Listen, if you want to wait here during this show, I'll let you use those today. I'll do a show just for you guys, if you want right after this one."

They glanced around, obviously thinking about it. They started to discuss the merits of the plan.

I told them, "Listen, I have to get this show going. If you're here when I get out, I know you want the show. If you aren't I know you decided against it."

So I went in and did the program. Those 16 people haunted my brain the whole time. I was doing my best ESP push to the outside.... "Go home... you don't want the show... go home.... you don't want to wait... "

The show ended, and I gingerly opened the door to let out the crowd, and to see if they waited. Please don't be there. Please don't be there... I wispered as I pushed the door open.

Sixteen faces were staring right back at me as I opened the door. They were all sitting in a semi-circle on the floor around the doorway, as if to say "There is no escape!"

So I did a fourth show just for them.

I really need to work on my telepathic skills.

I Have A Reservation About This Whole Thing

Last weekend I had shows open to the public. It's part of my Shapes in the Sky series, which are story-telling shows mainly for kids. They tend to be popular, and this time it was no exception.

I did two shows. There are 80 seats in the Planetarium. Show #1 attendance: 86. Show #2 attendance: 83. Little kids sat on laps.

SO, it was crowded.


People can make reservations ahead of time -- they call, give their name, and how many are coming, and we reserve a spot. They pay when they arrive -- we have no way to take credit card information or anything, so the reservation is sort of on the honor system. If you make a reservation, you're supposed to show up, but there is nothing to motivate you to actually come. SO, many times, people make reservations and do not arrive.

So we have a waiting list, sort of like at a restaurant. You tell me your name and how many, and I put your name on the list. When I am about to shut the door and start the show, if any reservations went unfilled, I call names down the list and let people in. SO FAR, I have NEVER had to turn any people away. Even if it means a small child has to sit in a lap.

I had just opened the door and started selling tickets for the 3:00 show, which was the second show. The third family in line (2 adults, 3 kids), came to the register, and I asked, "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," the father told me.

"What's the name?"

He told me, and I perused the list, but did not find his name anywhere on there.

"I'm sorry," I told him, "I don't see your name here."

"But I do have a reservation," he told me.

"I don't know what happened, sir, but we are sold out for the show. I can put you on the waiting list, and I'm quite sure you'll get in. But, right now, it's all I can do."

"But I made a reservation!" He started getting angry.

"I realize that. You're the first on the waiting list, I'm sure it will be fine. I don't know what happened to the reservation, there must have been a mix-up."

"Well, it might not be on that list because I made the reservation for the 1:00 show." He said it with attitude. As if I should have known that somehow.

I just blinked at him a few times. " 'scuse me?" I tilted my head as I asked him that. I probably looked like an inquisitive puppy.

"I made the reservation for the 1:00 show. BUT I MADE THE RESERVATION." He was yelling at me now.

"But that show is over. You missed it. The reservation is lost."

"Isn't it the same show??" he yelled.

"Well, the content is the same. But it's a different show." I think he trying to slick-talk me into letting him in immediately.

"BUT I MADE THE RESERVATION," I thought he was going to reach over and start choking me. I was kind of hoping one of the people on the line might come to my rescue and try to explain the problem. They just stood on line chatting, not noticing that the guy was approaching a homicidal rage. AN INSANE homicidal rage, since he had no idea that the show he reserved for and the one he was trying to get into were different.

"No, you didn't," I told him, starting to get a little attitude myself. "You're on the waiting list, please go stand over there and wait."

He brought his family behind me, and spent the next 15 minutes pacing back and forth right behind me. Eventually it got to the point where I was closing the doors, and he was, of course, the first on the waiting list and went right in. He was still fuming as he entered.

The Worst Way To Start the Day.

