Some of the most delightful surprises have come to me when I wasn't even looking, most notably (because this was the topic that sparked this train of thought) in the literary realm. The serendipitous circumstance that comes to mind first and foremost was the discovery that happened a couple of years ago, when, in a lull and fired by a burst of curiosity, I set out to procure a quote for yet another Away message (at one time I had 87 Away messages for my IM). What I was envisioning was an excerpt from the Speech of Regulus, which I know about only from reading the Little House books, where Laura quotes a few lines, something like, 'Ye doubtless thought - for ye judge of Roman virtue by your own - that I would sooner break my plighted oath than, returning, brook your vengeance....Here in your capital I defy you! Have I not conquered your armies, plundered your coasts, and [something something something] since first my youthful arms could wield a spear?' The basic premise is that Regulus was a great general during (I think) the Punic Wars, and Carthage, having captured him, offered him his freedom if he would go back to his Roman generals and convince them that it was useless to fight and that they should make terms with Carthage. He went back, but instead he convinced them to fight on, assuring them that they could win, and then went back to Carthage to face torture and death. The quote was nagging at me most compellingly, and I spent a good deal of effort trying to track it down - I emailed all sources of useful information, such as Classics Professor David Noe and Classics Expert Darren Jones - all to no avail. I searched and searched online, and finally succeeded in stumbling across an absolutely killing little play entitled 'Rinse the Blood Off My Toga,' by Simon and Schuster. Totally hysterical! I laughed so hard I actually had to close my office door. 'Gimme a martinus.' 'Don't you mean a martini?' 'Look, buddy, if I wanted more than one I would have asked for it.' 'Gimme a wine...vino, vine, vini....hey, where's my wine? Didn't you hear me order it?' 'On the contrary, I distinctly heard you decline it.' I never did find the complete text of the speech of Regulus, but I felt well rewarded for my trouble.
Then there was the time I was flipping through an otherwise worthless magazine and discovered that the poem I had long quoted with mirth:
A wonderful bird is the pelican;
His beak can hold more than his belican.
was actually a limerick:
A wonderful bird is the pelican;
His beak can hold more than his belican.
He can hold in his beak
Enough for a week
And I'm d--d if I know how the helican.
The trouble, of course, is that you can't really recite it out loud, but it is terribly funny, all the same.
Another time I was looking for a particular poem and discovered The Wondering Minstrels, a delightful site that posts a new poem every day, with commentary, links, and an incredible archive containing all kinds of poems listed by author name, poem name, and first line. An invaluable resource. Sometimes the selections are a bit modern, but the collection is impressive, and I've found many a gem on there.
I suppose the online search engine is the modern equivalent of looking for a word in the dictionary and finding ten others of fascination and obscurity. To that system I credit the discovery of deus ex machina, ad kalendas graecas, recondite, abstruse (particularly elegant as they are so self-descriptive, a property they share with polysyllabic and self-descriptive), paucity, pellucid, pelf, and so on. Michael won't even let me look things up for him now when we're reading because it takes ten times as long. 'Oh, look, here's a really neat word-' 'Rose! All we're trying to do is to figure out how to pronounce yolk!'
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Monday, August 23, 2004
August showers
Yet another co-ed shower on Saturday, this time a wedding shower. I thought it was fun just because it's always more fun to do things with Michael, even though I can't say I endorse the trend. Lots of delicious food and the most exquisite punch. There were chocolate-covered strawberries and these delicious ham and cream cheese pinwheels. Michael complimented Deanne on them. 'Oh, thanks, they're so easy,' she replied. 'And so even, too,' he added. 'You sliced the ham first and then spread the cream cheese and then rolled each one up, right? How painstaking!' 'No, actually, you spread the cream cheese first...' she began to explain, before realising that Michael was joking. We played a couple of games, one of which reminded me very strongly of those marshmallow and lifesaver games we used to play at the Lisks, which sounded so innocent in theory and whose suggestive undertones only became apparent in practise. =)
Friday, August 20, 2004
To seek the pale, enchanted gold
So last night we watched The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. 'Badges? We don't need no stinkin' badges!' Very gratifying to hear that line at last. It was on my list of Movies To See At Some Point In My Life, although I was disappointed not to get Bringing Up Baby. Blockbuster does not have the world's best selection when it comes to classics. This may be a good thing, though, as it will provide us a credible excuse to cancel our membership next month. 'We've found that your selection of classic movies just isn't comprehensive enough for our tastes' sounds so much better than, 'Well, our really cheap promotional-offer first month is up, and while it was fun while it lasted, we really don't want to live our lives watching this many movies, and certainly we don't want to pay for it at the higher rate.'
The movie offers a sober look at the effect of riches on mens' characters. In the beginning, washed up and at rock bottom, Humphrey Bogart's character tells an old prospector that he'd be content to make a small pile, in response to the prospector's warning that it's impossible to moderate your demands: gold gets a hold on a man and changes him. Bogart sounds so convinced that he'd be impervious to the lure. In fact there's a scene toward the beginning when a large sum of money comes into his hands, and he limits himself to that which is due him. A great instance of resisting temptation. But as the movie progresses, and wealth comes into the picture, it is astounding to see how the characters of the men alter. Suddenly what would have been a fortune when they were destitute seems like 'small beans,' and as their avarice grows, so does their mistrust and selfishness. It makes you wonder what that much money would do to you. Surely you'd be sensible and call it a day when you're ahead!
