Class of 2007

Abigail graduated from preschool today. It was a bit absurd, but oh, it was cute. Adorable, actually. The kids were so proud of themselves and well behaved -- and they loved their tassles. Abigail was a ham, of course, waving to everyone like the princess she is as she walked down the aisle of the church. They sang a few really cute songs about going to kindergarten, which I'd share if someone could tell me how to post videos ...

And so, onward to kindergarten! (with a quick three-week preschool "summer adventure" session thrown in next month ...)

Sorry about the picture quality -- dark church and we were way at the back even though I got there 25 minutes early. The second photo is with her grandparents.

Trail blazing

So, yeah, two weeks. I know, that's really awful. No good reasons. I'm addicted to a mommies forum, though I'm trying to cut back.

Anyway, today Abigail and I made our annual trip to Landsford Canal State Park. It was time for the rocky shoals spider lily, but mainly we went because it was a sunny, cool day, and Abigail's 4-year-old legs can handle the two-mile round trip without a piggy-back ride. We had a great time. She was even more aware of her surroundings this year, noticing frogs and strange bugs, listening to the sounds of the forest, talking about how "wonderous and beauty" the trail was. The lilies, which are stunning but grow out in the middle of the Catawba River, were a let down to her since she couldn't see them up close, but she loved playing in the sandy river bank and climbing on rocks in the middle of the river. It was a really great morning -- and then she took a big nap when we got home, an added bonus!

For your viewing pleasure, pictures:

Stealing

I'm stealing this from a., but given my collegiate history with Monty and the gang, I simply had to let everyone know about the record-breaking number of people clip-clopping with coconuts to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life."

No word on whether African or European swallows were used for the coconut transport.

"But they could grip it by the husk..."

By the way, if anyone can find this as a sound clip, I'd love you forever. :)

May I be struck with lightning if ...

Thursday night, while getting Abigail ready for bed, a tremendous BOOM shook our house. I could feel the concussion of the sound waves in my ears. I've never heard such loud thunder. Brad saw the flash of the lightning and said it was timed exactly with the boom, so we knew it had been close. Yeah, try the tree 50 yards from our townhouse.

The energy blew bits of bark and branches all the way back to the blue slide.

And up onto the porch in the background of the second picture.

The new leaves were burnt to a crisp still on the branch.

And the hole in the last picture was a root.

It's a small world after all

Abigail has returned from her week at Disney World with my in-laws, bubbling over with excitement at what she saw and proudly proclaiming herself a princess. I wish I could have seen some of the stories we heard, especially meeting Cinderella. I believe she had dinner with Cinderella, as well as the mice, the fairy godmother and the prince. What I loved: She asked Prince Charming to dance! Not following her mother's wall-flower ways!

The night after she came home, the Disney effect was still evident. She announced to us at dinner that: "Romantically big loud flushing toilets are scaaaaaarrrrryyyy!"

No Carolina sweetness

This weekend, it was colder in Charlotte than Fairbanks, Alaska.

The strawberries are gone. The peaches are gone. The mountain apples are gone. Not just the normal panic every spring from some small frost. Apparently, the crops are totally destroyed.

This is very, very sad. There is nothing better than a sweet South Carolina peach in the summertime.

Georgians, please let me know if there's any peachy hope left from your state!

ADJUSTED PROGNOSIS: Apparently, the strawberries weren't hit too badly. Small consolation.

The agony of 13

I just finished yet another excellent book by David Mitchell. "Black Swan Green" was a very convincing coming-of-age novel about a 13-year-old boy in Worcestershire. Mitchell never lost the adolescent voice but still managed to make some beautiful/poignant/amusing observations about nature and sexuality and finding yourself. Really very good. I still prefer "Cloud Atlas" -- and strenuously, highly recommend it -- but this was a very interesting read.

I find this funny

I have before mentioned some of the joys of living in a somewhat small town. There are even greater joys to be had living in a county that is still half rural. And one of them is County Councilman Curwood Chappell, our very own Boss Hogg.

