Let there be light

Abigail loves to turn out the lights to make the "power go out." Often there is an imaginary storm involved. But tonight, she was actually encouraged to turn out the lights. Her Little Mermaid flashing magic wand broke, and she had discovered that it could still work as a makeshift flashlight. So Brad wanted her to show him. And she did, several times, until he finally asked her to turn the big lights back on so he could finish reading the paper. And she replied, "Oh, Daddy, don't worry. Don't be afraid, Jesus will come and give you light."

Her own little version of Luke and John.

Granted, she was talking literally about her flashlight and we had just read the little epiphany booklet she got in Sunday school, but hey, not bad for early doctrine!

Drooooool

I know I've mentioned Paris Breakfasts before, and you may notice it in my link list (so I can check it every day), but oh dear, I am about to die from the following photo. If I ever went to this shop, I think I would just melt into a puddle of gluttonous desire.



That is PB's author's photo, by the way. And if anyone is ever in doubt of what they could get me for a gift, one of her watercolors would do quite, quite nicely.

Swedish delights

The most thrilling news in ages came across NPR today: Charlotte is getting an IKEA!!! I'm so excited! I know some of you live near one already, but it's been years for me. I fondly recall my first visit to an IKEA back in Chicago as a preteen, though I was probably feeding a lot off my sister's excitement. Sigh, inexpensive design, how delightful. And a., you lucky thing, it's going in at City Boulevard and I-85!

Quite a View

Well, that was quick! I started "A Room with a View" last night and finished it just moments ago. What a great book! Thank you, sister dear, and I'm sorry I didn't appreciate it when I was 12. I didn't have the background for it, and was frankly probably too young. But now I am well steeped in Victorianism, have a mature understanding of love, and have seen "Manor House" and "1900 House". Seriously, those shows made me really able to picture what was going on :) So thank you, though I still don't see much "Anne."

This was a truly amusing read (I'm sorry if I use silly words, I mimic what I've been reading. Last night I called Brad "peevish."). The story is a straightforward narrative, but every once in a while Forster pops in to make sure you're reading everything properly. Big chunks of story, a rambly paragraph of philosophy, more story, a quick first person aside to clear up something he was trying to do with words, more story ... . I thought he characterized Lucy really well, brought her out with great dialog and thoughts and description without just telling you. And it was great fun reading an Edwardian picking on Victorians, while as Brad pointed out "There's nothing different about them except for a monarch."

Interestingly, the only other Forster I've read was "A Passage to India," which is not at all light or funny. "View" was published in 1908, "India" in the 20s; modernism definitely separates them.

So very, very good. Shana, you'd probably like it. Maybe a., too. Even Smitty.

And thus ends my 2006 reading. What's in store for 2007? I think I'll decide tomorrow.

My secret identity

Was a great show. I though Jerry O'Connell was hot.

Anyway. For the past month or so, I've been writing another blog. Nothing major, just a once-a-week deal for Charlotte Parent magazine. Naturally, I don't get paid, though it was hinted that maybe, possibly, someday this could happen -- when the pigs are all done flying. But it's got me writing more, which is a good thing, and it lets me air out my mommy thoughts without burdening the non-parents I know. Sadly, it's not in real blog format, which is why I was so hesitant to share and may not be able to use it professionally later, but for now, it's interesting.

Reading rewind

Ages ago, my sister gave me "A Room with a View" by E.M. Forster. Perhaps because she called it a more grown up Anne of Green Gables, which I didn't see, I didn't really get into it at the time. I was probably 16. When I went to college, I really enjoyed "A Passage to India," so I got to thinking the first Forster deserved another chance. So that's what's up next, probably once the holiday insanity slows down.

I must say, I'm looking forward to it, if for no other reason than the chapter titles. I don't recall Forster being particularly zany, but the table on contents is great! Chapter 3 is "Music, Violets, and the Letter 'S'" while chapter four is brilliantly "Fourth Chapter." But chapter 6 has them all beat: "The Reverend Arthur Beebe, the Reverend Cuthbert Eager, Mr. Emerson, Mr. George Emerson, Miss Eleanor Lavish, Miss Charlotte Bartlett, and Miss Lucy Honeychurch Drive Out in Carriages to See a View; Italians Drive Them." That's GREAT! And then comes chapter 7, simply "They Return." This should be good.

And this morning, I got to thinking about other things I should add to my to-read list, and for some reason I'm now convinced I need to read "The Inferno." Ah, nothing like a little Dante for some light escapism! And of course, after that I must do "Paradise Lost," which I managed to essentially escape as an undergrad. I had a modern poetry class just after the Milton class, and the scribble on the chalkboard always made me so very glad I wasn't in the Milton class. But I feel it's something I should read, especially since the majority of our ideas about heaven and hell and all that come from these two works and not the actual Bible. What fun.

Eye on society

Well, after all the excitement about the big society wedding this past weekend, I sadly must announce I did not get to do quite as much people-watching as I'd hoped.

For one, I could barely see. Those who know me well may not be surprised by this, but I managed to inflict bodily harm upon myself the morning of the wedding -- specifically, I jammed my mascara brush into my eye and scratched it. I've never done that before, and it HURTS! I couldn't look to the right and, as my loving husband put it, I looked like I had pink eye. Or perhaps like I'd been slugged, once it all started swelling up from rubbing it. I was all right as long as I kept drops in it and remembered to turn my head to look at something rather than just my eyes, but that's hard to do. So mainly, I had really good conversations with whoever was on my left.

But of course, it was still a lovely affair. It was held in a beautiful 18th century church, which was all done up for Christmas, and we were lucky enough to be seated near the front. My friend, The Groom, looked very happy, complete with his trademark bouncy walk, and The Bride was adorably excited. There were lots of Scottish touches throughout, including a piper leading her down the aisle.

The reception was most interesting. At first I was surprised it wasn't a sit-down -- until I realized, you know, you really can't prepare seating for 500 and keep them in the same building! All seven layers of the wedding cake disappeared. The reception was set up as a mingling event, which sadly I was not exactly in the mood for, but the food and drinks were great -- I missed the pomegranate martinis, but I did get a fried green tomato and some fabulous sweet potatoes -- and Brad valiantly did his part mingling, meeting some really interesting, well-connected people. A top state politician's husband, a college president, other people who could obviously bank roll us 100 times over. And he found them all very approachable and genuinely nice to talk to. I just stayed with my college friends, so I wouldn't have to explain my eye, though they still asked me how I was doing every 15 minutes. I really wanted to talk about something else! -- but all I could think about was not looking to the right. But I did manage to meet and like the newest girlfriend in the group and generally catch up with with folks, who look surprisingly nice all cleaned up! :)

So no major shoulder-rubbing and no stunning pictures of Ayzair in her cocktail dress, but a nice time was had by all.

And my eye is now fine, or at least just slightly puffy and blood-shot.

Jesus is full of hot air!

I wonder how much crazy hate mail I'll get from that title ...

Of course, I do not mean that literally. Or rather, I intend it literally about the alarming inflatable, illuminated nativity that popped up on one lawn here in town. Now, I find the whole inflatable trend pretty idiotic -- geez, and we complain about energy prices?!?! -- but a three-times larger than life glowing holy family? Come on, people! Thankfully, baby Jesus wasn't in a snow globe, but I still find it incredibly tacky and just a wee bit too irreverent.

Although it provided much humor on an extremely windy evening last week as the whole stable whipped about in a frenzy, nearly crashing into the nearby inflatable snowman and Santa.

But seriously, people. Leave the all-out stuff to official town decorations. I plan to take Abigail to McAdenville, and that will be loads of wonderful tackiness, but we don't need it on your average residential street!

Of course, I've always been biased toward white lights of the non-blinking variety. And I'm not totally against manger scenes in the front yard; someone in my mom's neighborhood had a lovely white, cut-out silhouette of the inspiring scene, gently lit and only about 3 feet tall. There are better ways to spread the spirit of the season!

I need an empire waist dress

How on earth can I not like this one? Thanks, Shana! Though I do have to dig out my Austen to remember exactly who Jane was ...

(Later: Damn, this is annoying! I've read the book, I loved the book. Who the hell was Jane?! I think I'm all confused with "Sense and Sensibility" ...)

You scored as Jane Bennet. As someone who would rather see the good in people, Jane is a true pacifist and caregiver. At times, her shy temperament and naive outlook of people can land her in a compliant position, but those who know her love her for her positive spirit and cheerful view of what surrounds her. Jane Bennet 59% Elinor Dashwood 50% Elizabeth Bennet 41% Emma Woodhouse 41% Marianne Dashwood 31% Charlotte Lucas 19% Lady Catherine 9% Which Jane Austen Character are You? (For Females) Long Quiz!!! created with QuizFarm.com

Blatant ads on parade

It was Christmas parade time again here in my small town, and still being a bandie at heart, I can't let this one pass by without sharing. (Ha, ha, did you catch that pun? I'm so clever.)

