Yesterday will go down in the annals of my personal history as a lopping-off day.
During the Monday meeting, our pub director announced that January sales were down 48% over the previous year, which were down 36% over the previous year. Not good news. Sales figures and a combination of other factors have led to some drastic cost-saving measures, and I have been asked to trim the page count on the next five issues. Two of these issues have already been planned, and one has already been laid out. “Inconvenient” and “challenging” are two words that immediately sprang to mind. Fortunately, I kept my mouth shut. My editorial schedule had been a little light lately but lopping pages off work I’d already done was not what I had in mind for filling that time. When people ask what I do for a living I say, “I lop pages.”
The saving grace of my day was a pampering haircut with my gal Anna. She has been styling my hair for seventeen years. I know. Seventeen years is a long time and a lot of haircuts.
Anna has become a friend. John introduced us back in 1991 when he and Anna worked together for the late Kenneth Riley (John did a short gig as a receptionist). Way back before we had kids (she has this amazing three-year-old), we'd hang out and catch bands at the Uptown (her best friend Judy is married to Noah L. of the Picadors, which became the Honeydogs; Noah was a good friend of my friend Frank R. of the Sycamores). Anna is an avid reader and we have very similar tastes so I always look forward to these visits. You’d think I’d get my hairs cut more often. Sheesh.
I’ve been feeling really shaggy and frumpy lately. It’s a JanuFeb thing. As I was driving to the salon, I tried rehearsing my answer to Anna’s usual “what do you want done with your hair?” Usually I just want a trim and reshaping on my shoulder-length layered ‘do, but I’ve been toying with having a shorter cut. When I walked in the door and saw that Anna had cut a foot off her rocker-stylist hair, I was inspired and encouraged to lop off my locks. I’m now sporting a bob that is slightly longer than ear-length with layering in the back—and I love it.
To truly do myself justice, I'm looking for before and after pics. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
a week in review
Since I’ve been terrible about finding time to blog lately, but still am committed to using this format as a journal, albeit a very public one, I am going to jot some notes about my very good week.
Sunday, Feb 3
Watched the Super Bowl at the Harrison’s house. I secretly rooted for the Patriots, although, ultimately, I didn’t really give a fig who won the game. I contributed a seven-layer dip with homemade guacamole made from out-of-season, not-quite-ripe avocados. Ah well, we do the best we can in the dark days of winter.
Monday, Feb 4
Hauled Simon to Eagan for a 7:40 a.m. orthodontist appointment. This time, he had a full set of photos taken and a few more x-rays to complete his “before” records. He was a real trooper, even as the (very nice and pretty) tech had him hold his mouth open with some strange device while she took pics. We'll now visit every six months until such time as Simon is ready for a space maintainer.
Tuesday, Feb 5
John and I began our Super Tuesday by attending Simon’s second grade author tea, where he read aloud to us his personal narrative. Simon chose to write about himself through one of his favorite activities—visiting Uncle Sven’s Comic Shoppe and eating dinner at the Groveland Tap. We also had an opportunity to see what some of Si’s classmates had written. Their abilities ranged from a few simple sentences with no narrative structure whatsoever to complex stories with chapters and dialogue. I’m glad to see that Simon is somewhere in between, which is to say, he's exactly where he's supposed to be. We also heard wonderful reports from Mrs. Cochran and Liz, the class helper, that Simon worked very diligently on his project, putting a lot of personal pride in his work. Yay!!
After work, we went to the Groveland Tap to eat Juicy Lucys and kill time waiting to caucus. John and I had decided to do the quick ballot, thereby choosing a delegate to vote for our candidate at the national convention rather than caucusing for delegates, senatorial candidates, and platform issues. Our caucus site was Highland Junior/Senior High, and it was an absolute fucking zoo. Tons of people, most of whom were waiting in lines for some reason. It was difficult to tell who was an election official. When you could find an election official, they sent you a wild goose chase to find the room where your precinct was meeting. But, finally, we found our way and cast our “votes” on post-it notes, which were then thrust into the meaty hand of an official.
At work the next morning, I compared notes with coworkers who had attended caucuses in various parts of the city (Maplewood, New Brighton, and NE Minneapolis) to hear identical stories. The DFL does not have their shit together, running out of ballots, not having enough volunteers. For goodness sake, Minnesota has the highest voter turn-out of any state in the nation. Don’t you overestimate your expectations for something like this? Needless to say, John’s vote and my vote cancelled each other’s, but I am very proud to say that I joined an historical moment by voting for a woman presidential candidate, and it was a pretty amazing feeling.
Wednesday, Feb 6
In all the caucus excitement, it was easy to put out of my mind that I ran into Alison V., slumming at the Tap. I reported to Alison at MHSP. My time there was miserable, largely because of her and her incompetance and power-hunger. Although I’ve never committed my tale to paper or internets, I do replay the tapes a lot. Too much, in fact, for my own well-being. I'm surprised that I haven't run into more former coworkers from the blight on the hill, since many of them live in St. Paul.
Thursday, Feb 7
Finished reading Service Included, Phoebe Damrosch’s account of working as a captain in Thomas Keller’s Per Se, which is the East Coast version of The French Laundry. It was a thoroughly enjoyable and quick read, a perfect antidote to the heavier fare of What Is the What.
Friday, Feb 8
Knocked off work early to run errands. First stop, Solo Vino to buy wine for Saturday night’s dinner and stock up on my favorite inexpensive Spanish red, Pago del Vostal, only to discover the store had sold through its limited inventory of the latter. I could weep. This stuff—the crianza—was amazing. Lots of body and fruit and balance, which is rare for an $8 bottle. Next, Kowalski’s for a baguette and a few pieces of cheese—tangy drunken goat and nutty Fol Epi. Then, Coastal Seafoods for mussels (dinner) and shrimp (wild brown Mexican, for later). Finally, I picked up some prints that were being framed at Wet Paint, where everyone at the cashwrap marveled at the awesome job that had been done. I agreed.
Saturday, Feb 9
John has a new hobby brewing. He wants to restore an old VW Beetle and has a line on one about an hour outside of the Cities. So he and a friend drove through drifting snow to check it out. I hope to write more on this later because it's really exciting and may just be the motivation John needs to clear out the garage. 1967. Tan. While John was doing his thing, I took the boys to Target where I indulged them. Simon got a new DS cartridge, and both boys picked out Legos so they would have a good activity for another bleeping cold day. -15, thank you very much. Whoever controls the weather, I'd like you to know we've had enough of this nonsense. Later, we went to the Hamilton's house for dinner. C served halibut with a tomato sauce (olives, spinach, white beans) on Israeli couscous, which was very delicious and warming on a cold night. We also had disturbing amounts of red wine (four or five bottles for six adults, not our personal record, but not bad), including a '99 Medoc. Some of the adults were a little crabby, but overall a nice time.
Sunday, Feb 10
At the request of the Shepard junior set, we celebrated Chinese New Year with dim sum at Yummy (or whatever it's called now—Relax?—how 1983). We met the Fares and the Cohen-Murphys and gorged outselves silly on shumei and countless other shrimp and pork stuffed dumplings, Chinese broccoli (ridiculously good), turnip cake, manila clams in xo sauce (clams were pretty metallic, I didn't love), stuffed baby bell peppers, sticky rice in lotus leaf (my favorite), and basil chicken, among loads others. At one point this afternoon, all four of us (John, Simon, Winston, and I) were on the sofa, some of us gaming, others watching TV, and another reading her mystery. I love these moments—they have a very Sunday feeling, with no urgency to do anything other enjoy each other's nearness. I don't imagine we'll all fit on the sofa like this for long, as both boys are growing like weeds so I'll take what I can get.
In the week ahead: working lightly, getting a haircut, starting my New Year's goals, and a possible parental visit.
Sunday, Feb 3
Watched the Super Bowl at the Harrison’s house. I secretly rooted for the Patriots, although, ultimately, I didn’t really give a fig who won the game. I contributed a seven-layer dip with homemade guacamole made from out-of-season, not-quite-ripe avocados. Ah well, we do the best we can in the dark days of winter.
Monday, Feb 4
Hauled Simon to Eagan for a 7:40 a.m. orthodontist appointment. This time, he had a full set of photos taken and a few more x-rays to complete his “before” records. He was a real trooper, even as the (very nice and pretty) tech had him hold his mouth open with some strange device while she took pics. We'll now visit every six months until such time as Simon is ready for a space maintainer.