The movie offers a sober look at the effect of riches on mens' characters. In the beginning, washed up and at rock bottom, Humphrey Bogart's character tells an old prospector that he'd be content to make a small pile, in response to the prospector's warning that it's impossible to moderate your demands: gold gets a hold on a man and changes him. Bogart sounds so convinced that he'd be impervious to the lure. In fact there's a scene toward the beginning when a large sum of money comes into his hands, and he limits himself to that which is due him. A great instance of resisting temptation. But as the movie progresses, and wealth comes into the picture, it is astounding to see how the characters of the men alter. Suddenly what would have been a fortune when they were destitute seems like 'small beans,' and as their avarice grows, so does their mistrust and selfishness. It makes you wonder what that much money would do to you. Surely you'd be sensible and call it a day when you're ahead!
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Ain't he sweet
Michael (kissing me): Good thing we're not snakes.
Me: Why?
Michael: Well, you know what happens when two snakes get this close. And I'm bigger than you.
Ha, ha. This refers to a rather gruesome fact that I mention from time to time, because it fascinates me so much: snakes' mouths only work one direction, because their teeth can't go backwards. So when two snakes happen to start eating the same rabbit or shrew, the larger snake will always have to end up eating the smaller one, because neither can disengage its jaws.
Me: Why?
Michael: Well, you know what happens when two snakes get this close. And I'm bigger than you.
Ha, ha. This refers to a rather gruesome fact that I mention from time to time, because it fascinates me so much: snakes' mouths only work one direction, because their teeth can't go backwards. So when two snakes happen to start eating the same rabbit or shrew, the larger snake will always have to end up eating the smaller one, because neither can disengage its jaws.
The week wears by
Last night we watched Jaws. I knew the basic premise - killer sharks keep eating stupid bathers, unmistakable soundtrack - but had never seen it. At the very beginning, watching all the teenagers wasted on the beach in their pathetic 70s hairstyles and clothes, I remarked, 'What a bunch of losers. I don't care if they DO all climb into the water and get eaten.' But the movie improved from there, especially as the fishing expedition got underway, at which point it began to assume semi-classical proportions, resembling in a small way 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea or Moby Dick, pitting the forces of man against monster amidst the backdrop of the awesome forces of nature. It was a very scary movie. 'Was it scarier than Alien?' Michael asked. No, it wasn't. Alien is still the scariest movie I've ever seen. But I have to say that Jaws was very frightening.
Tonight we're going to see about watching Bringing Up Baby, which Michael has never seen. I remember watching it with Harmony probably ten years ago and laughing virtually without intermission throughout the entirety of it. This should be fun. It's high time for a happy movie now.
Tonight we're going to see about watching Bringing Up Baby, which Michael has never seen. I remember watching it with Harmony probably ten years ago and laughing virtually without intermission throughout the entirety of it. This should be fun. It's high time for a happy movie now.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Let the games begin!
It's Olympic season once again and at current writing, America stands third in total medal count! It's terribly partisan, but I don't even mind losing so much to, say, Australia or Canada; it's so much more palatable than losing to the Ukraine or Germany.
We were in the video store over the weekend picking out two more videos to check out. We are going to get our money's worth out of this month of unlimited movie rentals, by jingo! This relentless frenzy reminds me very much of our trip to England two years ago (there she goes talking about England again, just like Sir William about St. James), when Leah and I made the impulse decision to buy a week-long English Heritage Pass. We were standing outside Tintagel about to pay our 3 lb. admission fee, and the lady asked us where we were going next. 'Oh, we're going to visit Stonehenge...' 'Well, Stonehenge is 2 lbs. admission, so already you're more than half paying for a week-long pass.' And somehow she talked us into it, so we bought the pass, and thereafter spent the rest of our week dashing madly over the countryside in search of any and all castles on the English Heritage list. Here was how our itinerary fell out each day: Look at the map. Locate where our youth hostel was for that night. Observe what castles lay within a wide berth of our prospective route. Hit them all. It was great, really, because we got to see so many places that we probably wouldn't have bothered with if we had to pay admission. Anyway the similarity holds true. This is our chance to watch all those minor movies not worth our notice after all. For instance, yesterday we watched Jurassic Park, which I had never seen and hadn't ever really wanted to see but which Michael insisted was necessary. Hel-LO! I could see the plot coming a mile away! 'Let me guess,' I told Michael. 'The tropical storm is going to hit, wipe out their power, and the dinosaurs are going to break out through the now-not-electrified fences. Am I right?' No, but very close, as it turns out. And I don't know for sure, but I highly doubt that a human could survive a jolt of electricity strong enough to keep a dinosaur back.
So anyway there we were in the video store aisle, and I picked up King Solomon's Mines out of curiosity. The description on the back sealed its doom. Something about escorting a young girl across the African desert in search of her father...blah blah. Now, it's been a few years since last I read the book, but I DO know that there are no beautiful young girls, heiresses or otherwise, taking center stage throughout the majority of the book - just an ugly old crone who cackles and casts spells. And it irritates me excessively, this relentless pattern of extracting the element of an idea from a good book and re-shaping it to meet the film-maker's notion of what will sell. Obviously, this film-maker thought there had to be some kind of love interest in this story for it to succeed, and even though there was no hint of that in the book, one was manufactured and squeezed in there. Now, I have nothing against romance and all that, and I'm all for the dramatic and compelling power that a love story can weave over a tale - IF it's meant to be and IF it fits in nicely with the rest of the story. Some stories just don't lend themselves to the romance angle. Some stories simply don't require it.