As last year, the parade was quite the sight to behold. It lasted for at least an hour, though this year we parked ourselves at the start and weren't out too much past bedtime. The high school bands were good, though one was AWOL; the Shriner cars smelly; and the floats heartfelt -- though nothing like we used to make for homecoming and rather obviously intended primarily as advertising for the sponsor. You can vicariously share in the festivities here. And of course, there were several highlights:

1. Out right in front of the Rock Hill High dance team, dancing gaily with a giant candy cane and leaping daintily from tiptoe to tiptoe, a 6-foot, 250-pound black boy. Now that takes guts!
2. In a similar vein, there was a very tall, very slim male flautist for the big Christian school, whose band was certainly making a joyful noise, though I'm not sure it qualified as music. The boy's build certainly fit the instrument.
3. The Winthrop University cheerleaders were out in uniform. Of course, cheerleader uniforms don't exactly offer much against the chill, so these girls were essentially in a giant plexiglass aquarium on a truck bed. Perhaps entitled "Spirit under Glass."
4. The amusing appearance of lighted dump trucks sponsored by the Christian radio station.
5. Very enthusiastic, very elderly Shriners singing "My Favorite Things" from "The Sound of Music."

And finally, 6. The Hospice float. Yet again, the most cheerful, energetic group in the parade. I guess it really is a good way to go.

A pox on money grubbers!

I must say a hearty BAH HUMBUG! to the jerks who buy out all the hot Christmas toys and the jack up the prices on eBay. I just now realized that the digital camera we were wanting to get Abigail is one of these hot toys. And of course, I can't just buy it somewhere. So rather than $55 from a retailer, the cheapest I've seen is at least $80 plus shipping. Grrr. And there are probably thousands of the damn things on eBay, with at least a dozen parents battling it out per camera. I don't enjoy spending my time pouring over store ads and I certainly don't get up before the crack of dawn on Black Friday. I should be able to buy my Christmas presents in December from a store. BAH!

Hot lead

Finally saw "All The President's Men" -- now THAT'S a journalism movie!!! Hell yeah, makes me want to go back to the night shift!! Well, maybe not that. But yeah! Go journalists! Go people bringing down the crooked government! Go young cub reporters getting the trust of the publisher! Go people doing all kinds of shady, twisted questioning to get the truth! Yeehaw!

There was so much clacking of typewriter keys in that movie that my fingers are twitching to move. How great. I absolutely adored the scene right toward the end when Woodward goes to Bernstein's house to tell him Deep Throat told him everything -- and that their lives were in danger and they were being bugged. Woodward (a quite nice looking young Robert Redford, now I understand the hype) cranks up Bernstein's stereo to blast trumpet-laden classical music, then goes to the typewriter, unwilling to speak. He types, Bernstein types, the clacking of keys and the booming of brass, and the power of that cinematography is fabulous.

And the age of the film was fabulous. Bernstein smoking everywhere, rotary phones, an ancient Xerox machine, all the manual typewriters that didn't even do automatic return at the end of a line. And the decor at the Post: flourescent lights, tacky carpet, horrible desks and filing cabinets, whitewashed pillars -- all brand new in the 70s, and all somehow still the decor at my old paper ... Shana, it's like deja vu, only no swastikas in the ventilation screens.

And I love how you have absolutely no clue who Deep Throat was. Now I see how it was such a mystery.

Woo-hoo, so glad I saw that! So glad, also, that I didn't read the book. That cast of characters would have been mind-boggling and the various crimes confusing. But a great movie.

On the half shell

Does anyone know what "Oyster Attire" might mean in relation to a society wedding rehersal party? I tried to google it, but all that came up was a Michigan swingers site, and given the people this party is for, I really doubt that's applicable here ...

Otherwise, it's ridiculous how fascinated I am by this whole society wedding concept. Thanks to a., I have an appropriate cocktail dress, though my last dress that even came close was my prom dress. My rather self-righteous, formerly poor self absolutely can't wait for this people watching!

Buy war bonds

Does anyone remember learning "You're a Grand Old Flag" in preschool? I sure don't, but Abigail knows all the words, complete with a little chest thumping at "Every heart beats true for the red, white and blue ..." Really quite strange.

I really wasn't going to do this

I generally avoid politics here, since some of my dearest friends are of the opposite political persuasion, but since Rumsfeld just got replaced ...

Wheeeee! Join me in the partisan dance of glee! Now I'm just holding my breath for the senate.

Of course, now the Democrats have to actually accomplish a reasonable agenda, something I'm not holding my breath for. Sadly, politics is politics, though I do honestly believe it will be better for the country not to have one party in control of both branches. Plus I can celebrate that I will now be able to buy a glass of wine if I go out to dinner on a Sunday in my humble little town. Here's to progress!

Hardcore Backyard Wrestling

My brother-in-law may be a Dunce, but he has a knack for finding entertaining sites. Acronym Finder is a highly entertaining waste of time, where you can enter your initials and see all the corresponding abbreviations, initializations and acronyms. For me, my favorite was the title of this post, though my maiden name also came up with Hybrid Fluidized Bed. Not bad. I know my sister is just pleased there are other responses to her old initials other than the elementary school bully favorite, "Your initials backwards spell bra!"

Yours truly, Hartree Fock Bogoliubov

Ca, c'est bon

Brad found the most wonderful site last night. Frankly, there could be no better site for me: an artist obsessed with Paris and chocolate. Fellow chocoholics, enjoy.

Celtic notions

Has anyone ever noticed that the letter verification on Blogger often looks like Welsh? Just a thought ...

Anyway, we had a successful celebration of everyone's favorite Celtic holiday on Tuesday. That night was actually Abigail's third go-round with candy: Sunday at church, Monday at school, and Tuesday in the in-laws neighborhood. And surprisingly, not too much of a constant sugar buzz! Abbey was, of course, Ariel the Little Mermaid, which she is on a daily basis, but Halloween had the added treat of getting to spray her hair red. Too bad color never shows on dark hair! She got a decent haul, and I've managed to keep my candy raiding to a minimum. What she really loved, though, was giving out candy after we finished our rounds. She would say "Trick or treat!" to the children when she opened the door, and carefully doled out exactly one piece per child, saying things like "Aren't you beautfiul?" and "You'll like this flavor." My favorite, when she told two middle school girls, "You're trick-or-treating so well!"

I didn't see any amazing costumes this year, though we went home early in the night, but my favorite non-Abigail moment came from a group of middle school boys. They were obviously way too cool/self-conscious to actually dress up, but they still wanted the candy. I almost told Abigail not to give them anything! But then I felt bad for the third boy: After his friends got their candy and turned to leave, he came up, said, "Trick or treat," got his candy and then shoved a tract at Abigail, mumbling, "God loves you." Obviously the only way he could convince his parents to let him go trick-or-treating! At least he went to the trouble of putting on a hockey jersey ...

Have you no sense of decency, sir?

This past weekend, the husband and I decided to revive my stagnated NetFlix queue and watch "Good Night, And Good Luck." (Sad to say, the previous movie on my queue was a Spanish movie that sounded great but languished on my entertainment center for about two weeks and was finally returned unwatched.) The film we did watch was George Clooney's acclaimed take on Edward R. Murrow bringing down Joe McCarthy. I thought it would inspire all kinds of journalistic fervor in me, which I need a boost of, but sadly, it fell a bit short. I laud the CBS folks for standing up to McCarthy's Red Scare, and I found it appaling how people had bought into the hysteria of those show trials, but the movie didn't live up to its material. Why? It was slow. Really, really slow. The envelope said it was just 1 hr. 33 mins., but man, it felt a lot longer. Probably even more so for the reformed smoker Brad since every character lit up like a chimney in every scene. They were trying all kinds of dramatic angles and lighting and so forth, but they left the drama out of the plot.

It was, of course, interesting for its historical matter. And for how what were no doubt Murrow's exact words were so applicable for our current administration's tactics. And it was fun seeing the film clip of McCarthy's censure, which I otherwise only knew from R.E.M.'s song "Exhuming McCarthy."

After a period movie that's supposed to arrive today, the next film on my queue happens to be "All the President's Men." Yet another aspect of journalistic history that I lack any real knowledge of. Sadly, I owned this book but hadn't gotten around to reading it before Mark Felt outed himself as Deep Throat. Kinda takes the thrill out of reading it, so I'm opting for the visual version. Hopefully this will stir me up a bit more.

Me, me, me, me

Well, now this is absolutely lovely and totally self-centered! :)

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 3,533 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

And, hey, mom! There are only four of you. Even better, just one with your maiden name! Just 13 of me pre-marriage. And just 42 for Abbey (lots more for Abigail).

