Friday, March 31, 2006

books, books, books

I just spent the last half hour or so in incredible nerdiness, and now feel compelled to share it with you all. First, since I was putting away my new book purchases, I thought it would be as good a time as any to rearrange my bookshelves. I've been feeling a sense of shame over them not being properly organized* so I had at it. Paperback fiction in order by author, then title. Hardcover fiction, children's paperbacks, children's hardcover, ditto. Picture books, poetry, ditto. Non-fiction grouped by subject, in no particular order. Some paperbacks aren't in order because they're stacked on the bottom, dusty shelf so I can squeeze more in. I realized I own a shocking number of books that I've never read (either given to me or picked up at the library booksale for $1 each) and am determined to do something about that.

Then, while I was on the subject of reading, I thought I'd tally up how many books I've read recently. I started writing down each title in my notebook around December of 2004, I think, maybe a bit sooner. Anyway, the grand total for 2005 was an even 80. Forty-seven were children's items (not counting picture books, I'm not that bad) and 33 adult. Thirteen were books I was rereading. That's a book every four or five days, if I do the math right. In the first three months of 2006, I've got 37 titles - 23 juv, 14 adult, and 5 of those rereads. A book every two or three days, I believe. In other words, as long as I don't slack off, I'll beat my 2005 record.

The funny thing is that I know some people will read this and think, "oh my God, she spends so much time reading." And other people will think, "so what? I read 365 books last year." Some people will roll their eyes at the fact that I 1) keep track of what I read and 2) spent the time tallying it up. Others will think, "ooh, I should tally up what I've read!" Please proceed with whichever reaction is appropriate. Have some chocolate, while you're at it.

Has anyone read The History of Love? Should I make an effort to get into it?

*Totally, completely, 100% kidding about this.

Thursday, March 30, 2006

snippets, a la babelbabe

Is there a correspondingly pretentious word (for a school you are about to attend) to alma mater? I'd like to start using it, if there is. Also, it would save me the hassle of deciding whether or not to publicly declare where I intend to enroll and save any privacy hassles.

I find it almost physically impossible these days to not round out a meal with a cup of tea. Breakfast just isn't the same without (in the absence of coffee). Perhaps a cup of Earl Grey. After lunch, a cup of English Breakfast it nice for clearing the palate. And what is a slice of wacky cake (studded with chocolate chips) without a cup of decaf Irish Breakfast? (I choose to ignore the strangeness of drinking "breakfast" teas after noon.)

The one nice side effect to your pregnant friend suffering from back problems is that her daughter becomes much more eager for you to pick her up. Q likes to ignore me in church these days, or limit herself to casting icy glances in my direction. In her own home, it's another story. Read her Fox in Socks and Goodnight Moon and The Maggie B. Swing her around the room. Cuddle her. Play catch with a stuffed cat. Make her laugh by swiveling around her baby doll's head to face the wrong direction. Get a couple kisses as I leave.

I remain on pins and needles about what they will choose to name the baby currently residing in an alleged three cups of amniotic fluid.

On Tuesday I dropped some books off at my neighborhood library (not my place of employment) and just kept walking until I was at my friendly neighborhood used book store, an exceedingly dangerous little house stuffed full of books. I have this problem where I only buy books I know and love. I don't like to take chances. But, I did manage to pick up Motherless Brooklyn - which had better live up to all the glowing praises of bloggers - as well as The Thief in a cheapo paperback and Beauty in a gorgeous hardcover, identical to the copy I first read at the library as a wee thing.


I would rather keep blogging than go to work.

show & tell

I was going to get all fancy with this week's Show & Tell and buy some fancy schmancy chocolates at the Four Seasons and sample them and declare one the winner, perhaps in the style of the Tournament of Books, because that would involve a lot of chocolate and a lot of chocolate is a good thing. And since every has been raving about the glories of Green & Black's, my heart was set. I noticed their baking chocolate and cocoa in the baking aisle last time I was the Four Seasons, so I was reasonably confident that I would come home with at least one flavor.