So what great stories out there don't have a romance or overt love interest theme to carry them along? Right off, from the books on my 'favourite' shelf, which is where I keep my top classics, I can think of Lost Horizon, which is a very well-written and compelling story where a love interest does not play a primary role in the plot. Any other ideas?
Yesterday was Catherine's birthday. I remember this because five years ago I attended her 21st birthday party in Virginia, at the girls' townhouse, which was the first time I met her parents, who had come up for the weekend to throw her a party. Such elegant, wonderful people - I actually received a written invitation to her birthday party, a week before, from her parents in Georgia! Sara Roberts, who was NOT invited, nevertheless came because she was staying with us at the time. This was the same visit when we took Sara to Harper's Ferry. We had announced Sara's impending visit the week before, at Game Night, and invited anyone who wanted to join us to come along to Harper's Ferry. Darren stopped by my desk next week and mentioned that he'd like to come along. What I said was, 'How nice! What fun! Great!' What I thought was, 'Oh, Darren, you don't know what you're getting into. It's just going to be a bunch of girls, and you're the only guy who's said he's coming, and of course you're always welcome, but I think you'll just be bored.' Sure enough, he was the only guy, but somehow I don't think he was that bored. We had a great trip and a fun day, and the next day we were all together again at Catherine's party, and Sara...but this is impolitic, for I may be provoking her to retaliation, and such things may come out, as may shock my relations to hear.
Hmmm...that was a far-fetched ending for a post that was supposed to be about the Olympic games.
We were in the video store over the weekend picking out two more videos to check out. We are going to get our money's worth out of this month of unlimited movie rentals, by jingo! This relentless frenzy reminds me very much of our trip to England two years ago (there she goes talking about England again, just like Sir William about St. James), when Leah and I made the impulse decision to buy a week-long English Heritage Pass. We were standing outside Tintagel about to pay our 3 lb. admission fee, and the lady asked us where we were going next. 'Oh, we're going to visit Stonehenge...' 'Well, Stonehenge is 2 lbs. admission, so already you're more than half paying for a week-long pass.' And somehow she talked us into it, so we bought the pass, and thereafter spent the rest of our week dashing madly over the countryside in search of any and all castles on the English Heritage list. Here was how our itinerary fell out each day: Look at the map. Locate where our youth hostel was for that night. Observe what castles lay within a wide berth of our prospective route. Hit them all. It was great, really, because we got to see so many places that we probably wouldn't have bothered with if we had to pay admission. Anyway the similarity holds true. This is our chance to watch all those minor movies not worth our notice after all. For instance, yesterday we watched Jurassic Park, which I had never seen and hadn't ever really wanted to see but which Michael insisted was necessary. Hel-LO! I could see the plot coming a mile away! 'Let me guess,' I told Michael. 'The tropical storm is going to hit, wipe out their power, and the dinosaurs are going to break out through the now-not-electrified fences. Am I right?' No, but very close, as it turns out. And I don't know for sure, but I highly doubt that a human could survive a jolt of electricity strong enough to keep a dinosaur back.
So anyway there we were in the video store aisle, and I picked up King Solomon's Mines out of curiosity. The description on the back sealed its doom. Something about escorting a young girl across the African desert in search of her father...blah blah. Now, it's been a few years since last I read the book, but I DO know that there are no beautiful young girls, heiresses or otherwise, taking center stage throughout the majority of the book - just an ugly old crone who cackles and casts spells. And it irritates me excessively, this relentless pattern of extracting the element of an idea from a good book and re-shaping it to meet the film-maker's notion of what will sell. Obviously, this film-maker thought there had to be some kind of love interest in this story for it to succeed, and even though there was no hint of that in the book, one was manufactured and squeezed in there. Now, I have nothing against romance and all that, and I'm all for the dramatic and compelling power that a love story can weave over a tale - IF it's meant to be and IF it fits in nicely with the rest of the story. Some stories just don't lend themselves to the romance angle. Some stories simply don't require it.
So what great stories out there don't have a romance or overt love interest theme to carry them along? Right off, from the books on my 'favourite' shelf, which is where I keep my top classics, I can think of Lost Horizon, which is a very well-written and compelling story where a love interest does not play a primary role in the plot. Any other ideas?
Yesterday was Catherine's birthday. I remember this because five years ago I attended her 21st birthday party in Virginia, at the girls' townhouse, which was the first time I met her parents, who had come up for the weekend to throw her a party. Such elegant, wonderful people - I actually received a written invitation to her birthday party, a week before, from her parents in Georgia! Sara Roberts, who was NOT invited, nevertheless came because she was staying with us at the time. This was the same visit when we took Sara to Harper's Ferry. We had announced Sara's impending visit the week before, at Game Night, and invited anyone who wanted to join us to come along to Harper's Ferry. Darren stopped by my desk next week and mentioned that he'd like to come along. What I said was, 'How nice! What fun! Great!' What I thought was, 'Oh, Darren, you don't know what you're getting into. It's just going to be a bunch of girls, and you're the only guy who's said he's coming, and of course you're always welcome, but I think you'll just be bored.' Sure enough, he was the only guy, but somehow I don't think he was that bored. We had a great trip and a fun day, and the next day we were all together again at Catherine's party, and Sara...but this is impolitic, for I may be provoking her to retaliation, and such things may come out, as may shock my relations to hear.