Tuesday, Feb 5
John and I began our Super Tuesday by attending Simon’s second grade author tea, where he read aloud to us his personal narrative. Simon chose to write about himself through one of his favorite activities—visiting Uncle Sven’s Comic Shoppe and eating dinner at the Groveland Tap. We also had an opportunity to see what some of Si’s classmates had written. Their abilities ranged from a few simple sentences with no narrative structure whatsoever to complex stories with chapters and dialogue. I’m glad to see that Simon is somewhere in between, which is to say, he's exactly where he's supposed to be. We also heard wonderful reports from Mrs. Cochran and Liz, the class helper, that Simon worked very diligently on his project, putting a lot of personal pride in his work. Yay!!
After work, we went to the Groveland Tap to eat Juicy Lucys and kill time waiting to caucus. John and I had decided to do the quick ballot, thereby choosing a delegate to vote for our candidate at the national convention rather than caucusing for delegates, senatorial candidates, and platform issues. Our caucus site was Highland Junior/Senior High, and it was an absolute fucking zoo. Tons of people, most of whom were waiting in lines for some reason. It was difficult to tell who was an election official. When you could find an election official, they sent you a wild goose chase to find the room where your precinct was meeting. But, finally, we found our way and cast our “votes” on post-it notes, which were then thrust into the meaty hand of an official.
At work the next morning, I compared notes with coworkers who had attended caucuses in various parts of the city (Maplewood, New Brighton, and NE Minneapolis) to hear identical stories. The DFL does not have their shit together, running out of ballots, not having enough volunteers. For goodness sake, Minnesota has the highest voter turn-out of any state in the nation. Don’t you overestimate your expectations for something like this? Needless to say, John’s vote and my vote cancelled each other’s, but I am very proud to say that I joined an historical moment by voting for a woman presidential candidate, and it was a pretty amazing feeling.
Wednesday, Feb 6
In all the caucus excitement, it was easy to put out of my mind that I ran into Alison V., slumming at the Tap. I reported to Alison at MHSP. My time there was miserable, largely because of her and her incompetance and power-hunger. Although I’ve never committed my tale to paper or internets, I do replay the tapes a lot. Too much, in fact, for my own well-being. I'm surprised that I haven't run into more former coworkers from the blight on the hill, since many of them live in St. Paul.
Thursday, Feb 7
Finished reading Service Included, Phoebe Damrosch’s account of working as a captain in Thomas Keller’s Per Se, which is the East Coast version of The French Laundry. It was a thoroughly enjoyable and quick read, a perfect antidote to the heavier fare of What Is the What.
Friday, Feb 8
Knocked off work early to run errands. First stop, Solo Vino to buy wine for Saturday night’s dinner and stock up on my favorite inexpensive Spanish red, Pago del Vostal, only to discover the store had sold through its limited inventory of the latter. I could weep. This stuff—the crianza—was amazing. Lots of body and fruit and balance, which is rare for an $8 bottle. Next, Kowalski’s for a baguette and a few pieces of cheese—tangy drunken goat and nutty Fol Epi. Then, Coastal Seafoods for mussels (dinner) and shrimp (wild brown Mexican, for later). Finally, I picked up some prints that were being framed at Wet Paint, where everyone at the cashwrap marveled at the awesome job that had been done. I agreed.
Saturday, Feb 9
John has a new hobby brewing. He wants to restore an old VW Beetle and has a line on one about an hour outside of the Cities. So he and a friend drove through drifting snow to check it out. I hope to write more on this later because it's really exciting and may just be the motivation John needs to clear out the garage. 1967. Tan. While John was doing his thing, I took the boys to Target where I indulged them. Simon got a new DS cartridge, and both boys picked out Legos so they would have a good activity for another bleeping cold day. -15, thank you very much. Whoever controls the weather, I'd like you to know we've had enough of this nonsense. Later, we went to the Hamilton's house for dinner. C served halibut with a tomato sauce (olives, spinach, white beans) on Israeli couscous, which was very delicious and warming on a cold night. We also had disturbing amounts of red wine (four or five bottles for six adults, not our personal record, but not bad), including a '99 Medoc. Some of the adults were a little crabby, but overall a nice time.
Sunday, Feb 10
At the request of the Shepard junior set, we celebrated Chinese New Year with dim sum at Yummy (or whatever it's called now—Relax?—how 1983). We met the Fares and the Cohen-Murphys and gorged outselves silly on shumei and countless other shrimp and pork stuffed dumplings, Chinese broccoli (ridiculously good), turnip cake, manila clams in xo sauce (clams were pretty metallic, I didn't love), stuffed baby bell peppers, sticky rice in lotus leaf (my favorite), and basil chicken, among loads others. At one point this afternoon, all four of us (John, Simon, Winston, and I) were on the sofa, some of us gaming, others watching TV, and another reading her mystery. I love these moments—they have a very Sunday feeling, with no urgency to do anything other enjoy each other's nearness. I don't imagine we'll all fit on the sofa like this for long, as both boys are growing like weeds so I'll take what I can get.
In the week ahead: working lightly, getting a haircut, starting my New Year's goals, and a possible parental visit.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
picking up where I left off
When I last checked in, I was preparing to host my book group. You can read about the food here. Attendance was pretty lame. Just four people came, and I was the only person who had finished reading the book. Even though we’d had two months to finish it, judging by the bookmarks, most had just begun.
Suzanne chose What is the What by Dave Eggers, a novel about Valentino Achak Deng, a Lost Boy of the Sudan. This book has been on my shelf ever since Suzanne recommended it earlier in '07, at which point I bought the very cool McSweeney's edition, which has an unusual trim size (if I had to guess, it's 7 x 9 rather than 6 x 9) and paper over boards. I love what McSweeney's is doing with book design and graphics and fonts.
About the novel: Deng, with thousands of other young boys, was forced from his village during Sudan’s protracted civil war. As part of a large group, he marched to Ethiopia and, eventually, to Kenya, where he lived in a refugee camp. The story alternates between the present day, when Deng is living in Atlanta, studying and working odd jobs so that he may go to college, and his life as a refugee in Africa, where he has witnessed war, famine, disease, and lion attacks. In the States, Deng is held up in his own home at gunpoint and burgled. He also experiences indifference and is put off by bureaucracy. And, the larger question becomes Was Deng better off in Africa. Is the U.S. really the “land of opportunity”? And, if so, for whom?
Eggers does a remarkable job of telling Deng’s story. It’s deep and provocative yet handled with a great sensitivity and leavened with humor. Eggers, who came to attention with his first book, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, pretty much proves he’s a staggering genius. I would write more on this point and why this book is so important but I’m still mulling, but I do recommend that everyone read it, if for no other reason than it’s really well written.
So, if even one other person in my book group had finished the book, we could have discussed the ending and the what in "what is the what". Instead, I'll try to engage in some e-mail conversations in a few weeks.
The host gets to pick the group's next read. Way back in early December, Suzanne and I were talking about books on our TBR lists. While we had many in common, one stood out as an obvious choice for safety in numbers and for discussability: Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma.
I'm currently cleansing my palate of heavy-duty themes by reading some breezy nonfiction (Phoebe Damrosch's account of working as a captain at Per Se, Service Included) and a compelling literary mystery (the first in Donna Leon's Commissario Brunetti series, Death at La Fenice). And I'm nearly ready to have my thinking/habits challenged to a point where I'm faced with changing them.
Suzanne chose What is the What by Dave Eggers, a novel about Valentino Achak Deng, a Lost Boy of the Sudan. This book has been on my shelf ever since Suzanne recommended it earlier in '07, at which point I bought the very cool McSweeney's edition, which has an unusual trim size (if I had to guess, it's 7 x 9 rather than 6 x 9) and paper over boards. I love what McSweeney's is doing with book design and graphics and fonts.
About the novel: Deng, with thousands of other young boys, was forced from his village during Sudan’s protracted civil war. As part of a large group, he marched to Ethiopia and, eventually, to Kenya, where he lived in a refugee camp. The story alternates between the present day, when Deng is living in Atlanta, studying and working odd jobs so that he may go to college, and his life as a refugee in Africa, where he has witnessed war, famine, disease, and lion attacks. In the States, Deng is held up in his own home at gunpoint and burgled. He also experiences indifference and is put off by bureaucracy. And, the larger question becomes Was Deng better off in Africa. Is the U.S. really the “land of opportunity”? And, if so, for whom?
Eggers does a remarkable job of telling Deng’s story. It’s deep and provocative yet handled with a great sensitivity and leavened with humor. Eggers, who came to attention with his first book, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, pretty much proves he’s a staggering genius. I would write more on this point and why this book is so important but I’m still mulling, but I do recommend that everyone read it, if for no other reason than it’s really well written.
