Michael is an Organised List Person. He writes lists to help himself concentrate, to help remember things, to keep things straight, to make sure he’s not leaving anything out. Consequently his life is very organised and he rarely forgets things.
When he was about nine, he wanted to read several series of his favourite books at once. But he wanted to make sure that he did it decently and in good order. So he typed up a list dividing all the reading up into appropriate segments, in methodical sequence. He still has the list, and showed it to me once after we were married. It is about four pages long, and is a masterful integration of The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, the Wizard of Oz books, and the Sugar Creek Gang series. There are about two hundred line items, beginning with The Silmarillion pp. 1-(I forget, but it was the logical dividing line in the story), then going to the first Sugar Creek Gang book, next taking so many chapters of The Magician’s Nephew, then The Wizard of Oz, etc. He even stopped short a few pages shy of the end of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and put The Horse and His Boy next on the list in the next Narnia slot, because, chronologically, that is how it happened.
I am a Random List Person. I will notice something, and later, I will notice something similar, and think, ‘I detect a pattern here – how many more instances of x can I find?’ Sometimes I’ll actually write them down, but more often I’ll think of two or three, decide I have a pattern, intend to write it down, and forget about it until I notice another instance of the same phenomenon. Then I’ll think, ‘Wow, yet another instance of x! Wait – what were the first two?’
My lists are rarely useful lists, like shopping lists or to-do lists. Instead they are interesting lists. My most comprehensive list (so thorough only because I started writing it down, several years ago) has about ten items on it and is unofficially titled ‘Inevitable Adjective/Noun Combinations.’ I haven’t been able to find the list for quite some time, but right off the top of my head, I can remember that it included:
Impenetrable fog
Sickening thud
Wry chagrin
Frightful rate
Recently it occurred to me to collect Clever Sayings Whereby You Use The Wrong Word For Comic Effect, as in:
You poor depraved child
I resemble that remark very strongly
The meal was expansive (that is not my southern accent attempting to describe the price)
Then I also like to find Consonant Sequences That Make Words No Matter What Vowel You Put In, as in:
Bg (bag, beg, big, bog, bug)
Mss (mass, mess, miss, moss, muss)
Lst (last, lest, list, lost, lust)
I thought of the beginnings of another List a couple of days ago, only I can't remember the category anymore. What a pity. It was a very interesting phenomenon and I wanted to discover more. As soon as I think of it, I will write it down, lest it be lost like the last list.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Lunacy
It was cloudy last night, and thus I missed the total lunar eclipse. This is cruelly ironic because, since we were driving back from Bible study, I was actually awake at the time. Last lunar eclipse, it was cloudy in Virginia, where I was at the time. Michael, in Georgia, got to see it fine. He described it to me over the phone. I hear my family back in Virginia got a fine view last night. Just have to be in the right place at the right time, I guess.
Do you know how you can tell whether the moon is waxing or waning? I have a very fun mnemonic for the purpose. It's so handy to be able to rattle off glibly, 'Waxing gibbous,' or 'Waning crescent,' or 'Waxing first quarter.'
Do you know how you can tell whether the moon is waxing or waning? I have a very fun mnemonic for the purpose. It's so handy to be able to rattle off glibly, 'Waxing gibbous,' or 'Waning crescent,' or 'Waxing first quarter.'
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
All Hallow’s Eve
Ghosts and witches clutter the landscape, and I am confronted once again with the dilemma of What To Think about Halloween. Only this year, for about the first time, there is no easy cop-out.
We never celebrated Halloween when I was growing up, and the extent of the holiday consisted of all the post-Halloween candy we got on sale. I learned at an early age about the pagan origins of the date, and always accepted the fact that, because of its religious significance and strong association with satanic rituals, it was not an appropriate holiday for Christians to celebrate. Sometimes we’d participate in church-sponsored ‘harvest parties,’ but only if they were careful not to label themselves ‘Halloween alternatives’ and didn’t involve dressing up, because offering a mere alternative to evil was a form of imitation and showed a spirit of discontentment with not following the crowd. I was taught that it was a form of hypocrisy (straining at a gnat) to draw such fine lines as dressing up as long as you’re careful not to dress up as anything wicked (ghost, goblin, etc.) – after all, the whole point of dressing up was in remembrance of the disguises donned by druids.
I never regretted missing the whole trick-or-treat experience, and I never felt deprived or left out because everyone else got candy. So what? I got tons more candy the day after, and it was all good stuff, because my mom would buy it for us all!
There were glitches in the system, of course. I remember once, when I was probably six or seven, being asked by a friendly man in the elevator whether I was ready for the Great Jack-O-Lantern to come down that night and bring me candy, and replying very seriously that we didn’t believe in jack-o-lanterns. Hence a talk on the need for discretion and tact on the topic of Halloween, as on all other topics, and an admonition that it was not necessary to make other people feel bad about celebrating Halloween, especially since so many Christians did, as well.
Now we’re confronting the question of whether we’ll let our kids celebrate Halloween or not. I hadn’t ever given this issue much thought, since I’ve decided that, regardless of the validity of my parents’ concerns, it was certainly no hardship on me to miss out. I’ve tended to regard this as a kind of meat-offered-to-idols issue: it may not be actually wrong, but it certainly offends many people, and it doesn’t hurt to abstain.
However. Michael has very happy memories of going trick-or-treating as a kid, and remembers with fondness the whole excitement of dressing up, prospecting for candy, and sorting out the good stuff from the mediocre stuff. He went into raptures reminiscing about the whole experiences – ‘And there were always those little old ladies who’d make popcorn bars, and of course the neighborhood dentist would pass out toothbrushes instead of candy, and sometimes you’d score big and get a whole candy bar…’ He never picked up on any heathen overtones while trick-or-treating. Besides, he pointed out, Easter was originally a pagan holiday – yet I have no qualms about celebrating that. Christmas in December was originally a pagan holiday – yet we celebrate that. I countered by pointing out that these both were adopted by Christians for specific Christian events, and were thus completely transformed – we have nothing to celebrate about Halloween, and any attempt to ‘claim’ it now would just come across as a weak attempt to offer some lame alternative. Anyway, I told him, do we really want to teach our kids to panhandle candy from innocent homeowners? What kind of values system is that??