Clearing my throat

Just a little something to let you know I'm alive. Brad's been on the computer non-stop lately, though hopefully I can ship him back to the office Monday and reclaim some screen time!

Two my-child-is-cuter-than-your-child stories: This morning at breakfast, Abigail held her arms out in front of her like she was hugging something. "Do you know what I'm hugging?" "The air?" "No, I'm hugging God!" she replied laughing. How great. And then a couple of days ago, she decided she was going to read the bedtime stories to me. So I was treated to two almost perfectly remembered books. I was so proud!

I'll take waiting game for $1000

I have returned triumphant from my audition for Jeopardy!

Not that this means I know if I made it on the show, of course. All I know is they won't tell me how I did on the test, I may or may not be in the contestant pool for the next year, and the only way I'll ever know is if I get a call a couple weeks in advance of when they'd want me on the show. All right, thanks for all the clear-cut decisiveness!

I do think I did fairly well. I know for sure I missed 5 out of 50 questions on the test, but I got the feeling people around me were stumped by more than that. I aced the use of the buzzer during the mock test, though I was clueless on a few questions and guessed wrong on a couple more. I did get several right, however, and I made them laugh during my mini interview, so that's a good thing. Hopefully I'll get a call in the not-too-distant future and go on to win thousands of dollars!!! Or just forget about it and not be overly dissapointed.

It was certainly an interesting experience, though, especially seeing the types of people that would try out for a show like that. There were just a couple of truly hermity-looking, over-eager folks, including a woman who makes lace for a living. There were a couple of PhD students, including one in neurobiology, just so we all felt inferior. But there were also a few run-of-the-mill administrative types, a claims adjuster, a guy who worked for Habitat, and me, the mom. A surprisingly broad range of experiences, though I bet we all survived our share of gifted classes.

And hey, I got a free pen the size of the signalling button! Score!

Naperthrill

A bit of my last post reminded me of a small rant I've been wanting to do.

Would people please stop offering up my old hometown as the epitome of the materialistic bourgois class? Yes, a lot of people in Naperville were wealthy. Yes, it was an excellent school district because of all those property taxes. Yes, it was predominantly WASPy -- or at least the white part, probably a whole lot more Polish Catholics than Protestants, but WPC isn't as handy an acronym. But please, Oprah, show the rest of the town besides the south side and it's monstrous homes! And there are other wealthy burbs in Chicagoland you could focus on! Geez, just go to Winnetka.

We lived in the older part of Naperville. I went to one of the oldest elementary schools and the original junior high, my sister went to the original high school. Most of my friends lived in modest split-levels. I rode my bike to the old downtown, went to an independant music store, bookstore, ice cream shop, clothes store, etc. Where we lived had a remarkable sense of being a town, not just a burb. Granted, we were on the very edge of that part, but my life centered on old Naperville and district 203, not the sprawl of 204. (Not that that means anything to anyone other than my sister and Angela)

Sadly, I probably wouldn't even recognize downtown anymore. I hear there's a GAP, a Starbucks, etc. So maybe the town I knew is gone. And I'm sure Amanda has a different take since she was there as a teenager more than I was. But still, back off, Oprah!

McNausea

I just watched Super Size Me, and I don't feel very well. The film is disturbing, of course, and a bit far-fetched in that the man ate all his meals at McDonald's for a month and super sized when asked. He had to eat everything on the menu once, but of course he didn't have to eat the Bic Mac and friends all the time, could have mainly eaten their salads -- even if they are nasty iceberg lettuce monstrosities. But still, ick. The worsening of his health was incredibly fast. And the sizing comparisons were unreal. The original size drink is now the kid's size -- and the largest offered in Europe. Anyone remember the paper bag of fries, not the paperboard sleeve? I'm just so thankful that I almost never eat fast food, and if I do it's Chick-fil-A or Wendy's, where you can be a bit more sane. And while Abigail love's those Chick-fil-A nuggets and waffle fries, she's also perfectly happy just to get a few fries and chow down on her fruit cup. But after this, I'm even going to rethink how many fries I let her have -- and make myself not finish them off.

They intereviewed people at Madison Junior High, which was in my old town of Naperville and was built right as I went to high school. What the kids bought from the line was of course attrocious, and I know a lot of schools are finally changing, but kids are kids. I remember in high school in Naperville, I would eat my lunch from home, then go buy a soft pretzel with cheese, a Twix and a fruit punch. No wonder I had weight issues! There was this little cubicle set up in the cafeteria that sold nothing but candy and chips and the like. Crazy. Thank God my Pittsburgh school didn't have quiet the options -- though I did love those gingerbread men they sold after school.

I slogged through gym every day in Illinois, then just two or three times a week in the 'Burgh. Now, thanks to good ol' No Child Left Behind, our local school district only does gym once a week for 20 minutes in elementary school. Now, I always hated gym, but that's insane! (Besides, where will these children learn to square dance?) I have heard countless teachers say No Child Left Behind is destroying American education, but that's a whole different topic ...

Later addendum: Oops, Madison was a preexisting junior high, I was thinking of Kennedy. But it's all moot since I went to Washington. Go Warriors! Or rather, Wildcats since our really rather racist caricature of an Indian was finally deemed offensive. Oh well. My sister's high school was the Redskins. Guess who's now the Redhawks?

Should ... not ... give ... in ...

But of course I will. Feel free not to read the following 101 self-absorbed questions (gee, thanks, Carrots):

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
The lovely bikini slash across my abdomen, thanks to Abigail. Or rather pre-eclampsia.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
My degree, pictures of college family, a plate of my first front page, a comic featuring Brad drawn by his best friend, pictures of my family.

3. DO YOU GRIND YOUR TEETH OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP?
No, but I think I clench them.

4. MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Last one I wanted to hear was Coldplay, but of course I forgot to put the CD in. Otherwise, most recently heard were Athlete and Jay Clifford.

5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
7:04 a.m.

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
A better coffee pot.

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?
Travel

8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION(S)?
All my many books. And my new dress that I really hope I can wear to an upcoming wedding.

9. HOW TALL ARE YOU?
5'6" or 5'7", depending on my mood

10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
Not often, but yes when it's really hot and humid or when I'm shoved into a street with thousands of Germans and can't move

11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Not more than the ocassional creepy feeling requiring a dash upstairs at night.

12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
I guess Brad, but it was really just me being over-tired and defensive in an argument

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE FOR A GUY?
None.

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Dark hair, dark eyes

15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF PROPOSING/ BEING PROPOSED TO?
It was at Freedom Park, under the willow

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
Cooooooffffffeeeeeeee

17. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Ham and pineapple. Or mushroom, spinach and an egg if in Europe.

18. IF YOU CAN EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Very rich, chocolate pastry

21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU?
Of the assorted baby toys, I think I'd say Mousie, the amorphous gray stuffed mouse

22. DO YOU LIKE ANYBODY?
I generally give everyone the benefit of the doubt.

23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
No.

24. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
I generally have the most luck at Gap Outlet.

26. DO YOU HAVE A PET RIGHT NOW?
Mom's cat is technically mine.

27. WHAT KIND IS IT?
A Maine coon.

28. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
Yes

29. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?
Listen attentively and sympathetically.

30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
29

31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Brunettes.

32. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL OFTEN?
Mom's.

33. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?
Geez, I don't even think I can start here. Let's say SUVs.

34. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA?
If you don't know this answer, you don't know me.

35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Chocolate. Television.

36. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?
I don't think so.

37. FIRST JOB?
Besides baby-sitting, cashier at T-Bones, a small grocery store in the 'Burgh.

38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
Maybe a few in junior high.

39. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED OUT THIS?
Preparing to take a shower.

40. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?
Several.

41. HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOUR WISDOM TEETH REMOVED?
Yes. How old is the target audience for this thing?

42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
Lately, my hair.

43. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?
Yes.

44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
A new coffee pot.

45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
Two.

46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
My middle name is for my dad's mom.

47. DO YOU WISH ON STARS?
No, clasps of necklaces and green and yellow M&Ms.

48. WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY?
Drank coffee, read the paper, read Babar the Elephant.

49. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?
Pantene Brunette Expressions.

50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Kind of, it's like Dad's.

51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Roast beef?

52. ANY BAD HABITS?
Loads and loads, most notably procrastination (exhibit A).

53. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF?
I think I've shed the truly embarassing, like Mariah Carey from when I was 13 that I swear I never listened to all the way through.

54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Hopefully, but I'm very shy.

56. DO LOOKS MATTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Yes.

57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?
Get snippy, go for a drive or walk, throw things, sometimes just cry.

58. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?
Clemson, SC.