Hmmm...that was a far-fetched ending for a post that was supposed to be about the Olympic games.
Friday, August 13, 2004
Ooops
Bonnie Prince Charlie didn't climb the oak tree, after all, at least not as far as we know. Wrong century. That's what comes of thinking while half asleep.
Triskadeckaphobia, anyone?
Nothing sinister so far about this Friday the 13th. But it makes for a very fun word, and it's a long word that is a bit more usable than the one about peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. (Is that even a remotely practical word, or is its sole purpose in life the brag value of being able to rattle it off glibly, like antidisestablishmentarianism?)
Last night we went to Benjamin and Amanda's for dinner. Based on our month of unlimited movie rentals, we had just checked out Daredevil, which I am very glad we didn't go out to the theaters to see when it first came out. So lame it was almost funny. Unlike The Thomas Crown Affair, which we watched night before last, a very elegant crime caper with an unfortunate ratio of fast-forward scenes. I love the elegance and intricacy of high-class society - very reminiscent of How To Steal A Million.
It rained torrentially yesterday morning. Popular wisdom holds that it was an effect of the hurricane. Thanks to Sarah for pointing out that Clyde would have been an appropriate name to match Hurricane Bonnie. Ha, ha! Actually, though, Charlie is also an apropos name for a hurricane under these circumstances, as I realised last night. I was on the brink of falling asleep when suddenly an idea struck me, and my mind leapt up, alert and ready for action. 'Michael!' I whispered. 'It just occurred to me that Charlie IS a good match for Bonnie, after all. Don't you see? It's a classic historical reference instead - Bonnie Prince Charlie! Remember? And far below the Roundhead rode, And humm'd a surly hymn.' (It should be noted that I only know this quote from reading No Entry.)
We are duly primed and ready to watch the opening ceremony of the Olympic games tonight at eight. I've been waiting for this ever since the ice skating of February 2002.
Last night we went to Benjamin and Amanda's for dinner. Based on our month of unlimited movie rentals, we had just checked out Daredevil, which I am very glad we didn't go out to the theaters to see when it first came out. So lame it was almost funny. Unlike The Thomas Crown Affair, which we watched night before last, a very elegant crime caper with an unfortunate ratio of fast-forward scenes. I love the elegance and intricacy of high-class society - very reminiscent of How To Steal A Million.
It rained torrentially yesterday morning. Popular wisdom holds that it was an effect of the hurricane. Thanks to Sarah for pointing out that Clyde would have been an appropriate name to match Hurricane Bonnie. Ha, ha! Actually, though, Charlie is also an apropos name for a hurricane under these circumstances, as I realised last night. I was on the brink of falling asleep when suddenly an idea struck me, and my mind leapt up, alert and ready for action. 'Michael!' I whispered. 'It just occurred to me that Charlie IS a good match for Bonnie, after all. Don't you see? It's a classic historical reference instead - Bonnie Prince Charlie! Remember? And far below the Roundhead rode, And humm'd a surly hymn.' (It should be noted that I only know this quote from reading No Entry.)
We are duly primed and ready to watch the opening ceremony of the Olympic games tonight at eight. I've been waiting for this ever since the ice skating of February 2002.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Laughing matter
For some reason I was remembering our Oregon trip last spring (by which I mean the spring of 2003, last year) and I could just picture one very funny episode as we drove along one day. Leah and I had flown out for Mike and Rachelle's wedding, and Jonathan and Benjamin got to come along for the ride. We were all piled into the back of Grandpa's car, and someone brought up the topic of whether we were all present and accounted for. 'We could call roll,' suggested Jonathan, and then beat us all to the punch by hollering out 'ROLL!' before any of us could. Then Benjamin chimed in, 'We could count legs and divide by two.' 'That only works as long as none of us are pirates,' I pointed out, 'and the same goes for counting by hands or eyes, too.' We all giggled hysterically at the idea of Captain Hook, Pegleg, and One-eye trying desperately to find a way to call the roll. And Captain Hook wouldn't be much help for counting up on his fingers, either. 'One, two, three, four, five...darn, I keep losing my place!' It was one of those never-to-be-forgotten and impossible-to-recapture moments, rivaling in sheer hilarity the time late one Game Night when Mr. Hall went on a rampage describing his method for dealing with fellow passengers who oozed into the neighboring seats - 'Oh, sorry - didn't mean to smack you in the eye there - it's just an uncontrollable twitch that I'm seeing my doctor about - oh, terribly sorry about that...' That night I literally laughed until my sides ached, something I had hitherto been wont to regard as a mere figure of speech.
Penny wise
Michael still laughs at how far out of my way I will go to pick up a penny. 'I will make my fortune yet!' is my triumphant cry whenever I straighten up from the pavement or landscaping, a penny to varying degrees of muddiness or greenness clasped between thumb and forefinger.