Regardless of the pagan origins of the day, it arguably has no religious significance now. I grant that. No one thinks of Satan worship when they send their little kiddies into the world to accumulate candy. So what should our attitude toward it be? I just don’t know. I haven’t done enough research into the pagan history of the day to know to what extent paganism permeates the holiday, and I don’t have enough information to decide how much that should affect our response to it anyway. And the next Halloween is staring me in the face, and I have no intention of going out and wasting money on candy just to hand it out to greedy little tykes who will promptly get cavities from it.
So, my friends, I pose the question to you. Did you grow up trick-or-treating? And do you plan to let your kids do it? Why or why not?
We never celebrated Halloween when I was growing up, and the extent of the holiday consisted of all the post-Halloween candy we got on sale. I learned at an early age about the pagan origins of the date, and always accepted the fact that, because of its religious significance and strong association with satanic rituals, it was not an appropriate holiday for Christians to celebrate. Sometimes we’d participate in church-sponsored ‘harvest parties,’ but only if they were careful not to label themselves ‘Halloween alternatives’ and didn’t involve dressing up, because offering a mere alternative to evil was a form of imitation and showed a spirit of discontentment with not following the crowd. I was taught that it was a form of hypocrisy (straining at a gnat) to draw such fine lines as dressing up as long as you’re careful not to dress up as anything wicked (ghost, goblin, etc.) – after all, the whole point of dressing up was in remembrance of the disguises donned by druids.
I never regretted missing the whole trick-or-treat experience, and I never felt deprived or left out because everyone else got candy. So what? I got tons more candy the day after, and it was all good stuff, because my mom would buy it for us all!
There were glitches in the system, of course. I remember once, when I was probably six or seven, being asked by a friendly man in the elevator whether I was ready for the Great Jack-O-Lantern to come down that night and bring me candy, and replying very seriously that we didn’t believe in jack-o-lanterns. Hence a talk on the need for discretion and tact on the topic of Halloween, as on all other topics, and an admonition that it was not necessary to make other people feel bad about celebrating Halloween, especially since so many Christians did, as well.
Now we’re confronting the question of whether we’ll let our kids celebrate Halloween or not. I hadn’t ever given this issue much thought, since I’ve decided that, regardless of the validity of my parents’ concerns, it was certainly no hardship on me to miss out. I’ve tended to regard this as a kind of meat-offered-to-idols issue: it may not be actually wrong, but it certainly offends many people, and it doesn’t hurt to abstain.
However. Michael has very happy memories of going trick-or-treating as a kid, and remembers with fondness the whole excitement of dressing up, prospecting for candy, and sorting out the good stuff from the mediocre stuff. He went into raptures reminiscing about the whole experiences – ‘And there were always those little old ladies who’d make popcorn bars, and of course the neighborhood dentist would pass out toothbrushes instead of candy, and sometimes you’d score big and get a whole candy bar…’ He never picked up on any heathen overtones while trick-or-treating. Besides, he pointed out, Easter was originally a pagan holiday – yet I have no qualms about celebrating that. Christmas in December was originally a pagan holiday – yet we celebrate that. I countered by pointing out that these both were adopted by Christians for specific Christian events, and were thus completely transformed – we have nothing to celebrate about Halloween, and any attempt to ‘claim’ it now would just come across as a weak attempt to offer some lame alternative. Anyway, I told him, do we really want to teach our kids to panhandle candy from innocent homeowners? What kind of values system is that??
Regardless of the pagan origins of the day, it arguably has no religious significance now. I grant that. No one thinks of Satan worship when they send their little kiddies into the world to accumulate candy. So what should our attitude toward it be? I just don’t know. I haven’t done enough research into the pagan history of the day to know to what extent paganism permeates the holiday, and I don’t have enough information to decide how much that should affect our response to it anyway. And the next Halloween is staring me in the face, and I have no intention of going out and wasting money on candy just to hand it out to greedy little tykes who will promptly get cavities from it.
So, my friends, I pose the question to you. Did you grow up trick-or-treating? And do you plan to let your kids do it? Why or why not?
Cheers to the new cooking blog!
Check it out at www.letsdolunch.blogspot.com
Recently my car turned over 69,000 miles. 'Great news!' I told Michael that evening, by way of announcing the need for the next oil change. 'I still have more money than miles on my car...in pennies, at least.'
Recently my car turned over 69,000 miles. 'Great news!' I told Michael that evening, by way of announcing the need for the next oil change. 'I still have more money than miles on my car...in pennies, at least.'
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Halfy birthday to me
I forgot to notice that yesterday was my half-birthday. Funny, I never used to miss these milestones when I was younger.
Oh, I also forgot to give a movie review of Spiderman 2. Here it is. The best parts of the whole movie were the excerpts from The Importance of Being Earnest. The irony of the whole thing is that by repeatedly muffing her lines on-stage, Kirsten Dunst proves once again that she can't act, just look pretty. Lamest line of the whole movie - kid on the train: 'We won't tell nobody.'
Less than a month to Thanksgiving. Less than two months to Christmas. And we have yet to purchase plane tickets for either holiday. Yikes. We're not actually panicking yet re: the Christmas trip, but we're getting very nervous about Thanksgiving.
Oh, I also forgot to give a movie review of Spiderman 2. Here it is. The best parts of the whole movie were the excerpts from The Importance of Being Earnest. The irony of the whole thing is that by repeatedly muffing her lines on-stage, Kirsten Dunst proves once again that she can't act, just look pretty. Lamest line of the whole movie - kid on the train: 'We won't tell nobody.'