Damn, that's a drawl! Or a drunken-sounding mumble! And the swearing at the end! That's priceless. Almost enough to make you want to be a county reporter. Almost.

UPDATE: And at the next meeting, Curwood apologized. Kinda.

The knights who say "Neh!"

Abigail has decided that she no longer says no. Or nope. When she wants to express herself in the negative, she says, "Neh." Part of me is quite delighted that she does this. The other part finds it a bit odd and wonders where she picked it up.

On another note, she is watching "Cars" for the first time. The pace is a bit slow for her, and she's totally not into the racing scenes, but her little friend Jacob talks about it all the time and she wants to see it. I personally think it's pretty funny, though a bit slow, and the animation is absolutely AMAZING. Wow, the things they can do with a 'puter.

Checking for a pulse

Yes, I am still here.

Last week, all my computer time was eaten up working on freelance articles. This week, well, this week we bade farewell to the Taurus after a rush-hour wreck. Not that we're really sad. It was a 10-year-old Ford that was starting to act up in many ways, and we'd already been seriously planning buying a new one. The time frame has been shortened and the trade-in value reduced, but that's okay. Thankfully, Brad wasn't hurt.

So anyway, yeah, still here. Still working on freelance stories, too, so I'll probably be silent a bit more. But I will say one more thing: POLLEN SUCKS! I don't normally have allergies, but this year is so out of control that even my nose is twitching constantly. It's so thick out there I feel like I can constantly taste it. There's rain in the forecast for tomorrow though, so they'd better be right!

Cheers to you, too, buddy

I'm writing some stories advancing our local, happy little spring festival. I just called a man in charge of one group of events, just to get a fluffy little quote, you know, promote his events. So I call the only number given to me by the festival office. He answers, I introduce myself and say why I'm calling and ask if this would be a good time to speak with him. Some kind of unintelligible, evil-sounding grumbling, then "What is this about? Who are you with?" I'm writing some stories about the festival for the local paper and was hoping to find out a little more about your events. "How did you get this number?!?!" Uh, I called the office. I'm sorry, is this not a good time? "No, it's not a good time. I have two people in my office! This is not a good time! Call me tomorrow if you have to, then I can talk to you allllll you want." Okay, sir, thank you very much! (she says cheerfully, mentally giving him the bird)

Come on, dude, not my fault. Tell your office not to give out your cell number. Or, gasp!, if you're that freakin' busy, just don't answer your phone. Get a life.

And get this, he's in charge of community events, as in, we all love each other so much, isn't our town wonderful! A bit miscast in that role, I think.

City of Angels

Before last week, the furthest west I'd ever been was San Antonio, and that was when I was 9. I've obviously seen lots of pictures, but it's very different seeing a totally different region of the country for myself.

We flew from Charlotte to Atlanta and then to Los Angeles, and when the clouds broke somewhere over southern Arizona or Utah, I was amazed. It was so brown. And there was no civilization. Not a glimmer from a house or car, not a single track through the dust. Of course, from 30,000 feet, dimensions are skewed, but it all looked so flat and dry, broken only by the carved edges of mesas. But even from above, I could see the striations of the rocks. A bit further on, rocky mountains jutted up from the desert floor -- no snow line, so scrub line, just rock and dust. I could even see the swirls of huge dust clouds kicking up over the valleys. I really need to go to the desert in person.

I really didn't see much in the way of people until we got near Palm Springs, Calif. Suddenly, there were perfectly straight lines of roads carved through the dust, complete with little glints of passing cars or isolated houses. Slowly the vegetation started to come back, but it was so different from the lush green of the Southeast. So scrubby, such a dry green. We approached what I'm guessing were the Santa Ana mountains (there was insipid TV on the inflight screens, not much more interesting directions), I saw snow dusting the tops of the mountains, as well as a blanket of clouds curling slowly over the peaks, as if it really were a solid fabric.