Penny-pinching isn't limited to the literal. We were at Blockbuster earlier this week on a spur-of-the-moment movie binge. We had just decided to get a movie for the evening, and determined to rent only one, at which quantity it was more efficient to run down to the local Blockbuster than to drive twelve miles to the nearest Hollywood, where prices are better. Somehow things got out of hand and we were standing in the aisle with three selections in hand, when I spotted a sign offering a promotional deal for membership: sign up for unlimited movies at $24.99/month, but the first month is only $14.99! 'At four movies,' I pointed out to Michael, 'we're already at $16.00 plus tax, so we might as well sign up. We'll come out ahead just for tonight, not counting all the movies we can watch in the next month before we cancel.' So now we're members of Blockbuster's unlimited movie rental. It's a bit like Netflix, I guess, except more convenient. Now we're going to have to watch a lot of movies, to make it worth our while. I anticipate that they'll consist of the type that we want to show each other or have been curious about but wouldn't spend the money outright to rent.
Penny-pinching isn't limited to the literal. We were at Blockbuster earlier this week on a spur-of-the-moment movie binge. We had just decided to get a movie for the evening, and determined to rent only one, at which quantity it was more efficient to run down to the local Blockbuster than to drive twelve miles to the nearest Hollywood, where prices are better. Somehow things got out of hand and we were standing in the aisle with three selections in hand, when I spotted a sign offering a promotional deal for membership: sign up for unlimited movies at $24.99/month, but the first month is only $14.99! 'At four movies,' I pointed out to Michael, 'we're already at $16.00 plus tax, so we might as well sign up. We'll come out ahead just for tonight, not counting all the movies we can watch in the next month before we cancel.' So now we're members of Blockbuster's unlimited movie rental. It's a bit like Netflix, I guess, except more convenient. Now we're going to have to watch a lot of movies, to make it worth our while. I anticipate that they'll consist of the type that we want to show each other or have been curious about but wouldn't spend the money outright to rent.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Uptown Girl
[Editor's note: This post was intended to be published yesterday. By an oversight of the editor it was saved to the draft folder instead of the live blog. So treat all the dates accordingly.]
More thoughts on that eventful evening two years ago last night.
On the way to dessert from dinner we were stopped at an intersection, and there was a whole caravan of cars in front of and behind us, all headed for the same place. Catherine, who was driving a stick shift, revved the engine loudly a few times and then explained to me, 'That will give the people in the car ahead of us something to think about.' She added, 'Ron's driving. He'll like it.' Ah. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Ron liked Catherine, and unbeknownst to Ron, Catherine liked him. I thought it was pretty cute, in retrospect.
While we were driving Catherine turned on the CD player and we listened to Uptown Girl. I had never heard it before and I loved it. It perfectly captured my mood of upbeat euphoria and boundless energy - right after a conference is always the best time to conquer the world. I mentally filed it away in my list of 'Songs to download someday and burn onto a master CD of Great Tunes.'
Last night Michael retrieved some old songs that had been on another partition of his computer for a while, and called me in at one point. 'Here, listen to this.' And proceeded to play Uptown Girl for me! The memories of that hot evening in Atlanta came flooding back to me. And I hadn't ever even told Michael about that song! I thought it was an incredible coincidence. So I told him all about it. 'Do you know when I first heard that song? It was two years ago while I was on my way to winning a game of Mafia...' That set us off in a whole train of memories and reminiscings. Ah, auld lang syne...
More thoughts on that eventful evening two years ago last night.
On the way to dessert from dinner we were stopped at an intersection, and there was a whole caravan of cars in front of and behind us, all headed for the same place. Catherine, who was driving a stick shift, revved the engine loudly a few times and then explained to me, 'That will give the people in the car ahead of us something to think about.' She added, 'Ron's driving. He'll like it.' Ah. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Ron liked Catherine, and unbeknownst to Ron, Catherine liked him. I thought it was pretty cute, in retrospect.
While we were driving Catherine turned on the CD player and we listened to Uptown Girl. I had never heard it before and I loved it. It perfectly captured my mood of upbeat euphoria and boundless energy - right after a conference is always the best time to conquer the world. I mentally filed it away in my list of 'Songs to download someday and burn onto a master CD of Great Tunes.'
Last night Michael retrieved some old songs that had been on another partition of his computer for a while, and called me in at one point. 'Here, listen to this.' And proceeded to play Uptown Girl for me! The memories of that hot evening in Atlanta came flooding back to me. And I hadn't ever even told Michael about that song! I thought it was an incredible coincidence. So I told him all about it. 'Do you know when I first heard that song? It was two years ago while I was on my way to winning a game of Mafia...' That set us off in a whole train of memories and reminiscings. Ah, auld lang syne...
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Memory Lane
Two years ago today I was in Atlanta, wrapping up the Georgia conference. I had worked it with Jenna (Pocoroba) Cobb, and we had had a great time visiting, reminiscing, talking of bygone Virginia days and marriage. After the conference Catherine Hackler picked me up to spend the rest of the weekend with her family...but first, she said, she hoped I didn't mind if we went to a progressive dinner party with her Sunday School class. Of course I didn't mind. The conference was over and I was typically high-strung with the post-conference adrenaline rush, all game for adventure.