Less than a month to Thanksgiving. Less than two months to Christmas. And we have yet to purchase plane tickets for either holiday. Yikes. We're not actually panicking yet re: the Christmas trip, but we're getting very nervous about Thanksgiving.
Monday, October 25, 2004
Nietzsche is dead
But he said some very profound things, most of which I disagree with but which sound very grand, like 'Equality is the means by which the masses crush human greatness.' I need a similarly grand quote about pregnancy, about how it crushes the human greatness, at least in the area of stamina and appetite.
In an effort to make up some time I'll be taking off over Thanksgiving and Christmas (Colonial Lighting is a great place to work in terms of work environment, colleagues, and so on, but no place in the world has HSLDA's benefits), I came in this Saturday for a half-day of work. And the work I do is not hard work, right? It's pretty easy to sit in a chair in front of a computer for four hours. But it absolutely exhausted me! Getting up 'early' instead of sleeping in wiped me out for the weekend. Upon coming home I staggered off to the cheap theater with Michael to watch The Village, only by the time Baby decided where we wanted to stop for lunch, we had missed the beginning, and you just can't go to a creepy movie like that without seeing the first five minutes, so we ended up going to Spiderman 2 instead. (You may notice that these movies came out quite some time ago. That is how we get to watch them for $0.99 each. At two admissions, that's even cheaper than renting.) After that was done we were just ten minutes too late for the next showing of The Village, so I still don't know what happens. Ah, well, next week. But on the over-achievement front, I decided to throw in the towel. My former self would have risen to the occasion gladly, but my current self simply can't keep up the pace - so no more working on Saturdays. I came home from the movie and slept for the rest of the day. The only good thing about going in to work was that I Told people at work, and that was a great success. Everyone was excited and congratulatory, and it was surprisingly affirming and complimentary to be told repeatedly that they never would have guessed. (Perhaps the Baby Bulge is more noticeable to me than to the rest of the world.)
Yesterday was more satisfying, although no more soporific. We invited Mitch and Amy over for dinner, a couple in our young marrieds class that we're on smiling acquaintance with but whose friendship we've decided we really ought to cultivate. They live practically across the street from us (next subdivision down) and have a 19-month old baby, and just found out they're expecting their second. So definitely a step out of our current young-married-without-kids demographic that most of our friends down here fit into. For the last several weeks we've decided that we need to get to know them better, but I've been too tired to really plan any hospitable overtures. So we decided on the spontaneous and impulsive: in Sunday School we just asked them if they'd like to come over for dinner. And really, it was fun! They're delightful people, as we suspected, and we had a great time talking about backgrounds, how we met, church, kids, and homeschooling (which they're planning on). They lived in Oregon for five years and knew all about Tillamook Brown Cow ice cream. Amy and I were able to commiserate over not being able to eat a delicious dessert, much as we wanted to. And we agreed to come over to their place for dinner soon, so they could put Alex to bed early and play board games with us.
But oh, I'm tired today. And have no ambitions for the rest of the week, except to sleep in next Saturday.
In an effort to make up some time I'll be taking off over Thanksgiving and Christmas (Colonial Lighting is a great place to work in terms of work environment, colleagues, and so on, but no place in the world has HSLDA's benefits), I came in this Saturday for a half-day of work. And the work I do is not hard work, right? It's pretty easy to sit in a chair in front of a computer for four hours. But it absolutely exhausted me! Getting up 'early' instead of sleeping in wiped me out for the weekend. Upon coming home I staggered off to the cheap theater with Michael to watch The Village, only by the time Baby decided where we wanted to stop for lunch, we had missed the beginning, and you just can't go to a creepy movie like that without seeing the first five minutes, so we ended up going to Spiderman 2 instead. (You may notice that these movies came out quite some time ago. That is how we get to watch them for $0.99 each. At two admissions, that's even cheaper than renting.) After that was done we were just ten minutes too late for the next showing of The Village, so I still don't know what happens. Ah, well, next week. But on the over-achievement front, I decided to throw in the towel. My former self would have risen to the occasion gladly, but my current self simply can't keep up the pace - so no more working on Saturdays. I came home from the movie and slept for the rest of the day. The only good thing about going in to work was that I Told people at work, and that was a great success. Everyone was excited and congratulatory, and it was surprisingly affirming and complimentary to be told repeatedly that they never would have guessed. (Perhaps the Baby Bulge is more noticeable to me than to the rest of the world.)
Yesterday was more satisfying, although no more soporific. We invited Mitch and Amy over for dinner, a couple in our young marrieds class that we're on smiling acquaintance with but whose friendship we've decided we really ought to cultivate. They live practically across the street from us (next subdivision down) and have a 19-month old baby, and just found out they're expecting their second. So definitely a step out of our current young-married-without-kids demographic that most of our friends down here fit into. For the last several weeks we've decided that we need to get to know them better, but I've been too tired to really plan any hospitable overtures. So we decided on the spontaneous and impulsive: in Sunday School we just asked them if they'd like to come over for dinner. And really, it was fun! They're delightful people, as we suspected, and we had a great time talking about backgrounds, how we met, church, kids, and homeschooling (which they're planning on). They lived in Oregon for five years and knew all about Tillamook Brown Cow ice cream. Amy and I were able to commiserate over not being able to eat a delicious dessert, much as we wanted to. And we agreed to come over to their place for dinner soon, so they could put Alex to bed early and play board games with us.
But oh, I'm tired today. And have no ambitions for the rest of the week, except to sleep in next Saturday.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Some manner of comedy
Kate & Leopold has been out long enough that probably everyone who wants to see it has seen it already. Just in case, the following commentary may give away the plot, if you couldn’t guess it already from the previews. Last night it was playing on TV, and since I’d had a mild desire to see it ever since it came out, we stayed up and watched it. Well, it was free, anyway.