So, if even one other person in my book group had finished the book, we could have discussed the ending and the what in "what is the what". Instead, I'll try to engage in some e-mail conversations in a few weeks.
The host gets to pick the group's next read. Way back in early December, Suzanne and I were talking about books on our TBR lists. While we had many in common, one stood out as an obvious choice for safety in numbers and for discussability: Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma.
I'm currently cleansing my palate of heavy-duty themes by reading some breezy nonfiction (Phoebe Damrosch's account of working as a captain at Per Se, Service Included) and a compelling literary mystery (the first in Donna Leon's Commissario Brunetti series, Death at La Fenice). And I'm nearly ready to have my thinking/habits challenged to a point where I'm faced with changing them.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Good riddance January!
With thanks to Klark Kent—January, you can suck my socks!
I am thrilled—and relieved—that January 2008 is nearly over, done, never to be repeated. Between appliance meltdowns, "health" issues, and cold weather, the first month of the year certainly has left a lot to be desired.*
The current temperature, at 1:39 p.m., is 9 degrees F (feels like -2 degrees F). Quite frankly, I think the weather feels positively balmy, compared to the excruciatingly bitter cold we endured for a few days this week and a few days last week and a few days the week before that. Today, we have sunny, bright blue skies, and it's warmer-ish, making the day absolutely beautiful.
The year can only get better from here.
Tonight, my book group is meeting at my house, and I am hopeful that we will have a good turnout. Many people RSVPed a few weeks ago, but since then a number have reconsidered. No one wants to go out on a dangerously cold night. People, I'll have the fireplace going. Our current book is Dave Eggers' What Is the What, which I’m about ten pages shy of finishing. The book was nothing short of brilliant. There's plenty to talk about, and I'm looking forward to a good discussion, followed by ample amounts of gossip and conjecture. Since I still need to pull together the final food details and do a little housecleaning, I'm cutting out of work early today.
Ssssh, don't tell anyone!
*Admittedly, there were a few well-timed (i.e., each event happened right when I needed relief from the drama at hand) and memorable highlights this month. Caryl and I got to have two conversations about books, including one at our alma mater. Tracy and I had a fantastic lunch at Ngon Bistro, a charming Vietnamese-French fusion restaurant in St. Paul. John and I had a few date nights, including a delicious (and romantic) dinner at Mission. Despite delaying our resolution to exercise daily, we curled with friends at the St. Paul Curling Club and took a killer hike in Lilydale. And, we eradicated head lice, one nit at a time.
I am thrilled—and relieved—that January 2008 is nearly over, done, never to be repeated. Between appliance meltdowns, "health" issues, and cold weather, the first month of the year certainly has left a lot to be desired.*
The current temperature, at 1:39 p.m., is 9 degrees F (feels like -2 degrees F). Quite frankly, I think the weather feels positively balmy, compared to the excruciatingly bitter cold we endured for a few days this week and a few days last week and a few days the week before that. Today, we have sunny, bright blue skies, and it's warmer-ish, making the day absolutely beautiful.
The year can only get better from here.
Tonight, my book group is meeting at my house, and I am hopeful that we will have a good turnout. Many people RSVPed a few weeks ago, but since then a number have reconsidered. No one wants to go out on a dangerously cold night. People, I'll have the fireplace going. Our current book is Dave Eggers' What Is the What, which I’m about ten pages shy of finishing. The book was nothing short of brilliant. There's plenty to talk about, and I'm looking forward to a good discussion, followed by ample amounts of gossip and conjecture. Since I still need to pull together the final food details and do a little housecleaning, I'm cutting out of work early today.
Ssssh, don't tell anyone!
*Admittedly, there were a few well-timed (i.e., each event happened right when I needed relief from the drama at hand) and memorable highlights this month. Caryl and I got to have two conversations about books, including one at our alma mater. Tracy and I had a fantastic lunch at Ngon Bistro, a charming Vietnamese-French fusion restaurant in St. Paul. John and I had a few date nights, including a delicious (and romantic) dinner at Mission. Despite delaying our resolution to exercise daily, we curled with friends at the St. Paul Curling Club and took a killer hike in Lilydale. And, we eradicated head lice, one nit at a time.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Admittedly, I had to cycle through a few "random" entries before I found something that was complete. Dodie Bellamy sounds interesting—I making a mental note to find out what BIL Ben knows about her (he's an activist and nonfiction author who specializes in sex politics).
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Admittedly, I had to cycle through a few "random" entries before I found something that was complete. Dodie Bellamy sounds interesting—I making a mental note to find out what BIL Ben knows about her (he's an activist and nonfiction author who specializes in sex politics).
Dodie Bellamy is a novelist, nonfiction author, journalist and editor, known for her non-traditional use of sexuality, politics, and narrative experimentation. Her work is frequently associated with that of Dennis Cooper, Kathy Acker, and Eileen Myles.
A native of Hammond, Indiana and educated at Indiana University, Bellamy has taught creative writing at many educational institutions, including the San Francisco Art Institute, Mills College, UC Santa Cruz, University of San Francisco, and Cal Arts. She served for five years as director of the writing laboratory in San Francisco - Small Press Traffic, and has led a private prose workshop since the early 90s. Bellamy also lectures in the Creative Writing Department of San Francisco State University and is an associate faculty member in the MFA program at Antioch Los Angeles.
As a writer, Bellamy explores the themes of bodily or spiritual invasion and possession. Some of the footprints of her prose are formal interruptions, intertextual voices, temporal shifts and syntactical twists. Consistently striving for innovation and the forthright depiction of emotion, Bellamy introduces sex, often using tropes from horror films and other pop culture debris. Her work frequently confronts topics like feminism, cultural politics, queer culture, AIDS, and body issues. Bellamy was one of the originators in the New Narrative literary movement, which attempts to use the tools of experimental fiction and critical theory and apply them to narrative storytelling.
Her works include:Real: The Letters of Mina Harker and Sam D'Allesandro ( Talisman House, 1995 ), written together with Sam D'Allesandro, which addresses the issue of AIDS, sexual transgression, and the desire for the forbidden; Feminine Hijinx (Hanuman, 1990);Cunt Ups (Tender Buttons, 2002), a radical feminist approach to the "cut up" introduced by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin; Fat Chance (Nomados, 2004); Pink Steam, a cross-genre collection of fiction, memoirs, and essays (Suspect Thoughts, 2004). Cunt-Ups and Fat Chance are excerpts from her novel in progress - The Fourth Form.
In 2004 the University of Wisconsin Press reissued her magnum opus, the novel The Letters of Mina Harker, in which she resurrects Mina Harker, the heroine of Bram Stoker's Dracula. In the fall of 2006, Krupskaya Books published Academonia, a collection of essays and fictions. Bellamy's works have also appeared in several anthologies, such as Moving Borders: Three Decades of Innovative Writing by Women.
Publishing in journalism and creative nonfiction, her writing also appeared in The Village Voice, The San Francisco Chronicle, Book Forum, Out/Look, The San Diego Reader, ZDNet Developer, Nest and on numerous websites. In 1998, Bellamy won the San Francisco Bay Guardian "Goldie" Award for Literature. With the help of her partner, Kevin Killian, she has edited more than 130 issues of the literary/art zine Mirage #4/Period(ical).
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
weekend report: January 26-27
No matter how stressful our work week or how crappy our January may be, we still manage to have a fun, restorative weekend. And, on this weekend, it felt much deserved. I have resisted chronicling this week’s travails for fear of taking on the posture of a victim, but I will note that Thursday marked my first drama-free day since we returned home from New Jersey. In December.
For posterity, let me recapitulate that on Monday night our pipes froze. We narrowly averted disaster as the pipes did not burst. Quick thinking (and a little internet research) guided a course of action that restored water before we went to bed. But we kept the faucets open—i.e., water running all night long (you figure out how to sleep with that annoyance). I fear the water bill this month, what with the two or three loads of laundry we’ve done DAILY and the attempt to keep the pipes from bursting. Sheesh.
On Tuesday, my car stopped running. At a stoplight. Three blocks from my office. I was able to start the engine again and drove the car for another block before it stopped running at the next red light. So, I had the car towed. And, get this, the garage found NOTHING WRONG with my car. Figures. I’m not complaining. We’d had serious subzero temps all last week and you don’t monkey around when your car is acting funny. The garage didn’t offer any theories, but also only charged for the tow.