We were late to dinner and there was a game of Psychiatrist going on. After observing for a few minutes I whispered the pattern to Ron (now Catherine's husband) and he was SO impressed that I had got them all figured out, even being new to the crowd and all. Ha. Little did he know what an old hand I was at the game, having played many a merry round at Sherri Wilson's log cabin in West Virginia that halcyon summer and fall!
From thence we progressed to dinner, and on the way Catherine confessed to me that she had her sights set on introducing me to a friend of hers, a Michael Focht. 'I don't know him that well, but I respect him alot and I think he'd be a good match for you. He was in the Marines and very handsome, but I'm so disappointed because he just cut his hair really short, and I think he looked much more handsome before...' On she went singing Michael's praises to me. I laughed at her enthusiasm. 'My dear girl, short hair or no, I have no intention of falling for someone with such a monosyllabic last name. But many thanks for your kind thoughts and all that.'
We arrived at the dessert setting and began a game of Mafia. Against all odds I drew the Mafia card and, through an intricate series of bluffs, double-crosses, and intrigues (one of my favourite dodges is to confide in whispers to the person next to me, a couple of rounds in, that I'm the sheriff, that I know that person is safe because I just checked him/her out, and that if I go down he/she must carry on and here is a list of the people I've checked so far that are safe, etc.) went on to victory! It was terribly exciting. Twice I was put on the witness stand and each time I defended myself with such artless innocence that I was acquitted...Michael tells me that although he voted to acquit me the first time, he really did suspect me and was just being nice to this new out-of-towner. Certainly he it was leading the charge against me the second time. Fun, fun, fun!
Catherine, never one to leave well enough alone, left nothing to fate in ensuring that Michael left with a favourable impression of me. As Ron described it to me later, 'Catherine is Emma Woodhouse in the flesh. I'm like, Hey, so-and-so, here's so-and-so; I think you should meet. Catherine's like, You stand here, you stand here. Now stay right there while I run get the vise.' After the game of Mafia, Catherine sidled up to Dave, who has a Jeep. 'Hey, Dave, Rose has never seen the Atlanta skyline at night! Would you like to take us out for a spin in your Jeep? How many does it seat again? Four? Hey, Michael, would you like to come along?' Curiously enough, Michael had been hanging around, and was not averse to coming along. And as we headed out to the Jeep, Catherine announced, 'Oh, I can't crawl into the back wearing this short skirt. I hope you don't mind if I take the front seat.' So we gamely clambered into the back together and spent the next hour admiring the Atlanta skyline by night, talking of books and travel and chess and ships and shoes and cabbages and kings. And it wasn't very long before he had extracted my email address.
And the rest is history.
We were late to dinner and there was a game of Psychiatrist going on. After observing for a few minutes I whispered the pattern to Ron (now Catherine's husband) and he was SO impressed that I had got them all figured out, even being new to the crowd and all. Ha. Little did he know what an old hand I was at the game, having played many a merry round at Sherri Wilson's log cabin in West Virginia that halcyon summer and fall!
From thence we progressed to dinner, and on the way Catherine confessed to me that she had her sights set on introducing me to a friend of hers, a Michael Focht. 'I don't know him that well, but I respect him alot and I think he'd be a good match for you. He was in the Marines and very handsome, but I'm so disappointed because he just cut his hair really short, and I think he looked much more handsome before...' On she went singing Michael's praises to me. I laughed at her enthusiasm. 'My dear girl, short hair or no, I have no intention of falling for someone with such a monosyllabic last name. But many thanks for your kind thoughts and all that.'
We arrived at the dessert setting and began a game of Mafia. Against all odds I drew the Mafia card and, through an intricate series of bluffs, double-crosses, and intrigues (one of my favourite dodges is to confide in whispers to the person next to me, a couple of rounds in, that I'm the sheriff, that I know that person is safe because I just checked him/her out, and that if I go down he/she must carry on and here is a list of the people I've checked so far that are safe, etc.) went on to victory! It was terribly exciting. Twice I was put on the witness stand and each time I defended myself with such artless innocence that I was acquitted...Michael tells me that although he voted to acquit me the first time, he really did suspect me and was just being nice to this new out-of-towner. Certainly he it was leading the charge against me the second time. Fun, fun, fun!
Catherine, never one to leave well enough alone, left nothing to fate in ensuring that Michael left with a favourable impression of me. As Ron described it to me later, 'Catherine is Emma Woodhouse in the flesh. I'm like, Hey, so-and-so, here's so-and-so; I think you should meet. Catherine's like, You stand here, you stand here. Now stay right there while I run get the vise.' After the game of Mafia, Catherine sidled up to Dave, who has a Jeep. 'Hey, Dave, Rose has never seen the Atlanta skyline at night! Would you like to take us out for a spin in your Jeep? How many does it seat again? Four? Hey, Michael, would you like to come along?' Curiously enough, Michael had been hanging around, and was not averse to coming along. And as we headed out to the Jeep, Catherine announced, 'Oh, I can't crawl into the back wearing this short skirt. I hope you don't mind if I take the front seat.' So we gamely clambered into the back together and spent the next hour admiring the Atlanta skyline by night, talking of books and travel and chess and ships and shoes and cabbages and kings. And it wasn't very long before he had extracted my email address.
And the rest is history.
Monday, August 09, 2004
This day in history
One year ago today I married the man of my dreams. Two years ago today we had never met.