59. WHO IS YOUR FAMOUS/ ACTOR/SINGER CRUSH?
Don't have one.

60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
Barbies and Cabbage Patch Kids

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
maybe 20

62. WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A KID?
Rubble, sure. Much more predictable than Fred

63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Loads

64. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT?
No.

65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Sense of humor, literary appreciation, desire to eat really well and travel.

66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Once upon a time, I was Cowgirl, Tiger, Bucky, Buxton, Jasmine, Heather Feather.

67. WHATS YOUR FAVORITE BAND/SINGER?
Jump, Little Children.

69. WHAT WAS YOUR ACT/SAT SCORE?
I used to claim 1490, but I think it was 1410.

70. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
Maybe Moose Tracks. In France, Cassis.

71. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?
Yes

72. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WORKED OUT?
Yesterday.

73. WHO/WHAT DO YOU MISS MOST RIGHT NOW?
Dad.

74. WHATS THE FASTEST YOU HAVE GONE IN A CAR?
Once Brad made it past the ATL airport in four hours -- I stopped looking at the speedometer out of fear.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Why not

76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
Traffic.

77. LAST THING YOU DRANK?
Coffee.

78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Mother-in-law.

79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Face.

80. FAVORITE THOUGHT PROVOKING SONG?
That one by Blue October that makes me want to cry.

81. FAVORITE THING TO HATE?
Conspicuous materialism.

82. FAVORITE MONTH OF THE YEAR?
October

83. FAVORITE SPORT?
Hiking.

84. YOUR ZODIAC SIGN?
Leo.

85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
Dark brown.

86. EYE COLOR?
Brown.

87. WHAT IS YOUR HERITAGE?
In descending order: German, English, Scots-Irish, Cherokee, French.

88. SIBLINGS?
1 sister

89. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTURANT?
Don't eat it much. Do Steak-n-Shake or McAlister's count?

90. YOU LIKE SUSHI?
I've tried, but no.

91. LAST THING YOU WATCHED?
Egad, "Wife Swap." I needed something while I ironed.

92. WHATS YOUR FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
Christmas Eve.

93. PLAY ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?
Flute and piano.

94. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?
Democrat.

95. KISSES OR HUGS?
Hugs.

96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?
Can anyone honestly see me in a one-night stand?

97. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?
Earrings.

98. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU DRIVE?
Honda Civic.

99. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
The Inheritance of Loss.

100. ARE YOU BORED?
No.

101. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
Uh, potatoes, I guess.

Lone Jumper

The spouse and I got out for a rare date -- and on a Tuesday, no less -- to see Jay Clifford, the lead singer for the late Jump, Little Children. It was an interesting show, just Jay up on a bar stool wearing an old t-shirt and jeans, playing a couple of accoustic guitars with the occasional pre-recorded backup from a record player. The crowd was a bunch of Jump die-hards, and his set list consisted of shouted out requests. The requests were tentative at first but became very demanding by the end of the show, especially the encores.

As a die-hard myself, it was great. He played my two requests (which he heard from other people) "Cathedrals" and "Close Your Eyes," the latter one of Abigail's lullabies, and did a wonderful, slower, more poignant version of "Mexico" that had a definite Latin tinge to the chords. He also played some vintage JLC, "Dancing Virginia" and "Quiet" as well as "Come Out Clean," which he forgot large swaths of. It was cute, he was a bit sheepish, but the crowd just chipped in for him.

Jay did also play some new solo stuff, some of which can be heard at the above MySpace site.

The opener was a decent singer/songwriter named Megan Coffee. I really liked her voice -- a slightly huskier, richer sound than many women -- but what was great about her set was the song "Rockefeller Center," written by her then-4-year-old son. Since I have my own 4-year-old, I of course loved it. The song was all about the bustle of New York and his fear of losing his mom and not being able to keep up the pace -- not bad for a little kid from Decatur, Ga. He even had two great lines, one stolen from PBS: "Rockefeller Center, for what it's worth/ has overarching themes about life and rebirth," and the final one just darn cute: "I don't know how I came to be this four."

All in all, a very pleasant night. Accoustic music, most of which I knew by heart, in a very laid-back setting, the darkness punctuated by the flickering of cell phones like fireflies in the darkness; the kind of thing I want to do more often.

This ... is ... Jeopardy!

Eeek, I've got an audition for Jeopardy! I took the online test months ago and just got an e-mail about auditions in Atlanta on Oct. 12. Now, you have to take a 50 question test, and if you pass, then take a mock test and have a interview. Even if you pass, you aren't guaranteed a spot on the show. I have two days to RSVP, so I need a poll: Should I truck on down even though the odds aren't great? I have watched Jeopardy! for years, have always known tons of the questions, have been told by many people I should try to get on. I'm no Ken Jennings, but whaddya think?

And what would I WEAR?!

Mmmm, four packets of cream cheese

For everyone who wanted their own shot at the Tiramisu Cheesecake creamy goodness, here is the recipe.

Where I was

A newspaper friend of mine was asked to talk about her Sept. 11 memories for her official blog. Many of her memories echoed mine, and I naturally started replaying that day in my head.

After working second shift the night before, I was sleeping in to my normal 10 or so when I heard my phone ring. I ignored it, then it rang again. I finally got up and checked the message. It was another newspaper friend, Meg, saying very shakily, "Turn on the TV. Something terrible has happened." I switched it on, and there was smoke billowing over New York, both towers collapsed. I called Meg and we talked/sat in stunned silence for an hour or so. I remember thinking, "Oh God, how many people could have been in there?"

Around noon I pulled myself together for a shower and went ahead to a dentist appointment. I wasn't needed at work yet and frankly was too stunned to know what else to do. The radio in the waiting room was tuned to news, which was even eerier without pictures. Then I was called back and greeted by a cheerful hygienist who chirped, "How are you today?" Uh, a bit disturbed, actually. "Why? Oh, yeah, isn't it awful?" That's putting it mildly. After my cleaning, I went to my church to pray for a while before reporting to the newsroom. I don't even know if I prayed consciously or if I just repeated "Help us" over and over.

I got to the newsroom early, and it was sheer chaos. They were just finishing up the special edition, and I was immediately put to work reading wire stories and going through pictures. And it seems that's what I did for the next eight days straight. Everyone was bombarded with images and stories in those days, but you have no idea how many more there were. We had to filter through them all, decide which were the most powerful, which were the most compelling, which were too gruesome to print. Thousands of pictures. News alerts every two minutes as the information trickled in. You couldn't actually lay out a page until nearly deadline because the stories kept changing. We never stopped; the adrenaline dripped from the walls. And when I went home, all I did was switch on the TV and watch more. I couldn't stop the horror. (Newseum.org has a gallery of front pages from that day.)

I remember calling my sister in London, probably the next day. I tried to get a free circuit for more than two hours. We were both so relieved to hear from each other, even though neither of us were directly affected. Amanda had been in New York not a week before, had even stopped in the Krispy Kreme in the World Trade Center on something like the 9th. We talked for at least an hour even though I didn't have an international plan. You just had to reach out to your family.

I don't think anyone in the newsroom was able to actually process what was happening for days. We were constant motion. You couldn't let emotion take over or you wouldn't be able to function. I remember all the copy editors gathering in the graphic artists' room one evening a few days into it, theoretically to get on the same page about who was working what overtime (I normally had Wednesdays and Thursdays off -- that didn't happen), but what we did was finally talk about how all of this information overload was affecting us. What images were haunting us. How we weren't separating from it at home. We were four women, all under 30, watching history in a tailspin.

It all finally became too much for me that Saturday -- I know because I remember the t-shirt I was wearing. The Associated Press had just that evening started to release the pictures of people jumping from the top of the towers, the fuzzy closeups of people stripped to their underwear because of the unbearable heat. The pictures of faces peering out over the smoke, judging what was the worse way to die. And I saw the picture of a man and woman holding hands as they jumped. I still cry when I think of that picture, my whole body is tingling even now. I had to run away from that, had to leave work for a while. Brad walked me out to my car, and I just broke down and sobbed on him for several minutes. I think we made a pact not to turn on the TV that night.

What's strange is that before that day, had you asked me to describe the World Trade Center, I don't think I could have. I don't think I even knew what that phrase meant. I remember seeing the towers from an airplane while making a connection in Newark, remember the little thrill of thinking, "That's New York!," but the fact they were the World Trade Center may have been acknowledged by the pilot, not me. Amazing how something I didn't really know existed is now such a touchstone in my life.

So that's where I was; where were you?

Pass the dutchie on the lefthand side

A movie is going to be filmed in my humble little town -- the third in one month! -- and it's going to star Cheech Marin and two "even bigger stars." I find that very amusing :)

Not quite so girlie

I've already finished "Anne of Green Gables," and while it may just be young adult lit, it got some very adult thoughts going through my head.