Then we crested the mountains, and there was L.A. I have never seen so much development. It was a quilt of gridded streets, houses packed together, and it went on for miles and miles and miles and miles until it ran out of room at the mountains. We flew over it for something like 45 minutes. I was overwhelmed. Sure, I lived in Chicago, but this was nuts. I have enough trouble finding my place in a little town like mine, I can't imagine how lost I'd be in that many millions.

The next day was our planned event. I don't want to risk talking about it, so if you want to know more, e-mail me. I will say it was fun overall, lots of nice people and an interesting thing to watch in production.

That evening, we went out to Santa Monica for the sunset, some wandering and some food. It was, obviously, gorgeous. And wild watching the sun set into the ocean in less than two minutes. (See that itty bitty tip of light in this picture? The last edge of the sun.) Even after the sun disappeared, the color was beautiful on the clouds and San Gabriel Mountains, especially seen through silhouetted palm trees.

I was fascinated by the flora: gnarled trees with little bark; droopy, fuzzy plants arcing a good three feet in the air; 10-foot tall shoots jutting up from some kind of succulent. And of course, there were the dinosaur topiary fountains in Third Street Promenade, but they weren't quite as impressive. Nor was the upscale shopping that I could have found at malls here in Charlotte. Nor was the grill we wound up eating appetizers at, but that wasn't too bad since we were so screwed up with time that we weren't hungry.

Thursday was wide open, and we decided to go to The Getty Center. Wow. Not the biggest or most impressive collection of art I've ever seen, but the building itself and its view of L.A. were amazing. As one of my many architects first pointed out, the entire complex is designed on a grid, and you can follow any gap in the limestone squares throughout the complex -- floors, windows, walls, stairs. Incredible attention to detail. And beautiful gardens and a wonderful walkway cutting across a man-made creek that was designed to have a different sound at each crossing.

I did have some favorite paintings: Jeanne Kefer by Fernand Khnopff and Houses near Orleans by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot. We didn't make it to the vast photography collection, but hey, a reason to go back, right?

We finished off the day by yet again going to Santa Monica. We had talked about going to see the freak show at Venice Beach, but we were tired and just wanted to relax. We grabbed a beer at a pub, window shopped, caught another sunset, and shivered through the gale-force winds. We wound up the night at Lula Cocina Mexicana, which had great margaritas, awesome salsa verde, and decent food. Interestingly, they served cooked carrots marinated in vinegar with the chips and salsa, and this is apparently typically Mexican. Wonder why I've never seen it on the East Coast.

To get back to the hotel, we took yet another cab. We spent more money on cabs than food, though it was probably worth not having to drive on the freeways. Our cabbies were from Guatemala, New Jersey, somewhere Arab, Ethiopia, Eastern Europe and Morocco. You literally saw all kinds of people in L.A.

And voila, the next day we flew home. We were stuck on the plane for an hour at the gate in L.A., stuck another 45 minutes waiting for passengers in Atlanta, and didn't get home until 1 a.m. But it could have been worse: our flight from LAX was going on to Tel Aviv, another 11 hours after Atlanta!

So there you go, more than you ever wanted to know about my trip, except perhaps for the part I can't talk about. I definitely recommend a trip out there, even if, like us, you don't care about celebrities. And we definitely want to go back, though perhaps more like the central coast and wine country. Ahhhh, vacation.

Postcard

Santa Monica at sunset. More to come.

EST to PST to EST again

A lovely long blog will be coming soon, loaded with lots of beautiful pictures of The Getty Center and Santa Monica. I may even have time for it tomorrow. But for now, may I state -- categorically -- that Wednesday was not my day.

Countdown

Well, in about a day and a half, we'll be off to the West. We've got a loose itinerary for our free day, including the Getty Museum, crazies in Venice Beach and sunset and dinner in Santa Monica. Of course, depending on how our scheduled event goes Wednesday, we can probably do the sunset and dinner that night so we're not as pressed Thursday. We're both getting excited about the trip, though not the numerous hours in planes. There aren't more of these ice storms in the forecast, are there?

