The Oxford Comma

DTR

2011-07-20T13:42:00.003-04:00

Dear Oxford Comma,

You've been woefully neglected this year. I know it and I'm sorry. I could blame it on Netflix Instant Watch or giving my homework preferential treatment, but I'm not going to insult you like that. I mean where was I when the great Oxford comma scare broke out a few weeks ago and everyone thought that Oxford had announced to the internets that they were forsaking their namesake punctuation mark? (It turned out to be a false alarm. Only one of their style journals was dropping the comma, but still. It was hard times for us purists.) Where was I when I had that insightful/funny/witty thought that would have made the best blog post ever and gotten your millions of comments and thousand new readers? I'd like to say I was taken prisoner and told I couldn't use the internet, that Comcast had cut us off and left us stranded on a deserted island of no bars, that I was stuck in an elevator with Tom Hanks when the power went out, or even that I was slaving away at my novel, but I wasn't. I was probably watching "The Glee Project" on Hulu (which, if you haven't seen it is kind of hilarious. 12 high-drama, literally, MDT kids in a house together while they compete for a guest role on Glee. Awesome.).

But here's the worst part of it, Comma. Things are only going to get worse. That's right. I'm just going to come clean here and now. I started, gulp, a new blog. Listen, Comma, it's not you. It's me. The time finally came when I had to make some tough decisions. I only have one year of graduate school left and after that, I don't know what's coming. But if I'm going to make this writing thing work, in this day and age I need an internet presence and, while I like you just the way you are*, you weren't it.

I'm not saying we're breaking up. I'm not saying this the end of the road for you. I'm just saying, I need some space.

You'll always be the place I post random poems about my homeless admirers (of which there was another last Friday except this time he was only drunk or possibly mentally ill, so that's a step up, right?) or pictures of my crazy New England adventures. But my other blog, it's going to take a lot of time and attention right now. It's kind of like a puppy. It's not housebroken yet. It doesn't have a built in readership.

I hope we can still be friends.

Lindsay

http://gaskelltogravett.blogspot.com/

The Atlantic Is Lovely this time of Year

2011-07-09T23:25:00.003-04:00

Despite her trepidation about sharks*, MRM Alex and I spent a great day at Hampton Beach. Yep, that's in New Hampshire. Even almost two years after moving here I'm amazed by all the New England state hopping. Maybe I'll get over that soon. Anyhow, I strongly recommend Hampton Beach, yes it's an hour's drive from Boston, but the water was lovely, the sand was relatively clean and soft, and there was no undertow to speak of--though the lifeguard didn't seem to like people swimming out very far at all and a little girl drowned there a little over a month ago.

Anyhow of the three proper beaches I can really remember going to (in the America's and for non-historical reasons)**, Hampton is my favorite so far.

Flat Stanley concurs. You should always concur.***

* MRM Alex's concerns were so far advanced, I had to make a wager with her for her to even consider swimming in the ocean. If she saw a shark with her own eyes, I'd kiss our home teacher. Luckily, no sharks were seen.

** The first proper beach I went to was one in North Carolina when I was four or five, but I don't really remember it and the second was Utah Beach in Normandy France, which wasn't really a pleasure cruise.

*** "I should have concurred." Now a Broadway Musical.

Word Nerd

2011-06-21T00:35:00.006-04:00

Every once in a while I'll get a word stuck in my head.

It's not quite as annoyingly persistent as when I get a song stuck in my head, but given my chosen field of hobby/study/work it can be significantly more problematic. There I'll be, tip, tap, typing away, writing in full flow when I pause for the briefest moment to search for just the right word. Then, out of nowhere, that stuck-in-my-head-word pops into the forefront of my thoughts and starts hopping up and down. "Pick me! Pick me! I'm askin' ya' with my mind!" it says.

I would try to work it in just to get it over and done with, but, unfortunately, no matter how late I stay up writing tonight I don't think troglodyte is going to slip nicely into my 19th century young adult novel.

Pity. It's kind of cute. Maybe in snerk . . . .

Speaking of names that have been growing on me/19th century folk, I ran into an appellation I'd never seen before when I was working at the temple last week: Mebitable. All those hard consonants give it a nice little ring, don't you think?

Can you tell I'm putting off writing? I've just got one line of dialogue that will not come. Maybe troglodyte will come in use after all . . .

I think I'm in love

2011-06-20T23:19:00.005-04:00

I found this Etsy artist through a facebook link from one of my classmates the other day and I just love all her prints. They're, dare I say it, simply oh-so-cute. If it weren't for the fact that I still haven't hung up the pictures I had framed in December, I might not be able to resist buying some. (In self defense, I had one on the wall that had to be taken down during the great exploding water heater episode of February '11. I guess I never recovered . . . )

The Maine Event

2011-06-06T23:12:00.013-04:00

It took some thinking to figure out how to top Memorial Day 2010 and its memorable Plymouth landing re-enactments, but I finally settled on Maine. Though I guess going out of state this year means I'll have to go out of country, next . . . Good thing Canada's close.

Anyhow, Maine.

My friend Ali and I drove up to Portland on Saturday and took some time wandering around its charming little waterfront/tourist area, checked out the Maine Mall (because yes, there's only one mall in the state of Maine), and enjoyed the temperate Maine-y weather (which is to say overcast and windy). That night we also discovered that every ward in Maine starts at 9:00 a.m. I guess when you all have your own buildings you can have church whenever you want to . . . (though I'd have gone for 10:00, personally). After church we ventured to the Portland Head Light (actually in Cape Elizabeth), which is actually a lighthouse. The weather proved agreeable, the scenery proved quite picturesque, and the whole excursion proved a success.

Monday we headed back South, stopping at the beach in Hampton, New Hampshire for a few hours of sun and mingling with the singles. Then it was back to the big cities and responsibilities.

Maine's Rocky shores

Maine + sea + birds. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Gary D. Schmidt, am I right?

No?

Okay, okay. What about this one?

Sarah Plain and Tall, yes? Remember, 'cause she's from Maine . . .

Oh.

(awkward pause)

Uhm, well, third time's the charm?

There's a Pete, there's a dragon . . .

Ah-ha. There we go.

Rest assured, no choruses of "Candle on the Water" were sung.

One Olivia, Two Olivia . . . .

2011-05-14T00:47:00.002-04:00

Evidently, I have an inordinate love of and for the Cosby show. Recent conversations with my roommates--in addition to a half remembered comment from one of my sisters--have revealed as much to me. I am not ashamed of this. I freely, and publicly, admit that I watched every episode of all eight seasons almost as soon as the series became available on Netflix instant watch. Call it a backlash against the onslaught of trauma novels inflicted upon me by my Contemporary Realism class, or the innate inclination toward all things jello-related inherent in my religious culture, but I have, do, and will love this show.

I mean what's not to love? The heartwarming Huxtable family? Real life problems dealt with with considerable aplomb? Clean entertainment? The mind-boggling popular attire of the late eighties and early nineties? Bill Cosby at his best, interacting with a host of adorable five-year-olds? The use of the phrase "boom boom"? Drama, comedy, and romance wrapped into a tight 22 minute package?

And while certain parties have asserted my fondness for the show stems from my secret love for Bill Cosby himself, I don't think it is old Combustible who's won me over. It's the whole dynamic. I love seeing a "real" family. But I especially love seeing the relationship between Claire and Heathcliff, that they get on each others nerves at times and that raising their family is hard work, but they do work at it. They come up with creative solutions and they stand together. I think that's nice and refreshing in the face of contemporary offerings like Parenthood (admittedly, I've never watched the show).

On a related note, I think I finally know what I want to be when I grow up: Claire Huxtable.

Minus the law degree. I have enough student loans as it is.

Speaking of which, one more year to go "dear readers." That's right I survived another semester. Let the blog posts re-commence!

So long Nebuchadnezzer!

2011-05-14T00:44:00.002-04:00

After years of studying the scriptures and attending Sunday school, I admit, I felt some trepidation upon boarding a train to Babylon this evening.

As I discovered between stations, this was warranted because I was headed in the wrong direction.

Moral of the story: read your scriptures and you won't get turned around in NYC?

A day to eat jello

2011-04-06T17:52:00.004-04:00

Dear readers,

Happy Mormon Day! In case you were wondering, I am still alive. I know, I know, my blog would not indicate as much and I'm sorry about that. It turns out that a combination of being quite sick (yes, again), consuming a daily supply of depressing teen angst/trauma (aka contemporary realism) novels, taking two 2 credit classes that think they're 4 credit classes, trying to fulfill one's church callings, and actually doing office work is not favorable for keeping up-to-date on one's blog. Who'd have thought?

Alas, this is all I have time to write about between my Editing class and heading over to the Stake Center for my song practice (because somehow my singing alto in ward choir and playing Lisa Turtle in the ward campout's variety show has lead to my being enlisted to sing in an 8 part acapella arrangement of Mariah Carey at the ward talent show in a couple of weeks). What can I say? Flattery works.

Stay tuned for a post on . . . . contemporary realism.

In the near future.

After I've read Flash Burnout for Realism, 6 books for my reviewing class (5 of which haven't been published yet), a handful of graphic novels, and at least part of a book for my final editing project.

You know, business as usual.

Lindsay

Note to self: learn to speed read.

You meddling kids

2011-02-25T16:25:00.003-05:00

Part of my homework assignment for this coming Monday was to watch the first episode of Veronica Mars. So, naturally, I have now watched the first season of Veronica Mars. And, you know, maybe part of the second.

I mean how could I stop watching before I found out who had killed the girl from Mama Mia? Honestly.

In other news, I place the full responsibility for my being so behind on my paper for Monday on Netflix and the teacher who decided to make watching television homework. Clearly it's all their fault.

Suppose I were to be seized in some dreadful way and unable to ring the bell?

2011-02-25T11:58:00.005-05:00

To use the parlance of the locals in the Town, I've been wicked sick. Or at least my roommates think so. In fact one of them thinks I'm on death's door; and, I'll admit, I did on the first day of my illness tell someone I felt like death. But that was nearly two weeks ago. In the meantime, I've been heading out to work and school and riding the bus and T and coughing merrily all the way. I'm not trying to get anyone else sick, I'm just trying to do all the things I have to do.

I have to say, this has been a pretty interesting convalescence because it took me a long time to figure out what I was suffering from. There was some speculation it might be the flu because at first I was headachy and feverish with chills, slept nearly 12 hours every night, and, as mentioned earlier, felt more or less like death. But that subsided after the first couple of days and settled into more distinctly cold-like symptoms with a nice little wracking cough that sounds more or less like consumption. But as it's persisted longer than the usual one-week-run it's developed some peculiarities.

My lungs have been particularly touchy throughout this bout of illness; there's been a good deal of wheezing and difficulty of breathing and what not. I know because I've been paying close attention to them after being informed my teacher was in the grips of walking pneumonia. But I honestly didn't take too much worry over my lung's persnicketyness until the end of last week. As I hiked up the hill. I quickly discovered that I could scarcely breathe I'd been seized by such a terrible coughing fit. That, given the state of my cold, wasn't too unexpected. But the next morning I noticed that even as I trundled off to the T with a nice 10 minute walk in the crispy cold my lungs were perfectly happy. "Well," I thought to myself, "it's just a sign that I'm getting better." All was well. But that night it happened again, and I wasn't going up hill I was coming down. I soon noticed, that no matter how dry and cold the air was during the day my lungs were perfectly happy; they were similarly content at night when I was tucked away in my office or school or house. But no sooner had I stepped out into the nighttime air, then my lungs became agitated and upset. It was the perils of the night air.

That should have been my first sign.

But the confirmation came yesterday. I had a bit of a relapse and after a night with NyQuil, some morning Mucinex, and two extra-strength fast acting Tylenol (my drug of choice)taken a half-hour apart around 4:30 to mitigate a rip roaring headache, I was sitting semi-comatose in my office with a still-splitting head. And this was after I'd gone to the Conference Room and taken a much needed nap. Finally I mustered the resolve to brave the cold and wind and shambled off to the bus stop around 7:00. As soon as I stumbled into the house I called my trusty pharmacist/nurse/mother and asked if I could take some more of my favorite painkiller because I had some school work that still needed doing. The verdict: no dice, but if I could lay my hand on an alternate painkiller that might be okay. I tore apart my pantry shelf, looked in my medicine stash, and, after calling my roommate, looked in my roommates' medicine stash, but lo and behold no ibuprofen was to be found. But my head was still throbbing so, I dropped Punkzilla into my DVD player, turned off the lights, and lay back on the couch with a cold compress over my eyes. Much to my surprise, it did what two different kinds of medicine hadn't been able to. After a half hour or so the swelling in my sinuses had gone down and the headache had abated.

And that was when I knew.

I don't have the flu or pneumonia or what have you because I'm not just sick, I'm sick in 1815. I clearly have a Regency Cold. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go check if my eyes are overbright. I have a sneaking suspicion they might be. But I'm putting it in print here and now that I'm refusing leeches and there is to be no bleeding.

I feel you, friend

2011-01-29T00:19:00.001-05:00

Four big snows in four weeks. A few more and I just might feel as strongly as she does.

I know it starts slow, but stick with her. My favorite is right before 3:45 and 4:07, although she closes strong.

A Technicolored Tribute

2011-01-06T16:09:00.007-05:00

After spending forty minutes on the blustery-cold sidewalks of Boston reading Toni Morrison and waiting for the police to clear our office building after a bomb threat (you know, same old, same old), I decided I deserved a break from realism. So as I finished calculating December's dividends, I watched Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer. I was left utterly speechless. The flat bold colors, the poor animation, the rocking eighties soundtrack, the "special" outfits, the seemingly drug-induced premise . . .