The book is set about 1870 in a farming community on Prince Edward Island. While I know it glosses over the hardships of Victorian life, I find myself wishing my life was more like that. I'm a very smart woman, but they had so much practical knowledge. They canned, made all their breads, raised their livestock, grew their vegetables, and could name just about any plant under the sun. They were so connected to the natural world, to the rhythms of the seasons and the weather. I'm amazed by the lavish descriptions of little hollows and wooded paths, even when I can't begin to picture the fauna they're talking about. If some monumental natural disaster or nuclear winter ever occured that shut down our interstate/international economy, I would probably wind up among the dead. All I can grow is zinnias and petunias, and while I make a lot of my food from scratch, I'd hardly know where to begin if I couldn't buy my staples at a megastore. Our Earth has just become earth; we have lost so much wisdom and destroyed so many resources by our vanity and ignorance.

I also found myself wondering at the blackness or their nights. We had Abigail out a bit late last night, and when we got out of the car at home, I eagerly pointed out a star, which she doesn't often see. Of course, I knew that given our well lit parking lot, that sparkle was no doubt a satelite. My poor little girl has no idea what the actual sky looks like -- she was no doubt very confused when we went to a planetarium a while back. I myself have a very limited concept of the sky. I know the main constellations and a few minor ones thanks to a very late night under the stars on a Clemson rugby field. And I have seen the Milky Way and understand its monniker: The Buxton clan held a party for my grandpa's 80th birthday more than 10 years ago now, way out at the ancestral homestead in rural Missouri. My sister and I had just come back from an evening in St. Louis, and we were transfixed in the driveway by the stars. My suburban youth gave me no inkling that so much existed overhead.

We're so isolated in our modern world, it's scary. We have bottles and cans full of chemicals guaranteed to clean our homes, but what are they doing to us? We exercise in gyms, maybe stopping at a park to walk, but we have no idea what the world around is actually like. It's so sad.

But despite it's wholesome lifestyle and oodles of romanticism, I won't be finishing the Anne series again. The first book is always my favorite, follwed by the eighth, and I just don't have time to read all the others in between. I skimmed "Anne of Avonlea," and while I remember every scene, it just didn't call to me like "Green Gables." So away they go again on a shelf, waiting for my little one to hit about 10 and discover their magic. But time for just one more quote, one of my favorites and why I always thought I was a romantic (until I encountered Byron's "Don Juan"):

"... perhaps ... perhaps ... love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath." -- Anne of Avonlea

Wonders of Wally World

Bath time is approaching quickly, but I just had to share what I saw today in line at Wal-Mart. I saw light up plastic shoes -- on an adult. Clear plastic flip-flops with sparkles in the straps and two-inch stiletto heels that lit up as the woman walked. Ah, yes, Wal-Mart.

Separately, there is a brand new, enormous miracle of ultra plush squishyness in my room where the board-hard, squeaky implement of torture used to be! Hooray for my first good night's sleep in four years!

The White Way of Delight

Male readers, you may want to just skip this post. Female readers, I'm so happy to know all my girls will understand perfectly!

Sigh, I just love "Anne." I just love it. I'm already up to chapter 4, and it's even better the 12th time. The descriptive language, the charming Prince Edward Island, the precocious Anne. I want Abigail to grow up to be a black-haried Anne. Not Diana, mind you, much too pragmatic, that Diana. I want her to be Anne with all her dreaminess and love of nature and big words and love of books and idealism and optimism and drama and ... God, I love "Anne."

Heck, I want to be Anne. To look like Megan Follows, to marry Gilbert, to live the romanticized 19th century life, to believe in wood nymphs and fairies, to have children like Walter and Rilla (hard to say when I cried more, when Matthew died or when Walter did). Sigh.

I'm going to be talking like a Victorian lunatic for days now. What a great book.

So who wants to plan a trip to P.E.I.? Dead serious about that, say in two years? All out girlie road trip? We could all braid our hair and run around scaring Canadians!

Beta blahs

There's a reason we got rid of Beta VCRs, right? I'm still awaiting a reason not to get rid of this Beta Blogger! I'm in the middle of a post with pictures from Abigail's birthday, but Flickr can't find my blog now that I changed to Beta. And you can't change back! Grrr.

Anyway, to tide you over, I offer yesterday's phrase from "Forgotten English": with squirrel, a euphemism for being pregnant from the good ol' hillbilly days in the Ozarks -- which means it probably still exists out there. Thought that would be of particular interest to ams. Maybe you could be with hedgehog :)

Also, I think I'm going to yet again abandon my poor French novel unstarted. All this reminiscing about books has me eyeing "Anne" again ...

Later: Oh, screw this new Blogger!!! And I can't go back!!! It's screwed up my lovely book links and I don't know how to make it link to images!! I hate when software tries to be smarter than you are and make you do something you don't want it to do! I know HTML, dammit, let me use it!!!!

Even later: Now Firefox has decided to forget that I have been using it for two years. I just had to create a profile and the damn thing at all my bookmarks! ARGH, TECHNOLOGY!

What big eyes you have

I just watched "Everything is Illuminated" and am now thoroughly in love with that film. It was visually amazing, Ukraine is gorgeous. The soundtrack was a wonderful mix of Jewish klezmer and Ukrainian hip hop or ska or something and all sorts of other great tidbits. The character Alex was highly amusing, especially his take on American hip hop culture, and there was plenty of eclectic humor throughout. And I found the ending to be pleasantly unexpected -- though I guess you "pleasant" may not be the most apropriate word. I fully recommend it if you like slightly disjointed post-modern stories.

Of course, I'm now dying to know if Jonathan Safran Foer is really that bizarre.

I always hated tag ...

... but this involves books, so you know I have to do it. And I'm not even technically related!

1. One book that changed your life?

Perhaps not very profound, I'd have to say "Anne of Green Gables" by L.M. Montgomery. While I always loved reading, that's what fully put literature on a pedestal for me and inspired the English-majorness. I could also add "Busy, Busy World" by Richard Scarry, which very well may have given me that first glimpse of a tantalizing wider world.

2. One book you have read more than once?

Most notably, the entire "Anne" series eleven times, as well as "Emily of New Moon" and the rest of that series. My large collection of Berenstain Bears was probably my first obsession, followed by "Little House on the Prairie" et al. at least five times.

Oh, and I have reread as an adult! "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamant is an amazing take on the often overlooked women of the early bible.

3. One book you would want on a desert island?

Um, um, um -- that's hard! I'd tire of the same fiction over and over, so I guess I'll be good and say the Bible.

4. One book that made you laugh?

"The Mother Tongue" by Bill Bryson is a hoot for any language fiend. Yes, I know he's not 100% correct, but it's still loaded with amazing facts and humor.

5. One book that made you cry?

I love books that make me cry, so there have been many in this category. I know I openly bawled at the end of "Anne of Green Gables," "The Red Tent," and "A Prayer for Owen Meany" by John Irving.

6. One book you wish had been written?

What a good question. Perhaps a gospel from the point of view of Mary or Mary Magdalene. Yes, there's an apocryphal version accredited to the latter, but a canonical version would be nice.

7. One book you wish had never been written?

Not that I have anything against Edith Wharton, but "Ethan Frome" was the bane of my 11th grade existance. How my self-destructing, Elmer Fudd look-alike teacher could take more than two months on a novella is beyond me.

8. One book you are currently reading?

"Change Me Into Zeus's Daughter" by Barbara Robinette Moss for a book club I'll never actually attend. So far it's mainly making me mad that the mother wouldn't leave her husband to protect her seven kids.

9. One book you have been meaning to read?

There are so many on this list. Too many to name, and some of which would be embarassing to admit are still lingering on my to-do list.

10. Now tag five people.

They'll love me for this, I'm sure, but Carrots, Smitty, Coffee, Rambling and Years.

Exorcist in training

Abigail yet again turned to her trusty crucifix last night to ward of the evil in her little world. This time it was the thunderstorm that spoiled our planned trip to a nearby lake. She stood in the doorway with daddy, held out the cross (actually a very dried up cross made from a Palm Sunday palm from years ago) and declared, "See, the storm is going away!" Boom, crash, fat raindrops start falling. Well, it was a good try. At least it shows she took the "Jesus calming the storm" children's sermon to heart.

Mixed messages

I just finished "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel. It was a very interesting story of the survival of a castaway, though rather gory at times, and made me think about to what lengths I would go to live. Sadly, I'm not moved to say much more about it, though I wish Smitty weren't quite so far away so we could talk about it.

Next up is a French novel, "Le sabotage amoureux" by Amelie Nothomb. French publishing is interesting. The book I bought is a high quality paperback, their version of a hardback, which is so intelligent. Who really wants to pay for a hardback? But it's strange how large their margins are, how big the type. This is really a novella, padded out to 186 pages. And French titles run up the spine, rather than down it as in English. Does anyone know what other countries/languages do?