Perhaps the best thing I can say about the movie was that it fell far short. It began with bright hopes, and I enjoyed the period costumes and witty repartee (‘You light up a room simply by leaving it’) as well as the promise of a clever plot twist involving the time travel paradox. There was real potential for a resounding moral about the need for true gentlemen to defend the honour of all ladies, distressed damsels or not, innocent or otherwise, against the machinations of unscrupulous villains. But in the end, this positive message was lost in the fray and the moral degenerated into your typical follow-your-heart romantic comedy theme. I did enjoy observing how a gentleman simply behaving like a gentleman tends to show up the shallow shortcomings of your typical modern male, and how the little matters of common courtesy which Leopold took for granted – speaking respectfully, standing when a lady left the table – made such an impression on women. This theme – women like to be treated like ladies and generally prefer to be courted and wooed rather than taken for granted – could have been explored a bit more.
Ah, well. It was ‘pleasant piffle,’ and I liked Meg Ryan’s wardrobe of spiffy suits, even if Michael thought her hair untidy and messy. ‘Well, it’s supposed to be tousled and adorable,’ I told him. ‘Adorable only if you like the Raggedy Ann look,’ was his reply.
Perhaps the best thing I can say about the movie was that it fell far short. It began with bright hopes, and I enjoyed the period costumes and witty repartee (‘You light up a room simply by leaving it’) as well as the promise of a clever plot twist involving the time travel paradox. There was real potential for a resounding moral about the need for true gentlemen to defend the honour of all ladies, distressed damsels or not, innocent or otherwise, against the machinations of unscrupulous villains. But in the end, this positive message was lost in the fray and the moral degenerated into your typical follow-your-heart romantic comedy theme. I did enjoy observing how a gentleman simply behaving like a gentleman tends to show up the shallow shortcomings of your typical modern male, and how the little matters of common courtesy which Leopold took for granted – speaking respectfully, standing when a lady left the table – made such an impression on women. This theme – women like to be treated like ladies and generally prefer to be courted and wooed rather than taken for granted – could have been explored a bit more.
Ah, well. It was ‘pleasant piffle,’ and I liked Meg Ryan’s wardrobe of spiffy suits, even if Michael thought her hair untidy and messy. ‘Well, it’s supposed to be tousled and adorable,’ I told him. ‘Adorable only if you like the Raggedy Ann look,’ was his reply.
Friday, October 22, 2004
You can say that again
Yet another wonderful thing about marriage is the mutual immunity and confidentiality clause. So I term the 1 Corinthians 13 method of 'bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things.' In other words, it's our sworn duty to think the best of each other and take everything the other says in the best possible light. So we can get away with saying so much more to each other than we would ever consider with the rest of the world.
Last night we were discussing something and the matter of a mutual acquaintance came up. Michael said, 'Well, I don't know what she thinks about that topic because I've never had a really serious conversation with her.' 'Has anyone?' I said, and then clapped my hand over my mouth to indicate that I couldn't be-LIEVE I had said it and had no malicious intent whatsoever. It was just begging to be said.
Last night we were discussing something and the matter of a mutual acquaintance came up. Michael said, 'Well, I don't know what she thinks about that topic because I've never had a really serious conversation with her.' 'Has anyone?' I said, and then clapped my hand over my mouth to indicate that I couldn't be-LIEVE I had said it and had no malicious intent whatsoever. It was just begging to be said.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Sox on Fox
I went to sleep last night after the first inning. (We ate supper in front of the TV while we watched the first game, the Astros v. the Cardinals, and Michael was actually cheering the Astros, even though they beat the Braves not one month ago.) But there seemed no point to staying up for the second game. I even told Michael, ‘You KNOW the Yankees are going to win! They ALWAYS win! And why is it always the Yankees v. the Red Sox? Why don’t they ever play any other teams besides each other?’ ‘Of course they play other teams, silly!’ Michael laughed, and proceeded to list several ‘famous’ games wherein they faced other opponents besides each other. But aside from last year’s World series (Yankees v. Marlins), which I actually watched on TV, I had never heard of any such matches. With no roots in either state, I had no personal interest in which team won, although I had sympathy for the Red Sox, but I figured it was a foregone conclusion. I was therefore very much surprised to find out, post hoc, that the Red Sox had pulled it off after all. Although this is apparently not such an earth-shattering thing as I thought it was last night, when I assumed that all the ‘1918’ signs meant that the Sox had not been to a World Series since that time, when in fact it was the last time they won.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
More about that wonderful weekend…
Saturday was such a perfect day that I just can’t stop talking about it. So, to resume the narrative…
After a perfect morning of bargains (2-for-1 lipstick and a free haircut) we had lunch at Atlanta Bread Company, where I used a coupon for a free bowl of soup with sandwich. I had never eaten there before, and their sandwiches were delicious! Plus it was sunny out, and I couldn’t help tossing my newly-short hair over my shoulders. Then we went shopping for maternity clothes, and that was a real eye-opener. It was just a scoping trip – we didn’t actually buy anything, but we got a lot of ideas, which to my mind made it a success. (Michael expressed amazement at this. ‘How can you be happy? We set out to buy maternity clothes; we came back without any; ergo, we failed.’) It was incredible to pick out a few really cute-looking outfits and try them on. In the dressing rooms, they had those little six-month pillows, and trying that on with the clothes was astounding, to say the least. (I heartily recommend this to all my married friends who are not expecting yet. This is a very poignant and surprising exercise to bring home, as nothing else can, the reality of what to expect.) Just as seeing the little fuzzy sonogram of our baby brought home the reality of this adventure like nothing else, so putting an actual picture of what I’m going to look like 5-6 months hence opened our eyes anew to the seriousness of this and, oh, I don’t know – as Bertie says, just plain thing-ness.
While we were walking through the mall we passed a confectionary and watched with interest the confectioner pour out scoops of praline onto a solid slab of marble. It looked delicious and terribly expensive. A few steps further brought us to the other side of the store, where there were free samples of that very confection. Delectable! It was your basic penuche candy (brown sugar and butter simmered together to soft-ball stage, cooled and infused with powdered sugar) with pecans in it, and simply marvelous. The samples were terribly generous, too – more than just tantalising-size. How could the day get any better? Yet it did.