As soon as I could form complete sentences again, however, I was flooded by a strange sense of relief. No wonder I'm weird. I grew up watching the likes of Rainbow Brite, Care Bears, My Little Pony, Gummi Bears, The Great Chipmunk Adventure, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Fluppy Dogs, and so on. It's remarkable I'm as normal, and halfway intelligent, as I am. You mean you can't make your bed fly and travel inter-dimensionally by scratching a dog's head? The city streets aren't being protected by martial arts trained vigilante mutants? And it's not okay to ditch your baby sitter and embark on a song-filled circumnavigation of the globe via hot air balloon to compete with other children? That's it. From here on out I intend to blame all my perceived abnormalities on eighties cartoons. So stop worrying about how strange (although some might say it's really just my fantastic imagination) I am. I mean how could I be anything else?

But really, let's get back to the topic at hand. Which, if you're wondering, is: what's not to love about this movie? There are star sprinkles, a magical rainbow land, minor villains called Murky and Lurky, and so much more. For instance, the dialogue. The movie was chock full of gems.

"This is what you call help? A girl? . . . the glitterbots have everybody on Spectra hypnotized . . . and you bring me a girl!" Silly Krys, this isn't just any girl, it's Rainbow Brite! She has rainbows.
"Why, at a moment like this, is the most magnificent horse in the universe standing here doing nothing at all?" Yeah, why Starlite? Why?
"I don't know why they don't keep horses in mind when they design a castle." That's a good question, Starlite.

But it got even deeper than the dialogue. The movie raised thought-provoking, philosophical quandaries:

Which is better, a horse that can fly or a horse that can think?
Should one person be allowed to own the light of the universe?
Flee or Fight? (Krys: "You even need someone to tell you which way to run!", Rainbow Brite: "Some of us aren't used to running away!") It's a good thing you two are working together!

But the treasure trove didn't even stop there. This movie was littered with pearls of wisdom for your everyday life:

"I will not wear booties!" Good fashion sense, Starlite.
"No horses in myroom!" I fullheartedly agree.
"I could never let anything happen to the only person on earth who can see me!" Yeah, because if no one can see you, do you even exist Rainbow Brite?

All in all, I'd have to say it was 84 minutes well spent, well spent indeed. Although that might not be saying much. Today I'd be willing to say any 84 minutes not spent reading Toni Morrison is 84 minutes well spent (and consequently I'm only on page 48 of The Bluest Eye, my third YA realism book this week).

Tis the Season

2010-12-06T11:01:00.004-05:00

Friends, readers, countrymen, lend me your ears . . .

Okay, okay. So I haven't posted in a long time. But just hold out a little longer: final's week is upon me (which of course is what I meant by "'tis the season"). Come Saturday I'll be a free woman--well as free as you can be when you have thirty or more books to read in the next month and a half--and I'll write then about the Mr. Weasley who saved me from one of my homeless admirers. Thanks for that by the way, Mr. Weasley.

Until then I added some Christmas music at the bottom because, well, I need something to listen to as I type, type, type away.

For heaven's sake

2010-11-05T14:51:00.002-04:00

Don't waltz . You heard what I said, stop that waltzing! We all know what round dancing will lead to. Now that I'm thinking about it, that kind of paints Cinderella in a whole new light for me. . .

I have to say Keepapitchinin has been tremendously helpful in writing this ol' novel o' mine. As well as tremendously enjoyable. What better research can a person ask for?

Ah, but I do like a bit of gorgonzola!

2010-11-04T23:11:00.003-04:00

I'm not actually a big cheese fan, but I do love Wallace and Gromit. And what's that? Now I can make my own Wallace and Gromit characters? (And maybe I already made some. You know of myself. And my roommates. And my home teacher . . .) Oh, novel, are you sure you don't want to write yourself? Really? Really?

Everybody has their level

2010-11-04T19:29:00.006-04:00

Now that I've typed that, I can't quite remember who said it. Mr. Elton? (Nor, actually does it have anything to do with anything I'm about to write about). As always, I'm writing about me. In general I do not consider myself an artsy person and certainly not an artsy craftsy person. I just don't have the confidence to do things imperfectly and I don't have the skill to do it perfectly. There is one thing, however, that I have learned to do. Remember the Olivia blanket I made for Maggie last year? I have since made two others, one for baby Nicholas, one for baby Ratelle. Unlike the one for Maggie, which was predicated on my whim, these blankets each had specific objectives. The blanket for baby Nicholas (the son of one of my mission companions in case you were wondering) was jungle themed to match his nursery. That was pretty easy to find/do. But the Ratelle's provided a whole new challenge level. First of all, they chose to wait and not find out their baby's gender. Okay, I thought, there are gender neutral colors. But then they upped the difficulty level: no yellow or green. Well, I'd like to think I rose above the challenge. (Hopefully you'll get that joke when you scroll down)

Anyway, here for your viewing pleasure is my one and only handicraft skill. My level if you will. I'm a little proud. Can you tell?

Maggie's
(Yes, again. I mean really, who doesn't like Olivia)

Nicholas's
(I forgot to take a picture with my camera and had to use Photobooth.)

(Incidentally, that's my office in the background if you've ever wondered what it looked like)

Baby Ratelle's
(I know I'm biased because I chose it and its my handiwork, but I think it's pretty adorable.)

So what this all really means is that when you have a baby you may well be receiving a blanket from me and it will most likely have pigs on it. Tell me you're not excited about that!

Halloweekend

2010-11-04T13:40:00.009-04:00

I'm not usually a big one for Halloween. Call me a Halloween grinch, but the magic died for me in junior high. So most October 31sts (or 30ths or 29ths--we had Stake Conference on the 30 around here so the parties were on Friday) you'll find me at home, not doing anything particularly Halloween-y and certainly not dressed up. But this year I made an exception. The activities committee decided we as a ward could throw a little Halloween Carnival for the kids in the Stake so that all of the kids (including the Spanish and Portugese branch primaries and the kids who lived in smaller communities) could have fun Halloweens. Now that I can get behind.

I volunteered to run a "booth" and was assigned the coloring station. How can you beat that? It was simple to put together, I got to spend two hours demonstrating my excellent coloring skillz, and I came away with a fridge decoration to boot. My mom even had the brilliant idea to buy some construction paper and mount the kids pictures so they looked a little more legit. Anyway, that was everything sorted. And then it happened. Two of my roommates, who were running booths as well, announced they were going in costume. You know because that's festive. Pssh. But what's a girl going to do? Show her grinchy roots and ruin kids' Halloweens? Certainly not.

So I did some thinking and pulled together a famous Children's Lit heroine from my closet--and my crayon box and voila!

Ramona Quimby
(Can't tell who I am just because I'm wearing pajamas under my clothes? That's why I added a name tag. But I did it festively, ie childishly, ie in crayon. Eh? Eh?)

To complete the outfit, I wore velcro shoes, jeans rolled to show a little ankle, and fun, mismatched socks. True, I don't really have the right hairstyle, but I wasn't going to go that far. I'm pretty sure only parents and my peers recognized me, and not all of them at that, but that's okay. It was the thought, right?

But wait, the fun didn't stop there. Sunday night one of our friends from the ward had a little birthday celebration. But seeing as it was Halloween she thought we all needed to dress up. Now the actual directions were to dress as things she liked or which payed homage to her. Naturally a good handful of us decided we should dress as various things/people she hates. For instance to counter Laura's own costume as Lilly Potter (Harry's daughter--Laura has red hair and Harry Potter glasses), one of my roommates dressed up as a Draco Malfoy's daughter. We also had the evil smoke monster from LOST (Laura loves LOST and therefore hates the evil smoke monster), Geordi LeForge from Star Trek (Laura loves Star Wars and apparently therefore hates Star Trek), a suitor, her twin sister, and me. What did I dress as? A squirrel. I know, I know, we sound mean, don't we? Luckily she loved it.

I'd have to say, all in all it was an impressively festive Halloweekend for a grinch like me.

Double Dog Dare

2010-10-21T06:43:00.003-04:00

I know I'm a dog person, but can you seriously look at this picture and not smile? It's like trying not to blink in a staring contest.

In other "news" I will post again, soon even. I have stories to tell and wild accusations to make/bones to pick. But for now my guilty conscience and the knowledge of all the other writing I need to be doing (at this very second) prevents me for delving into all of that. Some day the semester will end. And then another one will begin, but we're not thinking about that yet.

An incident from my day, in poorly written verse

2010-09-28T21:44:00.004-04:00

Dear Admirer,

I did not think to see you again,
After our meeting outside the T.
But today we passed each other,
Going our separate ways,
Two strangers on Washington Street.

You paused to tell me
"You are so beautiful today."
Eyes averted,
I said "Thank you,"
And kept walking.

I am 90% certain
You are homeless.

Question the Second

2010-09-27T23:56:00.004-04:00

Does the fact that I keep making my laptop switch to thesaurus on voice command so that I can giggle over how it can't say the word "synonym" correctly mean that I've gone round the twist?

Poor Jasper, I'm just so mean to you.

Question

2010-09-26T02:10:00.002-04:00

This morning I fell asleep, again, after I should have already been up. Not altogether that unusual an occurrence. What was strange, however was that I had a very vivid dream about making my bed. Was that my brain's way of trying to fool me into believing I really had woken up or was my brain being passive aggressive and punishing me for oversleeping by giving me a mundane dream?

Love Story

2010-09-13T14:15:00.003-04:00

It all began with humoring my roommate.

A few weeks ago we discovered that our ward has what is known as "Super Cute Sunday." As you might guess, this is supposed to be the Sunday that everyone dresses to the nines to impress the newbies. Normally I'd blow something like that off, but Roommate has been working hard to up my other roommate's and my's profiles so she decided we needed to embrace this ready-made opportunity with some new bling. And so we went accessories shopping. I was able to pick up some awesome props for my role in the Ward Campout's Musical Revue next weekend (I'm playing a Saved by the Bell character, 10 points if you can correctly guess who). Roommate also mentioned getting some new shoes because, let's face it, I've been going for comfort and utility, not style for many a year now. Long story short, too late, I popped into DSW after the gym on Saturday. That's when, as I was getting ready to go, our eyes locked over the aisles.
Naturally, I had to try them on. Wouldn't you know they fit great and they're mighty comfortable. Unfortunately, I can't think of any conceivable reason why I need to own these shoes, and, believe me, I've tried.

Sigh.

There is that birthday not too far off. What if I put them on my list? Size 9.5. Of course your next question may be "where would I wear them?" but that's something to think about during happily ever after.

Girl Baby Found

2010-08-31T15:53:00.006-04:00

Does that headline make anyone else think of the jungle book? Man child, girl baby. . . Okay, maybe it's just me. Anyway, I finally cracked the Daily Enquirer. The secret is to just look yourself and not use the advanced search options. That dang technology getting in the way again. Enjoy the fruits of my labors! (Sorry I'm too lazy to give you a transcript today, you get to enjoy the 1890 newsprint/justification in its original appearance).

My favorite part?

Mrs. Singleton had some little trouble in understanding the mechanism on the bottle, but some of the married gentlemen on board kindly explained how the bottle was to be used.

Very nice of them. I also like how the baby is referred to as an "it" and "the little lady" in the same paragraph.

It seems as though our* grand-dame Hagar was quite the newspaper fixture. You can also read a complete account of her rather shocking divorce trial in an 1896 issue of Provo's Daily Enquirer. I bet she loved that the whole town could read and debate on whether or not she was actually married to her second husband, plural wife or no, or whether their children were illegitimate. At least she got the $35 alimony in the end (sorry for the spoiler, but its in the headline anyway). Oh, and our favorite train baby makes a brief appearance as well.

*By our I mean my (as well as those of my blood who read this here blog), sorry friends. You'll either have to marry into the family or find your own cool great-great-great grandmother

Take that Oscar Wilde

2010-08-30T18:49:00.007-04:00

I was doing some research today and found the following article. Who said the internet was useless? (Oh yeah, that was probably me. Seriously, nobody wants to post online what University Avenue in Provo was called before the University?)

The Journal, Vol. XI, Logan City, Utah, Wednesday Morning August 31, 1892, No 70.

Disposing of a Babe
A Four-Day Old Infant Left on a Train From Logan

Yesterday morning as the Union Pacific train which reaches here at 9:10 a.m. arrived in Logan a small boy was seen to get aboard, having in his hand a box which he placed under a seat in the smoking compartment of the car. The lad was shortly afterwards seen to jump down from the rear of the train and leave the depot. Nothing was thought of the matter until Ogden was reached, when the lusty cry of a child was heard. Mrs. Hagar Singleton of Provo was a passenger on the train and had heard low sounds as of a child crying several times before, but thought the mother must be there and did not take much notice. Upon again hearing the sounds the lady went into the smoking room and found it empty, but happening to glance under the seat she espied a box. Just as she made the discovery the infant again began to wail and uncovering the box Mrs. Singleton found, wrapped in a pinning blanket and a Logan Journal, a four day old female babe, a nursing bottle and a bundle of clothes. There were no letters or anything to identify the child and Mrs. Singleton at once decided to adopt it. The lady left at ll:30 for her home at Provo.

The baby has fallen into the best of hands and its mother, whosoever she may be, can thank her Maker that her innocent offspring has found a home where it will be loved and receive a mother's care--Standard

***

The only clue to the perpetrator of this heartless deed that has been yet discovered, is the fact that a man and a little boy drove up to the depot on Saturday morning, and that they had a small box between them on the spring seat. The boy was observed to take the box and enter the train, returning shortly afterward empty handed.

This clue, slight as it is, may yet lead to the discovery of the woman who so basely deserted her offspring, and the paternity of the infant may also be discovered.

Anyway, here's proof at long last that my family hasn't been lying to me all these years. At least not about my great-grandmother being found on the train (there could be other things . . . )

What I love about this article, though are the word choices. A lusty cry, really? Espied? I'm telling you staff writer, no one espies. Not even Oscar Wilde espied, and he was gutsy. In any case, I'm glad I found this before I finished my story. I've got some details I've got to change!

(Subsequent to writing this post I found the original article which was posted in the Ogden Standard on Sunday August 28, 1892, meaning that Miss Startup was found on the train on Saturday August 27, 1892 (a mere two days after her birthday as it is listed on new.familysearch.org)

Fascinated

2010-08-27T11:51:00.003-04:00

I can't not watch this video. I find it so mesmerizing. Is he really eating gold grapes (I mean no, he's not really eating gold, I know that). Did the writers purposefully have him use the wrong pronoun? Could you train a giraffe to give you kisses? Where can I get a mini giraffe?