And my final comment for the night, I played my flute for the first time in years today, and it was so enjoyable! I've played it maybe two other times since Abigail was born, but really all I was able to do was sound out some kids songs and play school fight songs for her to dance to. Today, though, she was at Nana's and I could pull out my old classical works. I'm not exactly a virtuoso, but my fingers haven't forgotten what to do. It was so relaxing and refreshing, feeling myself sway a bit along with the crescendos and decrescendos, my fingers fly through glissandos and trills. I should do that more often.

Ja, ist gut!

From time to time, Abigail will take extra long naps, which means mommy gets to watch a bit of Globe Trekker, the not-too-meddled with new version of Lonely Planet (which thankfully still has everyone's favorite traveler, Ian). And then Abigail often wakes up groggy and hot and needs time to wake up, so mommy can watch even more travel TV! This has the benefit of introducing her to a love of travel -- as evidenced by her wistful statement "I want to go to Paris when I'm big" -- and a perhaps not so beneficial side, as I saw a couple days ago.

The episode was about cool festivals around the world, and she was relaxing while they talked about Oktoberfest. At first, she was excited about the carnival rides, asking if that was the county fair I promised to take her to this fall. When told it was a far away city called Munich, she asked what else is there. When told a castle (which I know there's not, but you don't get all thrilled about cathedrals when you're 3), she asked incredulously, "A real one not made of paper?" Wide-eyed joy at the thought of castles and kings and queens and so forth. But of course, the TV show didn't just show rides. It showed many drunken people holding gigantic steins of beer. So my little darling looks up at me and asks, "When I'm big, will I be able to drink?" Uh, er, well, um, "Y-e-e-e-e-s, sweetie, when you're a lot bigger." Quick, I need more pictures of the ferris wheels! What did I get? A Mexican town's celebration of the Day of the Dead. Hmmm, time to turn off the TV.

Happy Fourth!

About a week ago, Brad and I took off for a wonderful mini-vacation in Asheville to celebrate our fourth anniversary. I did all the planning and Brad did all the driving, so it worked out well!

First we headed northward to the Yadkin Valley in North Carolina. I'm sure I drove past here once for a day hike with friends, but we were totally unprepared for how beautiful the drive was off the interstate. We took off on a state highway that coursed through a valley between foothill mountains. The way was dotted with adorable white houses, most of which seemed to have a horse pen in their yard. And the weather was beautiful; we'd finally escaped the Charlotte smog and found a perfect blue sky marbled with clouds.

winery
Originally uploaded by HFBW.

There was of course a purpose for our wanderings, the Raffaldini Vineyards. The setting was obviously stunning, the wines were quite tasty (I especially liked the Vermentino, a slightly minerally white) and we struck up a two hour conversation with a couple of baby boomers, a Wake Forest professor and his wife, a Hospice volunteer. We were obviously in very different stages in life, but it was a surprisingly pleasant and engaging coversation -- and I think we were all happy after three glasses of wine and summer sun.

Brad swore he was sober, so we finally headed west to Asheville for the night. It had been years since I'd been there, but I could so easily live in that city! We stayed in one of the many bed and breakfasts in the historic Montford district, which was of course charming. This was our room, and I was quite proud of myself for picking it!

We trooped off to dinner at The Flying Frog Cafe, which was fabulous. The restaurant is strange mix of upscale American, French, German and Indian cuisine. Where else could Brad have enjoyed his bratwurst and I have scraped up every drop of the sauce from my lamb korma zaffrani? The decor was also an interesting blend of styles; one section had huge, comfy couches, another open section had tables with carved chairs, and we were in a secluded set of tables, each draped to look almost like a Moroccan tent. And, to keep the eclectic feel high, there was our waiter. I never got his name, but I refered to him as Dieter. He had severe German-style glasses and close-cropped hair, and he never smiled. Up loomed this grim figure, who sternly stated -- not asked -- "I hope you are having a pleasant evening." I found him highly amusing, no doubt a very troubled and misunderstood artist who was forced to sell his soul by serving us bourgeois cretins. But he saved the best for last. As he brought out my quite delicious banana cake, he looked directly at us and asked, "Would you like to see the plate trick?" The plate trick, how can we refuse?! So our already rather strange waiter took the great big leap to bizarre as he rotated his wrist, then his elbow, then his shoulder to take my dessert on a mystifying route to the table. Who needs entertainment?!

The next day, after breakfast and not-nearly-as-pleasant chat with the boomers at our B&B, we wandered around Asheville briefly before heading off to hike. Ah, the art nouveau and deco architecture! The art and antique galleries! The fascinating people watching! What a great city.

triplefalls
Originally uploaded by HFBW.

But the mountains were calling, so off we went to DuPont State Forest for a 3 mile hike of three different waterfalls (seen here, Triple Falls). The park is just outside Brevard, and I highly recommend it if you're around Asheville or even Greenville. At first, the weather was gorgeous, probably in the 80s. As we went up in elevation, though, so did the temperatures, and on our way to High Falls, we were dripping. If only we'd had our swimsuits like the rest of the hikers we saw! Each of the falls had a great swimming hole, especially the smaller Hooker Falls. The trails had some pretty steep sections, but we figured if the 70-something couple we passed could do it, so could we. I was satisfyingly tired when we were done.

Then, sadly, it was time to head back down the mountain, which we did via U.S. 176 and S.C. 11, quite the nice drive. Until Gaffney, that is, and no, not just because of the Peachoid (see also here, here and here). In the course of conversation, Brad innocently said, "So, you'll be 29 Sunday, huh?" at which point I let out a blood-curdling scream! No, not about the age, really. We were driving with the windows cracked, and I was holding the top of my window when I must have been struck by a giant cicada or something. It hurt a bit but mainly scared the crap out of me! I didn't know if it had come in the car, and as I was desperately searching the floorboard, I hear Brad yell, "Ow! What the hell was that?!" He was also hit, this time in the ear and by a small beetle that did wind up in the back seat. We thought we were in for some kind of freak insect storm and quickly put up the windows, though thankfully we were spared a barrage of goo on the windshield. I never did find my cicada ...

After that, the trip ended uneventfully, though it felt like a heck of a lot more than a day and a half.

princess
Originally uploaded by HFBW.

And where was our dear child for all of this? Down at the beach with Nana and Pops, having a wonderful time. But here are a few pictures for good measure. This one probably from June, and the one below from a strawberry picking trip with Grandma back in May. Isn't she cute?

berries
Originally uploaded by HFBW.

Mommyflix

Our YMCA is ridiculously expensive, so I'm going to try out some workout videos from Netflix to see if there's anything I can tolerate. Well, a bellydance video linked to Carmen Electra workout videos, including striptease and lap dance. I did not add those to my queue (sorry, dear), but I did find it interesting that another title under "Members who watched this also enjoyed" was a Baby Einstein video. Hmmm, wonder what general population is trying to lose weight, reinvent their sex lives and eek out some sanity? :)

By the way, ams, I have two great Baby Einstein DVDs if you'd be interested at some point. Abbey outgrew them a long time ago, but they were good for at least a shower!

Interpreter of Maladies

I just finished "Interpreter of Maladies," a Pulitzer Prize-winning collection of short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri. As I worked my way through the collection, I was amazed at how human her characters were. Yes, all the stories centered around Indians, though only a few were set in India, but other than adding interesting details and flavor, these stories could have been about anyone. She has an incredible talent for believable voices and relationships. Most of the stories ended rather cynically, but I guess that's life. Not really tragic, not really sad, just flawed. I thoroughly enjoyed "A Temporary Matter," the first story in the collection, which Brad has already addressed very well. I also thought "The Third and Final Continent" was particularly good characterization, following an Indian man as he first arrives in Boston and meets his 103-year-old landlord. You could really picture the characters' mannerisms and hear the ever-so-slight awkwardness of phrasing of a non-native English speaker even after four decades. Excellent.

Exactly what doctrine is this?

After a successful week at VBS, Abigail has taken "God is love" to heart. The week had an archaeological theme, and she loves her little "treasures," especially the tiny magnifying glass, as well as the small wooden cross. Which she put to good use the other night. Brad had just announced it was time for bedtime stories when our adorable daughter brandished her cross, holding it at arm's length toward her father, as you would do to fend off a vampire, and said, "Jesus loves you! You can't say that to me!"

What, no garlic in that little treasure chest?

This consumer's report

Time for my own product review. While not as exciting to the common 20-something as a new Mac, I have a new toy. A new vacuum!! Now we are so happy, we do the dance of joy!