We dashed home, wrapped our gift, and went down to Ken and Anne’s wedding. All our friends were there. Everyone noticed my haircut. Michael pretended to be miffed at first that no one commented on his. (I cut his very short that morning.) He even predicted on the way down: ‘You just watch. Amanda is going to come up to you, put her hand on your shoulder, and exclaim, “Oh, Rose, it looks so cute!” But is Benjamin going to do the same for me? Nooo.’ When Laura commented that she is going to donate her hair to Locks of Love, too, as soon as it is long enough, Michael put in, ‘Yes, I offered mine, but apparently they mean each hair has to be 10 inches long. Come on! I mean, if you lay it end to end…’
The ceremony was simple and unorthodox (the groomsmen came out from behind a black curtain wearing sunglasses while rock music played; Ken’s alma mater song ‘The Victors’ played for the recessional; and there was no live music: DJ Ron Garner played all songs off his laptop) and the food was prompt and delicious. While we guests filed out to the receiving line, the rest of the wedding party (sans bride and groom) quickly rearranged the chairs and pulled out the tables. The lights in the hall dimmed, and we danced the night away amidst white Christmas lights and flickering candles. It was fabulous beyond words.
After a perfect morning of bargains (2-for-1 lipstick and a free haircut) we had lunch at Atlanta Bread Company, where I used a coupon for a free bowl of soup with sandwich. I had never eaten there before, and their sandwiches were delicious! Plus it was sunny out, and I couldn’t help tossing my newly-short hair over my shoulders. Then we went shopping for maternity clothes, and that was a real eye-opener. It was just a scoping trip – we didn’t actually buy anything, but we got a lot of ideas, which to my mind made it a success. (Michael expressed amazement at this. ‘How can you be happy? We set out to buy maternity clothes; we came back without any; ergo, we failed.’) It was incredible to pick out a few really cute-looking outfits and try them on. In the dressing rooms, they had those little six-month pillows, and trying that on with the clothes was astounding, to say the least. (I heartily recommend this to all my married friends who are not expecting yet. This is a very poignant and surprising exercise to bring home, as nothing else can, the reality of what to expect.) Just as seeing the little fuzzy sonogram of our baby brought home the reality of this adventure like nothing else, so putting an actual picture of what I’m going to look like 5-6 months hence opened our eyes anew to the seriousness of this and, oh, I don’t know – as Bertie says, just plain thing-ness.
While we were walking through the mall we passed a confectionary and watched with interest the confectioner pour out scoops of praline onto a solid slab of marble. It looked delicious and terribly expensive. A few steps further brought us to the other side of the store, where there were free samples of that very confection. Delectable! It was your basic penuche candy (brown sugar and butter simmered together to soft-ball stage, cooled and infused with powdered sugar) with pecans in it, and simply marvelous. The samples were terribly generous, too – more than just tantalising-size. How could the day get any better? Yet it did.
We dashed home, wrapped our gift, and went down to Ken and Anne’s wedding. All our friends were there. Everyone noticed my haircut. Michael pretended to be miffed at first that no one commented on his. (I cut his very short that morning.) He even predicted on the way down: ‘You just watch. Amanda is going to come up to you, put her hand on your shoulder, and exclaim, “Oh, Rose, it looks so cute!” But is Benjamin going to do the same for me? Nooo.’ When Laura commented that she is going to donate her hair to Locks of Love, too, as soon as it is long enough, Michael put in, ‘Yes, I offered mine, but apparently they mean each hair has to be 10 inches long. Come on! I mean, if you lay it end to end…’
The ceremony was simple and unorthodox (the groomsmen came out from behind a black curtain wearing sunglasses while rock music played; Ken’s alma mater song ‘The Victors’ played for the recessional; and there was no live music: DJ Ron Garner played all songs off his laptop) and the food was prompt and delicious. While we guests filed out to the receiving line, the rest of the wedding party (sans bride and groom) quickly rearranged the chairs and pulled out the tables. The lights in the hall dimmed, and we danced the night away amidst white Christmas lights and flickering candles. It was fabulous beyond words.
Haircuts and history
The last time I chopped off my hair so dramatically was just over two years ago, in the fall of 2002. It had gotten to my waist, and Catherine even complimented me on it when I picked her up at the airport for Nathan and Sarah's wedding. We stayed up far into the night, discussing such things as the advantages of having makeup tattooed on (wouldn't it save SO much time in the mornings if you didn't have to apply eye-shadow?). Catherine returned to Georgia and I went on to England, returning just in time for Kevin and Amy's wedding. The night before, I went over to the Bloom's and Kerin cut my hair - and did a fabulous job, I might add.
Meanwhile. Back in Georgia, Catherine was over at Ron's apartment one day. Ron and Catherine were 'almost' dating, and Michael was moving in with Ron. Catherine turned to Michael and said, conversationally, 'So what are you looking for in a woman, Michael?' Michael's red flags went up, and, suspicious of Catherine's reputation as a killer match-maker, replied vaguely that his ideal woman would be 'godly, intelligent, and someone whom he at least found attractive.' Eventually she did elicit from him that he liked long hair, and proceeded to tell him all about this Virginia friend of hers, who had very long hair.
Then I showed up at the Georgia conference with my new look. Catherine confesses to a feeling of despair upon seeing me, but apparently she stopped short of calling up Michael and telling him not to bother to come to the Sunday school social, after all. And somehow Michael was sufficiently undeterred by first impressions to ask for my email address anyway. All's well that ends well.
Meanwhile. Back in Georgia, Catherine was over at Ron's apartment one day. Ron and Catherine were 'almost' dating, and Michael was moving in with Ron. Catherine turned to Michael and said, conversationally, 'So what are you looking for in a woman, Michael?' Michael's red flags went up, and, suspicious of Catherine's reputation as a killer match-maker, replied vaguely that his ideal woman would be 'godly, intelligent, and someone whom he at least found attractive.' Eventually she did elicit from him that he liked long hair, and proceeded to tell him all about this Virginia friend of hers, who had very long hair.