So many questions. Enjoy.

I'm really going to go work on chapter nine now.

Peer Pressure

2010-08-25T14:55:00.010-04:00

The blank walls in my room have been judging me ever since I moved in. Approximately one year ago. Today they broke through the barrier in my brain that has hitherto successfully kept them on the way, way, way, way back burner. So, sitting here at work in my still-rain-soaked pants, I started to browse Amazon, then Etsy for things I could buy and hang on my wall.

At first I thought I wanted England things, because, you know, I love England and technically I am sort of English. And then I thought maybe I want to go a literary route. I found some interesting woodblocks by an artist who seems to do some sort of decoupage using significant pages from classic works of literature (including some from Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, and Pride Prejudice. Favorite stories all.) and thought those might be interesting. Then for a wild moment I thought, hey I could make some of those. But then, just then, I searched under "children's literature" because that is what I'm studying after all and . . .

I fell in love with some work from illustrator Kate Slater. She's from England and she had some neat posters/prints.

(a P&P poster after all)

http://www.kateslaterillustration.com/
http://www.etsy.com/shop/KateFete?ref=top_trail

But then I remembered how much I loved Emma Block's illustrations. You know, the ones that I may or may not have "borrowed" for my Publishing project a couple months ago. Aren't they fantastic? (She's also British).

http://snugglemuffin.vox.com/
http://www.emmablock.co.uk/
http://www.etsy.com/shop/SnuggleMuffin

So here we have the best of both worlds, right? Children's literature + England. And I love the look of these pieces. So fun, so fresh, so colorful. Perfect for my judgmental walls. The problem is though that neither artist was really selling precisely the perfect things in their Etsy shops, but both have options for maybe commissioning work.

So, I thought to myself, mayhaps I'll give me a nice Birthday & Christmas present and see if I can get them to make me the absolutely perfect print(s) to hang in my room. But if I'm going for a commissioned work, what should I commission and who should I commission it from? What do you think?

Yes, I should still be writing.

She'll be wet through when she returns*

2010-08-25T01:39:00.006-04:00

Dear Weather,

Today I'm wearing my winter coat. It's August.

I know the Romans monkeyed around with the calendar and messed everything up and, consequently, things can get confusing for some one/thing who has been around for thousands of years. But 50 degree rainy weather is not appropriate in the summer. That kind of thing belongs in October. Sure August and October have both been the eighth month of the year, but the similarities end there.

So, could you do me a favor and bring the sun back for at least another few weeks? I don't like to squelch around until I can wear double layers. Then at least part of me might be dry.

Sincerely,

Me

* * *

Dear New England,

Did you notice I used the word wicked as an adverb tonight? Twice? Aren't you proud? Yeah, I thought so.

Me

* * *

Dear Reader,

Why yes, yes I do need to be writing chapters of my novel. How can you tell?

Me

* Quote Points. The picture's a hint, but really this should be easy.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship

2010-08-24T12:42:00.005-04:00

Dear Amazon,

If I hadn't been a fan of yours already, your uncanny ability to place Mockingjay in my hands as I walked out the door this morning would have won you my unswerving devotion. As it is, I look forward to a long and happy life together.

Me

* * *

Dear Gym,

You won't be upset if I end up on the elliptical reading Mockingjay for several hours this afternoon, will you?

Yours Truly.

Spectator Sports

2010-08-07T22:48:00.009-04:00

Last week I decided it was high time I did as the Romans did--or, in my case, the New Englanders.

To that end, I bought tickets to a Red Sox game. What? you say. That doesn't sound like Lindsay. Too true, sports fan is not generally a characteristic associated with yours truly. Being a spectator, however, is something I very much enjoy. (I will and have spectated a good many things, Parliament sessions, awkward church dances, munch and mingle flirting . . . ).

So, to Fenway I ventured with my Mexican friend and her sister in tow.
And while as soon as the game began I realized the vast majority of my baseball knowledge comes from movies (no crying, check), we had a very enjoyable time. It helped that the Sox pulled out a bottom of the ninth triple play for the win over the Detroit Tigers. Thanks for that, Big Papi.

Now a Sox game is hard to beat both in terms of New England-ness and spectatorship. So it was a real challenge to think up with something to do this Saturday. Luckily, my roommate came up with the perfect solution: whale watching-->even bigger spectating (cue an onslaught of pictures because I actually had my camera with me this week).

My stunning viewing companions aboard the Voyager 3

Firefly or Firefly's calf. Or maybe it was Midnight. Or Midnight's calf. It's kind of hard to tell just from the whale's back.

Interesting sidenote, some whales, like Firefly, have nannies. I'm pretty sure its because they live off of Cape Cod.

A whale of a tail. Though don't ask me which whale's.

Sailboats in Massachusetts Bay. Very New England.

Back home in good Ole Boston.

Thanks for spectating my spectatorship!

Real Life

2010-08-01T21:25:00.003-04:00

The questions you may be asked if your roommate is a Forensic Anthropologist-in-training:

"Can I have your skull when you're dead?"

The jury is still out.

It is a truth universally acknowledged

2010-07-27T17:27:00.004-04:00

Back when we got channels like USA, my roommate and I saw previews for a new show called "Covert Affairs." It's about a new female agent who works as a spy--okay, okay operative--for the CIA. That sounds strangely familiar, no? Well it didn't matter. I didn't have the channel and certainly wouldn't be watching it so I put it from my mind. Then my roommate went out of town, watched the show, and wrote on my Facebook wall to say she'd enjoyed it. So while I was crocheting yesterday I pulled it up on Hulu and watched the first two episodes--using Hulu and watching female spies counters the old lady-ness of crocheting, you see.

While thankfully there was no mention of aRambaldi and the main character has yet to demonstrate severe daddy issues, I noticed some similarities to my favorite female spy on television.

It seems that all female spies:

have strong/square jaw lines
have dimples
wear a surprising amount of make up
insist on wearing their hair down whilst fist fighting and other spy-type hijinks
don't smile. Duh. Spying is a serious business.
have an innate ability to speak many important languages, including Russian.
begin their shows with traumas involving ill-fated love affairs.

I guess that means I can't be a spy because I would totally put my hair in a ponytail.

I did enjoy the show though. But what's not to enjoy about spies?

Summer Time

2010-07-25T22:07:00.009-04:00

and my internet's spotty. So in lieu of a long post enjoy a few pictures from my time at home.

The HCP, naturally,

I keep good company.
(Joseph Smith and Moroni)

The family enjoying a cruise on the Erie Canal (where else)

You've got to love four generation shots.
Especially when your subjects are kind enough to seat themselves in counterclockwise position by age.

Amos.
Getting into some mischief.

Lily and Meg.
Green was the color of the day.

Jillian and Grandpa.
She allowed him to console/amuse her. He did know all the places on interest on the boat tour.

Toby, Catherine, and the red hat.

"Has anyone seen my new red hat?"
Anybody? Anybody?
Bueller?

On a completely unrelated note, I allowed my classmate to talk me into going to Ramona and Beezus with her because it was "in our professional interests." It was completely charming. You know, just in case you have a little girl you need/want to take to a movie.

Internet Viking

2010-07-07T14:16:00.003-04:00

As you know, I'm a poor graduate student. In debt up to my ears, crunched for time, and scrounging about for sleep. So I've released my inner Dane. That's right. I've turned to internet viking-cy.

Essentially, it's the same thing as internet piracy (of music infamy), but far less hackneyed and much more in line with my personal pedigree. It started with a school project here or there. A couple of weeks ago,I had to mastermind a modern publishing of Anne of Green Gables, complete with cover design, for my final project. So what was I, unartistic and penniless as I am, to do? I hunted the internet for inspiration and along the way I just happened to find the perfect illustration and a fun new font. The problem was, the font cost $59 dollars and it wasn't exactly something I'd be using day in and day out (if it had been I'd probably have justified the expense). But wouldn't you know that myfonts.com has a preview feature where you can see the phrases you need in each font. And wouldn't it just so happen that my laptop has a screen capturing program? So I admit it, I pillaged away.

But apparently my infamy does not stop there. Because I was blog hopping today and found a hilarious youtube video on the blog of a friend of a friend and so I plundered again, indiscriminately. Enjoy the fruits of my looting.

PS Is this what I'll sound like once I get my Master's in Children's Literature?

A Comedy of Errors

2010-06-30T11:40:00.000-04:00

I try to feed the missionaries from our church about once a month. At once a month its really not that onerous (even if at times it gets a little pricey), and with a few mainstay menus in my box of tricks its really not that difficult either. Even then, these dinners have turned into a bit of an event. If my roommates are going to be around, I invite them to join. Then I figure that since I'm already going through the effort of making a big meal, I might as well capitalize on it and I invite a few classmates or ward friends who live nearby. But now that we only have Elders, I also have to invite at least one boy. I know that really shouldn't be an event or a burden, should it? Inviting a boy, however, has become the most difficult thing about feeding the missionaries. Okay not the inviting part, that's easy. No, as it turns out the trick is getting a boy to actually be there.

So last night I was scheduled to feed the Elders. I'd chosen that day in particular because I would be fresh out of school for the summer and had no other plans. Of course it was not to be so easy. Obstacle One: my writing group changes days, so I need to be at Simmons by 8:00. No problem, I thought. I talked with the Elders on Saturday and arranged to have dinner at 5:30. Even if I left the house by 7:15 I should be able to get to Simmons on time. Obstacle Two: would having dinner so early make it more difficult to get a guy there? The Elders didn't think so, they had a 6:15 appointment, but they'd bring him to dinner instead. But just in case, I sidled up to my Home Teacher on Sunday and invited him as well. Sure he said, and I like vegetables. Monday I came up with a menu (heavy on the vegetables), divied out some assignments to roommates and friends who were coming, went grocery shopping, and things looked good to go.

Fast forward: its 5:15 pm, the night of the big event and just about all the food is ready to go without any major hitches. The missionaries arrive and their guy isn't coming. "That's okay," I say, "I invited a spare but he's not here so you can wait on the porch." Fifteen minutes later, dinner's ready to go but we've seen neither hide nor hair of Home Teacher. I decide to give him a call, just to check. Straight to voicemail, which it just so happens is full. I send him a text. No answer.

The Steeple Chase begins in earnest. Three phones, three girls calling and/or texting every guy in the ward with a car who we think may be able to show up for a free and tasty dinner. Finally with the text message "Help us, Obi Wan Kenobi, you are our only hope," I get a biter who says he can be there in about 20 minutes, just as soon as he finishes his work day (proof that you have to know your audience). We give the Elders the good news and they decide to go do some street contacting around the Bunker Hill Monument in the mean time. Sounds great.

We put dinner in the oven on warm and sit twiddling our thumbs. About 15 minutes later one Elder returns. That's right, one. "Have you seen Elder so-and-so?" (Elder so-and-so was there on Exchanges so I don't know his name). "Why no, Elder, we haven't. (Pause) Shouldn't he be with you?" Why yes, yes he should. But he's not. So, I ask if the Elder missing is the one with the phone, because then one of us can call him. Nope the Elder in our area, the one at our house, is the one with the phone. So the Elder begins combing the streets for the missing missionary who's never been to Charlestown before. Then my roommate, decides to go help him and she disappears for a bit. I'm beginning to see a pattern.

Finally, by about 6:15-6:20 roommate returns; Elder So-and-So is found; Boy from ward arrives, disappears to park, and then returns (though Elders came in the first time and so have been sitting in our house unchaperoned); and finally at long last we start dinner. 7:00 the Elders are still chatting and I decide to expedite matters by bringing out the chocolate cake and "suggesting" we get the message at the same time. 7:09 the Message begins. 7:18 handshaking and we push the Elders and Boy out the door, I throw a few things in my backpack and bolt after them, roommate who cooked runs out to go visiting teaching, and poor other roommate and ward friend and ward friend's friend-who's-in-town-visiting are left to clean up.

Yep, another successful dinner in Charlestown.

Pavlov Works

2010-06-14T11:55:00.000-04:00

Case in point:

Yesterday evening I was watching a movie, during the course of which a phone rang. Now that alone is not at all abnormal. What was strange, however, was my reaction. Truthfully, I wasn't paying all that much attention to the movie, but as soon as I heard the phone the words "Dane, Falb, Stone" sprang into my mind. Confused? That is how I answer the phones at work (it's the name of our firm). And here we have proof, at last, that I can be trained.

At least I don't salivate.

PS if I ever answer the phone that way when you call, I apologize. But clearly it's not my fault. It's Pavlov's.

Pearls of Wisdom

2010-06-07T16:47:00.000-04:00

While researching the life and publishing history of L.M. Montgomery I discovered the following.

Chances a woman has to marry at different ages: 20-25 years, 52 chances; 25-30 years, 18 chances; 30-35 years, 15 1/2 chances; 35-40 years 3 3/4 chances.

The Ladies' Home Journal May 1904

What constitutes a half or a quarter of a chance? If someone asks and then takes it back? At least I have over 37 1/4 chances left . . .

It was conducted oddly enough in Plymouth

2010-06-06T23:34:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day may not be the typical day for visiting Plymouth, MA, so naturally that is when I had to go.

Why do things typically?

I did think it was topical. Memorial Day is for remembering those who have gone before, and I spent all day thinking about my long departed forefather John Howland. He probably looked something like this:

You know, he was a big fan of the color orange.

Are you familiar with John Howland? He is best known for falling off of this:

and believe you me, I was loud and proud of being one of his descendants. I even discussed it with the people working on the ship. I bet they never hear about that story.

Of course there are certain other requisites when you're visiting Plymouth.

1. Try to pet a chicken.

Here chick, chick, chicky . . .
Andrea gave it her best shot.

2. Practice your cannon shot.

Clearly the A girls are either beyond practice or not as dedicated as Carly.