Sadly, that was it. Baking chocolate. And while I'll gnaw my way through just about any chocolate bar, it just didn't seem right to start my relationship with G&B's off that way. So instead I present to you one of my old favorites, the Kinder Bueno.



It's cheap in Europe but the prices are all jacked up here, and if I'm going to pay more than a dollar for a candy bar, it had better be good quality. Kinder Bueno is a nice comfort chocolate, delicious half-melted or chilled. Or, if you insist, at room temperature. Chocolate coating, crispy shell, creamy hazelnut filling.

Now I just have to figure out where to find more Green & Black's...

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

belated sunday confession

(I thought of this falling asleep Sunday night, but yesterday I couldn't remember what I was going to confess.)

I love making jokes and puns out of bits & pieces of church services and daily readings. Not with any intentional disrespect, but I do tend towards fits of giggling at vespers.

Some are things that people have misheard (especially as children) and told me about, and now that part of the service can't go past without me thinking of it.

"Oh Lord save the pious" so easily becomes "Oh Lord save the papayas."

The Feast of the Enunciation.

I can't go on. You get the idea.

Monday, March 27, 2006

Sustenance

I was well on my way to be virtuous last night, as I got into bed at 11 pm and set my alarm for 7. But then I realized I was quite close to the end of Never Let Me Go and so I might as well finish it, right? Right. Appropriately for the title, it's a difficult book to put down. You reach the end of a chapter and think, "okay, now I'll turn off the light," but suddenly you find yourself halfway through the next chapter. While I'd recommend it, I do have to say that after reading the last page, I wasn't too sad about letting it go. I didn't want to clasp it to my bosom like, say, Pride and Prejudice. Nope, just tossed it over the side of the bed (onto the book heap that permanently lives there - side effect of a tiny bedside table) and went to sleep.

I've also been on another little Dorothy Sayers kick - listening to The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club and got Gaudy Night on Netflix. I think my favorite part about the Gaudy Night movie was watching them drink all that tea. The guy who does Lord Peter left something to be desired. He was missing a certain snappiness. No one can come close to the vision in my head. But the tea! The dons with their fine china and pouring in milk and careful stirring. I love England for its tea-drinking habits. Thinking about it, I realized that I love the way tea and coffee are both used in books and movies - an offering of a cup always introduces a nice note of comfort and sustenance. Beverages you could live off.

Go check out Kate's goats. She emailed me saying, "Keith got me two awesome surprise presents." And I said, "sweet. are they goats?" Their names are Beezus and Ramona. I am jealous.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

attention, please

I have an announcement. No one else that I know is allowed to get married this summer. Okay? If you insist, you may hold your nuptials in June or July. But under no circumstances are they allowed to be held in August.

Thank you for your time.

PS - not that I am against my friends getting married, it's just that I wish to share in your joy and eat your cake and wear a nice dress and socialize. And I can't do that if you all get married at the same time, okay?

Friday, March 24, 2006


More Ireland. Because it came up on my screensaver and I've always had a special place in my heart for the alleged "smallest church in the world." (For scale, imagine us ducking our heads as we went in.) Posted by Picasa

list friday

Started here. Lately I've been thinking about getting rid of stuff. There are two problems: stuff I don't currently use but will probably need later, and lack of storage space for stuff I don't use frequently. I want to be all minimal and streamlined. I feel a bit weighed down by owning large pieces of furniture, which I suppose has to come with adulthood, and the furniture is terribly useful, but I guess I'm nostalgic for the time when I could pack everything I owned into a '68 Dodge Coronet. But that was when I lived in a dorm and owned two mugs and a bowl and a plate and slept on a single futon. Now there are things like bookshelves and kitchen tables and couches and washers. Just knowing that whenever I move next, it will all have to be lugged around.

I also go back and forth between thinking things like, "I should see how long I can live off the food in the pantry & just buy fresh fruits & vegetables," and "I could really use some new clothes for spring, nice things that I'll wear for a long time." And then I'll have sushi for lunch and go into a couple clothing stores and not buy a single thing.

Anyway, things to get rid of:

-my desktop computer, circa 1999.
-the leftovers in the fridge that no one will ever eat.
-clothes I don't wear.
-this quilt. By making it and giving it away.
-the leftover potatoes (check).