Herewith, weekend highlights:
Saturday, the boys and I met Caryl and Charon at The Source, a comic book and gaming shop, for Pokemon tournaments. Charon had carefully chosen her deck of card and was super prepared for battle. While the kids did their thing, the moms talked about—what else?—books. We’re making a reading plan for our two-person discussion group, and I’m pretty excited about it. What is the it? The books, the reading, sharing the books and the reading with a like-minded soul. After battling, we picked up John and headed for IKEA, by way of REI. John wanted to check out a backpack that he’d read about recently. While Simon and John were drooling over gear, Winston and I watched the climbers on the The Pinnacle. Noticing that there wasn’t any obvious wait to climb, Winston decided he’d like to give it a shot. What a champ! He was so excited about gearing up with the rubber-toed climbing shoes and the harness. And, he made it to within a body’s length of the bell before he got tired. So. Close.
IKEA was a zoo, and we found plenty to purchase. Dinner napkins, bookcase/shelves for John’s computer area, two stools for the snack bar (total impulse item), bookcase for Simon’s bedroom. Ate lunch here. I have a hard time resisting the Swedish meatballs, lingonberries, and mashed potatoes, as well as gravlax and gravlax sauce atop those thick rye crackers. The kids climbed on everything. They each tried out chairs and beds. Win found his dream platform bed. Both dropped their jaws over the lofted beds with desks tucked underneath. Some day...
On Sunday, the boys helped make banana-chocolate chip muffins for breakfast. Win took “wet” duty, mixing eggs and mashing bananas, while Simon got “dry”, measuring flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt. Later, we took a hike with the Hamiltons in Lilydale—climbed a steep, snow-packed hill for great views of the Mississippi River and downtown St. Paul. We could even see John’s office. The climb was a little insane, and in the snow we had to slide down on our butts for the descent. My quads are going to hurt for a few days. Simon then played at Theo’s all afternoon, and we culminated the day at D’Amico’s, where kids eat free on Sunday nights.
The warm weather has been a real treat!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
a day in the life of Tonya and Nancy
My boss sent me this hi-larious exchange that was printed in our local paper recently. It's not a complete non sequitur—St. Paul is currently hosting the 2007 U.S. Figure Skating Championships.
(I should give credit where it's due. Tonya's photo belongs to Al Bello/Getty Images, and Nancy's photo belongs to Kevin Winter/Getty Images for Frosted Pink.)
6:30 a.m.
Nancy: Awakes with a coo to alarm set to local lite rock station. Puts on robe and slippers while humming "We've Only Just Begun."
Tonya: Clips neighbor's Mazda Protégé with her pickup as she returns from bars singing along to Bad Company's "Feel Like Makin' Love" at the top of her lungs.
6:45 a.m.
Nancy: Decides to "splurge this morning" by adding cottage cheese to her pineapple and cantaloupe.
Tonya: Leans into open refrigerator shouting, "Where the -- is the Famous Dave's that was in here?!"
6:50 a.m.
Nancy: While pouring coffee, knocks over bowl, plopping cottage cheese and fruit all over kitchen floor. With tears in her eyes, shouts, "Why?! ... Why?!"
Tonya: Remembers she ate the rest of her pulled pork sandwich before she went out.
6:55 a.m.
Nancy: Opens door to back yard, asks woodland creatures to help her clean up mess in the kitchen.
Tonya: Nods off on couch with cold french fry in one hand, lit cigarette in the other.
7:30 a.m.
Nancy: Hears the pitter patter of little feet as her two sons and husband come downstairs for breakfast.
Tonya: Snore!
8:00 a.m.
Nancy: Gets the young lads off to school and her husband off to the office.
Tonya: SNORE!
9:00 a.m.
Nancy: Three words: "Regis and Kelly!"
Tonya: Five words: "Why does my couchspin?"
10:05 a.m.
Nancy: The phone rings. It's her husband, and agent, calling with a new job opportunity.
Tonya: Slumber disrupted by visions of encounters with strange, beastly men.
10:06 a.m.
Nancy: Agrees to do 12-week national tour this spring as the star of "Driving Miss Daisy on Ice."
Tonya: Realizes these visions are not nightmares, just flashbacks.
10:37 a.m.
Nancy: Heads over to park for daily one-hour power walk.
Tonya: Heads over to nearby bathroom for daily one-hour visit.
10:38 a.m.
Nancy: Realizes winter is here when the morning chill touches her face.
Tonya: Realizes it's laundry day when she trips over her "Gillooly was here" nightie.
11:40 a.m.
Nancy: Goes online to check out the latest Oprah news.
Tonya: Takes long, introspective look at herself in mirror.
11:45 a.m.
Nancy: Spends half-hour sending more hate mail to 1994 Olympic judges from Poland and the Ukraine.
Tonya: Spends half-hour shaving.
12:15 p.m.
Nancy: Finally responds to desperate e-mail from Oksana Baiul .... promises to send her a few
bucks.Tonya: Finally remembers what day it is. Realizes she's due down at the gym for a few rounds of sparring.
12:30 p.m.
Nancy: Spends a few minutes autographing photographs for her fans.
Tonya: Spends a few minutes mulling the perfect location for her next tattoo.
12:45 p.m.
Nancy: After a quick lunch, heads out to the rink to work on her latest skating routine.
Tonya: Pops open a cold one, then it's on to the gym.
1:05 p.m.
Nancy: Stops off at her local church to drop off clothing that she's donating to the homeless.
Tonya: Stops at auto parts store to get new hubcap to replace one that she broke over her old boyfriend's brow.
1:30 p.m.
Nancy: Starts her daily skate after spending 15 minutes flexing her right knee, which has been giving her trouble since Jan. 6, 1994.
Tonya: Begins workout with about five minutes of light rope jumping, followed by 10 minutes of heavy, breathless panting.
2:55 p.m.
Nancy: Cell phone call from husband with another job offer.
Tonya: Interrupts work on the heavy bag when trainer sarcastically calls her "The Heavy Bag."
2:56 p.m.
Nancy: Angrily reminds husband there's no way she will agree to perform with Bob Saget on "Skating with Celebrities II."
Tonya: Reminds trainer how she once knocked the smirk off Paula Jones' face.
3:25 p.m.
Nancy: Winds up skating practice. Poses for photographs with admiring fans.
Tonya: Completes three rounds of sparring. Claims it's the best she has felt in the ring since she moved up to heavyweight.
3:55 p.m.
Nancy: Arrives home just in time to greet her boys as they get off the school bus.
Tonya: Arrives home just in time to find a repo man waiting in front of her trailer. Spends 15 minutes hiding in bushes until he leaves.
4:15 p.m.
Nancy: Begins preparing her famous meatloaf and green bean casserole for dinner.
Tonya: Gets ready for another night on the town, spending about 10 minutes deciding which tank top to wear.
5:02 p.m.
Nancy: Husband calls to say he's running a little late, as he's working to get Nancy another cameo in "Blades of Glory II."
Tonya: Skids into parking spot at the nearby Applebee's, ready to dig into those 25-cent Happy Hour wings.
5:30 p.m.
Nancy: Asks husband to lead the family in "Grace" before she serves dinner.
Tonya: Asks neighboring barfly to take his hand off her butt before she gives him a knuckle sandwich.
5:35 p.m.
Nancy: Enjoys dinnertime conversation with her loved ones.
Tonya: Enjoys first of several long games of Quarters.
6:30 p.m.
Nancy: Wheel ... of ... Fortune!
Tonya: Meal ... of ... nachos!
7:07 p.m.
Nancy: Snuggles with children as she reads them a few chapters of Harry Potter.
Tonya: Snuggles with college-age drifter in a corner booth while telling him women's prison anecdotes.
8:00 p.m.
Nancy: Settles down for some quiet TV time with her husband, Jerry.
Tonya: Settles down for some quiet time with her pal, Jagermeister.
After 8:30 p.m.
Nancy: It's time to hit the hay.
Tonya: It's all a haze.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
My first geography—or as I like to think of it, travel—entry. Lake Gunn looks like a splendid place to add to our New Zealand file.
Lake Gunn is a lake in the South Island of New Zealand, located at44°53′S, 168°05′E.
A small lake between Lake Te Anau and Milford Sound, it lies close to the State Highway 94 (the Milford Sound Road). The small tramping camp of Cascade Creek lies close to the lake's southern end. The west branch of the Eglinton River flows through the lake.
The lake is within the boundary of the Fiordland National Park, and is surrounded by native bush. Several smaller lakes lie nearby, including Lake Fergus and Lake McKellar. Several mountains stand close to the lake's western shore, notably Melita Peak (1680 m) and Consolation Peak (1760 m). "The Divide", the saddle between the valleys of the Eglinton and Hollyford Rivers, lies four kilometres north of the lake.