Sometimes I do programs in the evenings. Today is one of those days -- I have a program at 6:45. When that happens, sometimes I come in late, because I'm only supposed to work 35 hours a week -- beyond that I get comp time. I actually have 36 hours of comp time built up right now (YEP, I can take a week off... if a week ever occurs where I have no scheduled programs!).

Anyhoo, I was home kicking around in my pajama pants, listening to some music, and doing some puzzles in Games Magazine. I was relaxing. It was a little after 11:00 am.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Chris. This is the college. You have a group here that says they are here for your 11:00 show."

"Oh." LONG PAUSE. "I see."

"Yeah."

"I guess I'll be there as soon as I can. That'll be about a 1/2 hour."

"OK, thanks."

There is nothing, nothing that can unravel a happy state of contentment like an unexpected, panicked burst of ohmigod adrenaline.

So I fled into the shower, washing my body with my right hand, the hair with the left hand. That state of preparation was completed in a less than 2 minutes. Then a quick shave occurred. Then out the door in a flurry of motion. The cat was freaking out.

I got to work, ran down the hill that the seniors in the previous blog decided not to brave, and burst into the dome. I did get a full round of pity applause.

I just wanted a relaxing morning. **==sigh==**

They didn't make it.

I had a group of seniors scheduled for today. The senior groups are some of the best. They love learning new stuff, they are impressed with the Planetarium, and they are the most vocally appreciative about what I am doing. Of course, they tend to fall asleep in the Planetarium, but even that helps to make it a fun time.

I was waiting by the door to the Planetarium for them to arrive. It's quite chilly out, and it's a decent hike down a steep hill and across campus to get here.

They were already late when two of the student aides from Campus Life came up to me telling me that the seniors were on campus, and they were last seen entering the Phys Ed building. There is an elevator in there that will allow them to bypass the steep hill. Some of them started loading into the elevators to get down to the Planetarium.

The student aides were trying to be helpful, and suggested that they could call security to help them down the hill. Security is vary short staffed lately, and didn't have a security officer to drive them down across campus. By now the person who organized the trip was getting ornery. So the student aides suggested that they get maintenance to drive them down -- the maintenance people have little golf carts. At this point the organizer said, "Forget it. The seniors are getting hungry. I'm taking them home."

So, the seniors cheerfully filed back on to the bus and left.

SHEESH! The shows I look forward to tend to be the ones that don't ever actually happen.

A Second Opinion

I was at the original Mr. Astronomy Guy homestead this weekend for a family gathering. I wanted to get a second opinion about the blog listed below (go peek at it now, in case you haven't yet). I dragged my mother up to her computer room, and brought up that blog entry. The pictures popped up, and before she even read ANY of the text she told me: "Geez, that second one looks like somebody's butt."

Valentine's Day Greetings From Space!

Around this time, often two pictures of craters on Mars appear. I am using them both in my public shows tomorrow.

I would like to present them to my loyal Blogreading public!

The first is a pretty famous heart shaped crater on Mars...

Figure 1

How very quaint, ain't it?

The next looks like this:

Figure 2

I like this one. Figure 1 is too skinny for my tastes. This one is a nice full-figured heart, bursting with hearty goodness! BUT, the people in the Career Office across from me disagree. They all think it looks like a butt. A butt with some kind of disease. A diseased butt.

This is not going to deter me from using it in my show!

"Hey kids! Check out what I have for you! Two Valentine treats from Mars! A heart! And a butt!"

Beware of low flying objects.

During the Girl Scout program described below, I mentioned the New Horizons mission, scheduled to be launched in 2006, expected to get to Pluto late in 2016.

As the people were getting up, one of the dads came over to me and asked about it...

"Why does it take 10 years to get to Pluto?" he asked.

It's not that odd of a question -- Pluto is quite a ways away... right now, about 3 billion miles away. It's really a distance greater than most of us can imagine. I told him that, and mentioned that we can get spacecraft going just so fast... this is simply the technology we have right now.

He looked at me with a determined look on his face... and then he said, "Well what about UFO's? The come from other star systems! They can't take nearly that long."