And I'm not nervous about Wednesday's planned event -- yet. Just pray for fast reflexes, fast recall and favorable topics!

Did I like that?

I finally watched "The Last Kiss" last night after it had languished on top of my entertainment center for a week and a half. I think I really liked it. I could obviously relate to a story about 29-year-olds trying to figure out if their lives were heading in the right direction. And I liked it visually, all the use of neutral colors. I even thought the acting was good; Jacinda Barrett has come a long way from "The Real World."

But I'm conflicted about Zach Braff's character. Now, I like him as an actor, really liked "Garden State" and dig his taste in music (he loves Jump, what else is there to say?). But I wanted to claw his character's heart out last night. Eviscerate him. Castrate him. I won't necessarily say why in case anyone is planning to see the movie, but GRRRRRRRRRR, you don't DO that to a pregnant woman!!!!! I could forgive and even empathize with the character up to that one act, but now I'm not even sure I'm okay with the ending!

Can I thoroughly despise a character and not be 100 percent about the ending of a movie and still highly recommend it?

Answer: 480 out of 25,000

Question: What is the number of people chosen as Jeopardy! contestants each year out of the thousands that audition?

That's your factoid of the day. I haven't posted in a while, have little to say and am valiantly resisting Jenny's meme, so this is what I came up with. Yes, I did get sucked into a few minutes of a Jeopardy! behind-the-scenes show on TV Guide channel last week, and the number above was an interesting tidbit, so I thought I'd share.

By the way, in a totally unrelated comment, 12 days till we go to L.A.

Pilotless drone

I know I've got at least a couple of copy editors checking in here, as well as several word buffs, so here's a good laugh for you. First, go to this clip from the San Francisco Chronicle to get appropriately ticked off. The Chronicle has begun podcasting audio letters to the editor, and this guy is out of control. As a former copy editor, I just want to smack him and scream, "You have no idea what we do every night!!!"

Now, go here and laugh your ass off! That's my kind of dance music!

Thoughts from last night

I couldn't get to the computer last night, so I "blogged" old-school in a notebook. Le voila:

I just finished watching "Elizabethtown," which was a really good movie. Not great because it dragged a bit, but really good. In watching it, three things occurred to me:

1.) In 2000, I had scheduled an interview with the paper in Elizabethtown, which I cancelled after I took the job here. Who on earth would I have become if I'd wound up in Kentucky?

2.) I have always wanted to be a marvellously quirky girl like the character Claire. I wanted to wear odd vintage clothing and hats, know all kinds of indie music, and say incredible things to men at the drop of a hat. Yet I'm me.

3.) I really, really have to take a cross-country road trip. Maybe it stems from growing up near Route 66, but I have always wanted to have that quintessentially American experience. I want to see the bizarre roadside attractions out west, get stuck at stoplights in small towns, eat at diners, and lose myself in the loneliness of the plains. I'm just not sure when I'll do it or with whom.

Woo-hoo, winter!!!

In the words of Bing, Danny, Rosemary and the other girl: "Snow ... Snow ... Snow ... Snow ... Snow!!!"


Yes, we got 4 inches yesterday! Lovely fluffy stuff, great for packing. I took Abigail out for two half-hour snow sessions, the first at 7:45 a.m. -- I wasn't too sure how long it would last! The first time, the snow was coming down in huge, beautiful flakes, the kind that muffle all other sound and land with a plop on your shoulder. Abigail was delighted. The only other snow she's experience was the dumping back in 2004 of more than a foot, but she was only 18 months old. So this was her first real snowfall, her first snow angel, her first snowman, her first snowball fight (which was more like just smushing snow onto mommy's coat). The second time we went out, the snow was starting to get quite wet and what was falling was more like slushballs, but it was still good fun. Even I plopped down for a snow angel -- which are really darn big when you're grown up!