3. Proposition a Pligrim.

Well, hello there, Pilgrim.

4. Look at a rock. No not any rock. This rock.

If you look very close you'll see the date 1620 etched onto the stone.

You can tell it's important because it has its own house.

We'd heard from several sources that the Rock itself was really rather small, but our diminished expectations were blown . . . out of the water.

Maybe for my next venture into family history I'll participate in the annual re-enactment of the skirmish at Lexington. And by participate, I mean I'll stand on the sidelines with a cup of tea and pooh-pooh the colonists for their gall, true to my Loyalist blood.

Anyone want to join me?

PS more points are available for those who correctly identify the subject line.

Thank you Facebook

2010-05-26T17:06:00.000-04:00

I'll admit it I check Facebook more often than is strictly necessary. It's like a physical tick, but in this case electronic? And I do have to say that many of those times when I check it I do not come away terrible enriched except a know a little more precisely what some of my friends happen to be doing/feeling.

But today I watched two videos that a family friend had posted and I laughed pretty hard. Maybe it's because I've been alone in my office all day without the internet, maybe it's because they're magical experiences in less than 5 minutes. You'll just have to watch and see.

(Sorry the other one is only on facebook, but it was teletubbie clips set to some kind of freaky German music--in other words, amazing).

In other news, I finished Chapter Six of my novel (as in the one I'm writing) today. I'm not sure how it really works as a whole or within the piece--it's easy to get tunnelvision when you work in spurts like this--but actually I think I like it even if I did cut out the Pirate King, sorry Caleb. It was your one shining moment.

The Redcoats are Coming

2010-05-17T22:04:00.000-04:00

The weather has been so lovely lately that today I decided to meet up with my friend and classmate on Boston Common where she was nannying. We had a grand old time and I stayed there as she ran her charge to preschool. So I spread out a blanket on the grass and was writing when lo and behold, what do I see? A redcoat walking up and down on the stretch of grass before me chatting on his cell phone. Yes, I realize he was almost undoubtedly a tour guide, but watching a man with a tri-corner hat, white breetches, satchel, brass buttons, and the whole kit and kaboodle casually talking on his phone was too funny. I'm really sad I didn't have my camera on me.

On another note, I went to a fireside last night during which the speaker told us, in illustrating a point that demographers say 85% of the world's population has lived since 1820. That staggered me, and even now I'm still not sure whether I can believe it. Is that even possible? I may need to know/learn more . . .

Finally, I assure you this is the last time I will use that joke while living in Boston--after that time, I make no promises.

A Conversation

2010-05-11T08:32:00.000-04:00

Between my Mexican classmate/compadre and myself.

Me: does your regard for muffins mean it's okay if I bring them [to a brunch]?
Mexican: Of course! The more, the merrier! Are they fun?
Me: the muffins?
Mexican: Isn't muffin a code name for Mormons?
Me: Not so far as I know . . .

Legitimate

2010-05-10T23:55:00.000-04:00

Dear blog,

You have now received an official complaint for libelous interpretation/description. And, considering that the objectors were somewhat illustrious personages, I'm pretty sure that means you're more than just my musings. That's right blog, you're legitimate. (le-git-i-mate: constituting or relating to serious drama as distinct from musical comedy, revue, etc.) No more random hair ribbon stories (though speaking of hair ribbons, that almost happened to me again on Sunday).

I know what you want to know blog, but, as much as I would like to, I'm not going to tell you who the detractors were. I already had to kowtow and use Anne of Green Gables style apology skills. Once burned twice shy. Let's just say my Slytherin post is a little shorter these days.

Also, I thought you'd appreciate this video.

Love,
Lindsay

The strange things we do for Academia

2010-04-28T13:44:00.001-04:00

According to my iTunes, I've listened to "Pines of Rome" about 10 times in the last twelve hours. That's nearly two hours straight of Roman trees. But what I'm really wondering about, is my need at some time in the late, late, late/early hours of the night to create a playlist of "Pines of Rome" and "Our Last Summer" (the song Colin Firth sings in Mamma Mia) . . . and odder still, the fact that I labeled said playlist"Brain born." Is it possible to write papers et cetera in your sleep? Because I think that might be the only explanation.

In other news: I'm probably handing in a truly terrible paper today, but it's long so that's something, right?

Beatrix Potter Brings the World Together

2010-04-23T18:00:00.000-04:00

l
Literally.

This afternoon I held the copy of Beatrix Potter's The Tailor of Gloucester that Queen Victoria hand signed and sent to her granddaughter Olga Romanov. So basically I read the same book that Anastasia read (provided that Olga shared of course, which you never know . . . ). So if we were playing Six Degrees does that mean I could claim a connection to the British Monarchy? I'm going to say yes. Though in all honesty the first thing I thought when the Harvard Research Librarian was introducing the book was "that belonged to a murdered child." Maybe I'm spending too much time with my Forensic Anthropologist roommate.

Oh Beatrix Potter, yet another reason to love you.

How You Doin?

2010-04-19T18:04:00.000-04:00

Am I generationally marked that anytime someone asks me that question, without the g, I think of Joey Tribbiani? Anyway I'm not really writing about sitcoms today. Tomorrow maybe, but today, no.

When I find myself in various social situations--meeting new people, long car drive, and so on--I have certain conversational questions I like to bring up. Things like "if you could vote a state out of the Union, which one would it be? (and why) because they tend to bring up interesting things about people. What was their reasoning for wanting to vote out Minnesota?

One of the questions I sometimes ask is: What is the strangest/most interesting compliment you've ever received? I have my own answers for this question. I've gotten "You have really nice eyebrows" and "You look good in a bonnet" (granted I was wearing a bonnet at the time, not recreationally by the way). Yesterday I got another strange one: "You look like a painting." I wondered at first if it was something about wearing too much make up, but the complimenter went on to say things about looking "airbrushy" and "without a hint of a wrinkle" and said he could show me on a real painting. It was one of those "ummm, thanks?" moments.

So how about you friends, what's the most interesting compliment you've ever received?

Ward Talent Show Entourage

2010-04-11T21:43:00.000-04:00

I know what you're thinking after that last post--Lindsay is really invested in her hair ribbons--but that was all just filler to prepare for the big event: the Ward Talent Show.

Now I'm not really the participating type when it comes to Ward Talent Shows (other than sitting in the audience), but this year I happily fulfilled a supporting role. You could even say I made the talent show. Well if you were in a generous mindframe. Anyway, my roommate Alex is the participating type, and she signed up to sing a song in the Talent Show as soon as it was announced. Then two weeks ago, in a fit of boredom, she wrote a Twilight Musical parody and mused over the idea of performing it instead of one of her "standard" songs. It was clever so I told her she should, and then repeated this edict every day as she vacillated back and forth.

Saturday night the musical was indeed performed, and I just happened to be sitting in the front row so I could get a recording of it (unfortunately I was a little too near the piano and the previous act took to cleaning up his equipment throughout, in case you're wondering who the non-named guy walking around is). This recording was done on my digital camera, so it's not the highest quality, but it's the best I've got.

Her performance was critically acclaimed, she is now officially established as one of the funniest girls in the ward, and she has therefore appointed me to her entourage. I do what I can.

Enjoy the fruit of our diverse labors. (In it's entirety it is only about ten minutes long, I had to cut it in pieces so I could upload it).

Act One: Bella

Act Two: Edward

Act Three: Jacob

I thought Alex's lyrics really were quite clever and my sound quality quite poor, so I'm going to post them in the comments if you want to read them in full.

A Tale of Love and Loss

2010-04-08T11:18:00.000-04:00

When I told people I was moving to Boston, I was generally met by two reactions: "You'll love Boston" or "Winters are so cold there." Not once did a single person say anything about the wind. The other week as I was walking from my office to the T to catch a train to class,I was literally pushed of course and held at bay by the wind for the first time in my life. Perhaps wind is simply a part of coastal life, and yes Boston is coastal for me, but considering its prevalence in the weather of this region I would think someone would have mentioned it. The wind is not always inimical, however; I welcomed the heavy breezes that tempered the sultry 90 degree weather we experienced yesterday. April has no business being sultry. But as it so happens, the windiest days correspond with the mornings when, due to some degree of laziness or whimsy, I decide to wear hair ribbons.

Yesterday was one of those days. I'd washed my hair and in a small fit of vanity decided to blow dry and straighten it instead of merely braiding it back. I was in a hurry to catch my bus, however, and after briefly flirting with the notion of leaving my hair down entirely (I had straightened it after all), I fished out my blue ribbon and slipped it on. There is something about wearing a hair ribbon that plays to my notion of femininity, and it did coordinate with the blue in my shirt ever so well if I do say so myself. But in the walk from work to the T and the T to class that afternoon the wind insisted on tossing my hair about this way and that and back in my face, as it is wont to do. So when I got to the building where my class is held I stepped into the ladies room and pulled it back into a ponytail. I decided to leave the ribbon on my head though because it did match and was an interesting little touch that I don't usually bother with--I generally prefer the less is more approach.

After class we wandered around looking for a place for food and drinks--it was the last time Michael Patrick Hearne would be in class--but because it was the last Red Sox vs. Yankees game for this little series here in Boston we had to wander a fair ways a way before we found a place that would suit. I was pleased with myself, however, that the wind and the heat were not bothering me at all. I had shown them! It was not until several hours later, when I reached up to adjust some stray strand of hair that I discovered the wind had had the last laugh after all. My hair ribbon was no longer there. It had been plucked off of my head by that roguish waft and was, as Owen once said, "out in the windy day."

So long blue hair ribbon. I will miss you and the way you coordinated with a surprising number of my clothes, which should perhaps not be so surprising because blue is my favorite color. Wind you may be a rascal and I don't like you in the rain (and perhaps not on a train) but I forgive you because you're a part of Boston life.

Field Trip

2010-04-06T10:50:00.000-04:00

Saturday I went to Vermont (and I went through New Hampshire on the way). I admit I rather like this small state conglomerate that is New England; where friends can ask you what you did that day and you can say, "Oh I went two states away and came back" like it's nothing (try that in California). Anyway I diverge from my point. I went to Norwich, Vermont with my picturebook class to visit the illustrator David Macaulay in his studio because, you know, that's the way we roll. I enjoyed going on a mini roadtrip with my school friends, but I rather wish it had been some weekend other than Easter/Conference (even if it was 84 degrees in Vermont).

If you aren't familiar with the name David Macaulay, he won the 1991 Caldecott for the book Black and White as well as writing books such as Castle, Cathedral, and City. Though he is perhaps best known for his rather large picturebook The Way Things Work and its companion The Way We Work, which won the Boston Globe Hornbook Honor award last year (where I just happened to be present because I'm cool and live in Boston and study Children's Literature like that). Like any true artist, he had many random things in his studio, including, but not limited too: fossils, Justice League figurines, tin soldiers, a skeleton, a windmill, and so on. Anyway David talked to us about three of the projects he has cooking at the moment. He just finished reworking his books Cathedral and Castle with new color illustrations to be put in an anthology type book, Built to Last with Mosque. He's also beginning books on Evolution and Inventions.

He demonstrated a quick sketch

and his new computer toys.

We got to see some of the original artwork for Black and White,

and then we took a picture.

(While posing for this picture I realized there is a hidden requirement to admission at Simmons--you must fall within the 5' range, preferably around 5'5" {which I might add is the perfect height, just saying})

A Bee in My Bonnet

2010-03-25T10:21:00.000-04:00

While out last night, I discovered that one of my classmates sorts people into Hogwarts houses (mentally) when she meets people. So we all started to ask what houses we'd been sorted into and I got Slytherin! I was incensed and when I asked why all she said is that's who you are. Most people were Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, and only one person was a Gryffindor besides herself. Poor Emily and I were the only Slytherins. So of course this morning, here at work, I had to look up the qualities that might indeed make me a Slytherin.

Slytherins tend to be ambitious, cunning, and achievement-oriented. They also have highly developed senses of self-preservation.^[1] This means that Slytherins tend to hesitate before acting, so as to weigh all possible outcomes of a decision (and how these outcomes would personally impact them), unlike Gryffindors, whose chivalrous natures would likely lead them to react immediately and instinctively.

According to Albus Dumbledore, the qualities which Salazar valued in the students he chose included cleverness, resourcefulness, determination, and "a certain disregard for the rules." Dumbledore noted that all of these were qualities possessed by Harry Potter, who was in Gryffindor.

So what do you think? Am I a Slytherin? There certainly are some rules I disregard, but others I have a very hard time not keeping. And I don't think I have that high a sense of self-preservation. Even with all that, I am a little relieved not to be in Hufflepuff. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Writing Skillz

2010-03-22T16:47:00.000-04:00

I know I've been neglecting the blog, and you poor souls who read it, lately. Perhaps you can take small comfort in the fact that I've been neglecting my correspondence, and consequently my correspondents, even more. I've been channeling my spastic writing spurts into work on a novel/project for my writing class and graduate degree. That's right, I'm writing a historical fiction YA novel (yes, I can already feel you judging me across the internet and in the future) based loosely on events from my family history.

Now here's the point where I waffle about whether or not to tell you more because 1) my paranoid self tells me someone somewhere could stumble across this blog and take my brilliant idea and beat me to a publisher and 2) my disloyal-to-my-family self knows that one of my noble predecessors would be made most unhappy to know I'm writing this story with this slant. But family scandals, particularly when they're removed by several generations, are so very juicy and difficult to pass up. And, I justify to myself, I'm changing most everyone's names and making things up freely so as to add some distance between reality and my story and to provide a veneer of privacy/anonymity. So how about this, I'll leave you a few clues and then if you really want to know (I'll measure interest by comments) I'll tell you more.

Though I would love to know what versions of the story you all know and, even better, what tidbits of history you can provide that will enrich my novel. On a side note, I feel so presumptuous throwing around the world novel. As if using it automatically means I'm claiming to be writing a classic work of fiction here (which may be antithetical in some people's views when it's combined with the term YA). I promise I have no such illusions, but a novel it is, or tries to be.