Things to acquire:

-a pair of shoes to wear in Kate's wedding (with this dress, in espresso. Suggestions welcomed).
-a running habit
-new shirts for spring
-coffee. I really really really want to drink my way through a vat of lattes. It is my Greatest Temptation and I'm not holding out very well.
-prints of some of my favorites of the pictures I've taken since getting a digital camera.

I could actually write a whole post about coffee right now. (Because of the whole cream/milk addiction and not being willing to stoop to coffee defiled by soymilk, coffee is kind of out during Lent. Not to say that I've (ahem) completely abstained.) Coffee is like a really good friend. You spend a lot of time with it, and want to include it in all social occasions. But then Coffee moves away. At first it really hurts. The pain of separation. You cry a little. So many things remind you of your good friend Coffee - the cafe where you used to hang out together, going grocery shopping, waking up in the morning. The pain dulls over time, but you always carry it with you, you know.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Show & Tell


Windows, per Blackbird. These aren't MY windows but aren't they cunning? This was taken at the caretaker's lodge at Pittock Mansion, on the staircase landing. There's a view of trees & brambles down the hillside. You can see my actual windows in the background of lots of pictures I've posted, but they're incredibly boring. Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

delightfully accepts or regretfully declines?

I'm not an author either, but like Babelbabe I like the idea of picking five books off my shelf. At first I thought "how will I pick randomly?" and then I realized "because I had a glass of wine more than four hours after my last meal, silly." Ahem. Because that's true. It was a very mediocre white (not even a hint of barnyard!) that, if I recall correctly, Kate and I opened over a week ago. I wasn't feeling picky. Also, I'm alone in the apartment for over a week. This is why I don't live alone. I'd be uncovered after a period of several months, rolling in a heap of books and muttering something about raw milk.

I digress.

I picked five books, by closing my eyes and picking one off each shelf of fiction.

1. The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster, Richard Brautigan. Purchased at Powells after Bronwen emailed me many of the poems in college, for $3.50. "I think I'll get up/ and dance around the room./ Here I go!"

2. The Voyage Out, Virginia Woolf. Purchased on Charing Cross Road for 2.50 (that's pounds). With, I might add, Bronwen. I think I saved it to read in Italy, at a time when books in English were a precious commodity.

3. The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen. Received from a Stonecutter. Haven't read yet. Even Kate has read it. Shame.

4. The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan. I think I bought it at Goodwill. I was going to say I read it for sophomore English, but that was The Kitchen God's Wife, which I actually prefer, especially when I need a good tearjerker. The movie of JLC? Bores me to tears.

5. Stuart Little, EB White. Bought it at Powells, I think. "He somehow felt he was headed in the right direction."

Good variety, yes?

In, um, other news - you know how I LOVE the mail? Well, tonight I had an odd feeling as I approached my mailbox. I pulled it all out, fumbled with the key, turned on a light, sorted Kate's stuff into a stack, and there it was. The return address I've been waiting for. But - a moment of panic. The envelope was thin. Thin means rejection, yes? Fat means "we love you! Come to our university and fulfill your destiny! Here are several brochures!" I practically rip open the envelope.

You know when you're reading something that you know is important? And you try to read as quickly as possible because oh my God the suspense? But you don't want to miss important details? Mistake "accepted" for "rejected" or some such. Yeah, that's how I felt.

In the words of Kate's wedding invite reply card (although not the actual wording of the letter), I was "delightfully accepted" into the library science program at the university of my choice. (IE, the only university I applied to, albeit twice.) Hence the wine on a relatively empty stomach. It all makes sense now, doesn't it?