It's a lovely red Kenmore, which is absolutely leaps and bounds ahead of my old vacuum, that which shall not be named. I had to empty the canister after every room -- and I've now vacuumed two days in a row! How exciting. How disturbing, too. What kind of filth were we living in the past few years, the exact years that my child was most likely to be playing on the floor? But hooray for my Kenmore, which has a lovely self-propelled action and very easy canister removal and replacement, plus a snazzy little flicky thing for cleaning out the hepa filter. A definite thumbs up.

More posts on the way. Long holiday weekend + visiting mother = several thoughts not put down on "paper."

Hear the Eco?

I recently read "The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana" by Umberto Eco. I highly recommend this book, especially if you love to play with the meanings of words and the concept of memory versus reality. But rather than repeat myself on here, just check out my review from my old paper.

I can't believe the news today

One of Brad's friends found a hilarious little movie clip of Bush singing "Sunday Bloody Sunday" -- made entirely out of snippets from State of the Union addresses. The Web site it's from confuses me (how sad), but you can see the whole thing on here.

Word of the day

Brad has a wonderful tear-off calendar called "Forgotten English." Today's word: tyromancy -- divining by the coagulation of cheese. Yummy.

Welcome to the jungle

Some of you may remember my scenic, swamp-side abode from college. Perfectly decent townhouse, other than the pesky tendancy toward water leakage. Do you also remember our neighbors, the charming fellows with the 5-foot long iguana and beat up old Ranger with Danzig sticker? And the really bad cover band? (as Angela wraps her arms protectively around her unborn child just at the thought) Okay, living next to a band sucked in college. Living next to a band NOW is really not cool. For the past two days, my nice, quiet naptimes have been interrupted by a bass next door. He sounds like a decent musician, but it's a bass. It's repetitive. It's annoying. And it's amped right next to my bedroom. Grrr.

This is why I'm nervous at the idea of buying a townhouse.

Gee, thanks

I love broadcast journalists. They're so amusing. From the local phenomenon of chins that is Bob Pearse right on up to Brian Williams on NBC. Last night, while reporting on Warren Buffet's decision to give away the GDP of a small country -- heck, a mid-sized country, even -- there were some very interesting word choices. Like "beloved Omaha." I'm not sure even hometown boy Buffet would have put that phrase together, unless he followed it up with "steaks." I mean, it's Omaha. I'm sure it's a decent place to live, but it even sounds funny.

Then came the discussion of what impact such philanthropy might have. NBC's number crunchers were obviously having a wonderful time. First came "enough to buy cervical cancer vaccine for every woman in Bangladesh." Hmm, unusual choice of country, but I'm sure Bangladeshis will be delighted not to get that cancer. Then came "enough to buy a computer for every person in the Congo." This statement juxtaposed with pictures of barefoot Congolese in straw huts. Now, call me crazy, but I think the Congolese might like some of those vaccines before a computer. Or mosquito nets to keep their children from dying of malaria. Or even electricity might be nice. But I'm sure until then they could make lovely planters out of their PCs.

Disclaimer: The author is not criticizing philanthropy. It's wonderful. I'm just criticizing NBC's attempt to put that much money into absurd perspective.

Downtime

Ah, the sweetness that is vacation bible school has begun. A whole week of mornings to myself, all while my child has a blast, so no guilt! Hooray! Of course, this means VBS music will become the soundtrack to our lives for a while, but oh well. At least Abigail will have fond memories of silly songs that theoretically translate into faith. I remember one about the devil sitting on a tack and the accompanying hilarity at getting to leap out of my chair and shout "NO!" I don't remember anything else about the song, barely even the tune, but ah, VBS was fun.

Once more with feeling

To return to an evidently popular theme, Abigail's new Ariel bath toy arrived today. She's thrilled, and we're doomed to at least one solid evening of "Part of Your World" over and over again. But, for the sake of Sea Wees fans everywhere (and aparently they are everywhere, I've never had so many comments!), this toy is no where near as cool. Hmm, I may have to play with eBay some more and try to luck out on a deal. Or for those who may be in search of gift ideas, a certain small someone does turn 4 pretty soon ...

If I had a million dollars

Can I be this guy when I grow up? I've always said my dream job would be a travel writer for the New York Times, but this is the ultimate: travel around the world on the cheap, with your articles and pictures published once a week in the Times. Wow.

I know, I know, I have a child and husband that I love and lofty goals of buying a house in a year, so travel isn't high on my agenda (other than mooching off my sister). The mystique of wandering around Europe with a travel guide and a rail pass is still powerful, though. Travel would be no where near as cheap as the good ol' days before hitting 26, but at least I'd have a small scattering of people to stay with for free. Sigh, that old idea of returning to the States, learning Spanish, then cavorting off for another year teaching English abroad is so distant. Damn the reality of growing up!

Oh, and we wouldn't have to eat Kraft dinner -- but we would!

Superficial tourism

Sadly, Madeline in London doesn't quite live up to the standards set by the original and Madeline and the Bad Hat and Madeline's Rescue. Perhaps dear old Ludwig Bemelmans wasn't as familiar with London or was just getting old, but the rhyme and meter aren't nearly as tight, he filches a couple lines from Mother Goose, and the drawings are much less indicative of London. I had hoped to use the book as a mini-travel guide for Abigail, but he doesn't depict many landmarks, and when he does, they are so sketchy they're hard to identify.

The others, especially the original, are full of fabulous little snapshots of Paris. All the major landmarks, the famous parks, even recongnizable markets. The other day, I was watching a few minutes of a France travel show, and Abigail perked up at the sight of the Eiffel Tower. She asked what it was, and after I told her, said, "That's near the old house in Paris that was covered with vines!" Look, my darlings, what bliss, what joy! Azyzair has a little francophile! She then said, "When I'm bigger, I'll get to go to Paris." Damn straight. Hopefully when she's about seven, we'll take off, a few key phrases and "Madeline" in hand, touring around Paris, no doubt at half past nine.

Overthrow the monarchy!

Down with the Disney princesses!

Okay, okay, I don't really have anything against them personally. I was quite the Disney movie watcher as a kid, especially "The Little Mermaid" and "Aladdin." But honestly, if I never have to see/reinact anything with Ariel or Cinderella again, I'll die happy.

Abigail, at not-quite-four, has practically memorized "Cinderella" and the part of "The Little Mermaid" we'll let her watch (through "Under the Sea" -- that movie is a lot scarier and more violent that I remember at 10!). Yesterday, I think we had to play out evil stepsisters ripping up Cinderella's dress, "Bippity Boppity Boo," the ball, the loss of the slipper, and the fitting of said slipper about 10 times consecutively. And you can't deviate from the script. One false word, you get "Noooo! Do it right!" And trips to the pool and baths and playing in her kiddie pool all result in recreating Ariel singing "Part of Your World" -- including the destruction of Eric's ship and his rescue. I've got some truly hilarious home movies of this if anyone knows how to blog those.

I confess, it's fun singing "Bippity Boppity Boo." I've also bought an Ariel bath toy, if only to stop making my child play out the scenes with her washcloth. I shouldn't be that stingy! Plus I adored my Sea Wees when I was little, so I won't begrudge her mermaid bath fun. But really, it's just too much! I learned those movies verbatim as a child, I don't need to prove the fact to myself again!

And my mother-in-law wants to indoctrinate her in ALL the movies in order to take her to Disney World! Lord help me! I'd actually have to WATCH most of them repeatedly to have my lines correct for the later playtime ...

Of course, in my search for a general princess link, I came across this quiz: I'm Pocahontas. Not a bad princess to be, really. Independent, intelligent, in touch with nature, not wearing a big ball gown. I could've handled being Mulan, too, she can kick some butt.

And ladies, follow that Sea Wees link. This woman collects all the main '80s toys, and it was amazing to see some I'd totally forgotten about and feel that strange wave of recognition come over me. Remember Poochie? And I think a Fluppy Pup was my first independent toy purchase. Look at the pictures and enjoy the bizarre trip through associations with childhood memory.

My state is insane

I've always joked about the politics of my adopted state, but recent moves by my Legislature now make me want to cry. They have gotten rid of property taxes for homeowners. Woo-hoo! Great! But wait, 60 percent of that went to public schools. That's okay, they say, we'll make it up with a one-cent increase in state sales tax. All right! That's smart! But wait, I live in a border county. People already flock here from Charlotte for lower property taxes, but they still work and do all their shopping in Charlotte. Think that will change? Whoops, there goes all the revenue for schools! And they were already so stellar! And what if people actually STOP spending on credit and the economy adjusts downward? Do we really need to entrust our education system to consumer apetites?

Now, I'm not great at finding links, and for some reason this issue is being more fickle than it should be, but here's one related story from my local paper. And there was a pretty decent editorial Sunday, but of course the link doesn't work. Oh well, I'm sure the tech savvy can find out more!