Anyway, on to the clues (which are undoubtedly more fun in pictorial form).

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C

(1,000 points if you correctly identify this clue and you are not Ali or Meg, sorry friends)

That's right. It's a story about everything I hope to receive in my Easter basket: a train set, towels, and Colin Firth.

Book Recommendation

2010-03-05T18:29:00.000-05:00

If you liked Hunger Games, the Roanoke Island story (as in the historical incident), Firefly, and/or Up than this book is for you. I know, I know those things aren't very much alike, but hey I have eclectic tastes and I bet you all do too. And if you read the book I think you'll know why I picked those things. Well maybe not Hunger Games, but this book was a real page turner just like that one and its set in the future and there are some really bad guys and I just like that book too (don't mind my conjunction). I would tell you more, but where would be the fun in that? Pretty much my entire writing class gave this a thumbs up and let me tell you that does not happen all that often. But here's the real question people, how am I going to get my hands on the sequel?

And while I'm at it, the week before we read A Northern Light which was very different but also something we all enjoyed. A historical fiction mystery set in the Adirondacks that include a line like unto "Emily Dickinson was a genius. A damn sneaky genius." If I'd even had any doubts up unto that point, I would have been won over then and there. I did not have any doubts, however.

Illustrators

2010-02-25T12:22:00.001-05:00

Due to the project I am in the middle of (30 papers down, 20 to go), I have a love hate relationship going on with picturebooks and their illustrators. I loath them on principle, but there are some that despite having written or having to write nitty-gritty-pick-apart-their-pictures analyses about their works I just can't quite hate. And in due procrastinating fashion I thought I had better share them with you all. Lucky ducks.

Perennial favorites (ie I have enjoyed them for years)

Kevin Henkes. I love the mice stories, even if after Crit I'll never read Chester's Way quite the same, and his other works are great too.
Chris Van Allsburg. I think Allsburg perfected his style. Seriously, coming from an experienced analyst here, his pictures are spot on.
David Weisner. I was very familiar with Tuesday, but his Sector 7 was new to me and so fun and whimsical (though I did think of the "Up" short).
Lane Smith. He and Jon Scieszka make a compelling team of crazy (True Story of the Three Little Pigs, Stinky Cheeseman, Cowboy and Octopus), but even without Jon I enjoy his work (John, Paul, George & Ben). Plus he does every book with his wife who is his designer and that's just cute.

New to me (dating to the beginning of my program)

Marla Frazee. There's something familiar and fresh about her work at the same time. All I know is if I had to pick an illustrator for Oliver's Odd Obsession (henceforward OOO) she'd be shortlisted. Her figures have so much energy and character.
Emily Gravett. Granted I only read two of her books, but another great, lively figurest. And Wolves alone was filled with so much metafictional goodness that she's also on my OOO shortlist.
Mini Grey. Maybe it's because she was named after a Mini Cooper (apparently she was born in one), but I was charmed by both Ginger Bear and Traction Man. If the two above can't do OOO, Mini's on my list. I love quirkiness.
Jon Muth. I read Zen Ties and The Three Questions, which are very different from one another. One has lovable pandas and the other was just captivating. He definitely intrigued me.
Bagram Ibatoulline. If you need a recommendation, he did Lois Lowry's picturebook. Ordinarily authors have very little say over who illustrates their works and how they do so, but I bet Lowry got to give some "suggestions." His Hana in the Time of the Tulips was gorgeous Dutch painting-esque and Animal Hedge was also beautiful. Plus there's something about the name. . .
David Macaulay. He likes to mess about with things and make his stories twisty mental exercises. I can get down with that.
Angela Barrett. I read two of her biographies: Anne Frank and Joan of Arc. The Anne Frank, which is such a familiar story, was haunting. I'd say her style is very suited to biographies.
Rachel Isadora. For those looking for a little more ethnic diversity, I preferred Isadora to Brian Pinkney (though he was interesting), Christopher Myers, and Brian Collier.
David Shannon. Now he surprised me, I had read his No, David and didn't care for creepy pointed teeth and disobedient children. That said, I picked up his A Bad Case of Stripes and was entranced. So cool.
Shaun Tan. Now if you're looking for trippy yet flawlessly executed stuff, look no further. Tan's your man. There really are no words (at least in The Arrival that is very literally true).

Okay people you're now set for your children's shopping this year. I'm glad someone can benefit from my pain (besides Charlestown library branch's circulation stats).

Fancy That

2010-02-21T22:55:00.000-05:00

Hey I'm actually posting about something I've done that does not relate to school. In case you were worried that the construction paper artistry was soon to become a blog theme, you may rest at ease. I am fairly certain that "Truffle Hunt" was my final paper project and good riddance. That took far too long. Anyway, as I was saying . . .

For those of you who know me, I'm not exactly like a hardcore boogier. Yes there is the odd impulse to groove along to a song (particularly within the privacy of my own room), but a dancer I am not. So when I heard about the "Pajama Prom" being thrown by two of the singles wards here I instantly dismissed it. I would not be attending that. I avoid dances whenever possible (while I did submit to going to a couple of BYU dances with friends, I did not attend any ward or stake dances during my entire undergraduate career). And then when I learned it was a ladies choice dance I knew I wasn't going. My roommate seemed excited about the idea, however. Well not necessarily the asking a date part, but the dancing (or maybe it was just the dressing up). She began to wheedle as did one of my other roommates and then my visiting teachers. And then February, aka the month of Picturebook madness, began in earnest and I decided I could definitely use a break from all that. So long story short, too late, I told Roomie 1 I would ask a guy if she would. She agreed. I asked a guy and he said yes (by ask I mean I sent an email, in my defense it was midweek). She felt pressured, a little tit for tat, and asked a guy. And the four of us went. We had a good time, hope the dates did too. And now for some picturey fun.

Some people embraced the pajama theme
(The girl on the right is one of my visiting teachers and her date is my co-teacher for the Member missionary sunday school class that may eventually actually happen. I blew their minds yesterday when I told them about the fifth Ninja Turtle.)

And then some forgot to take any pictures until after the whole shebang.

Darren, Alex's date, was wearing traditional "old man" pajamas from Japan

Chris and I were wearing traditional pajamas from, well, nowhere in particular. Though I realize you really can't tell what kind of pajamas we were wearing, as the fun designs were on the pj bottoms. Sad day for you.

On the ride home the guys were discussing how they thought the Pajama Prom idea was weird (which is true) and they would have rather it had just been a formal. Alex and I could not agree. Finding cute pajamas was way easier than finding a dress would have been.

Careers in which I would not be successful

2010-02-11T17:06:00.001-05:00

Nurse - I am so glad that there are people who can do this very worthy job, but I do not think that I have the compassion necessary to do some of the truly gross things their work requires for absolute strangers.

Librarian - I do enjoy making things orderly, alphabetizing, and reading. I do not enjoy it when people undo my organizing.

CEO - I am not competitive enough in/at times where it really counts. If we were being graded, maybe.

Public School Teacher - I never understood why my peers didn't do their homework. Sure it wasn't always fun, was sometimes boring, and did take effort, but it's just what you do. If you're a student that's your job. In other words: zero sympathy.

President of the United States - There are many reasons why I believe I would be a poor candidate for this job. None of them have to do with my being born outside the continental US. Nor am I entirely adverse to manipulating people, that can be good fun. But I am often apathetic about politics, I would be too tempted to tell everyone when/that they're being ridiculous, and really who needs the bother and public love/hate.

Meteorologist/Weather Person - I dislike being wrong.

How about you?

Construction paper pigs are haunting my thoughts

2010-02-09T00:01:00.000-05:00

I have another picturebook project due on Wednesday.

The assignment? Write a story (preferably a retelling) and create five pictures with five different emotions using only 4 colors (black and white were required).

I've spent over 20 hours on this project so I figured I might as well post pictures. It's too bad I drew way cuter pigs in my concept images than I could really manage with scissors and an exacto. Oh well, this is the best it's going to get.

Roscoe loved almost everything about being a pig. He loved to hunt truffles with his keen piggy nose, he loved to wallow in his splashy mud puddle, and he loved to snuggle down in his soft straw bed.

But Roscoe did not love being alone.

He tried to make friends with the other animals, but the rooster woke up too early, the mud made the sheep too messy, and the cow deemed the straw too itchy. Worst of all, nobody could tell a truffle from a turtle!

“If only finding a friend was as easy as finding a truffle,” cried Roscoe.

As rain began to beat down from the sky, Roscoe sought shelter in the barn. Suddenly a flash of lightning revealed a shadowy figure looming in the door. It was splattered with mud and did not look like any animal Roscoe had seen on his farm.

“Don’t you just love storms?” the figure asked him. “The downpour makes the most marvelous mud. Oh, is that straw? I do enjoy a nice straw bed. What a sweet place this is. My name is Rosie, by the way.”

Roscoe blinked. The figure was not shadowy after all, but covered in the must unusual black and white splotches. And she loved mud and straw. But could she hunt truffles?
“You can sleep in the straw if you’d like,” Roscoe told her.
“Oh that would be lovely,” Rosie said.

Roscoe slipped straight off to sleep, but Rosie lay awake for a long time.

The most wonderful smell kept tickling her nose. Finally she could not stand it. She rooted to the bottom of the straw pile until she uncovered . . .

Roscoe’s truffles.

They made a most satisfying midnight snack.

“How did you sleep, Rosie?” Roscoe asked the next morning.

“Not very well,” she yawned. “Did you know some silly left their truffles right at the bottom of the straw pile?”

“What a silly indeed,” Roscoe answered. “Though I know where we can find some more . . .”

And so Rosie stayed with Roscoe and together they loved everything about being pigs.

It had to be

2010-02-08T23:57:00.001-05:00

I jotted down to NYC the last weekend of January to see Erin, Ali, and Jooj.

We ate at the Cafe where they filmed part of You've Got Mail, but I can't remember exactly what it was called.
It was mighty cold, but a good time was had by all.

The end.

No MFA skills were used in writing this post

How to be a graduate student in Children's Lit

2010-01-30T00:06:00.000-05:00

Enroll in a class called "Picturebook."
Purchase repositionable glue.
Using four colors of construction paper create a scary picture of a protagonist being attacked by birds (Exhibit A).
Now use the same four colors and the same protagonist and create a happy picture (Exhibit B).
Seriously reconsider what you're doing with your life when you have difficulty with steps three and four.

Best Aunt Ever

2010-01-04T00:13:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to teach my nephew to say Annyong* AD style.

Of course this was after I taught him secret combination type handshakes.

*Annyong is Korean for hello, which features as a long running joke in the television series Arrested Development

2010

2010-01-03T23:29:00.000-05:00

Stats for 2009

Books read: well over 50
States traversed: 11
Graduate programs applied to: 5
Jobs held: 3
Major life decisions made: 2
Doctor's appointments: 0
Friends: too many to count!

Happy 2010 from the Comma (and guest niece and nephew)!

Baby It's Cold Outside

2009-12-18T00:02:00.001-05:00

By the by that's a creepy song when you listen to all the words. But seriously, it's very, very chilly here all of a sudden. Surprising since it's now mid-December and the middle of winter and all that jazz.

I do remember assuring people that I knew what cold winters were like. I'm also sure London was this cold and Rochester definitely is too, I just didn't walk quite so much there. But so far the weather has remained less inclimate than it might. Praise be.

Finals Season: Procrastination Olympics

2009-12-16T23:25:00.000-05:00

Sure I was productive at the start of the week, but because I have one more paper to go, because it only has to be four pages long, and because I've already read, researched, and outlined it I'm having a hard time making myself actually write it. So instead I've explored some new looks.

Confused Siamese/Triclops:

I should have just used Photobooth to animate my picture book:

I mean seriously:

The Teacher in a cartoon (no offense to those of you who are teachers):

A Human Bassett Hound:

By way of explanation, the zebra glasses (sadly the only thing in this post I can really explain), were a purchase I made when at the Gateway Mall in Salt Lake City with Kawisaki Shimai during her visit to UT last spring. I've always wanted glasses, they have no prescription, I had $10 in my wallet--and there you go.

I'll leave you with one more so you can remember I'm somewhat normal looking.

Happy Finals to you!
Festivus for the rest of us?

Novembering

2009-11-18T20:19:00.000-05:00

November is my favorite month. It always has been. And, before you ask, it's not just because my birthday is this month; though I'm not going to lie that is a perk. But it's more than that. November feels like fall (and sometimes winter). November has that great smoky first fires of the season kind of smell. November has that settled-into-school routine but it's not quite finals. November has a major holiday but it requires less shopping. All in all, November is a liminal month; and while at times I don't like change, it is always kind of fun to stand on that threshold and anticipate the positive changes to come.

This November I've been quite lucky to have several fun visitors--I think it has something to do with the fact that I've moved to a pretty cool city (don't let that go to your head Boston). A city that I really like, so it's lucky that it's where I live. I also finally did some touring in November, so here are some pictures.

Wonky gravestones at the North End Cemetery

(I had just read Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book),

Paul Revere outside the North End Church (you know of "one if by land two if by sea" fame) even though Paul Revere isn't actually famous,

Erin and Julianne in the posh Beacon Hill area of Boston where Louisa May Alcott lived once she was old and famous,

and Julianne amiably posing at a cute little alley also in Beacon Hill
(to prove that I actually do have friends and not all of my Boston pictures are just of things).

November also brought the advent of one Maggie Naomi B___ (I feel so Victorian blanking people's names out for confidential purposes in my personal, published communications). Now Maggie, let's get it out here and now. I was told you were not coming until December, and so the fact that I finished your baby blanket a half hour before you were born is only due to my own diligence (surprising); and the fact that you did not have it when you were born is entirely your fault. Not that I'm bitter or petty because I'm blaming a newborn baby, never.

By the way, Melanie, this is part of my room (since you were saying you wanted to see pictures of my room).