Tuesday, March 21, 2006


I spent the morning with chalk, a ruler, and a pair of sharp scissors. Nothing is stitched together yet but this is the layout I'm thinking of. My OCD side is having a very hard time with the fact that the fabrics aren't in proportion, but that's my own damn fault. Now I just need to brush up on my sewing machine skills. The green is much greener in reality, and the red ones are strawberries. The back is a swirly red-peachy pattern. PS - my OCD side made me rearrange it into diagonal lines of each color, minus the strawberries (well, that part was Kate), which miraculously worked except for one color. Now, like wordgirl suggested, there's one flaw - a square stitched together from two scraps.  Posted by Picasa

Monday, March 20, 2006


First day of spring, I have a hankering for Josh Ritter (the music, but I suppose I'd take the man himself, too), I'm wearing The Pants (which Toni has stolen from me on and off over the years and are currently undergoing a springtime renaissance) and Clarks with No Socks. No socks! The joy! Posted by Picasa

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Sunday Confession

Today I've consumed:

a Grand Central scone
a latte - with real milk
strawberries
carrots
little fried things with cheese inside
two mystery flavored jelly beans (to disprove the idea that they were all popcorn flavored)
a little fried thing with, um, chicken inside
a slice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and ice cream

Fast? What fast?

Friday, March 17, 2006

life is a trilogy, life is a trinity


Ireland, summer of 2001. Inis Mor. One of the two sunny days during the entire summer.  Posted by Picasa

Bronwen attempting to climb into a church in Glendalough, purely for the purpose of capturing it on film, if I remember correctly. Posted by Picasa

Probably a runner-up in the contest for dorkiest picture of Jessmonster. On a windy hillside in Donegal. I don't remember how I got that sweater, but I can only say that I kept it for far too long. Posted by Picasa

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Show & Tell


The everyday, boring white Freddies butterdish in its natural setting. Posted by Picasa

On the left, French; on the right, Mexican. The French butterdish is a lovely concept and delightful to use, but has the unfortunate reality of creating moldy butter. The Mexican is a little short and the stick of butter tends to stick to the top. Messy. Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

ides

So Kim started this whole confessions trend thing, and here I am a day late and a dollar short, but I do have a cup of tea and a few minutes before I need to hop in the shower (yes, it's 10:30 and I haven't showered, what's your problem?)

The other day I had a few Catholic school related confessions, so I'll add on from there.

If you give me a chocolate bar, I'll hide it in my room so I can be sure of it. Not that I don't trust Katy, but I just like to know that it's there for late-night snacking.

I use tissues to capacity. I'm already all germy, so it can't hurt, right?

My sweet tooth is such that I'll eat stale chocolate cake. Ask Bronwen. Or the gross grocery store kind with yucky frosting.

Sometimes, at the library, I start flipping through a book and before I know it, I've practically read the whole thing instead of, oh, doing the shelving I'm paid to do.

I like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

I get teary during stupid movies. You know, that one scene that's meant to tug at your heartstrings? The one I'm mocking as we watch? That one? It made me cry. And I pretend that it didn't.

I cheated on a spelling test in 6th grade - on the extra credit question - so that I could get a sticker. My other answers were perfect.

I hate making phone calls. I'd rather email or write letters.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

who can resist a slogan?

via sweetney - the advertising slogan generator gave me this:

Garish and Tweed. It's what's for dinner.

bloglines and taxes and a PS (and a PPS)

I don't know how it happened, but sometime last night, when I wasn't sleepy because I'd slept in so late because I'd been up half the night trying to breathe through my nose, I got caught up on my bloglines. I don't know about you, but my bloglines usually looks like my email inbox and my desk - lots of unread stuff that I haven't gotten around to. Want to read it someday, just not today. But then, maybe because not many people post on the weekend, or because I don't have energy to do much besides read (books or blogs), I hit refresh and got that magic sentence: "0 Updated Feeds." I don't think it's ever said that before. So then I got all crazy-like and went and updated my blogroll. Took off the people who don't post anymore, added some that I've been reading lately. Work in progress.

I've been thinking about how I need to get my taxes done and how annoying that is. Not that I have to pay taxes, although I don't exactly leap for joy about it, but the process. The headache, the trying to figure it out yourself or paying someone else to do it. Why does it have to be so elaborate? Plus, I found out last year that since I don't own a house, any charitable donations don't help me any. What a way to inspire young, poor people to give money. Not like that stops me from donating, but it would've been a nice little perk.