I laughed. Right in his face. It was a big old snort laugh. I might have even spit on him, a little bit.

And then I realized that he was not kidding.

So I did the only thing I could do... I said, very slowly, "Uhhhhh..... Well. There is that."

He then said, "AH! You don't believe in UFO's do you?"

I said, "Well, certainly people have seen objects, that appear to be flying, and were unable to be identified, so, by definition, they are Unidetified Flying Objects. AND, with so many other stars out there, most of which probably having planetary systems, there is a decent chance of intelligent life existing elsewhere in the universe. I'm just not sure they are watching us, abducting random folks, and crash landing on an irregular basis."

I was a little afraid I would offend the fellow, but he just got a little knowing smile and nodded his head saying, "Yeah. It's probably just the government."

"Yeah," I said, in the exact same tone as his.

If I've learned anything here, it's to NOT continue a conversation of this ilk.

The dead zone.

I just got out of a program for 8 girl scouts and their dads. 16 people all together. Not really worth coming in on a Saturday, but, hey, it's my job. I was supposed to be having some Boy Scouts immediately after (right now, actually!), but they seemed to have decided to skip the trip. So, since they stood me up, you get to hear a story...

These were 8 and 9 year old girls, and they seemed pretty into it on the way in. They appeared energetic and enthused, and we shared some fun banter as we waited for everyone to arrive. They seemed like a fun bunch.

While I was waiting for some of the kids, before the program started, the girls who were there kept breaking out into spontaneous countdowns: "10...9...8.." etc.. "...2...1...BLAST OFF!" They were so into it! I knew it was going to be a great show.

Once the show began, it was as if they had each downed a half bottle of NyQuil. They were dead. I couldn't get them to participate at all. During the program they were dead. I kept asking questions and getting SILENCE. The only thing that would have made me feel more alone would have been tumbleweed accompanied by the sounds of crickets.

I always ask stupid, but fun, obvious questions to keep their interest. For example, when I discuss the moon, usually kids love to scream about 'Craters!'. Not this bunch.

Usually kids love to yell out the directions... when I put the N, S, E, and W up on the dome, and I ask them to tell me what the N stands for, they go "North!!" crazy. But not today.

I was doing a wonderful job, too! As enthusiastic and exciting as ever. But I just couldn't rile them up...

I had a mental flash to Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

"Beuller."

"Beuller."

"Beuller."

"Beuller."


A little later, I had on a picture of Mercury and was about to talk about its lack of atmosphere. The picture I show has obvious craters all over the surface, so I tried one of my usual participation questions -- "What else did we look at that had craters...?" This was going to be my last question if they didn't answer... And, of course, they did not.

I turned around to look at the group and discovered the problem. The Mercury slide shed just enough light on the girls so I could see their outlines. And there were 8 brownie girl scouts -- all with hands raised at full length, twitching enthusiastically, almost standing out of their chairs in excitement to be called on.

They had been trying to answer the questions.

"You just have to yell out the answers," I told them. "I can't see your hands in the dark!"

They glanced around nervously, and slowly put down their hands.

"SO, let's try that again!" I was so happy now! The problem was solved! "What else did we look at that had craters...?"

Silence for a minute.

"Ummm..." one girl said, in a volume just beyond a whisper. "The m...mm....moo.....The moon...?"

"YES!" I said, trying to give her a little confidence. "The moon!"

But it didn't matter. Apparently they had been so drilled with a Raise Your Hand To Speak mentality, that they really didn't want it any other way. I should have been happy at the well-behaved nature -- I know I always complain about the unruly ones -- but I wanted excitement and fun in there. There was none.

I though that the only hope I had left was when I showed the rocket launch headed to Mars. They were so excited practicing countdowns before the show that they would definitely be into it, I thought. So as the countdown began, I started chanting along with it, in hopes that they would join in... "10!....9!..." but my hopes were dashed. A couple kids sort of whispered the countdown, but there was no enthusiasm there.