We have now been married for more than half the time we've known each other. Actually, this happened a couple of days ago, since, as Michael pointed out, this was a Leap Year and, hence, longer.
It's very definitely been the happiest time of my life. And promises to get only better.
We have now been married for more than half the time we've known each other. Actually, this happened a couple of days ago, since, as Michael pointed out, this was a Leap Year and, hence, longer.
It's very definitely been the happiest time of my life. And promises to get only better.
Overheard at Red Lobster
Michael: I'm really looking forward to being a dad.
Me (Aww, how sweet!): Why?
Michael: I can't wait to feed our kids a slice of lemon and see their expression of stunned surprise.
Me (Aww, how sweet!): Why?
Michael: I can't wait to feed our kids a slice of lemon and see their expression of stunned surprise.
Friday, August 06, 2004
The mousetrap
Night before last I was seized with a brilliant idea while packing Michael's lunch for the next day. I took a tiny bite out of his peanut butter sandwich, thus placing a very personal touch on his lunch, stamping my seal of approval on the whole germ-sharing-now-that-we're-married concept, and giving a Mark of Ownership to the little sandwich. Ha, ha! I thought it was a very funny idea, especially as I nestled the hard boiled egg into the dip.
There were torrential storms yesterday. We actually lost internet access at work for a while in the afternoon. But it was well compensated for by cake and ice cream at three, celebrating the birthdays of four employees this week.
Ice cream always improves my mood, and I was feeling very competent by stopping at the store on the way home from work, picking up essential groceries, and even using two coupons that I'd clipped from the Sunday paper. This feeling of elation lasted through putting the spaghetti on to boil and scrubbing down the guest bathroom, until I discovered that I'd forgotten to pick up a loaf of bread and thus could not pack Michael's lunch for today. The evening was on the point of being ruined, when Michael saved the day by suggesting that we run out to the store (which really is right around the corner) together while he read to me. Currently he's reading The Bourne Identity aloud to me, which I've never seen in movie form, and which he says is very different from the book. (With all the hype surrounding the release of the second movie, I was the 22nd person on the wait list to get it!) So we are reading it together, and then we will watch the movie, probably, and then read the second one and then criticise the second movie together.
Anyway on the way home from the store we ran into traffic. There was a car turning left, and it even pulled leftwards to give us a wide berth in which to circumvent it, but the bovine Georgia drivers in front of us sat patiently waiting for it to turn because Heaven forbid they should run even so much as an inch of tire tread on the shoulder. I began narrative commentary on the situation. 'Come on, people, how hard can this be? I mean, it's not like we're navigating the Straits of Magellen here!' Michael started laughing. 'I think it's really funny that you use words like Straits of Magellen in casual conversation!' The really funny part is that I obviously didn't know how to spell it.
Later he said: Oh, by the way, I should have asked you to pick up a mousetrap while we were at the store.
Me: Oh, no! Do you think we have mice?
Michael: Yep. You'll never believe where, either.
Me: Where?
Michael: In the fridge. I found evidence of them today.
(Thoughts race madly through my head, picturing little mouse pellets strewn across the refrigerator shelves, wondering how this horror has happened, and envisioning the waste of having to throw out everything in the fridge, poison the kitchen, and hope they never come back.)
Michael: Yeah, there was a bite taken out of my sandwich today.
Me (pause; then realisation dawns): Oh, you! (Throws pillow.)
As the Apostle Paul would say, this witness is true.
There were torrential storms yesterday. We actually lost internet access at work for a while in the afternoon. But it was well compensated for by cake and ice cream at three, celebrating the birthdays of four employees this week.
Ice cream always improves my mood, and I was feeling very competent by stopping at the store on the way home from work, picking up essential groceries, and even using two coupons that I'd clipped from the Sunday paper. This feeling of elation lasted through putting the spaghetti on to boil and scrubbing down the guest bathroom, until I discovered that I'd forgotten to pick up a loaf of bread and thus could not pack Michael's lunch for today. The evening was on the point of being ruined, when Michael saved the day by suggesting that we run out to the store (which really is right around the corner) together while he read to me. Currently he's reading The Bourne Identity aloud to me, which I've never seen in movie form, and which he says is very different from the book. (With all the hype surrounding the release of the second movie, I was the 22nd person on the wait list to get it!) So we are reading it together, and then we will watch the movie, probably, and then read the second one and then criticise the second movie together.
Anyway on the way home from the store we ran into traffic. There was a car turning left, and it even pulled leftwards to give us a wide berth in which to circumvent it, but the bovine Georgia drivers in front of us sat patiently waiting for it to turn because Heaven forbid they should run even so much as an inch of tire tread on the shoulder. I began narrative commentary on the situation. 'Come on, people, how hard can this be? I mean, it's not like we're navigating the Straits of Magellen here!' Michael started laughing. 'I think it's really funny that you use words like Straits of Magellen in casual conversation!' The really funny part is that I obviously didn't know how to spell it.
Later he said: Oh, by the way, I should have asked you to pick up a mousetrap while we were at the store.
Me: Oh, no! Do you think we have mice?
Michael: Yep. You'll never believe where, either.
Me: Where?
Michael: In the fridge. I found evidence of them today.
(Thoughts race madly through my head, picturing little mouse pellets strewn across the refrigerator shelves, wondering how this horror has happened, and envisioning the waste of having to throw out everything in the fridge, poison the kitchen, and hope they never come back.)