This was my first foray into handicrafts of any kind really and I found I quite enjoyed it. So who's having a baby now? I have skills I can't let get rusty. And anyway, I expect the entire world to take me into consideration when planning their families, doing otherwise would just be rude.

And that's my dinner done. Though not really because I'm going to go make it right now.

Fallen Back

2009-11-04T00:06:00.000-05:00

Despite my pleas to abolish Daylight Savings Time, I was outvoted. (I think it went roughly 6, 794,108,553 to 1.) So I acquiesced and "fell back" with the rest of you. The weekend was pretty busy because I had a friend in from out of town, plus schoolwork, plus amazing Stake Conference sessions with the Apostle who likes to follow me around. But Sunday afternoon after dropping Jamie off to catch her ride down to DC I went up to one of my favorite thinking spots around the Bunker Hill Memorial. Ben Affleck was nice enough to have moved his movie sets so they wouldn't spoil any of my pictures.

Here's a taste of fall in Boston.

Sorry these aren't at all artistic, I just kind of snapped as I went.

And sorry Jamie that I don't have any pictures with you. I'm fairly bad at remembering to have my camera with me.

Also, these look better in real life, so I guess you'll all just have to come visit me.

Guess Who

2009-10-28T16:20:00.001-04:00

Guess who didn't check the weather this morning?

Answer: the same person who is now doing homework in their pajamas. At least I had an umbrella and a jacket, which is something I suppose.

And just FYI this is where I'm going to church this weekend. Pretty sweet digs, if I do say so myself.

Virtual Tour

2009-10-14T19:48:00.000-04:00

I know you all miss me and wish you were living here in a cold basement in Charlestown just like I am. So I thought I'd throw you a bone.

So please keep your hands and arms inside the plane and come along with me.Here are some of the places I've been and some of the things I saw today.

Here's the Old Statehouse. Apparently this is where the Sons of Liberty used to incite insurrections. I always enjoy me some good rebellions.

Incidentally it is also the view outside of my boss's bank.

Here we are on Kilby Street where some dude's pouring out his coffee (I was actually holding coffee and lottery tickets while I took this picture, I have a very important position at our firm). Look at those lanterns though, seriously. And you see that building with the green details around the top, that's where I work.

Here's Sam Adams, my distinguished forefather, in front of some very important historical buildings (and no, I don't know which ones). But do note the famous cricket weather vane.

Now I'm not even going to pretend that I know what this is. I think it's something to do with the Holocaust.

I kind of like them though.

This is the Oyster House. It's very famous, I assure you. Actually, I have no idea but I liked the scorpion on the building and I thought it was kind of a cool picture. This is the North End. The North End is famous that I do know.

At this point I'd walked three T stops, so I hopped on an actual T to get across the Charles River. So here we are looking out at Charlestown from the Community College T stop (on the Orange line in case you were wondering).

And over here's the other side of Charlestown.

Thank you for joining us today, please come back real soon.

Surprising

2009-10-07T22:53:00.000-04:00

Today I faced quite a few unexpected events.

I was surprised by how much adding a trench coat to my nice slacks and button down shirt could do to make me feel more at home in the Financial Distrcit of Boston.

I was surprised to be buying my first ever lottery scratch cards.

I was surprised that I was purchasing them for work.

I was surprised that I was able to sign up for a gym membership for $10 a month with a sign up fee of only $1.

I was surprised that I had never before read White and Strunk's The Elements of Style, and that I had not realized that the said White was, in fact, E.B. White of Charlotte's Web fame.

I was surprised to learn that I had been making a fool of myself all these years by telling people that I was nauseous when I should have been saying I was nauseated.

I was surprised to find myself laughing at parts of The Elements of Style, and you may be surprised to find that you are my friend.

Curiouser and Curiouser

2009-09-29T00:40:00.000-04:00

Remember back a few months ago when my technology was systematically revolting? Well I thought I'd settled that all down: I learned how to trick Jasper into obeying me, I replaced my old external hard drive, I even managed to get my cell phone Napoleon to comply. But then this week I discovered the ultimate betrayal. My gmail account (well one of them) has been selectively not delivering very important emails from my TA. Et tu Brute? Now that both my TA and I have figured this out we should be able to work around it, but I am still reeling from the shock. What could possibly happen next? Is my tv going to fall on me and my DVD player spit DVDs mockingly into my face? Or will I simply be sealed inside a T tomb? I probably should not have given the technology any good ideas. Hopefully the keyboard does not have a collective consciousness.

On a completely different note, I just finished The Chosen One by Carol Lynch Williams for my Writing for Children class. I read the entire thing straight through--not a single break. If you knew how much I had to drink this afternoon/evening that would be more impressive to you. I was majorly skeptical at first because it's about a girl in a polygamous cult in a desert who has just found out she is going to be forced to become her sixty-year-old uncle's seventh wife. And it was written by someone in Utah, hmmmm. But I was quickly riveted and became deeply invested. I'd say it's worth a read.

Tomorrow I'm going to read Keesha's House by Helen Frost and Toning the Sweep by Angela Johnson. (You know, in case you feel like reading along and living my life with me. If you really want I can tell you which text books I'll be reading this week too).

Really? Her?

2009-09-28T14:58:00.000-04:00

Why did Virginia Hamilton's M.C. Higgins, the Great win so many awards? Pretty much all of us in the Criticism of Children's Literature class (essentially the incoming Masters Students in Children's Literature) found it painful to read and not at all easy to understand. Needless to say, I do not recommend this book.

Though if you're looking for some cultural diversity, The Circuit by Francisco Jiminez was an interesting, moving, and mercifully quick read about a young Mexican immigrant family's experiences in California.

This has been another "review" (more like a verdict) by your current Children's Literature Correspondent.

In love

2009-09-16T15:37:00.001-04:00

For my writing class this week we read Emma-Jean Lazarus Fell Out of a Tree.

I loved it. I mean it; I thought it was fantastic.

But, I don't really have anyone to recommend it to (not having any late elementary/early middle school girl BFFs). But if you're looking for a charming and fast read or do know people who fit this age range/profile I'd encourage you to pick it up.

Your Children's Lit student correspondent over and out.

Premises

2009-09-09T14:23:00.000-04:00

It takes a great deal of self-discipline to not eat chocolate cake for/at Breakfast when you happen to have made a very big, very good chocolate cake.

I lack self discipline.

On the other hand, I did make my first every cake from scratch.

Also, it takes self-control not to read until 4:00 am when your book is getting very interesting and you've hit your second wind (possibly due to the aforementioned chocolate cake) and your eyes are not closing of their own tiredness.

I lack self-control.

I did however stop my project (putting together my last piece of furniture which arrived yesterday) before it was done because it was after midnight and probably noisy.

That's something.

Similes and cities

2009-09-07T23:58:00.000-04:00

Dunkin' Donuts is to Boston what 7-11 is to Copenhagen.

It's one of the very first things I noticed when I got here two long weeks ago. There is almost literally one on every block, well at least at every shopping center. Sometimes there are two or three to a street. It's like that old joke about Starbucks being across the street from one another. I noticed a similar proclivity to 7-11s when I literally walked Copenhagen back in 2005 (they were practically on every corner).

So now I'm asking you to brush up those SAT skills and answer a question.

Dunkin' Donuts is to Boston as _______________ is to (your town of residence).

The difference between me and the SAT is I'm not giving you multiple choice answers. But do answer, I want to know.

Dost thou love pictures?

2009-08-29T20:59:00.000-04:00

Just so you know that we really did make that epic cross-country trip.

Ali at Mt. Rushmore (Yes, she's actually smiling in a picture)

It is a truth universally acknowledged that everyone at Mt. Rushmore is a little picture happy. Suffice it to say we took pictures just about the whole way up.

Getting looked down upon by famous Presidents

And here I am (sorry for the shadows, but it's one of those trade offs for being in nature).

I actually have very little documentation for the rest of South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, or Ohio so you'll just have to take my word for it that I have as yet learned to apparate and therefore had to drive through them to get to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I know it seems risky, but you can do it. I don't lie that often.

Looking out from Little Roundtop

I have lots of pictures of cute streets, interesting churches, and various segments of the battlefield but here's one that I'm actually in.

Lily wanted to take a picture of Peter and his friend

And then we took one of Lily with Peter's friend

Then I went home and played with kids for a week before spending another week in hotels.

And finally I live in Boston now. Yeah, that's right I've finally broken into New England, which means it's only a matter of time before I make it over to Old England. I'm babystepping.

Pictures to come: Boston, the apartment in Charlestown, and obviously more fantastic adventures.

Also the title of this post is a quote from Taming of the Shrew. I admit that I full text searched it; I thought there was a quote about pictures in Hamlet, but apparently there isn't. Not in your version anyway.

What does the rhino say?

2009-08-20T23:39:00.000-04:00

I didn't have a very good answer for this when my two-and-a-half year old nephew asked me. The giraffe I knew and could answer even if he didn't really understand it (giraffes make no noise because their necks are too long for their voicebox/vocal chords; instead they emit low frequency air puffs which they use to communicate with one another though I didn't share that last part with him). But I was stumped by the rhino, so like any responsible and educated adult I made something up. The third time or so through the animals, however, Peter had has own answer ready.

Peter as the elephant: trumpeting noise
Peter as the zebra: horse noise
Peter as the rhino (in a low, gravelly voice): "Juma, get out of the way."

Why didn't I think of that?

In case you're wondering, Peter's middle name is Juma. It's the name he often goes by at home and how he refers to himself.

Glory

2009-08-20T23:32:00.000-04:00

The other day I watched the film Glory (and yes it is a film with a rating I don't typically watch, but I'd had to watch it for school freshman year of college and I figured I could take it). I cried. I cried like a baby. And I did it before the real fighting even began. Yes, I did go to Gettysburg last week and so I do have the Civil War on the mind, but it was unexpected. I am not, generally speaking, a crier. The world must be coming to an end, it's difficult to come to any other conclusion.

A true New Yorker and "the End of the Road Trip"

2009-08-20T22:34:00.000-04:00

Ali and I woke up last Friday with every intention to go to Canada, but then we realized we were really quite tired after our trek and so we did not take on our friendly neighbors to the north--next time. So instead we went to check out the George Eastman House (founder of Kodak), where surprisingly enough I had never been. It turns out he was a bit of a weirdo (no offense to any Kodak enthusiasts or Eastman descendants who for some reason or other may be reading this) and he quite enjoyed decorating with dead animals. Afterward we enjoyed Julie & Julia. I thought it was nice to see a film about relatively normal people in good relationships. I know it's not very exotic, but some people, just a few mind you, do lead normal and even happy lives despite what our egotistic/voyeuristic blogging age may indicate.

Saturday I did the good thing and took my guest to the church historic sites. I mean I really couldn't let her fly back to California without at least going over to the Sacred Grove could I? And we actually had an interesting small world moment. We went on a tour of the Grandin Building (where the Book of Mormon was published) and the Sister missionary giving the tour was originally from Brazil and the other two girls on the tour with us were both from Brazil. They were having a grand old time talking in Portuguese when someone asked where one of them had served her mission. She responded, but frankly I don't recall where not being familiar with the country. Suffice it to say it was not one of the areas where I could recall anyone I know having served. But I did mention that we'd had a friend serve in Riberiao Preto and lo and behold we discovered that was where they were from and that one of their friends had served with Melanie! Granted, their description was tall, blond, and had motions indicating energy and busniess. But we were quite sure it was Mel. Anyway tours accomplished we had just enough time to catch some lunch, Abbotts Frozen Custard, and breeze on out to the airport so I could part with my faithful travelling companion.

At one point during the trip Ali asked me if it was like having a mission companion again, and I suppose in some ways it was. At any rates the most lingering effect of our travels together is my compulsive desire to share all my thoughts with her. Never fear Ali, I am working to master this impulse much to your relief I'm sure.

But no the real point of this now quite long post was to point out how truly I am a New Yorker (their chosen Civil War uniforms aside). Those of you who know me know that I enjoy literality. I find it funny and I can't quite say why. Well accross 8 of the states we traversed last week the standard exit notices were 1/2 mile with maybe 1/4 or 3/4 here and there. So in Pennsylvania we couldn't help noticing an exit marker for something like an 1/8 of a mile. How odd we thought. Then Thursday night as we were taking on the home stretch in New York we began to see exit signs with numbers like 4/10 of a mile. Sure, that's almost a half mile, but it's not quite 1/2 mile and we New Yorkers don't want to deceive you. But we may taunt you a bit.

Rochacha

2009-08-13T23:58:00.000-04:00

After a stop at the Gettysburg Military museum place with its "Sommeworld" style cyclorama, which we both thought sounded a little too much like psychorama, we did a timely tour of the battlefield. Our favorite stop of course was Little Roundtop. I mean how can you compete with that? Then we worked our way up to Harrisburg where we had lunch with one of my mission companions, the former Sister Fultz, and my first ever ice cream slushy at Rita's (it was good, thanks Fultzes!). Then we made our way through Pennsylvania and New York. Unfortunately for us a long, late, and liesurly lunch conspired to put us on the roads at rush hour so we had to work through some traffic there. But we made up good time and had reached Syracuse at around nineish and were swamped in construction traffic and befuddled by faulty detours. Though we did make it to Rochester, well Pittsford, safe and sound at last.

Number of crazy drivers observed today: 2

Number of accidents we saw today: 1

Number of traffic incidents of any kind in which we played a part: 0

Fun facts:

Pennsylvania has no Mobil stations but many, many Exxons. New York has many Mobils, but not really any Exxons (at least not between here and the Pennsylvania border).
The North Carolina Gettysburg soldier monument was carved by the same person who carved Mount Rusmore
The New York soldiers' civil war uniforms were very "special"
people from the state of Wyoming have most likely contributed the least in donations at the Gettysburg Military Battle museum. Their total: 7 cents.
According to my interpretation of a sign in the Gettysburg Military Battle museum, many Civil War soldiers tortured the bullets that struck their bones. Those meanies.

Something to look forward to: 10 states down, tomorrow we're taking on Canada--more or less the fifty-first state.