And, I swear, as the numbers went on, there was one girl who raised her hand most of the way up before each countdown number. As if she wanted to be called on to say what was coming next...

"6!...." I yelled along with the film.

Her hand went up, as if she was thinking "OOOH! Pick me to say 5! Pick me to say 5!"

"5!...."

Her hand went down for a split second and then back up, "OOOH! I know this one! 4! Pick me for 4!"


It was all a bit odd.

And it has sucked the life right out of me. I have another program in 2 hours. Yeeps. I'd better brew up some coffee.

On the other side of the podium.

Three times a year I get to sit in the Planetarium and watch. I don't have to talk, I just watch.

In March and October, we do a Music Under the Stars where I introduce a musician (or musicians) that perform in the Planetarium. Those are wonderful -- the dome makes the sound amazing. So that takes care of TWO of these shows...

The third is a Havdala (sp?) program. Excuse any factual incorrectness, but I think it is a celebration of the end of the Sabbath day. I am not Jewish (I really don't have really any religious affiliation!), so this is simply what I have gleaned from the service itself.

For this program, one of the ex-astronomers (who will be referred to as "J", using the 'standard' Blog anonymity abbreviation) comes back. For which I am thrilled! I get to just watch! I can help twiddling a knob or two, but basically I just get to sit and watch. It's wonderful.

Mostly, I'm happy because they sort of throw a bunch of people together, and throw together the program at the last minute. I can't work like that! I need to know what I am doing and saying and have it well rehearsed at all times. AND I am a control freak -- I don't share the spotlight well. I would be smacking people all over the place to get away. They're nice enough people, but I don't like the general public behind my control panel.

And this year, the kids were just pretty miserable. They were loud, obnoxious and all-around rude. And they were just NOT participating. J was trying to get the to participate, but they were just not having it. But they were very happy to scream things out...

I forget exactly what the question was, but a kid yelled something like "If we are in an orbit moving around out there, how come the stars don't change their orientation from our point of view?" It wasn't nearly that coherent, and I don't think that was the exact issue, but it was something like that....

J was trying to give an answer, but the kid apparently didn't actually care, nor did anyone else want to help. She was trying to explain how great distance makes things appear to move less, so she asked (again, this is not a quote, but the gist is there), "Did you ever notice the moon sort of stays in place? You can be driving down the road, and the trees fly by, and the mountains in the distance move slower, and it looks like the moon is following you...?"

Silence.

"Ever notice the moon looks like it follows you?" she tried again.

Cold dead silence.

"Ever see how the moon looks like it follows you?"

Finally a couple kids muttered, "Yeah."

"So, why does the moon follow you like that, do you think?" J asked them.

Extended silence.

Finally, one kid decided to give it a try. In a dark voice he suggested, "Because the moon's a stalker."

I think I'm in the process of being stood up. Stupid boy scouts.

What a good time to catch up!

Long time, no Blog.

It's been a busy week. And I was going to "catch up" on some blogging yesterday (Friday), but we got froze out! A day off was nice, but the Blog has suffered. I apologize on behalf of the weather.

Anyway, I am here today, Saturday performing 3 (three) programs. One will be here soon.

But in between, Blogging shall occur!

You have been warned...

Off to greet some brownies!

A realization.

If you have not read the previous post, directly below this one, please do it now. I'll wait...

Done? Good.

I now know the difference between 10 year old girls and 10 year old boys. The girls can be creative and unusual without it being a goof-off laugh riot. The boys.... not so much.

It was actually quite strange -- exactly one day after the girl scout troop came in and raided my brochures, some boy scouts came, and also performed a brochure-raid. I really don't think that has ever happened, and now it has happened twice in a row!

And soon into program, one of the boys took his rolled up brochure and used it...

...in a completely difference fashion from the girls.