But alas, this is South Carolina, and to my husband's delight and my daughter's dismay, the snow is almost gone this morning. Snow melts, one of those harsh lessons Abigail must learn. I just don't want to deal with her reaction to the current state of Frosty:

What to see out West

So I'll be going to Los Angeles at the end of February. I'm very excited, though I'm not supposed to blog about why I'm going, but I've never particularly wanted to go to Southern California. Central Coast, sure. Wine Country, oh hell yeah. San Fransisco, of course. But L.A., nope. And I'm not in any particular awe of famous entertainers. So what should I do out there? I'll have a couple of evenings and probably one day. I've heard that L.A. is infamous for bad public transit, so I also don't want to pay a ton in cab fares toodling around the city. Right now, I'm thinking the tar pits. Where else can you see tar pits? And maybe a museum and the Chinese Theater since it looks so cool. But really, I'm clueless and would love suggestions!

And if you know of any good trivia books or Web sites, that would be appreciated, too :)

Rock on

We are slowly exposing Abigail to the wonderful world of the computer. This is of course good, since she'll be using it starting next year in school, though it now complicates my e-mail checking time since she thinks it must be game time. She and Brad were on the PBS Kids site last night playing Curious George games. Now, my kid is brilliant and can do all kinds of math games that we thought were way above her, and she was amazing at Count Your Chickens. When the child gets the right answer, George makes some monkey noises of approval and the Man in the Yellow Hat says something encouraging. Like, "You rock." Call me crazy, but that's not something I ever envisioned him saying -- and it's nothing like his character on the show, either, he's a pretty uptight unspecified academic. (We watch George A LOT, probably two episodes a day, which is four stories) Anyway, Abigail was told repeatedly that she rocks, and she finally looked up at her daddy, beaming at getting the game right, and said, "I rock!"

Now we just need her to learn how to make devil horns and head bang at the same time.

In all Earnestness

A friend not too terribly long ago posted a funny snippet from "The Importance of Being Earnest" (I was going to link, but damned if I can find the post. It was funny, about muffins.), and I quickly added it to my Netflix. After my recent amusement at Edwardian literature, I bumped it to the top of the queue. And thus it became my naptime entertainment for the day (I told you I adapt whatever manner of speaking I hear -- and I can't seem to stop myself!).

Anyway, it was really, really funny! I may have to watch it again before I return it, just to catch all the tricks with words. Why is Colin Firth so appealing? I don't think he's all that attractive, don't get why some people get all gushy about him, but he's a great comic actor! As was Rupert Everett. And all the funny flashes of daydreams and tattoo parlors were great! Hmmm, maybe I should actually read the play and see if they're in there ...

Strictly scientific purposes

Discovery Place, the Charlotte science museum, has a new exhibit opening this weekend that I must see. Normally, I'm not much of a science museum person, even if hands on, but geez, this one is Candy Unwrapped, an interactive look at sweetness. Mmmmmm, science.

Ahhh

I've just come off a reading binge. No huge tomes, of course, but the entire "Griffin and Sabine" series by Nick Bantock. I received the first three books in a boxed set as my reward for winning an essay contest in college (though I really, really doubt my "Frankenstein" essay was all that good. I think I was the only entrant.), and Bantock has since written three more books based on the characters and their uncanny yin-yang abilities.

They are some of the most beautiful fiction books you'll ever see, loaded with Bantock's collages on slick art-book paper. The stories are told through postcards and letters -- which you get to take out of the envelope to read -- and begin with the saga of Griffin, a British graphic artist, and Sabine, a South Pacific islander who can telepathically see what Griffin draws. From there, we follow the soul mates through self-realization journeys and being chased by someone out to stop them from coming together. The three new books, "The Gryphon," "Alexandria" and "The Morning Star," bring back Griffin and Sabine, who contact Matthew and Isabella, lovers separated by distance who also have supernatural abilities. The new lovers are also pursued, and if they come together, will somehow unleash some amazing knowledge of balance and harmony that has been lacking from humanity for centuries. Maybe sounds a bit hokey, and the first three were better, but all the books are just an absolute delight to read and caress and marvel over.

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.