The lake (and several other nearby locations) were named after Davy Gunn, a pioneer of the local tramping tourism industry (see Hollyford Track).
my 100th post
Hurrah!
Just as I was about to enter this week's wiki wednesday post, I noticed I had 99 posts on Little Trooper. As a rule, I don't celebrate my blogs' birthdays, but I do want to mark this milestone of sorts. This blog is meaningful to me—I like tracking the mundane in my life, especially with pictures.
I think I need some cake!
Just as I was about to enter this week's wiki wednesday post, I noticed I had 99 posts on Little Trooper. As a rule, I don't celebrate my blogs' birthdays, but I do want to mark this milestone of sorts. This blog is meaningful to me—I like tracking the mundane in my life, especially with pictures.
I think I need some cake!
Monday, January 21, 2008
warming trend
According to The Weather Channel’s website, the current temperature for my zip code is 2 degrees F, which is considerably warmer than yesterday’s high of –2 degrees. People, it’s cold here, and I’m a big baby when it comes to cold.
I’m home from work today with the kids, observing MLK Day. Simon is currently engaged in his favorite activity—watching cartoons. My buddy, Winny G. is sitting right beside me playing computer games, which happens to be his favorite activity. I’m blogging. Win and I are listening to U2’s Rattle and Hum. We’re all happy.
The Bee Movie is playing at the Riverview, a “dollar theater” across The River from where we live, so we’ll venture out later to see it. I love taking the boys to the movies. We get popcorn and M&Ms and escape for an hour and a half.
Despite—or maybe because of—the dangerously cold weather, we had a great weekend. Granted, the kids went a tiny bit stir-crazy. Simon was sick for most of the weekend (the school nurse sent him home on Friday with a 100.6 temp). On Saturday, we had some wonderful cuddle time on the couch in the den. Simon watched Tom and Jerry while I read Suffer the Little Children by Donna Leon.
This addictive mystery is set in Venice, and it’s the 16th in a series featuring Commissario Guido Brunetti. The mystery’s plot is fine, but our sleuth and the Italian setting are the compelling elements for me. Brunetti is an aesthete. He starts his day with espresso and a pastry, because that’s civilized. And, there’s a marvelous scene where, faced with the civil-servant union strike that would keep him from going to work, Brunetti stops at the bookstore and,
This book is on the Conversation with Books list. My friend Caryl and I will attend the Conversation at our alma mater on Wednesday, and I can't wait. This event gives me something to look forward to during the cruelest month of the year. Also, I plan to read more books in this series.
On Saturday night, Winston and I attended the monthly potluck dinner with four other families from his old preschool. The Lins hosted and made tacos. Win had a blast wrestling with the five-year-olds while I caught up with the adults. It was a nice evening.
Sunday started with yoga at Helena’s. Six people, including Helena’s husband, participated, so the “studio” was somewhat full, but it felt so good to move my body. The cold weather does a number on the body, obviously. But even when I’m wearing my down coat and have a minimum amount of exposed flesh, I still find myself putting on the “Minnesota earmuffs” (how CSC PE instructor, Alice Swanson, described the way one scruntches their shoulders up, toward their ears, when they’re cold). Today my shoulders and arms are achy, in part from yoga, but also from the residual effects of my body trying feebly to keep itself warm.
After yoga, I spent the afternoon tinkering in the kitchen. As part of the 2008 Great Freezer Clean-Out, I removed two pheasants and thawed them to make stock. The meat eventually starred in a pheasant-andouille gumbo, an attempt to transport myself to New Orleans, a warm memory from 2007.
And, now I take my leave to spend some QT with my boys. Happy MLK Day, observed, to you.
I’m home from work today with the kids, observing MLK Day. Simon is currently engaged in his favorite activity—watching cartoons. My buddy, Winny G. is sitting right beside me playing computer games, which happens to be his favorite activity. I’m blogging. Win and I are listening to U2’s Rattle and Hum. We’re all happy.
The Bee Movie is playing at the Riverview, a “dollar theater” across The River from where we live, so we’ll venture out later to see it. I love taking the boys to the movies. We get popcorn and M&Ms and escape for an hour and a half.
Despite—or maybe because of—the dangerously cold weather, we had a great weekend. Granted, the kids went a tiny bit stir-crazy. Simon was sick for most of the weekend (the school nurse sent him home on Friday with a 100.6 temp). On Saturday, we had some wonderful cuddle time on the couch in the den. Simon watched Tom and Jerry while I read Suffer the Little Children by Donna Leon.
This addictive mystery is set in Venice, and it’s the 16th in a series featuring Commissario Guido Brunetti. The mystery’s plot is fine, but our sleuth and the Italian setting are the compelling elements for me. Brunetti is an aesthete. He starts his day with espresso and a pastry, because that’s civilized. And, there’s a marvelous scene where, faced with the civil-servant union strike that would keep him from going to work, Brunetti stops at the bookstore and,
Because he made it a rule never to leave a bookstore without buying something, he settled for a long out-of-print translation of the Marquis de Custine’s 1839 travels in Russia, printed in Torino in 1977: Lettere dalla Russia. The period was closer to the present than ordinarily would have interested him, but it was the only book that appealed, and he was in a hurry, strike or not.
This book is on the Conversation with Books list. My friend Caryl and I will attend the Conversation at our alma mater on Wednesday, and I can't wait. This event gives me something to look forward to during the cruelest month of the year. Also, I plan to read more books in this series.
On Saturday night, Winston and I attended the monthly potluck dinner with four other families from his old preschool. The Lins hosted and made tacos. Win had a blast wrestling with the five-year-olds while I caught up with the adults. It was a nice evening.
Sunday started with yoga at Helena’s. Six people, including Helena’s husband, participated, so the “studio” was somewhat full, but it felt so good to move my body. The cold weather does a number on the body, obviously. But even when I’m wearing my down coat and have a minimum amount of exposed flesh, I still find myself putting on the “Minnesota earmuffs” (how CSC PE instructor, Alice Swanson, described the way one scruntches their shoulders up, toward their ears, when they’re cold). Today my shoulders and arms are achy, in part from yoga, but also from the residual effects of my body trying feebly to keep itself warm.
After yoga, I spent the afternoon tinkering in the kitchen. As part of the 2008 Great Freezer Clean-Out, I removed two pheasants and thawed them to make stock. The meat eventually starred in a pheasant-andouille gumbo, an attempt to transport myself to New Orleans, a warm memory from 2007.
And, now I take my leave to spend some QT with my boys. Happy MLK Day, observed, to you.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
daily dose of random music, with notes
1. I Can’t Stand It (Velvet Underground)
I always feel really lucky when this song appears on my ipod shuffle. My mate Frank’s band, The Sycamores, used to play a great cover.
2. Let’s Spend the Night Together (David Bowie)
No explanation needed.
3. Lazy Eye (Silversun Pickups)
People, will you be ready when the grunge revival happens?
4. Roll with It (Oasis)
Chez Shepard, it would be considered heresy for me to say I disliked Oasis, though I will concede that (What’s the Story) Morning Glory was just a little bit genius.
5. Le Disko (Shiny Toy Guns)
For two weeks in 2006, I couldn’t stop listening to this song. "Hello little boys, little toys—We're the dreams you're believing—Crawling up the walls—Running down your face." Hello?
6. All Night Long (North Mississippi All-Stars)
Fifteen minutes of roots music by two brothers who’d never clobber each other in public. See #4.
7. God, Part 2 (U2)
I’m not really with U2’s God message, but musically, this song clobbers.
8. Rudy Can’t Fail (Mighty Mighty Bosstones)
A worthy Clash cover from Burning London.
9. Finding My Way (Rush)
WHAT is this doing on MY iPod?
10. Who Need Love [Like That]? (Erasure)
Full disclosure—a little dance beat warms the cockles of my soul. It’s so British. I have fond memories of listening to Erasure and Yazoo while getting baked in the middle of Lake Kampeska on Mike L’s boat.
11. Fun Tashlich (New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars)
One of the more traditional numbers from Borvis.
12. Bring on the Night (The Police)
I’m not a big fan of reggae, but this reggae-tinged song is one of the sexiest songs. Ever.
I always feel really lucky when this song appears on my ipod shuffle. My mate Frank’s band, The Sycamores, used to play a great cover.
2. Let’s Spend the Night Together (David Bowie)
No explanation needed.