I was talking about Orion, and when I mentioned his name adn displayed the picture, he held his rolled up brochure up to his mouth, megaphone style, and shouted "Orion!" I was as if he were my late-night-talk-show sidekick.


Mr. Astronomy Guy: "...and here is Orion."

Random boy scout: "ORION!"


Of course, all the boys erupted into cackling laughter. SO, this was the new "thing". They ALL had to do it, everytime I showed something.


Mr: Astronomy Guy: "... this is Jupiter."

21 rowdy boy scouts: "JUPITER!!" **--cackling laughter--**


And it did continue throughout the remainder of the program.

This seems pretty consistent with other shows -- when one boy does something that is attention-getting, even if it is actually interesting and funny, he (and the rest of his minions) has to beat it to death. The girls can enjoy themselves as well, but they handle it with much more grace and maturity.

At least I know I wasn't like that when I was 10. I wasn't. Seriously. I was mature and proper.

I still am.

OK, except for that fart blog from a couple days ago.

A new view.

I had a batch of girl scouts one evening last week. Girl scouts always give me some blog fodder.

As usual, some scouts showed up 20 minutes early, the rest were late.

The early bunch were wandering around the dome, and they stumbled over the brochure dispenser. For some reason, 10 year olds love brochures. They all took at least one; many grabbed a few.

The program was going smoothly -- they were a fine bunch: courteous, attentive, and appreciative.

When I got to the first planet, Mercury, one of the girls took a rolled up brochure that she was holding, and put it up to her eye, and pointed it at the slide up on the dome, as if it were a tiny telescope. The girl next to her then did the same.

By the time I got to Venus, they were ALL doing it. Everytime I put a slide up, the 'telescopes' went up! If I put another slide on the other side of the dome, they all swung the telescopes over in that direction. It was kind of as if they were watching a tennis match (thanks, Nick!).

I would have thought that this would have been a hysterical thing to them. But it wasn't! I would have imagined that every time they put up their 'telescopes' they would have at least giggled a little. Not so. They did it as if it was a functional and expected thing!

At the end of the program I thought about mentioning it, and asking them about it, but they had been so 'professional' in their telescopy that I didn't want my comment to make it seem odd or silly, so I just let it go.

An old standard.

Ah, the kindergarten group. 5 and 6 year old kids. They are truly a joy. It's been a while since I have written about the wonder of the pre-k grade level.

This group was very excited. They all had questions as the lights were going down.

"Are we going to see stars?" one kid asked.

"What do you think?" I responded.

"Maybe!" he aswered excitedly.

"Are we going to see planets?!" another asked.

"What do you think?" I said again.

"Maybe!" was the response.

"Are we going to see the moon??!!??" a third asked. Each of these was asked with slightly more fervor than the last.

"Well, what do you think?"

"MAYBE!" a couple kids said together, and they all giggled.

A girl was kind of hunched down in her seat with her hand up. "Do you have a question?" I approached and asked her.

"Am I going to scream my eyes out?" she asked.

Whoa. That was unexpected. But a couple kids, as if ready for this, yelled out, "MAYBE!"

"I don't think you will, actually," I told her. She looked very unconvinced.



She actually did not scream her eyes out; in fact, I don't think she screamed at all, thank goodness.

Later, at the end of the show, there was time for questions.

One boy raised his hand, "Is O'Brien going to kill Thomas?" (He pronounced "Thomas" like this: "Toe-mas".)

It took me a second to figure this one out. I remembered we had looked at Orion and Taurus, and saw that they were right next to each other in the sky.

And, I had said that they were fighting up in the sky.

"His name is actually Orion, not O'Brien," I told the kid.

"Is he going to kill Toe-mas?" he asked, this time with more urgency.

"Taurus," I told him. "Taurus the Bull."

"Is O'Brien going to kill Toe-mas?" he asked, as if the last 15 seconds had never occured.