Michael: Yeah, there was a bite taken out of my sandwich today.
Me (pause; then realisation dawns): Oh, you! (Throws pillow.)
As the Apostle Paul would say, this witness is true.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Tact v. Truth
Tact v. Truth requires such a delicate balance. Last night in our Bible study, an in-depth look at the life of David, we were talking about the spirit of jealousy. I pointed out that while it was wrong of Saul to react wrongly to the accolades of the people with an improper spirit of jealousy, it was also probably not the wisest thing for the women to be saying things like 'Saul has slain his thousands and David his ten thousands' right in front of the king. 'Yes,' chimed in Marcela, 'They should have thought: Saul has slain his thousands - might be a thousand and one if I don't shut up.'
Monday, August 02, 2004
Another highlight of the weekend was playing the poem game one evening between rounds of Clue. Michael, poor soul, had never played before. Jonathan, deluded soul, insisted that it was boring and kept threatening to drop out. David, poor child, kept insisting that he couldn't think of anything to write. But it was fun. We came up with some real masterpieces, along the lines of:
Old King Cole was a merry old sole
He was round and bright, as I've been tole
I wonder why Old King Cole was a fish?
He should eat, not be, a tasty dish.
Or this:
O'er the misty mountains cold
There rode an errant knight, and bold
His shield was made of lemonade
Which, alas, did melt and fade
In the bright rays of the sun
At least he had his trusty gun
To shoot the pesky critters down
Which falsely wore a wedding gown.
Or this:
Once upon a midnight dreary
At the bar sat Tim O'Leary
With great sorrow on his shoulders
Lacking brown manila folders
How was he to keep his files?
All his papers sat in piles
On his hardwood office floor
They'll be sorted nevermore.
Hilarity at its finest.
Old King Cole was a merry old sole
He was round and bright, as I've been tole
I wonder why Old King Cole was a fish?
He should eat, not be, a tasty dish.
Or this:
O'er the misty mountains cold
There rode an errant knight, and bold
His shield was made of lemonade
Which, alas, did melt and fade
In the bright rays of the sun
At least he had his trusty gun
To shoot the pesky critters down
Which falsely wore a wedding gown.
Or this:
Once upon a midnight dreary
At the bar sat Tim O'Leary
With great sorrow on his shoulders
Lacking brown manila folders
How was he to keep his files?
All his papers sat in piles
On his hardwood office floor
They'll be sorted nevermore.
Hilarity at its finest.
Well, why should I want to be bad at the zoo?
From 'The Good Girl,' by A.A. Milne.
'...I go to a party, I go out to tea
I go to an aunt's for a week at the sea
I go to the zoo, and it's always the same:
Wherever I go, they will say to me: Jane,
Have you been a good girl, Jane?
Well, what did they think that I went there to do?
And why should I want to be bad at the zoo?
And should I be likely to say if I had?...'
Went to the zoo last night with Benjamin and Amanda and Todd and Marcela. Marcela's company had a special pass, so off we went. It wasn't the biggest or cleanest zoo I've ever seen, but it was fun to go off and do something unexpected with friends.
Michael (coming out of the reptile house): Marcela, did you see the snake in there that lives in Costa Rica?
Benjamin: What, do they just commute?
'...I go to a party, I go out to tea
I go to an aunt's for a week at the sea
I go to the zoo, and it's always the same:
Wherever I go, they will say to me: Jane,
Have you been a good girl, Jane?
Well, what did they think that I went there to do?
And why should I want to be bad at the zoo?
And should I be likely to say if I had?...'
Went to the zoo last night with Benjamin and Amanda and Todd and Marcela. Marcela's company had a special pass, so off we went. It wasn't the biggest or cleanest zoo I've ever seen, but it was fun to go off and do something unexpected with friends.
Michael (coming out of the reptile house): Marcela, did you see the snake in there that lives in Costa Rica?
Benjamin: What, do they just commute?
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Is Saul also among the prophets?
So it became a proverb, rather like the one coined on the spot by Bilbo: Never laugh at live dragons. It's so interesting to read about the origins of aphorisms! So we're reading aloud through the Old Testament together every night, and last night we were reading 1st Samuel, I forget which chapter, about the anointing of Saul. Samuel (to Saul): 'Go up to this mountain, where you will meet a man carrying three kids...' Michael: 'Hmm, must've been a homeschool dad.'
We are glad to report that the travelers made it to our house safely last night, and way ahead of schedule. We made popcorn and lost Clue to Michael.
We are glad to report that the travelers made it to our house safely last night, and way ahead of schedule. We made popcorn and lost Clue to Michael.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
For a time, and times, and half a time
Michael and I have been reading through the New Testament together (we're reading the same chapters each day but on our own) and we are now in the middle of that most fascinating and inscrutable book, Revelation. Yesterday I noticed that in the list of those sealed from each tribe, Dan is conspicuously absent. Hmmm. I wonder why this is. It took me a little while to puzzle it out: seeing both Joseph and Manasses listed clued me in that something was different, but I had to turn back to Genesis and read the genealogy to figure it out. And what on earth did the voice speaking as seven thunders say? Apparently John heard it clearly enough and understood it, and then the angel went and told him not to write it down! Very curious.
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