3. Lazy Eye (Silversun Pickups)
People, will you be ready when the grunge revival happens?
4. Roll with It (Oasis)
Chez Shepard, it would be considered heresy for me to say I disliked Oasis, though I will concede that (What’s the Story) Morning Glory was just a little bit genius.
5. Le Disko (Shiny Toy Guns)
For two weeks in 2006, I couldn’t stop listening to this song. "Hello little boys, little toys—We're the dreams you're believing—Crawling up the walls—Running down your face." Hello?
6. All Night Long (North Mississippi All-Stars)
Fifteen minutes of roots music by two brothers who’d never clobber each other in public. See #4.
7. God, Part 2 (U2)
I’m not really with U2’s God message, but musically, this song clobbers.
8. Rudy Can’t Fail (Mighty Mighty Bosstones)
A worthy Clash cover from Burning London.
9. Finding My Way (Rush)
WHAT is this doing on MY iPod?
10. Who Need Love [Like That]? (Erasure)
Full disclosure—a little dance beat warms the cockles of my soul. It’s so British. I have fond memories of listening to Erasure and Yazoo while getting baked in the middle of Lake Kampeska on Mike L’s boat.
11. Fun Tashlich (New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars)
One of the more traditional numbers from Borvis.
12. Bring on the Night (The Police)
I’m not a big fan of reggae, but this reggae-tinged song is one of the sexiest songs. Ever.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Ha! My entry is a St. Martin's Press/Minotaur mystery author. I used to sell these clerical cozies to bookstores when I was a rep. Never read one though. Sister Carol Anne O'Marie belongs to St. Joseph of Carondolet, which was the order that started my alma mater.
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Ha! My entry is a St. Martin's Press/Minotaur mystery author. I used to sell these clerical cozies to bookstores when I was a rep. Never read one though. Sister Carol Anne O'Marie belongs to St. Joseph of Carondolet, which was the order that started my alma mater.
Sister Carol Anne O'Marie (born 1933) is a mystery writer and a nun in the St. Joseph of Carondelet religious order.[1]
She has written eleven novels, whose protagonist is Sister Mary Helen, an elderly nun who solves crimes. Most of the books are based in San Francisco.
Sister Carol Anne O'Marie and Sister Maureen Lyons run a shelter for homeless women in Oakland, CA.[2]
Contents
[hide]
[edit] Selected Bibliography
[edit] Fiction
- Murder at the Monks' Table
- The Corporal Works of Murder
- Requiem at the Refuge
- Death Takes Up a Collection
- Death of an Angel
- Death Goes on Retreat
- Murder Makes a Pilgrimage
- Murder in Ordinary Time
- The Missing Madonna
- Advent Of Dying
- A Novena For Murder
[edit] Notes and References
waging war
Day 11 in the battle against head lice. I really don’t want to dwell on it, but, especially now that I have nits, it’s all-consuming. It’s a weird thing to talk about too, which is why I feel comfortable writing about it here. On my blog. My blog that only two people read. Two people who I know won’t judge. I’m having lunch with two close (childless) friends this week, and how do I explain no-hugs to them?
On Monday night I slathered prescription-strength permethrin cream on each of the boys’ heads, which I then covered with a shower cap so they could keep the stuff on overnight.
Permethrin may be noxious, but napalm it ain’t. Last night I was still combing live lice out of each boy’s heads. When the prescription cream doesn’t work and you’re looking at applying the treatment again—which is another co-pay (granted, the co-pay cost less than the OTC stuff)—then, it’s time to bring out the big guns. Fuck Ovoid, which was described to me as having a gasoline smell. I’m talking hair clippers.
Both boys now have these amazing quarter-inch buzz cuts. Mind you, neither of them love their hair cuts as much as I do. This morning Simon said he wished we could glue the hair from the trash back onto his head. (Sigh) And Winston was fine until we arrived at school, then became very self-conscious about his craniosynostosis scar. Running in a zig-zag from ear to ear, he sports the Wood’s incision, developed by our plastic surgeon, Dr. Robert Wood, to promote normal hair growth along the incision. You can really only see the scar if you know it’s there, but it is so awesome and fearsome looking, and I’m so amazed by what this genius doctor was able to do for our little boy. You would never know that he had a congenital skull deformity.
The permethrin doesn’t seem to have worked much for me, either. I have lots of hairs so the activity closest to the scalp is rather well contained. But, occasionally, it feels like a bug is trekking through my hair, and I live in abject horror that a louse will crawl out of the long grass when I’m sitting in a meeting or having lunch with a friend. My hair is already looking a little fried from the metal comb, but it’s the only thing that gets the little critters out. Contemplating short hair...
In addition to the obscenely huge piles of laundry, I have delivered tons of clothing and blankets to the dry cleaner. This morning I picked up two wool blankets and two small goose-down comforters that typically live on the boys’ beds—to the tune of $85. Lice are very expensive.
My daily dose of music, while good, just isn’t cutting it today. I’m going big guns, too. Ritter Sport dark chocolate-covered marzipan. I had my first Ritter Sport bars twenty years ago in Germany, and I must say they are perfection. I’m glad many of the varieties are available stateside, ney, at Target, even.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Monday check-in
Things are looking up here, slightly. We still have nits—Simon, Winston, and, now, me. Joy. Though I have to say, in an odd way, it’s a relief. The only way I could avoid getting them was to hold the boys at an arm’s length, which really isn’t working any longer. We’re all sort of starved for affection—especially Simon. Our pediatrician phoned in a prescription for the whole family, so we can start our treatment tonight. Thank you Dr. Susan, you’re the best!
We still have mountains of laundry, which have expanded exponentially with the addition of my bed linens, towels, clothes, coat, hat, and scarf. But, the dryer has held up for another week. Yay! The plumbing from the washer is just fine. The flooding was coming from a floor drain clogged with fifty years’ worth of lint. We paid the plumber handsomely to clear out the drain. Now we can run the washer with impunity!
I took a mental health day today to get caught up on some things and to be available to take Simon to his first orthodontist consult. This past summer, his dentist pulled a molar that was being crowded out of his bite. In just six months, the surrounding teeth have settled in such a way that the three permanent teeth that have yet to come in, now have no room. The next course of action is a full set of x-rays. When all four front teeth, upper and lower, are in, we’ll re-visit the orthodontist and talk about what we’ll have done next. We have a few choices—one is to pull a tooth, the other is to wear a space maintainer that looks positively sadistic. Fortunately, we have a year to wait this out.
I had a great weekend. On Saturday, I took Simon to Stillwater for a friend’s birthday party. While Simon was bowling and eating pizza and cake, I had two glorious hours to read. By the time we returned home, it was nearly time to go out again. John and I went to a curling party that a few friends hosted at the St. Paul Curling Club. What a strange sport. The part where you slide and release the 40-pound stone is elegant, but then there’s the part where you sweep, which looks positively stupid. What does sweeping get you anyway? In theory, sweeping melts the ice to keep the stone moving, but it can’t change the course of the stone. The evening was fun—we saw a lot of friends and acquaintances and drank a ton, including shots of an incredible, homemade horseradish vodka.
Simon helped me with grocery shopping on Sunday morning. We brought home bagels, cream cheese, and lox for brunch. When the sun came out, around one p.m., I took a restorative walk and listened to some righteous tunes. Music always helps me feel better.
Shuffle for a Sunday walk
Perfect Circle (REM)
Am I Right? (Erasure)
Up the Beach (Jane’s Addiction)
Acrobat (U2)
The Barry Williams Show (Peter Gabriel)
Electric Barbarella (Duran Duran)
Charlotte Sometimes (The Cure)
Superunknown (Soundgarden)
We still have mountains of laundry, which have expanded exponentially with the addition of my bed linens, towels, clothes, coat, hat, and scarf. But, the dryer has held up for another week. Yay! The plumbing from the washer is just fine. The flooding was coming from a floor drain clogged with fifty years’ worth of lint. We paid the plumber handsomely to clear out the drain. Now we can run the washer with impunity!
I took a mental health day today to get caught up on some things and to be available to take Simon to his first orthodontist consult. This past summer, his dentist pulled a molar that was being crowded out of his bite. In just six months, the surrounding teeth have settled in such a way that the three permanent teeth that have yet to come in, now have no room. The next course of action is a full set of x-rays. When all four front teeth, upper and lower, are in, we’ll re-visit the orthodontist and talk about what we’ll have done next. We have a few choices—one is to pull a tooth, the other is to wear a space maintainer that looks positively sadistic. Fortunately, we have a year to wait this out.