"No, they are kind of just stuck there, frozen in the same spot," I told him.

"OK," he said.

"Are there any other questions?" I asked.

I looked around the room, but the only hand up was the one boy who had just asked me the previous question. I looked around one more time to see if anyone else had a question. It was only him. "Yes?" I prompted him.

"Is Toe-mas gonna kill O'Brien?"

"It's Taurus," I told him, "Taurus the Bull. And Orion."

(You know exactly what his response was...) "Is Toe-mas gonna kill O'Brien?" he asked identically.

"Nope. They're stuck next to each other. I think they're friends, actually."

He gave me look which seemed to indicate that he knew I was lying.

Uh-oh!

I had a group of Brownie Girl Scouts last week. There were about 20 of them, all 2nd graders, and they were actually pretty into it. The parents told them that they really need to listen during the program, and the kids did! This part does not make for a good Blog.

The little brother that came along, however, does.

This kid was about 3 years old. He was sitting with his mother, and was a little chatty as I started my Mr. Astronomy Guy bit. Then, he noticed the lights were coming down, and his eyes got very wide as he said, "Uh-oh!"

The parents and kids laughed. I did, too, to be honest.

Boy, did he like the attention.

For the rest of the program, everytime something would change -- if I put on a slide, or move the sky, or even use my laser pointer, he would say it: "Uh-oh!"

"Uh-oh!"

"Uh-oh!"

"Uh-oh!"

It was funny the first 83 times. Then it got old. Even the brownies were getting tired of it...

One of them said, "Cut it out, or I'm going to step on you like a bug!"

Although I appreciated the sentiment, I thought that a little harsh.

"That was a little harsh," I told her.

"It's OK," she said, "He's my brother. I step on him all the time."

"I see," I said. (I was reminded a little bit of the "kick the baby" bits in South Park.)


The Uh-oh Kid actually did say one other thing during the show worth mentioning... We were watching a rocket launch of the Mars rover video, and the Main Engine separation occured -- basically a giant chunk of the rocket falls back, leaving only the very front end of it left. At this point he said, "Mommy?"

"Yes?" she replied.

"Why does the head pop off?"

Shout, shout, let it all out...

Warning: this entry is a little lowbrow (which is really saying something -- I'm generally as lowbrow as they come). This actually happened a few days back, and I wasn't sure if I was going to tell the tale, but it's been a while since I've made an entry so I figured that I'd better do something. So here goes...

Last week I had a group of 5th graders. This story is not about them, but they were in the room. They were a good bunch of kids, really, for 5th grade. They were a little excited, but in a rather appropriate way.

Before I go on, I need to flash back to the night before, when I scarfed down a bunch of frozen burritos for dinner (you may see where this is going). In the morning, there was a little stomach gurgling going on, but I figured I could handle it.

During the show, the gurgling increased. It percolated down the intestinal tract seeking an escape route.

Normally, during a program, I venture out and wander amidst the crowd. But this time I was way too scared that the foul last-night-burrito gas would find its way out unexpectedly. Even though I was sitting still, it was still distracting me from what I needed to be talking about. I knew I would either need to poot, or the program would suffer.

And then I remembered! The Mars Rover Video! I could put that on! When is there noise in it that I could use for cover? It's pretty quiet throughout. Except during the rocket launch! If I could time it just right...

A few moments later I got to the portion of the program where the Mars Rover video happened. I pinched my cheeks tightly closed as I took a couple penguin steps over to the projector and hit play. The movie begins with an view of the rocket, and pans down as the countdown begins. It's always easy to get the kids into it as I yell the countdown...

"10!!..... 9!!..... 8!!....." They were counting down to a rocket launch, I was counting down to a tiny little window of relief. I had to time it just right, though.

"7!!..... 6!!.... " And then I realized -- sometimes a fart lasts longer than a second, and that's about all the time I would have so that the blast from my ass would be drowned out by the blast of the rocket. I hoped I hadn't contained this one so long that an extended vent was necessary. I almost aborted... but I knew this was my only shot to let loose without losing the respect of the entire room.