PS - Book Report.

I finished The Accidental - the end was slightly redeeming to the book as a whole, but not quite enough to make me recommend it. One of the things that kept me going was the very cheery author photo. She didn't look like someone who was messing around with form just for the hell of it or deliberately torturing readers. I just...didn't like any of the characters. Until the very very end. And I enjoyed it more when I was sick than when I was well. So...

I put a couple books on hold from the Powell's Tournament of Books list - Never Let Me Go and The History of Love - and they came in on Saturday when I was at the library, but I left them in my basket to take home on Sunday because my bag was already jam-packed (as usual) but then of course I called in sick on Sunday. So I thought I'd read through the other things languishing on my shelf, but of course now that I don't have any, I'm in the mood for a proper grown-up novel. But not enough, apparently, to make an extra non-work trip to the library. Instead I've been reading The Silver Spoon of Solomon Snow (which is decent but not absorbing) and Home Cooking (per BabelBabe's recommendation) (which is lovely but not, you know, fiction. Plus, she keeps making asides about the evils of animal fats or 'don't serve this to your cardiologist' and I now know that I've been indoctrinated into the world of Nourishing Traditions because please! Give it a rest!)

PPS: Digging GoogleMars. I'm sure Joe is all "geez, it took you that long to notice it?" because he's Mr. GoogleEarth. But whatever.

Monday, March 13, 2006

dear jessica

I just had some email communication with the school I hope to receive a degree from some day. I emailed them with a question (how do I switch my application from the residential program to the distance program? because yes, finally, I have made up my mind!) and just got an email back. Now, when I email people it shows them my first and last names. Also, I signed the email with first and last names, being all official like. The email back? Addressed to "Dear Jessica." Which, in case you hadn't figured it out already, is not my name.

It's moments like these when I have such great faith in education.

no one can ignore Jesus forever

 
Now why don't I go to this church? They clearly have all the answers. I feel like I'm being hit over the head with a brick whenever I read their signs. Posted by Picasa

let us set out with joy (part one, maybe)

Why do I fast? I don't know. (Short answer.)

(Long answer.)

1. It's a communal act. I was born into a commune, okay? I like it. Give me a break. I couldn't do it on my own, without some support system. I couldn't say, "this year I'm going to give up X, Y and Z" and actually stick to it, all on my own. I'm all for thinking for yourself and being an individual, etc. etc. But there's something pleasantly childlike about going along with everyone else. Doing as we've been told to do for centuries. Not that the act of fasting shouldn't be examined - but it's not a logical decision, really. The whole idea of faith isn't terribly logical. The Resurrection is outside the bounds of day-to-day life. A link between this world and the next. Which is maybe the point of the fast? To change our daily lives?

2. I have a confession. Well, two.

a. It look me a long time to accept fasting. When I was a kid, and my whole family still went to church, we did the no meat thing. I couldn't imagine giving up dairy. Neither, apparently, could my mom - at least with three children. I don't remember so much having a problem with not eating meat - it was the substitutions that made it truly horrific. Particularly memorable was the spaghetti with tofu instead of meat in the sauce. (I'll let you contemplate that for a second. Horrific, eh?) I gradually took out dairy and eggs - first following the rule of "if you can't see it, it's not there." The rule is very convenient if you want to eat breads, muffins, etc. You cut out overtly dairy items like slices of cheese and ice cream, but you can still have that cookie. Not bad, huh?

Then there was the phase of extremity, where I could be found examining labels in the grocery store until my eyes hurt. "This has milk proteins - we need to find something else." Um, yeah. I've backed off a bit. I'm going to go have St. Patrick's Day dinner with the cousins (as long as you save some for when I get off work, please?) and not worry about it. I'm not going to stand there and agonize over whether I should just eat the potatoes or have some of the meat, too.

b. The other confession is this - and hoo boy is this one tricky to suppress - sometimes I feel a nasty sense of superiority, especially over Catholics. I'd like to blame it on seven years of Catholic school, if I may. As a middle schooler, I found this particularly mind-boggling - they picked what they wanted to fast from. Things like soda, or watching TV, or sweets (although, I would be a miserable wreck if I had to fast from sweets. I'll just throw that out there.) It seemed to childish. And the whole fish Fridays thing? Please. During Lent, the fish/wine/oil days shine like a beacons of deliciousness.