I had a great weekend. On Saturday, I took Simon to Stillwater for a friend’s birthday party. While Simon was bowling and eating pizza and cake, I had two glorious hours to read. By the time we returned home, it was nearly time to go out again. John and I went to a curling party that a few friends hosted at the St. Paul Curling Club. What a strange sport. The part where you slide and release the 40-pound stone is elegant, but then there’s the part where you sweep, which looks positively stupid. What does sweeping get you anyway? In theory, sweeping melts the ice to keep the stone moving, but it can’t change the course of the stone. The evening was fun—we saw a lot of friends and acquaintances and drank a ton, including shots of an incredible, homemade horseradish vodka.
Simon helped me with grocery shopping on Sunday morning. We brought home bagels, cream cheese, and lox for brunch. When the sun came out, around one p.m., I took a restorative walk and listened to some righteous tunes. Music always helps me feel better.
Shuffle for a Sunday walk
Perfect Circle (REM)
Am I Right? (Erasure)
Up the Beach (Jane’s Addiction)
Acrobat (U2)
The Barry Williams Show (Peter Gabriel)
Electric Barbarella (Duran Duran)
Charlotte Sometimes (The Cure)
Superunknown (Soundgarden)
Thursday, January 10, 2008
resurfacing
If I don’t come up for air soon, I will drown. Pardon the melodrama, but this has been an extraordinarily rocky week.
On Sunday evening, I noticed Winston was scratching his head in earnest. It’s winter and every one of us has a dry, itchy scalp. But, my kids are school-age, and, well, you know where I’m going with this...head lice. Of course, my diagnosis wasn’t confirmed until 9 p.m., a few minutes past bedtime on a school night.
John, incredible partner that he is, ran out to Snyder’s Drug to buy a nit kit. Starting around 9:30 p.m.—on a school night—I applied the treatment to Winston’s precious head. Here’s the process: wash with regular shampoo, rinse; rinse with a 1:2 solution of vinegar and water; towel dry hair; apply caustic lice shampoo, allow to sit for ten minutes, lather, rinse; towel dry (with a fresh towel). Thank goodness we had cut off his locks around Christmas, and thank goodness he has blond hair, which has provided a nice contrast to the tiny reddish-brown bugs.
Since Simon and Winston are such good brothers, they put their heads together over just about everything. And they wrestle like bear cubs. Of course, Simon also has head lice, too.
After dinner each night, the treatments are conducted simultaneously with the following: homework; Simon’s fifteen minutes of reading; stripping and making beds; washing the clothes worn that day, as well as the hats, coats, bed linens, and towels used during that night’s treatment—to the exclusion of all other accumulating laundry (i.e., I’m nearly out of clean underwear); and bedtime routines.
Of course, our clothes dryer is on the fritz, making a very loud, high-decibel, eardrum-piercing screech. The repairman made a diagnosis on Monday night, but the part won’t arrive until next week, and repair isn’t scheduled until the week the 18th. John had the repair guy oil the part, but we were warned this measure would only help for one or two loads. And, we’ve got many more loads to do.
Last night, John was tapping is feet while working at his computer on the lower level of our home. He noticed that his tapping sounded sort of splashy—tons of water on the floor. John peeked into the mechanical room and noticed the water had soap bubbles so we think the flooding is somehow related to the washing machine. Oy! Now add mopping plumbing mishaps to the evening routine.
I absolutely cannot get head lice. I have a seriously thick mop of hair. It would take hours to comb and pick. As I search my own head each day, I’m learning how to distinguish a louse or egg from the glint of silver (oh, there’s a forest of gray close to my scalp) and the dandruff (why hasn’t anyone ever mentioned the “snow”???). But my paranoia has barely abated. Of course, I have sympathetic itches, and I swear I something is running around on my scalp.
We will get back to our regularly scheduled programming soon, but if it’s all the same with you, I’d like to skip January next year!
On Sunday evening, I noticed Winston was scratching his head in earnest. It’s winter and every one of us has a dry, itchy scalp. But, my kids are school-age, and, well, you know where I’m going with this...head lice. Of course, my diagnosis wasn’t confirmed until 9 p.m., a few minutes past bedtime on a school night.
John, incredible partner that he is, ran out to Snyder’s Drug to buy a nit kit. Starting around 9:30 p.m.—on a school night—I applied the treatment to Winston’s precious head. Here’s the process: wash with regular shampoo, rinse; rinse with a 1:2 solution of vinegar and water; towel dry hair; apply caustic lice shampoo, allow to sit for ten minutes, lather, rinse; towel dry (with a fresh towel). Thank goodness we had cut off his locks around Christmas, and thank goodness he has blond hair, which has provided a nice contrast to the tiny reddish-brown bugs.
Since Simon and Winston are such good brothers, they put their heads together over just about everything. And they wrestle like bear cubs. Of course, Simon also has head lice, too.
After dinner each night, the treatments are conducted simultaneously with the following: homework; Simon’s fifteen minutes of reading; stripping and making beds; washing the clothes worn that day, as well as the hats, coats, bed linens, and towels used during that night’s treatment—to the exclusion of all other accumulating laundry (i.e., I’m nearly out of clean underwear); and bedtime routines.
Of course, our clothes dryer is on the fritz, making a very loud, high-decibel, eardrum-piercing screech. The repairman made a diagnosis on Monday night, but the part won’t arrive until next week, and repair isn’t scheduled until the week the 18th. John had the repair guy oil the part, but we were warned this measure would only help for one or two loads. And, we’ve got many more loads to do.
Last night, John was tapping is feet while working at his computer on the lower level of our home. He noticed that his tapping sounded sort of splashy—tons of water on the floor. John peeked into the mechanical room and noticed the water had soap bubbles so we think the flooding is somehow related to the washing machine. Oy! Now add mopping plumbing mishaps to the evening routine.
I absolutely cannot get head lice. I have a seriously thick mop of hair. It would take hours to comb and pick. As I search my own head each day, I’m learning how to distinguish a louse or egg from the glint of silver (oh, there’s a forest of gray close to my scalp) and the dandruff (why hasn’t anyone ever mentioned the “snow”???). But my paranoia has barely abated. Of course, I have sympathetic itches, and I swear I something is running around on my scalp.
We will get back to our regularly scheduled programming soon, but if it’s all the same with you, I’d like to skip January next year!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
happy merry to all!
It’s Merry Chaos here in Princeton. In a pleasant role reversal, the children are quietly entertaining themselves with newfound Christmas booty, while the adults are indulging in much deserved champagne, caviar, and foie gras de canard (from the Gascony Mothership, no less) while the turkey cooks.
No matter where you are and what you believe, I hope that your day is filled with peace and glad tidings!
No matter where you are and what you believe, I hope that your day is filled with peace and glad tidings!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
This really does define random: Holly Hallstrom. Back in the day, I enjoyed watching "The Price Is Right", as many self-respecting children of the 70s did. But, who knew the redhead had a name? Click on the link to read her bloopers. I'm sure they're a laugh riot.
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
This really does define random: Holly Hallstrom. Back in the day, I enjoyed watching "The Price Is Right", as many self-respecting children of the 70s did. But, who knew the redhead had a name? Click on the link to read her bloopers. I'm sure they're a laugh riot.
Holly Hallstrom (born August 24, 1952 in San Antonio, Texas) was one of the models ("Barker's Beauties") on the daytime game show The Price Is Right, from 1977–1995. This red-headed model was known for having mishaps with prizes and various set pieces.Hallstrom also appeared several times as a guest panelist on Match Game.
Friday, December 14, 2007
happy friday
I've been scarce here—still trying to catch up on life after having a stomach bug for a few days last week. It was the sort of sick where you're too weak to hold a book and the moving images on TV make you hurl. I never want to see a bottle of Canada Dry again.
We did buy a tree last weekend—and decorated it. Winston was responsible for the bottom quarter of the 8-footer. Yes, right where the ornaments are clumped. We—and I speak for the children and adults—managed to decorate the tree without breaking any ornaments. Though Simon is wondering what happened to the "ball" he made by taping together two styrofoam bowls, which he then colored green with marker that comes off on your hands whenever you touch it. An ornament he made in preschool. Three years ago.
I also did some baking—the wonderful gingerbread cut-out cookies, which we'll ice and decorate tonight. And, I made fleur de sel caramel, which skipped right past the soft stage on the candy thermometer, catapulting all the way to hard-crack. The result was one of the largest, and loveliest, batches of toffee I could ever have hoped for. More cookies are on the agenda for this weekend.