Then I showed up at the Georgia conference with my new look. Catherine confesses to a feeling of despair upon seeing me, but apparently she stopped short of calling up Michael and telling him not to bother to come to the Sunday school social, after all. And somehow Michael was sufficiently undeterred by first impressions to ask for my email address anyway. All's well that ends well.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Rainy day
As Innigo said, 'Let me explain...No, there is no time. Let me summarise.' Our internet was down at work all day yesterday, thus curing me from my obsessive checking of email and blogs all day. On the plus side, I got numerous compliments on my new haircut. The funny thing was that I was asked at least five times, 'How does your husband like it?' or 'What does your husband think?' As I told Michael on the way home, 'You'd almost think it was universally recognised as a generally accepted principle that men preferred longer hair!' Michael has been very sweet and complimentary about it, which is comforting, as I would never have done it without his blessing. But it is SO nice to take care of! I love a new haircut. Nothing like a new look to brighten my mood.
Saturday was a fabulous day. It was sunny, which was auspicious to begin with, and there was the free haircut, of course. While in the salon I spotted my favourite lipstick, which I haven't been able to find for months, which I had finally given up on as being discontinued by the manufacturer. Of course I seized two, and discovered at the register that there was a buy-one-get-one-free sale going on. The day got better and better. I even picked up a penny in the parking lot.
But the time would fail me to tell the tale of the rest of the weekend. Suffice it to say that yesterday, on my way in to work, I ran through a descending barrier at a railroad crossing. That was exciting.
Today is rainy. Want to be at home curled up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate too. =)
Saturday was a fabulous day. It was sunny, which was auspicious to begin with, and there was the free haircut, of course. While in the salon I spotted my favourite lipstick, which I haven't been able to find for months, which I had finally given up on as being discontinued by the manufacturer. Of course I seized two, and discovered at the register that there was a buy-one-get-one-free sale going on. The day got better and better. I even picked up a penny in the parking lot.
But the time would fail me to tell the tale of the rest of the weekend. Suffice it to say that yesterday, on my way in to work, I ran through a descending barrier at a railroad crossing. That was exciting.
Today is rainy. Want to be at home curled up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate too. =)
Friday, October 15, 2004
Bargains
I love bargains. I routinely pick up pennies in the parking lot and was delighted, this past week, to buy lots of milk at half price because the expiration date was looming. Our milk consumption has gone up drastically of late, so I knew we could drink a whole gallon in two days anyway.
Last night I was too uninspired to cook. Literally, I could think of nothing to make. I even opened the freezer. 'Ground beef? I can't think of anything to make with that. Never mind, it's not thawed anyway.' So Michael came to my rescue and suggested that we go out to eat. Naturally this led to the question of where. What sounded good to Baby? Michael started listing off options. 'Wait, wait!' I exclaimed, and ran to the recycle bin to look at last Sunday's paper (which gets delivered to our driveway despite the fact that we don't pay for it). 'Let me see whether we have a coupon for anything.' Sure enough, there was a coupon for Applebee's, so Applebee's it was.
I've been intending to get a haircut this weekend, and happened to ask a friend about donating my hair (which I've done the last few times I've gotten it drastically chopped). She sent me the link for Locks of Love, a non-profit organisation that makes wigs for cancer victims from donated hair. I read the site and could barely contain my excitement when I discovered that participating salons offer free haircuts for those donating their hair to Locks of Love. And there's one very near home! I am so excited. I had a coupon to get it done for $10, but free is even better.
Last night I was too uninspired to cook. Literally, I could think of nothing to make. I even opened the freezer. 'Ground beef? I can't think of anything to make with that. Never mind, it's not thawed anyway.' So Michael came to my rescue and suggested that we go out to eat. Naturally this led to the question of where. What sounded good to Baby? Michael started listing off options. 'Wait, wait!' I exclaimed, and ran to the recycle bin to look at last Sunday's paper (which gets delivered to our driveway despite the fact that we don't pay for it). 'Let me see whether we have a coupon for anything.' Sure enough, there was a coupon for Applebee's, so Applebee's it was.
I've been intending to get a haircut this weekend, and happened to ask a friend about donating my hair (which I've done the last few times I've gotten it drastically chopped). She sent me the link for Locks of Love, a non-profit organisation that makes wigs for cancer victims from donated hair. I read the site and could barely contain my excitement when I discovered that participating salons offer free haircuts for those donating their hair to Locks of Love. And there's one very near home! I am so excited. I had a coupon to get it done for $10, but free is even better.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Sing a song of sixpence
We arrived early. There was background music playing, and I was mainly tuning it out while flipping through the program. A very catchy tune came on, and my ear caught the line, ‘I’ve traveled the world and the seven seas.’ Wow, I thought. ‘That’s a great song,’ I told Michael. ‘I love the tune. Have you ever heard it before?’ He gave me an odd look. ‘Yes, it was pretty popular a while back.’ ‘Wow! What a great line! I like that song!’ Further listening yielded the line, ‘Some of them like to abuse you…some of them like to be abused…’ Oops. So much for that song. I never would have guessed that a song about the Seven Seas could have been found so wanting.
Visions of the night
Yet another interesting side effect of pregnancy (not wholly unexpected - after all, the pregnancy books give full warning and explanation) is the occurrence of vivid and dramatic dreams. This shouldn't be too startling, since my dreams are always pretty vivid anyway, but recently they've taken on exceptional brilliance. This, tinged with a faint rooting in reality, gives the whole thing a ludicrous tinge of the really absurd.
Last night we had our Bible study at Amanda's house. This was our 'off'' week for couples, meaning that we girls met to do our study while the guys met elsewhere to do their study. Amanda served us this delicious peanut butter chocolatey confection that was really outstanding - not too sickly sweet, like Reeses cups, but just right. I ate several bites.