"5!!..... 4!!..... 3!!..... " Almost there. Relax, just a little bit, but not too much! Almost there...

"2!!..... 1!!!" And they all screamed in unison: "BLAST OFF!!"

And I did.

And I felt much better.


The rest of the show went fine.

A New Announcement

At the beginning of every public program, I ask people, for the courtesy of myself and all the patrons, to turn off their cell phones, pagers, Nokia n-gages (though there are only 11 of them in the world, I think), Gameboys, Gameboy Advances, watch alarms, heart monitoring equipment or anything else that might make a beepy sound during the program. I explain where the exits are and explain that they are just that: exits. There is no re-entry during a program.

I apparently need to mention one more thing: No flash photography during the show.

During my 1:00 show this Saturday, someone took a picture while we were completely in the dark.

Ow.

I thought my eyeballs had exploded. I was happily talking away, pointing out some stars when **--FOOM!!--** a bright light filled my vision. I was pretty sure we were in the middle of a nuclear holocaust. But, alas, a few microseconds of neurons firing brought me up to speed: someone had snapped a picture.

Everyone was blinded for a moment. When my vision returned and my heartrate slowed back to something closer to normal, I explained, "We have a term for what just happened: A Complete Waste of Film. Really, you can't take pictures during the program, they won't come out, and you blind the rest of us."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then a voice that seemed to be of a boy about ten years old spoke up, "It wasn't me!"

We all laughed. The comment was funny if it was him, and maybe even funnier if it wasn't.

I had a group of first graders this morning. I didn't expect it to go well, basically because I've been in a sort of negative mood lately -- at least related to dealing with kids for an hour.

But it turned out fine, really. Part of it was because they were all excited, giddy, and hyped up on the Mars Rover landing. It seemed to focus them a little. AND, I had lots of cool stuff about that, so they were grooving on it, big time.

One kid mentioned that the Rover itself looked like a "Scooter Dragon". It just baffles and amazes me -- the terms that kids come up with. The name actually kind of works, though. And I have the term - Scooter Dragon - stuck in my head. The term sounds like it might be good in some sort of alternate use. Possibly as a band name. Or as the name of a character in a martial arts movie. He'd be small, but he'd move fast! Scooter Dragon! I like it. Maybe I'll write him into a book one day. I should write it down so I don't forget... Scooter Dragon. Cool.

When the kids were filing out, one of the girls came up to me...

"I have to tell you something," she said to me.

I waited a second, eyes wide in expectation, for her to just continue, automatically, but apparently she needed me to prod her. "Go for it," I told her.

"You sound like the guy from Finding Nemo," she said.

"Oh," I said after about a 6 second pause, and some slightly confused blinking. "Thanks. I think."

And she filed away with the other students.


"WAIT!" I didn't get a chance to say... "WHAT GUY?" But I thought up the question too late. She was already gone.

And now I don't know. And probably won't ever know.

Looks like I won't be sleeping well tonight.

Did someone say "Birthday Party?"

HELP! I know I always complain about birthday parties. I know you're sick of it. And you know I will continue to whine. Sorry, but this is the nature of our relationship -- I whine, you read, and laugh at my expense. I works out, I think.

This particular party hasn't happened yet. It will be happening tomorrow. The father called me up today...

"Just wanted to let you know that we have filled up the Planetarium!" he beamed. "We have 45 kids and 35 adults!" He was ecstatic.

I was crushed. This can't go well. I just sat quietly on the line waiting for him to go on.

"Isn't that great?" He needed me to tell him how happy I was for him.

"Oh, yeah," I told him. "It makes it more worth while for me to come in on a Saturday." The subtext was supposed to indicate "Oh goody! I'm coming in on what would otherwise be my day off, and instead I not only get to deal with a small group of unruly kids, now it is an honest-to-goodness horde!" I don't think he got it, because he answered with...