Last weekend, we also helped the Cohen-Murphys celebrate the Immaculatke. That's right, this year the Saturday of Hanukkah landed on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception—perfect for this blended Jewish-Catholic family. I ate latkes topped with a sea of applesauce and a dollop of sour cream, and the kids gorged themselves on sugar cookies cut into shapes of dreidls and Maccabees, then sprinkled liberally with blue sugar.
And, so as not to shock the system too dramatically at the start of the New Year, I began much-needed exercise this week: a yoga session at my friend Helena's house, which will be a regular Sunday morning event going forward, and a (very) short spin on my spinning bike.
Just about to kick off the weekend with Winston's music showcase, an annual event for the kindergarteners, which will be followed by cocktails somehow, somewhere.
But before I leave, as your reward for sticking through my blah, blah, blah, a Friday giftie:
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
fourth best friend
During bedtime cuddles tonight, Sir Winston, age 5.5, gleefully informed me that I am his fourth best friend. When I asked who ranked ahead of me, he said, "First is my dad. Second is my big brother [Simon]. And third is Coco Bear."
Yes, his freaking stuffed bear rated higher than his mom. Twenty-one hours of labor, kid, and I'm number four?
Figures.
wiki wednesday
It's time for Wiki Wednesday!
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Morbid, but fascinating all the same—a history of suicide. Coincidentally, just earlier today, I read an interesting short review of a book about Mishima, with whom, in the early 90s, both Seth Jones and I were obsessed. Do you have to ask why?
1. Go to wikipedia.
2. Click on "random article" on the left-hand sidebar.
3. Post it.
Morbid, but fascinating all the same—a history of suicide. Coincidentally, just earlier today, I read an interesting short review of a book about Mishima, with whom, in the early 90s, both Seth Jones and I were obsessed. Do you have to ask why?
Among the famous who have taken their own lives are Boudicca, Brutus, Mark Antony, Cleopatra VII of Egypt, Judas Iscariot, Hannibal, Nero, Virginia Woolf, Sadeq Hedayat, Sigmund Freud, Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun, Ernest Hemingway, Alan Turing, Sylvia Plath, Marina Tsvetaeva, Yukio Mishima, Hunter S. Thompson, Ludwig Boltzmann, Kurt Cobain, and Vincent van Gogh.
Contents
[hide]In general the pagan world, both Roman and Greek, had a relaxed attitude towards the whole concept of suicide, a practice that was only finally outlawed with the advent of the Christians, who condemned it at the Council of Arles in 452 as the work of the Devil. In the Middle Ages, the church had drawn-out discussions on the edge where the search for martyrdom was suicidal, as in the case of Martyrs of Cordoba. Despite these disputes and occasional official rulings, Catholic doctrine was not entirely settled on the subject of suicide until the later 17th century. For instance, John Donne's Thoughts on Emergent Occasions is a long argument in favor of suicide as divinely appointed opportunity.
There is some echo of later Christian hostility in ancient Greek thinkers. Pythagoras, for example, was against the act, though more on mathematical than moral grounds, believing that there was only a finite number of souls for use in the world, and that the sudden and unexpected departure of one upset a delicate balance. Aristotle also condemned suicide, though for quite different, far more practical reasons, in that it robbed the community of the services of one of its members. A reading of Phaedo suggests that Plato was also against the practice, inasmuch as he allows Socrates to defend the teachings of the Orphics, who believed that the human body was the property of God, and thus self-harm was a direct offense against divine law. Yet, it's not quite so simple, because after Socrates says than no man has a right to suicide, this is then qualified by the statement "...unless God sends some necessity upon him, as has now been sent upon me."
In Rome suicide was never a general offence in law, though the whole approach to the question was essentially pragmatic. This is illustrated by the example given by Titus Livy of the colony of Massalia (the present day Marseilles), where those who wanted to kill themselves merely applied to the senate, and if their reasons were judged sound they were then given hemlock free of charge. It was specifically forbidden in three cases: those accused of capital crimes, soldiers and slaves. The reason behind all three was the same - it was uneconomic for these people to die. If the accused killed themselves prior to trial and conviction then the state lost the right to seize their property, a loophole that was only closed by Domitian in the first century AD, who decreed that those who died prior to trial were without legal heirs. The suicide of a soldier was treated on the same basis as desertion. If a slave killed her or himself within six months of purchase, the master could claim a full refund from the former owner.
But the Romans fully approved of what might be termed "patriotic suicide"; death, in other words, as an alternative to dishonour. For the Stoics, a philosophical sect which originated in Greece, death was a guarantee of personal freedom, a way out of an intolerable existence. And so it was for Cato the Younger, who killed himself after the Pompeian cause was defeated at the Battle of Thapsus. This was a 'virtuous death', one guided by reason and conscience. His example was later followed by Seneca, though under somewhat more straightened circumstances. A very definite line was drawn by the Romans between the virtuous suicide and suicide for entirely private reasons. They disapproved of Mark Antony not because he killed himself, but that he killed himself for love.
In ancient times, suicide sometimes followed defeat in battle, to avoid capture and possible subsequent torture, mutilation, or enslavement by the enemy. The Caesarean assassins Brutus and Cassius, for example, killed themselves after their defeat at the battle of Philippi. Insurgent Jews died in a mass suicide at Masada in 74 CE rather than face enslavement by the Romans.
During World War II, Japanese units would often fight to the last man rather than surrender. Towards the end of the war, the Japanese navy sent kamikaze pilots to attack Allied ships. These tactics reflect the influence of the samurai warrior culture, where seppuku was often required after a loss of honor. It is also suggested that the Japanese treated Allied POWs harshly because, in Japanese eyes, by surrendering rather than fighting to the last man, these soldiers showed they were not worthy of honorable treatment. In fact, the Japanese unit in Singapore sentenced an Australian bombing unit to death in admiration for their bravery.
In modern times, suicide attacks have been used extensively by Islamist Militants. However, it is important to note that suicide is strictly forbidden by Islamic law, and the Muslim clerics who organise these attacks do not regard them as suicide, but as martyrdom operations. Clerics argue the difference to be that in suicide a person kills himself out of despair, while in a martyrdom operation a person is killed as a pure act.[1]
Spies have carried suicide pills or pins to use when captured, partly to avoid the misery of captivity, but also to avoid being forced to disclose secrets. For the latter reason, spies may even have orders to kill themselves if captured – for example, Gary Powers had a suicide pin, but did not use it when he was captured.
The Kaiowas tribe in the South American rainforest committed a mass suicide to attract attention to their claim that their government was taking away their land. Their efforts successfully attracted massive international and national attention to their cause.
In the 1960s, Buddhist monks, most notably Thích Quảng Đức, in South VietnamWestern praise in their protests against President Ngô Đình Diệm by burning themselves to death. Similar events were reported in eastern Europe, such as Jan Palach following the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. In 1970 Greek Geology student Kostas Georgakis burned himself to death in Genoa, Italy to protest against the Greek military junta of 1967-1974. gained
During the Cultural Revolution in China (1966-1976), numerous publicly-known figures, especially intellectuals and writers, are reported to have committed suicide, typically to escape persecution, typically at the hands of the Red Guards. Some, or perhaps many, of these reported suicides are suspected by many observers to have, in fact, not been voluntary but instead the result of mistreatment. Some reported suicides include famed writer Lao She, among the best-known 20th century Chinese writers, and journalist Fan Changjiang.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
let it snow
For as much as I loathe the cold in these parts of the Upper Midwest, I do love the snow. Since 9:00 this morning, a light but steady snow has been coming down. It's so beautiful, reconfirming why I chose to stay here year after year, because earlier this week when it was brutally cold, I nearly packed my bags for the Pacific Northwest.
Plowing hasn't happened yet so the streets are a mess and drivers are adjusting to slick roads. Even for the native Minnesotans, there's a learning curve to winter. Shoppers packed the stores this morning, stocking up for being snowbound, though no one ever is truly stuck inside. I can assure you that the snow doesn't seem to have stopped anyone yet. I spent over $200 for tomorrow night's dinner and snowstorm "provisions."
In a bit, we'll make our way to Minneapolis. My friend Suzanne and her husband Bill—a fellow cyclist and beer aficiando—are hosting their annual holiday benefit. It's always a fun time. She sells her publisher's samples for a dime on the dollar, then donates the money to a local shelter. After the party, John and I will start the coq au vin—browning the chicken and marinating it in red wine overnight—and bake the brownies. We have plans to sled with the Hamiltons and Warches tomorrow, and the Cohen-Murphys are coming over for Sunday dinner.
Until then, I'm going to park myself and watch the snow fall.
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