Pantsylvania

2009-08-12T23:33:00.000-04:00

Well we buzzed through Ohio and meandered down Pennsylvania to Gettysburg (with many a comment of "Gorgeous, beautiful, wish you were here."). Seriously I forgot how much I love trees, and hills, and, well, greenness in general. Ali seriously considered dropping her life to move to either Chambersburg or Gettysburg (I think it's the burgs she likes, she'd says its the cute old houses), but is on hold until she has money, which I think is a silly notion. We then wandered up and down Baltimore street in Gettysburg (I think we walked up it at least 8 times), ate dinner at Ernie's Diner, and went on a ghetto fabulous ghost tour of the town.

Number of "homemade" helicopters we've seen being towed on the road thus far: 2

Number of toll cards we've lost in the car: 1

Number of ghosts seen on the ghost walking tour: 0

O-hi-o

2009-08-11T22:48:00.000-04:00

Today we've been in five states and two time zones. We made it to Ohio in pretty good time despite major hold ups in and around Chicago. The construction and lack of signs meant that we didn't follow the short cut along the 90 and were in fact reunited with I-80 (oh how we'd missed it after two days apart) which then took us back to our friend the I-90. We didn't have any major stops today, mostly it was just time on the road, but I think it was time well spent.

Number of Military Police hummers: 20?

Number of Military Police hummers we saw that were actually "in" camo: 1

Bug comparison: Wyoming, really big; South Dakota, pretty big; Minnesota, quite small.

Number of bugs we've taken out: roughly 2 million

Minnesota, eh

2009-08-11T00:10:00.000-04:00

We're in Rochester, well Rochester, Minnesota. You know the thing is, I know that's not a funny joke, but I couldn't help using it. Anyway we drove over 600 miles today and as already stated are in Rochester, Minnesota. Technically I had a layover here once and so have been here before, but I still felt a kinship to my own Rochacha by staying here over night. Also we already saw the giant corn water tower and even ate dinner at the City Cafe, which as you know was voted the best restaurant in Rochester, MN 3 years in a row (the exact years are unknown), so we feel like natives. But more importantly Ali and I went to Mt. Rushmore this morning--where we not only took pictures of the monument but also our own North by Northwest homages--and we already feel way more American.

Important sites not seen en route: Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota, Sioux; Crazy Horse; Reptile Gardens; Dances with Wolves film set.

Exxon/Mobil stations in South Dakota: 3 (sadly all at the western end of the state).

States with picturesque farms: Minnesota

State I thought would have a lot of farms: South Dakota

Brilliant ideas to make massive fortunes that we've already come up with in the car: At least 8

PS I forgot to put the cord that transfers pictures from my camera to my computer in my travel bag, so pictures will have to come later. Sorry folks!

Wamsutter, Wyoming and more

2009-08-10T01:09:00.000-04:00

Well we're in Rapid City South Dakota, folks. Today was eventful for Ali, she got to see Wyoming for the first time and then we both got to see South Dakota for the first time. There were stateline dances which I'm pretty sure you are very sorry you missed.

Sites Seen:

Wamsutter, Wyoming, which I may have later recalled incorrectly as being named Wamsuckett
Pretty much all of Wyoming, actually.

Deadwood, South Dakota (an old gambling town that's been preserved--if you count turning it into a kitschy gambling spot. The original buildings are cool though).

Animal Sightings:

Bison
Antelope
Fox
extremely patient Prairie Dog (it was sitting up right at the side of the highway, waiting for everyone to pass).

Thoughts on Wyoming:

Wyoming along 1-80 is really not very attractive. But Wyoming up along the 25 and 1-90 are really pretty.
There are way more Exxons along this route than I'd anticipated, which is fantastic news for me.
There is nothing in Rawlins, Wyoming, but Casper and Gillette are really pretty decent sized.

Tomorrow: Mount Rushmore and then on to Rochester, well Rochester, Minnesota.

And so it begins

2009-08-09T02:31:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow (okay so I guess now it's today), I'm leaving on a road trip. Despite the fact that I'm not asleep yet, which I very well should be, I'm pretty much ready to go. The car is even all packed and everything. Look at me breaking Sorensen family road trip tradition. I know you're looking forward to following Ali and I as we traipse across the country; don't even try to hide it.

Incidentally, do you know what I think of when I think of road trips? Yep, I think of this:

Do ya need a break from modern livin'?
Do ya long to shed your weary load?
If your nerves are raw
And your brain is fried
Just grab a friend and take a ride
Together upon the open road

There's nothin' can upset me
'Cause now we're on our way
Our trusty map will guide us straight and true

Every day another new adventure
Every mile another new zip code
And the cares we had are gone for good

I've got no strings on me
I'm feelin' fancy-free
How wonderful to be
On the open road!

Anybody else remember what it's from?

Perhaps. It might have been.

2009-08-01T14:08:00.000-04:00

I may or may not have eaten brownies for breakfast.

I may or may not have done this because I'm pretty much out of food I can actually make into meals because I may or may not have gone grocery shopping for two and a half weeks.

I may or may not have made these brownies at 1:00 am.

I may or may not have recently rediscovered a package of microwave bacon that I thought one of my roommates had eaten two months ago.

I may or may not have thought dark things about said roommate when I thought she'd eaten the bacon.

I may or may not still be in my pajamas.

I may or may not be moving in just over a week.

I may or may not have done anything for said move other than decide the route and time frame.

I may or may not have come up with a clever, albeit roundabout, way to get new songs for my iTunes without purchasing them.

I may or may not have stayed up rather late last night listening to an audio book I'd already listened to once or twice in the past six months.

I may or may not have had the song from the trailer of the Proposal stuck in my head for three days.

I may or may not be putting off doing things I really should have done already.

Little Things

2009-08-01T14:01:00.001-04:00

A few months ago I noticed that a bird, or well I suppose it would have to be a couple of birds, had built a little nest next to the light fixture at the entrance of my complex's underground parking. Shortly thereafter I got to see baby birds, which quickly grew so large that the Mama bird could no longer actually stay in the nest but had to take refuge on a little mud perch she had created. It was fun to see the babies grow up until one day I'd noticed that they had all quite literally flown the coop and left Mama Swallow (my grandpa told me that because the nest was made from mud these were swallows) an empty nester. Much to my surprise, I noticed last Sunday that there were several new baby bird heads peering out over the edge. Apparently Mama consoled herself by beginning a second brood. I didn't know birds had two broods in one season, I always thought it was a one per year deal. You learn new things everyday.

Now I suppose there are some metaphors or life lessons I could draw from these observations--perhaps I like the baby birds am getting ready to leave the comfort of my "nest" out here in P-town-- but I'm not going to do that. I would rather just appreciate the sweetness of this experience/observation.

The fun 1981 staff at Franklin

2009-07-23T04:07:00.000-04:00

Do I know who these people are?

Do I remember where I got this picture from?

Do I remember why I even have this picture?

Absolutely not.

Do I still feel free to good-naturedly and unabashedly poke fun at these people?

Why yes, yes I do.

It's very difficult to choose my favorite, but I think it may be between the two women in the front row. I suspect, however, that at least one of them is not, in fact, making a silly face.

I sure hope it's the one on the right.

The Pros and Cons of being a Proletariat

2009-07-23T03:54:00.000-04:00

I've been working in the factory for a good sevenish weeks so I'm more or less an expert, which qualifies me to create the following comprehensive list.

Pros

You can always pass the buck up
You can leave work as soon as your foreman type person says so, no paper work for you
You can not care how particularly you do your work so long as it passes periodic inspection
You don't have to get emotionally involved
You can miss a day and it doesn't really matter
You can walk away whenever you want, there are always other factory jobs

Cons

Even when the buck gets passed up you likely have to fix the mistake
You can only leave work when your foreman type person says so
Your work has to pass periodic inspection
When you're a natural perfectionist your work will pass inspection anyway, but it takes you a lot longer to do so because you do actually care
You sometimes do get emotionally involved, and that's kind of disturbing because let's face it you work with labels, pills, lotions, and bottles
When you miss a day it's really hard to go back because you remember your non-proletariat life
Nobody cares if you never come back to the job
Let's face it, when you work at a factory they're all pretty much the same experience, no?

Now for a debate, which is more depressing: the fact that you could not make a living as a factory worker because you're too unskilled in manual labor or the fact that you make your living as a skilled factory worker?

That is mad anti-climatic

2009-07-11T17:49:00.000-04:00

Another chance for ten points, folks. One day, I'll actually record the points and they'll be worth something. Who knows what, but I'm pretty sure it will be all of your wildest dreams.

I know I have been remiss of the poor blog, but I currently live a schedule that has me staying up until the wee hours of the morning (which usually feels like the perfect time to blog but often ends up being a mistake), and then vacillates between being crazy busy and being crazy tired from the busyness. I know, I know I live such a hard life. Sometimes I'm not quite sure how to handle it.

Now for the real updates. . . .

Last week was pretty exciting because we got the 3rd of July off work so I actually could do fun and social things. In the said excitement I zipped up to Salt Lake City to visit the International Peace Gardens with three friends from the mission (the former Sisters Gurr, Howard, and Rowlands) and some new friends. They were pretty cool, but we only ended up getting to stay for about 20-30 minutes due to unfortunate flat tire incidents (not on my car, in case you were wondering).

Sorensen, Row, Howard, Gurr

Then I jetted down to Provo for a Scrabble re-match with my friend Ammon. Sadly, I must confess defeat, again. But I only lost by 50 this time, so I am improving and slowly learning strategies no matter what he says to the contrary. This was followed by an impromptu sand volleyball game with friends from his ward, which lasted for 3 hours (the game, not the friendships I'm sure), and a subsequent four days of soreness. It was, however, a lot of fun.

Saturday I had to be wily to figure out how to escape the Provo 4th of July parade. It had me almost entirely boxed in, but I prevailed and made it to Malad, ID at last to make a long overdue visit to the grandparents. I had a good time and heard a lot of great stories about family members (both the long deceased and the still living [insert slightly evil laughter]).

Then I had church and work for several days. Mostly this was boring but it did include a funny anecdote involving my friend Maritzha, who is Mexican, and a misunderstanding about ghosts and goats. (For more details, please contact the author).

Finally Friday I had another day off so I could go to another former CRM sister's sealing, run errands like the wind, and shoot back up to the Salt Lake area for her reception. It was fun, it was touching, it was tiring. At last I made it home and finally to bed by midnight, which is at least two hours before my normal retiring time and so rather luxurious).

Today, my friends I rose bright and early to go fishing. And as it turns out fishing was rather a bust despite the help of many family members and friends from whom I borrowed fishing equipment and/or who came to help teach me how. And so afterward we went swimming in one of the Burraston ponds. Much fun was had though this was probably very similar to the faces which may have been made after my rather unglamorous attempts at the rope swing.

What can I say, I think the last rope swing I swung on was in second grade and the last time I went swimming was many years hence. I'm out of practice. I really enjoyed myself anyhow. Brittany and Ammon, and several 11-year-old scouts, performed creditably, however.

That is in fact Ammon doing a flip off of the rope swing, though I will admit that these are not my pictures

The rest of today has been spent in the very efficient process of clearing out my inbox, among other errands. It took a shockingly long time. And this clip, my friends made my early evening.

Until next time.

Strange things are happening to me

2009-07-01T03:57:00.001-04:00

I was blogtrawling tonight while I should have been getting ready for bed. I decided to head over to a blog I'd visited a few weeks ago where the blogger had been detailing some of their struggles in finalizing the adoption of their son and I wanted to know if there had been farther developments. In case you were wondering, there were not; but this particular blog has a weekly feature showing children who do need to be adopted and that was up. I began to click around and through and before I knew what was going on, I was seized by an extremely strong desire to adopt a child (and then think of people who could adopt all the others).

Must leave Utah, and all the babies, very soon.

Wondering

2009-06-10T04:59:00.001-04:00

Today I baked lotions for Russians. What did you do?

This is not a challenge, its genuine curiosity

Here in the north

2009-06-10T03:42:00.000-04:00

Some people would look down on my newest summer job. To them it would simply be the f-work (no, not the f-word, I mean really, who do you think I am?) we're talking about f-a-c-t-0-r-i-e-s here. But I prefer to think of it as embracing my inner Henry Ford and getting to understand Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell on a deeper, grittier level. You know the in-depth lived experience that will make me look like this girl here. In fact, I suspect that yesterday night when I got home I looked rather a lot like that. Sure the hours are not ideal, I mean who other than Sherid really wants to work 3:30 pm - 12:00 am, but I've decided to embrace the experience.

There are a number of up-front and positive things about this job. One, while I will readily admit that the five hours I spent yesterday placing Korean labels over the English words on the back of NuSkin's 180 Skin Mist is unlikely to have a profound impact on the world (except maybe for a Korean person who is deeply in need of NuSkin's 180 Skin Mist), I get to wear scrubs, which gives me the illusion of having a deeply meaningful occupation and possibly even distinct direction in my life.

For five minutes I realized what life would be like if I were, in any way, interesting. If I had anything to say for myself, if I did anything.

I was suddenly hit by an extraordinary rush of well-being. So this is what people meant by a natural high. And it only cost 60 quid.

It also makes me look kind of like these people, but minus the stylish hats. In addition, the international components of the job also make me feel like I'm making a greater contribution to humanity. Or perhaps it is merely an indication that English speakers do not want these products. It's very hard to say.

I also must admit that this job is quite different than I'd anticipated. During the last two days, I've discovered that in many ways I have been preparing for this for years: years of helping my Mother with various newsletters and primary letters have helped me practice putting stickers/labels on bottles with attention to proximity and straightness, my own OCD nature helps me be fastidious, and I have developed a taste for running social experiments on myself and those around me. I have often believed that I have a high tolerance for and would even enjoy doing extremely repetitive, menial jobs. Was I right? Do I have a hidden talent for assembly line work? After sixteen hours in the field I'd have to say yes and no. I have my limits. Five hours labeling is just too many, but I enjoy doing the work in periods of a couple of hours at one particular job or task. And the company is really quite enjoyable due to its eclectic nature. My time has several good-natured and sort of crazy old guys as well as a number of people whom shall we say are most comfortable speaking Spanish. Thus far I'm still sort of slow at certain jobs, but I've yet to have any true fiascos.