So last night I had this dream about leaving Amanda's apartment, and somehow Michael and I were driving separately, and for some reason I had smuggled him a bit of the peanut butter treat. I had thought to meet up with him in the parking lot, but when I called his cell phone to locate him, he was already on 85 heading north! The confection was soft and gooey, and it started melting in my hand, and I kept speeding to try to catch up with him so I could give him a bite...very random. And flavoured with just enough truth to be really funny.
Last night we had our Bible study at Amanda's house. This was our 'off'' week for couples, meaning that we girls met to do our study while the guys met elsewhere to do their study. Amanda served us this delicious peanut butter chocolatey confection that was really outstanding - not too sickly sweet, like Reeses cups, but just right. I ate several bites.
So last night I had this dream about leaving Amanda's apartment, and somehow Michael and I were driving separately, and for some reason I had smuggled him a bit of the peanut butter treat. I had thought to meet up with him in the parking lot, but when I called his cell phone to locate him, he was already on 85 heading north! The confection was soft and gooey, and it started melting in my hand, and I kept speeding to try to catch up with him so I could give him a bite...very random. And flavoured with just enough truth to be really funny.
Speaking of first words
There was a time when it dawned on me that every big word actually meant something, and that unfamiliar collections of syllables were not merely senseless sounds. I don’t recall when this revelation hit me, but I do know that circa age four I just blithely assumed that if it didn’t make sense to me, it was nonsense and jumbles. It was very simple: I spoke normally, babies talked baby talk, and sometimes grown-ups talked jumbles.
I distinctly remember singing at least two hymns that contained lines of unintelligible jumbles. The funny thing was that no one else seemed to notice it. I fully realised that at times we were babbling, but since no one else minded, I gamely sang along. Most imprinted on my memory was the verse of Crown Him With Many Crowns that ran:
Crown Him the King of years
The potentate of time
Creator of the rolling spheres
Ineffably sublime!
Then there was the line in Wonderful Grace of Jesus that talked about ‘The scope of my transgressions.’ Obviously these sounds didn’t mean anything. And yet people were singing it in church! It was all very amusing. And no one else seemed to notice this irony but me.
I distinctly remember singing at least two hymns that contained lines of unintelligible jumbles. The funny thing was that no one else seemed to notice it. I fully realised that at times we were babbling, but since no one else minded, I gamely sang along. Most imprinted on my memory was the verse of Crown Him With Many Crowns that ran:
Crown Him the King of years
The potentate of time
Creator of the rolling spheres
Ineffably sublime!
Then there was the line in Wonderful Grace of Jesus that talked about ‘The scope of my transgressions.’ Obviously these sounds didn’t mean anything. And yet people were singing it in church! It was all very amusing. And no one else seemed to notice this irony but me.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Miscellany
So the Braves lost to the Astros last night. Not that I was awake to see it. Very sad, especially after such a hard-fought series.
Recently I was driving home from work and heard the following joke on the radio:
Two blondes were having a deep conversation. (Michael: Oh, I thought that was the punch line.)
'So which is farther away, Los Angeles or the moon?' asks one.
'Duh!' says the other. 'Can you see Los Angeles from here?'
Ha, ha! It was so funny that I called Ryan Hall on my cell phone to relate it to him.
Saturday was full of unexpected fun. There we were, sitting around at Dave and Andrea's reception (and I was eating chocolate-covered strawberries, my first sweets in seven weeks), and Ron announced, 'Here's the deal. We can either go hike Kennesaw Mountain, or all go home and take a nap, or go on over to Michael and Rose's place to watch Bertie and Jeeves.' He was joking, of course, but we seconded the invitation so heartily that several people came along. We grabbed spaghetti fixings and watched three episodes. It was a delightful instance of spontaneity, a very fortunate thing as I haven't felt up to really planning any hospitable ventures lately. Spontaneous spur-of-the-moment is definitely the lowest-stress way to go.
Recently I was driving home from work and heard the following joke on the radio:
Two blondes were having a deep conversation. (Michael: Oh, I thought that was the punch line.)
'So which is farther away, Los Angeles or the moon?' asks one.
'Duh!' says the other. 'Can you see Los Angeles from here?'
Ha, ha! It was so funny that I called Ryan Hall on my cell phone to relate it to him.
Saturday was full of unexpected fun. There we were, sitting around at Dave and Andrea's reception (and I was eating chocolate-covered strawberries, my first sweets in seven weeks), and Ron announced, 'Here's the deal. We can either go hike Kennesaw Mountain, or all go home and take a nap, or go on over to Michael and Rose's place to watch Bertie and Jeeves.' He was joking, of course, but we seconded the invitation so heartily that several people came along. We grabbed spaghetti fixings and watched three episodes. It was a delightful instance of spontaneity, a very fortunate thing as I haven't felt up to really planning any hospitable ventures lately. Spontaneous spur-of-the-moment is definitely the lowest-stress way to go.
Monday, October 11, 2004
Pictures and Conversation
‘And what,’ said Alice, ‘is the use of a book without pictures or conversations?’
(Except this post doesn’t have pictures yet, because I still haven’t scanned any in.)
Last night over dinner Michael remarked, ‘Have you thought about the amazing generation gap our children are going to face?’
‘Why, Michael,’ I replied, ‘I’m surprised to hear you say that. You know I would never cast your age up to you – especially in front of the children! What makes you think they’d notice that their papa is so much older than their mama?’ (Hee, hee!)
Never one to be distracted by my frivolous attempts to bait him, he persisted with his point. ‘Do you realise that they will likely regard CDs as archaic?’
‘Now, that’s just not reasonable,’ I protested. ‘CDs are SO cutting edge!’
‘To you, perhaps. They’re going to be replaced by digital technology – CDs are giving way already to MP3s.’
‘That doesn’t count. MP3s don’t really exist. They’re just concept – a theory – an idea out in cyber-space.’