It's always made me laugh: Catholics - fish = suffering. Orthodox - fish = rejoicing.

Anyway, I really hate that feeling of false superiority. Because it's not about what you eat or don't eat or whose church is better. Obviously. But the whole Catholic school experience did put me on the defensive. Hard to shake, maybe like that Catholic guilt thing.

3. It's part of the whole experience of Lent. It's all tied together. It's like a whole food. Process it and you lose some of the nutrients. You can't digest it as well. Maybe it gives you cancer, we're not really sure yet since the studies are inconclusive, but don't risk it, okay?

4. I like having a time of the year that's different and set aside and all that. It's referred to as "the sea of the fast" a lot and I like that mental image - a little ship, sort of Dawn Treader sized, in a stormy sea. Maybe your supplies are running low and sometimes you just want to get off, but the other shore is a whole lot better than the one you just left and the only way to get there is to keep sailing.

5. It's about food. Food seems to always be crucial in the religious experience. Is there any religion that doesn't involve food, somehow? I doubt it. I love food. I love cooking, and the social experience, and eating, and all of it. And it changes the whole experience when you're limited in diet. Eating to live, rather than living to eat. And each year is such a different experience.

My head is still all wonky and snot-filled, so this ranks "low" on the Articulate Scale. And is by no means thorough. And is likely slightly self-righteous and, um, boring. Whatever.

Also, yesterday was the Sunday of Orthodoxy on which we celebrate the triumph over the iconoclasts and all that stuff. I celebrated by staying home sick, but that's just me. There's a bit I always love at the end, after we process with our icons (at the Greek church, if we're feeling social) and shout out things like, "this is the faith of our fathers! This is the faith of the Orthodox!" Which, you know, cracks me up. Because hardly is this the faith of my fathers. My parents don't even come to church, so it's only marginally the faith of my father, let alone all those generations. But somehow that makes me like shouting it even more.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

if you have spent the day...

...on your couch, with a cold whose symptoms I will not bore you with, might I recommend that you watch The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie? I just might. I got it on Bronwen's recommendation (and really, stuff like this is why we are friends) and thank the good Lord that I saved it for today. I do have to confess that I haven't read the book yet, may great shame fall upon me - I'm a stickler for reading the book first. But rest assured that it shall be in my hands soon.

Also, a moment of drama in my dull life: I'm housesitting (or rather, catsitting) and last night I went to let them in after a day of wandering the wilds of suburbia. One came in like a good little Pepper, but Pixie - oh, she was a troublemaker and wouldn't come in. Fine, I thought, let her spend the night outside and see what she thinks of that! This morning, still no sign. But a persistent and devastating mewing noise came from the neighbor's yard. So I called the neighbor (who I'd been informed was a "widow," and was surprised to find rather sprightly and sassy rather than ancient and white-haired) who said she hadn't seen the cat but also heard mewing. So I went over and poked around, and lo and behold, the cat had managed to get into the widow's shed and been shut in. The indignant (although it was her own damn fault) Pixie then retired to home and her food dish. Thank goodness, because I was dreading that "um, your cat disappeared and might be dead" phone call.

Friday, March 10, 2006

the injustice

I was thinking about calling in sick* today so that I could go to pre-sanc** and lo, someone thought it would be SO funny to give me a nasty sore throat. So a "sick day" isn't quite as much fun if you're actually not feeling well. But well worth it. This is the time of year when I truly despise my work schedule. I have an abiding fondness for pre-sancs - their Lentenness - and my work schedule would allow me go to, oh, none of them. I am justified in my skipping work.

I'm turning over ideas for a post about fasting - mostly to answer the question "why?" which I've never thoroughly thought out for myself. The answer comes to me in bits and pieces each year. Maybe I don't really need to know exactly why. We just do. (Except for, um, that chicken broth that I put in the lentil soup today. Better to break the fast than to pour good chicken broth down the drain, eh?) Anyway, one of these days.