At least it wasn't a flag cake

Disclaimer: No actual food was harmed in the making of these desserts.

I've never been an overtly patriotic person. Sure, America's great, but so are lots of other countries -- a few of which we could learn from. This past weekend we didn't do anything special, really, though we pulled out Abigail's kiddie pool for the first time this season, and I made fajitas in a nod to the start of summer. But something in me must have been longing for the cookouts of my childhood, for the hamburgers and potato chips and much-disdained baked beans and especially the desserts. Desserts of the Jell-O and Cool Whip variety. Desserts in all their fruity, cold, gelatinous glory.

Now, yes, I've ranted about the perils of gelatin as cuisine, but even then I included an out for dessert. And something in me really, really wanted a pie. A lime pie, complete with zest, so it wasn't a total cooking cop-out. It was an alarming shade of green and had a tinge-too-artificial flavor, but still good. While I was on a roll, I made Strawberry Delight Squares. I don't know what I grew up calling these, but there's Jell-O and cream cheese and a crushed pretzel crust, which was the ingredient that sounded so appealing. There's just something about sweet and salty together. Sadly, since I was veering from the official recipe, my crust didn't really set right and the squares have to be eaten with a spoon, but again, quite yummy. And I did add orange zest to this one, again to pretend I wasn't completely selling out.

So, even though I wasn't being particularly mindfull of our war dead, at least I was being full-on American this weekend. But fear not, the Fourth of July won't lead to this:

Unappetizing seconds

Sadly, "Pickles to Pittsburgh" is a dissapointing sequel to "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs". It's not a in itself a bad book, just not up to the level of its predecessor. The drawings aren't nearly as meticulous or intricately humorous, and the writting not quite as witty. And it doesn't really mention the 'Burgh at all! Oh well, it's still cute and just on loan from the library. After a couple weeks, we'll just stick to the original.

Pre-emptive strike

I had a gloriously girly experience yesterday while at the local mall. The mall has a fabulous kiddie play area, which was where Abigail and I were headed when a faux-ethnic purse caught my eye. It was in a surfer/skater teenage clothing store, which isn't exactly my normal couture, but I decided to give it a shot. While I didn't get the original purse, I found a cute one with some decorative buttons sewn on the outside. Then the sales-slacker (is associate really fitting when the guy had greasy dyed-black hair, black finernails and numerous tatoos?) informed me that the clearance accessories were buy one, get one free. And the heavens opened and an angel choir broke into song. How exciting! I've been lugging around a rather unattractive canvas tote, whose lining promptly ripped the day after I bought it, and I normally can't find a thing I like since I don't carry around half my home in my purse. But this place had cute stuff! So I am the proud owner of two cute purses, plus the little one my sister gave me a while back that's good for the occasional date.

Of course, one purse just happened to be made by Billabong, and the name happens to be on the outside, though I don't think too obviously. Brad, however, found this hysterical and said the word "bong" so many times over dinner that Abigail eventually piped up and repeated him quite delightedly -- unnerving what she picks up on sometimes! So, to head off the teasing post he threatened, I give you the billabong.

It's f'ntastic

And no, I wasn't trying to swear. I was attempting to imitate the British accent and overuse of large adjectives -- which is hard to do on an American blog -- because I have finished watching 1900 House. What a wonderful show after Texas Ranch House! Now, dear reader, do not despair. I will one day write about things other than PBS programming, but please indulge me one last time.

As the original in this genre of reality show, I had high expectations that this series would be less over-dramatized than the others, and I was pleased to find that true. The first episode was particularly fascinating, all about how they actually refurbished an old London house and the difficulties of that and of finding period clothes, tools, knicknacks, etc. Really much more revealing than just starting with the people being plopped down in the setting. While the rest of the show was quite interesting, and I certainly wouldn't want to be a Victorian woman, this first episode was definitely my favorite, largely because the house was a dead ringer for my sister's pre-David abode (Can't remember the address. Not Kimberly Gardens, the other one off Green Lanes). Amanda's house had exactly the same facade (I remember sleeping on a futon near the bay window, trying to ignore the noise of the lorries outside). Inside, the initial layout seemed the same, just flipped, though of course Amanda and her roommate just lived in the bottom floor as the house had been converted into flats. The "front parlor" still had the fireplace and big rosette at the light fixture, and the double door to the "back parlor" was still there. The rest of the flat was a kind of confusing layout, with I guess the second half of the back parlor being turned into a bedroom and then a mish-mash of bathroom and kitchen where the old kitchen was. Amusingly, I think Amanda's room was the scullery. It was certainly shoved to the back, as befitting my sister the lowly scullery maid :)

Speaking of meine schwester, she and Mr. Dunce will officially become British subjects tomorrow morning. God save the Queen! Didn't my sister do a wonderful job improving my family's gene pool? :) Anyway, congratulations to the new Brits!

I'm feeling much better now

Vindication! The completely ineffective ranch owners were found to be to blame! The cowboys maintain their dignity and walk away with the true loyalty to the project! Hooray, Mrs. Cooke got called out by the assessors! Now, not to say the cowboys weren't jerks to the Cooke daughters, but I can't blame them too much based on the way Mr. Cooke treated them.

And someone seems to insinuate that this brief obsession is no better than watching American Idol. I beg to differ! This is a historical experiment! This is mind-expanding! This is PBS! This isn't Fox and really, really bad, OLD pop music! I am a completely sane, intelligent woman! I am in full control of my mental faculties! I have always been seriously interested in history, espeically this time period as a child! I am not responding emotionally! -- even though, given the option, I would have voted Mrs. Cooke off the island and laughed at her retreating back!

:)

And on the 8th day, Ayzair finished reading

I have read the Pentateuch! That's Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. And let me tell you, it was a slog. I'm taking an old testament "class" with some friends, and I vowed to myself to actually read the Bible and not just the textbook. I'm sure some day I'll go back through bits of Genesis and Exodus, but really, the other three aren't of much use unless you're an ancient Israelite priest, and that's not me. But at least I've read it and know what's in there for myself. Now, Leviticus did have the priestly blessing, which is lovely, and Numbers had the Shema, but that's about all I took away. My "favorite" passage? Hmm, here's an example: Leviticus 4:5-7 "Then the anointed priest shall take some of the bull's blood and carry it into the Tent of Meeting. He is to dip his finger into the blood and sprinkle some of it seven times before the LORD, in front of the curtain of the sanctuary. The priest shall then put some of the blood on the horns of the altar of fragrant incense that is before the LORD in the Tent of Meeting. The rest of the bull's blood he shall pour out at the base of the altar of burnt offering at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting." Mmmm, blood. That's pleasant. And instructions like this were written out for the various types of sacrifices, as well as who was to make each of such sacrifices, when they were to make them, and then for good measure, it was all repeated at least two more times. Thankfully, Pastor Ray doesn't generally bring sacrificial animals to service anymore, though he did have the kids baaaing during the children's sermon Sunday ...

Somebody get a rope

Would someone puh-leeeze get Mr. Cooke a backbone?! And someone needs to MUZZLE Mrs. Cooke! I wish Brad were here to share my indignation at the idiotic ranch owners on Texas Ranch House, but at least I know Jenny will be online at some point with an "Amen!"

(By the way, this rant as of the end of part 3 of 4, after the mess with the Comanche and Maura.)

Yee-haw!

Hooray for the wonders of PBS! Brad has been on his first big business trip this week (poor baby, golf in Myrtle Beach), and I had been afraid I would be at a loss as to how to fill my evenings -- ie., I would wind up flipping between various forms of drivel on TV and never reading or engaging my mind. Well, I'm still not reading, but at least I've got Texas Ranch House! I realize I'm actually a week behind on this since it debuted last week, but the Charlotte station is either replaying it or didn't show it last week, and I'm grateful.

I love these kind of shows. My favorite has been Frontier House, being the most interesting from a straight survival point of view. Colonial House was certainly a revealing look at the 17th century, but the show itself devolved into lots of people whining. Why were the women surprised they were second-class citizens in the 1600s? Somehow the people always forget they're supposed to accept the rules of the time period. My sister-in-law-in-law (what do you call your sister's husband's sister?) has expounded on this failing, even if I can't read all of her postings since they're spoilers -- though it should surprise no one that none of the casts ever makes the grade for suriving in real life.

From the BBC, the originators of this historical re-enactment concept, came Manor House, which was fascinating in that the "masters" thoroughly bought into the upstairs/downstairs division. Totally normal 21st century people feeling they are above other middle class people simply because they're acting the part of servants. A very interesting social experiment. I haven't seen Regency House Party or 1900 House, though I just bumped the latter up to the top of my Netflix queue and should be enjoying it by Wednesday. That was the first one and will hopefully be the purest and least theatrical.

Ahh, public television. How lovely.