"Ah, ha!" His subtext suggested to me -- "Eureka! I was right! This is a wonderful thing! See! I am superdad! All is right with the world!"

I almost began weeping openly right then.

"So," he continued, "can I bring down the car right to the door there so we can unload the food? And then later to unload the presents?"

"No," I told him. "Security really doesn't let people do that."

"Well why not?" He asked me.

"I'm not sure. Safety reasons, I guess. Liability and such."

"WHAT?" he said. "I'm safe!"

"I'm sure you are. It's just their policy." I was almost having fun now. There was no way I was going to let him talk me into this. The gauntlet has been thrown down! And it really is the policy.

"C'mon, just one trip down, then." He was haggling!! Haggling to be able to drive down.

"One is still more than none," I told him. "Security says 'no'."

"Arrgh." he said. He really said, "Arrgh." Like a pirate. A frustrated pirate.

"Well that's not a very good system!" he told me.

"We're not really set up just for birthday parties!" Once he started attacking 'the system', the battle was really on. "The Planetarium itself is really a classroom. We just do birthday parties on occasion as a sort of public service for kids who want an educational party."

"I don't know how you're going to keep having birthday parties with this system," Again with the system!! Don't mess with my system!

"Well," I grabbed this opportunity to say what I always wanted to, "we may be phasing out the birthday parties anyway." I said it! To a member of the public! It was exhilarating! No more parties! Maybe he'd spread the word!

"Really?" he said in an almost horrified tone. "Well, without birthday parties, what else will you do?"


Ohmigod.


He thinks I am a party machine. I am just a clown with trained poodles to him. I am nothing more than an organ-grinder-monkey-trainer to him. He thinks I ONLY PERFORM BIRTHDAY PARTIES.


"I'm sure will come up with other alternatives," I told him.

"So we have to bring the food down the hill by hand?" he went back to the root of the problem.

"Yes. You do." I was going to offer to help, but not now.

"Arrgh," he said.

Odd phone call.

I had just returned a phone call to a woman who had called me about 2 weeks ago. I've been off (as the Blog readers well know) for that period of time, so I started with an apology of the delay in answering. She did not seemed disturbed by the long wait.

The conversation was just rather odd, so I decided to write about it. It wasn't funny, really, just odd.

First of all, her dog was loudly barking, very close to the phone, the whole time. It was really hard to hear what she was saying...

"Oh, hel...**--arf barf--**...was just wonder...**--ruff ruff--**...aving a planetarium sho...**--arf barf--**...my son had been to the colleg...**--whoof barf--**...and they had sold out so I ...**--bark bark bark bark--**...have any shows like that?"

"WHAT?" I asked, shouting as loud as she had been shouting to try, in vain, to out-volume her dog.

"I was wondering if we...**--arf Arf ARF--**...get a private show in the planetarium?"

"SURE! WE CAN SCHEDULE THAT!" I hoped I had not just agreed to something I could not or would not do. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BRING THAT DOG ARE YOU?" I meant it as a joke.

"OH, sorry, hang ...**--arf rooff--**... on!" She moved the phone away from her face and screamed the dog's name. It sounded like Gomer, or maybe Homer. Possibly Grover. "[dog's name], would you SHUT THE HELL UP!!!"

I swear I heard the dog respond with a **---bowerrowr--** in a tone that was reminiscent of an 11 year old boy saying, "Aw, geez, mom!" Like in a 1950's sitcom.

Then I heard her doorbell ring.

"Can I call you back?" she asked me. "I have to talk to this man at the door. My son was just in a fight."

"OK..." I started to say, but she had already hung up. I held the phone away from my face and stared at it. I don't think I've ever done that before. I thought that just happened in the movies.


That was 5 and a half hours ago. She hasn't called back. I'm really quite glad.