‘No, they do exist, and they’re the wave of the future.’
‘Well, the problem I see with MP3s, aside from the fact that they don’t really exist in tangible form, is that they rely on a computer to play music. You’re not just updating the standard – you’re introducing a whole new way of life. We went from stationery musical instruments to victrolas to record players to cassette tape decks to CD boomboxes – in all scenarios, you’re dealing with a central music-making station. An MP3 just isn’t the same. Are people going to start installing laptops in their cars so they can play their MP3 collections in the car? Ha!’ (Very good defense, I though, for someone who knows as little about it all as I do against someone who knows as much about it as Michael.)
Michael was not to be dissuaded, and began explaining the virtues of digital storage, comparing how many MP3 files could be saved in such small amounts of space to how many songs – 27, maybe? Or 30? – could be burned on a CD, and bringing up such topics as our digital camera’s flashcard for memory storage comparison. I held gamely to my point. ‘Well, no matter how many songs you can store on it, it won’t work if you don’t have something to look at and hold. A CD, now, not only has a very pretty shimmer effect, but can actually be picked up and played.’
‘You can still burn MP3s onto disks, you know,’ Michael pointed out. ‘That’s what MP3 players are for – it can be a separate entity from a computer.’
‘Well, then, if you burn it onto a CD, then it’s a CD. Like I said!’
‘Do you even know what CD means?’
‘Sure I do. Circular Disk! Hence the shape.’
Sometimes, as Cilla observed, a girl likes to be silly. Almost anything can happen, and she has to know which way to jump.
We watched one of the play-off games earlier this week – the one where Furcal hit a three-point home run, winning the game in the eleventh inning. It was highly amusing to ask Michael such questions as, ‘Now, are the bases all equidistant from each other?’ (a trick question, it turns out), ‘Is any base historically easiest to steal?’ and ‘Can you steal first? Why not? Well, maybe if the pitcher really wasn’t paying attention…’
(Except this post doesn’t have pictures yet, because I still haven’t scanned any in.)
Last night over dinner Michael remarked, ‘Have you thought about the amazing generation gap our children are going to face?’
‘Why, Michael,’ I replied, ‘I’m surprised to hear you say that. You know I would never cast your age up to you – especially in front of the children! What makes you think they’d notice that their papa is so much older than their mama?’ (Hee, hee!)
Never one to be distracted by my frivolous attempts to bait him, he persisted with his point. ‘Do you realise that they will likely regard CDs as archaic?’
‘Now, that’s just not reasonable,’ I protested. ‘CDs are SO cutting edge!’
‘To you, perhaps. They’re going to be replaced by digital technology – CDs are giving way already to MP3s.’
‘That doesn’t count. MP3s don’t really exist. They’re just concept – a theory – an idea out in cyber-space.’
‘No, they do exist, and they’re the wave of the future.’
‘Well, the problem I see with MP3s, aside from the fact that they don’t really exist in tangible form, is that they rely on a computer to play music. You’re not just updating the standard – you’re introducing a whole new way of life. We went from stationery musical instruments to victrolas to record players to cassette tape decks to CD boomboxes – in all scenarios, you’re dealing with a central music-making station. An MP3 just isn’t the same. Are people going to start installing laptops in their cars so they can play their MP3 collections in the car? Ha!’ (Very good defense, I though, for someone who knows as little about it all as I do against someone who knows as much about it as Michael.)
Michael was not to be dissuaded, and began explaining the virtues of digital storage, comparing how many MP3 files could be saved in such small amounts of space to how many songs – 27, maybe? Or 30? – could be burned on a CD, and bringing up such topics as our digital camera’s flashcard for memory storage comparison. I held gamely to my point. ‘Well, no matter how many songs you can store on it, it won’t work if you don’t have something to look at and hold. A CD, now, not only has a very pretty shimmer effect, but can actually be picked up and played.’
‘You can still burn MP3s onto disks, you know,’ Michael pointed out. ‘That’s what MP3 players are for – it can be a separate entity from a computer.’
‘Well, then, if you burn it onto a CD, then it’s a CD. Like I said!’
‘Do you even know what CD means?’
‘Sure I do. Circular Disk! Hence the shape.’
Sometimes, as Cilla observed, a girl likes to be silly. Almost anything can happen, and she has to know which way to jump.
We watched one of the play-off games earlier this week – the one where Furcal hit a three-point home run, winning the game in the eleventh inning. It was highly amusing to ask Michael such questions as, ‘Now, are the bases all equidistant from each other?’ (a trick question, it turns out), ‘Is any base historically easiest to steal?’ and ‘Can you steal first? Why not? Well, maybe if the pitcher really wasn’t paying attention…’
Friday, October 08, 2004
Morning vignette
‘This milk tastes funny,’ I told Michael this morning.
‘It tastes fine to me.’
‘It tasted funny last night, too, when we opened the new gallon.’
‘When does it expire?’ he asked. He has a proper respect for spoiled milk.
‘No, it doesn’t taste spoiled. It’s just different. Maybe the cows got into the garlic pasture.’
‘Ha! I’ll bet Baby told you to say that!’
‘It’s true,’ I persisted. Put together, Baby and I have special powers. I feel like such a super-hero. (We just watched Daredevil recently.) Ha! What’s perfect aim or super-sonic hearing to an uncannily and acutely accurate sense of smell?
‘It tastes fine to me.’
‘It tasted funny last night, too, when we opened the new gallon.’
‘When does it expire?’ he asked. He has a proper respect for spoiled milk.
‘No, it doesn’t taste spoiled. It’s just different. Maybe the cows got into the garlic pasture.’
‘Ha! I’ll bet Baby told you to say that!’
‘It’s true,’ I persisted. Put together, Baby and I have special powers. I feel like such a super-hero. (We just watched Daredevil recently.) Ha! What’s perfect aim or super-sonic hearing to an uncannily and acutely accurate sense of smell?
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