My one complaint? It's that even though I'm working in a legitimate factory, the room I work in is all white, and I am often treated to hearing my co-workers cough all shift long, I have yet to see anyone like this.

Oh well, I guess I'll just have to keep going the rest of the 58 days in my assignment.

PS I tried to come up with some less obvious quotes. I'm sorry to have offended some of my reader's sensibilities last post. Now here's a real question though, I would swear that "It's very hard to say" is itself a movie quote (I'm hearing it in a sarcastic tone and a British man's voice) but IMDB failed me. Do I have any takers?

PPS

Just for good measure.

I should like to join you very much. Let's fetch our wraps.

2009-05-28T00:50:00.000-04:00

The country round about Alpine

"Thank you, but we're to go for a long walk."
"I am fond of walking."
"It's a very long walk."
"Why's everybody always supposing I'm not a good walker?"

Probably because it's true . . . well at least somewhat. The fact is I'm a very good walker, even on long walks. What I seem to be finding myself doing lately, however, is hiking and that, my friends, is a horse of a different color. Mostly because hiking is much more vertical. I am all for walking through the woods--its very Robert Frost. In fact, I enjoy it rather a lot: scenery, plus exercise, plus time for thought comes out to a very good time.

The view down Corner canyon in Alpine, UT

The problem with hiking then is not its lack of virtues, because as we already discussed in many ways hiking is like walking. No the real problem is that whole breathing thing. I admit it, one of my strange quirks is that I find it difficult to breath when ascending mountains. It's silly I know. Alas, and yet I continue to willingly go on hikes. As the Bishop's wife put it, it's kind of like childbirth. While you're struggling to breath on the way up you wonder why you got yourself into it, but somehow after reaching the top (or maybe not until you're safely back to your vehicle) and that sense of satisfaction kicks in you suddenly can't quite remember how hard it actually was. Until you're doing it again that is.

The conqueror/good walker

PS Ten points for quote identification.

Done my time

2009-05-20T16:58:00.000-04:00

As I alluded to a few posts back, I did in fact recently graduate from college.

Exhibit A

I know, I know you thought the day would never come. Of course it's not because you doubted my academic record, never that, but because you knew I wasn't quite quit with the Y until I had made good on a traditional part of the BYU experience: hiking the Y, which in fact I did last Saturday.

Exhibit B

My friend Ammon and I at the top

And now my career at BYU is:

Exhibit C

More blogging neuroses/confessions

2009-05-08T01:59:00.000-04:00

I compulsively edit and re-post previously published posts (occasionally with extensive rewrites).

I am beginning to suspect that I am a serial blogger.
Let's look at the facts: 28 days, 0 posts; 1 day, 3 posts.

What does this mean? Only time will tell.

I don't know what it is

2009-05-07T13:41:00.000-04:00

But something about this picture just makes me smile. Oh those Brits.

Getting the ball rolling

2009-05-07T12:33:00.000-04:00

I was quite shocked the other day to discover that it had been nearly a month since my last post. I had a busy middle of April and there will be posts to come on that topic, but for now I figured I'd best build up some momentum and what better way to do so than to begin with an inflammatory post that I've been meaning to post for some time now anyhow.

For what I am about to discuss, I beg some of your pardons and ask the others of you for your patience. Around a month ago, I found myself watching My Fair Lady in search of examples of cockney use for the England CultureGuide that I was working on at the time. Whilst I was doing so, I realized that I seriously dislike My Fair Lady. Now I am aware that to some such a statement is tantamount to sacrilege, but hear me out. Truth be told, I do like about three-fourths of it, but I have serious misgivings about the way it ends and it has nothing to do with Rex Harrison's talk singing, which I am utterly at peace with (in fact I think between Rex and Walter Matthau in Hello Dolly all fussing about Gerard Butler in Phantom of the Opera and Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia should be laid to rest, we have a long tradition of imperfect male singers in film musicals to uphold after all). Nor does it have anything to do with the Dr. Dolittle/Eliza Doolittle coincidence that in earlier days mystified me a fair bit. No, what bothers me is Rex Harrison's character's behavior. The entire film/story revolves around the idea of metamorphosis and bringing out inner beauty--we see Eliza progress from her rough Covent Garden persona to a refined, polished, and genteel beauty (both outside and inside) whereas he remains unrepentantly curmudgeonly, rude, and abrasive. And everyone is okay with this? Perhaps, and I do mean perhaps because I don't really believe this myself, it is understandable that when she is rough he treats her roughly, but I feel there should be reciprocal growth and metamorphosis. Why should he be allowed to treat her horribly for forever?

So this led me to ponder farther about the genesis of this story. I can't say I'm surprised with the sexism coming for Shaw's day and age, but I might have expected some rewriting when My Fair Lady was turned into a musical or at least when it was a film. Didn't this bother Audrey Hepburn? I know that they all lived "in a different time" but still we're talking about elemental good behavior here. Maybe from this time on I'll just have to turn the movie off at the end of the ball.

But this is not my only issue with a musical of this era, I also have serious issues with The Sound of Music. For one I think it really is abominably bad behavior of Christopher Plummer to continue to refer to it as "The Sound of Phlegm" unless he is only referring to his own performance, but I suppose that is an issue for another time altogether. For the most part I really do like The Sound of Music, I mean come on Julie Andrews, spades of memorable songs, and children and nuns who sing, what's not to like? Well for some years now I have been extremely uneasy about the song "Something Good." Everyone loves Sister Maria and I think we are all pretty familiar with her exuberance by this point. So in the rush of finding that the man she loves does in fact love her in return, I can go along with her line of thinking as she exudes that she must have done something good in her past to deserve having something so good now (particularly when I take into account that she is a Catholic Nun and that really does go along with much of their doctrine). What rankles me then is that Captain Von Trapp stands right there essentially singing that yes, you must have done something good to deserve me.

Let's look at the facts of the case there, Captain. From the very beginning Maria was a good person willing to sacrifice her entire life to the Lord, but she agrees to leave her dream--becoming a nun--to come help you and your family out. It's Maria who really talks to and bonds with your kids. It's Maria who discovers their talent and individual worth and helps them to see it as well. It's Maria who cultivates their gifts and teaches them to sing. It's Maria who introduces love to your home. And it's Maria who inspires real obedience and good behavior. In fact, it's Maria who the kids run away to see not their philandering father. Doesn't anyone else feel that their parts in the song should be switched? Or at the very least, Captain Von Trapp should sing that he too must have done something good.

The bottom line? I may have to take it upon myself to rewrite some musicals in order to preserve my own sense of right and wrong and simple good behavior.

And you thought editors were useless

2009-04-09T12:16:00.001-04:00

Well apparently this has been a hot news item here in Utah, but for those of my readers who live far, far away I'll let you in on the "scoop." Monday morning the Daily Universe had to recall all copies (well not all because some people kept their originals as "collector's items") of the paper and issue a reprint because of a hapless "spell check" error. The caption front and center was meant to describe how "the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles" sustained a new apostle, however what it actually discussed was the Quorum of the Twelve Apostates--who funnily enough look just like the apostles.

The Daily Universe is sticking to their story that spell check incorrectly fixed a misspelling of apostles, but this skeptic doesn't buy it. How were they trying to spell apostles, "apostatles"? I think it more likely to have begun as a joke, the writer assumed the next person, or surely the person after that, would catch it. Either that or it was an editing test and they all failed. If the Daily Universe had proper editors, a fact I have long disbelieved, it would have been caught and the University could have saved some money and kept from looking incredibly sheepish.

And while I'm at it, I'll share my defense for the Oxford comma. This is a lifelong battle that I feel compelled to undertake. Consider the following:

After winning the Nobel Peace Prize, she thanked her parents, the Pope, and Mother Theresa.

After winning the Nobel Peace Prize, she thanked her parents, the Pope and Mother Theresa.

Do you see it?

In the first sentence, the one with the Oxford comma, the prize winner is thanking three people/groups of people: her parents, the Pope, and Mother Theresa. In the second sentence this is not the case. Instead, the prize winner's words become a confession: her parents are, in fact, the Pope and Mother Theresa. Now that would be shocking.

So what have we all learned? Spell check does not solve all our problems, but editors do. The Oxford comma is a crucial and beloved punctuation mark that can help us all avoid heretical, and embarrassing, statements.

Ahhh, don't you feel better--and smarter?

Warning: Somehow the Daily Universe seems to have been remarkably successful in keeping the above picture off the internet. I, myself, cannot reveal my sources or how I intercepted the picture I'm posting (I am not one of those with a collector's copy). I must therefore respectfully request that it not be disseminated indiscriminately because I'm going to blame you if I get kicked out of BYU two weeks before graduation.

Where the fun is

2009-04-08T12:04:00.000-04:00

I always knew the College of Humanities was a bit liberal--why else do you think I am an English major?--but still, this seems a bit much. This morning I received this invitation.

Dear Humanities students,

We are having our closing social this Thursday, April 9th @ 7:00 PM! We will have some live music and mixed drinks, so make sure to stop by.

The English Society's Classy Closing Social

Thursday, April 9th

7:00-9:00 PM

JFSB B003

Free drinks and live music!

Hmmm, "mixed drinks"? What exactly does that mean? This is what google found when I asked them:

I admit that is more or less what I thought of.

So if they don't mean mixed drinks in this sense, what do they mean? And why do they think that such mixed drinks would be a big enough draw to make it their main advertisement? It almost makes me want to go so I can see for myself what exactly the college of Humanities serves up after hours.

Almost.

Holi

2009-03-31T00:41:00.000-04:00

Meg is in the second row on the right, diagonal from Tate

It's that time of year again. Here's what happened this time around.

The Thomasons and I attended the BYU Gamelan concert in the Pavilion at the Hare Krishna temple.
I searched through thousands upon thousands of people to find my friends, and actually did find them (as well as a lot of other people I knew). Ah, I remember how there were only about 100 people, or less, the first time I went to Holi.

This picture really doesn't even do it justice. It was absolute madness. Some people drove down from Idaho to attend.

I was coerced, literally, into selling some of my previously purchased colors to complete strangers and earned all of my money back in the process.
Ali and I drove down to Payson (to avoid the traffic trying to get on the freeway in Spanish Fork) where we stopped at the Daily Freeze and I ended up getting dinner for free.

All in all, a good day (despite the hordes).

What did you do to welcome in the spring?

That's just the way I roll

2009-03-31T00:39:00.000-04:00

I've been asked lately what I've heard from graduate schools. Well, if you asked me that question, you failed one of my social experiments. A number of weeks ago, when I'd heard back from the first one, I placed a new sidebar on my blog to track my progress.

Anyway, I'm currently two for two. Now the hard decisions begin.

On the Southwestern Front

2009-03-31T00:31:00.000-04:00

Last week instead of sending a conventional letter to my brother who is currently serving as a missionary in the Texas San Antonio Mission, I sent him a copy of my "Technology Tantrums." As opposed to most of my letters, he responded immediately. Here's what he said:

What you really need to do is enlist some guerrilas in their own ranks. Try recruiting from the dissatisfied Bourgeouis technology that most rebellion movements snub, perhaps a foot massager or iPod. If I have learned anything from Risk (which as we all know has limitless practical strategic applications), this will be how you attain complete victory and utter subjection of your techno slaves.
Con Amor,
Élder Sorensen

Personally, I found it a tad creepy how similarly we think.

And, secondly I want to know how someone would go about recruiting an iPod to join forces with them. I'm pretty sure mine would, if I could just figure out how to reason with it.

Guerilla Attack

2009-03-23T10:56:00.000-04:00

Guess what time I was supposed to be at work this morning?
8:00 am, yeah that's right.

Now guess what time I woke up this morning?
8:09 am.

Pretty sure its going to be one of those days.

Gotta love it.

PS I may have to kill my alarm clock which was on and set for 5:30 am and yet never woke me up. It must have joined the technology coups. Now that was a low blow.

Note: I do recognize and understand that guerrillas and gorillas are indeed quite different things. I simply find gorillas more interesting to look at.

Technology Tantrums

2009-03-23T00:21:00.000-04:00

Well I'm not quite sure what I've done to anger the technology gods, but I've noticed a consistent plague of technology related schizophrenia--almost on a plagues of Egypt scale.

It began with the mysterious non-functioning external hard drive. Yes, the one that refused to work for me all semester then worked for Dad in about 5 minutes, and then promptly quit functioning after I returned to Utah. And it has progressed from there.

The second noticeable culprit was Jasper--my new laptop. Despite having been purchased at the exact same time as Meg's and being the exact same make and model, Jasper has a few personality quirks. In fact, Jasper frequently behaves very much like a two-year-old: he is a selective listener when it comes to voice commands, he tells bad knock-knock jokes, he hates to go to sleep, and he is especially troublesome when I'm in public.

Then my cell phone developed low self-esteem. I could charge it all night long and it would have full bars until I began talking to someone. At which point it would panic, absolutely certain it did not have enough power to continue, drop the call I was on and turn itself off. And it just kept working itself up and getting worse and worse.

I thought the preemptive strike I took against the old phone would end the string of unfortunate events, oh how wrong I was. It turns out that my other disobedient technology must be teaching my new phone some bad habits. At first I thought it was simply that I was not used to the "touch" technology and that was why it would call someone of its own volition every once in a while. Apparently this bolstered its confidence because lately I've noticed that it began to add random recipients to certain text messages. Clearly this was funny because it has also started not delivering messages for hours at a time or sending repeat messages in quick succession.

So if you have suffered any communication anomalies from one or the other of my technological lifelines, there's no need to worry about me--I'm just in the middle of coups. I am, however, masterminding a counterstrike, so be ready to be enlisted if the need arises.

My sincerest apologies for any inconvenience the current insurgence may have caused.