*Is it okay to fake sick so you can go to church?

**Officially known as the Liturgy of the Pre-Sanctified Gifts, but pre-sanc is so much snappier.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

unbelievable

It's snowing.

The universe is mocking me for those spring pictures I took yesterday. HA, it says. IT'S STILL WINTER.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006


more spring! spring for everyone! Posted by Picasa

and look! it's almost spring! Posted by Picasa

you cannot resist the mollie-dog Posted by Picasa

this is what happens when you let a dog into your house. Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

the heart breaks and breaks and lives by breaking*

Why is it that reading a new book is often so much more alluring than picking up an older one? I've had The Slave Dancer (Newbery, but of course) on my bedroom floor for about a month, and when I'm inbetween books I might read a few pages while I brush my teeth. But then it gets tossed back on the floor in flavor of something new that came in on hold, like The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. You might remember how I adore The Tale of Despereaux. I also adore the people they get to illustrate Kate DiCamillo's books, like Bagram Ibatoulline in this case. Don't you love it already?



And if you're anything like me, you might flip through the entire book to ooh and ahh over the rest of the illustrations. Some of them might just about break your heart.

Now I need to find out if the book is any good. But if nothing else, you should pick up a copy and flip through it.

*from the epigraph, by Stanley Kunitz.

Monday, March 06, 2006

a word smedley

Today was one of those day where, without any external force applied or the serious use of a snooze button, I was out of bed before 7:30. A truly remarkable fact. Please absorb it for a moment.

Now, take a moment to absorb the even more shocking fact that I went to sleep at 10:30 last night. Usually I'm finishing up dinner at 10:30 and thinking about settling down with a movie or a book. But, in spite of my excessive consumption of "last hurrah" coffee throughout the day, I was bone-tired. Is that a real phrase? I keep saying things and then not being sure if they're real. Well, I know that "smedley" isn't, but that hasn't stopped me from using it to describe every meal I've eaten in the past twenty-four hours. Think of it as a marriage of "medley" and smörgåsbord. First there was yesterday's "brunch smedley" - unable to choose between buttermilk pancakes and an apple pancake, we had both. Then the "dinner smedley" which was essentially a clearing out of all dairy products from the fridge - a nice little table cheese, leftover baked ziti, a piece of tuna steak (okay, yes, not dairy, but it was a fish week, for crying out loud, and still needed to be gone), yogurt...and of course ice cream. And we end with today's "vegetable smedley" aka stirfry. Smedleys for everyone!

I have a ferociously weird energy today, where I feel completely listness but find myself doing things like cleaning up three days worth of dishes before eating breakfast, rearranging two half-dead bouquets to create one passable vase full, and immediately doing the dishes after lunch. Now I feel incapable of motion.

As further evidence of instability, I present to you last night's Forgiveness Sunday vespers. Where one minute found me all choked up about something and contemplating the mystical season of the fast. And the next moment found me stifling hysterical laughter during prostrations after a near kick in the head and an uncomfortably close encounter with the bum of the woman in front of me.

Friday, March 03, 2006

lists

I'm supposed to be, you know, getting stuff done while the ziti bakes itself (actually it's penne - the recipe called for any tubular pasta. Bee, I expect you can describe the difference between penne & ziti? Merely size? Some obscure qualities?) but instead I'm going to make a list, because apparently it's List Friday and I can't resist bandwagons.

Crafts...

-I went to a Waldorfy school where we learned to knit, amongst other things. Remarkable projects included a stuffed cat with an exceedingly long tail, a case for my sewing needles (only I think that wasn't knitted - I recall stitching and using cardboard) and other sundries.

-We sanded our own knitting needles out of dowel rods. I think.

-During storytime we sat with beeswax in our hands, warming it, and then modeling it into figures from the story.

The only drawing I've ever really enjoyed was when we'd watch our teacher do a watercolor and then copy the figures. The smell of the paints takes me back to standing in line to wet our sponges.

-Every Valentine's Day for several years, we threw a party with all the usuals - a heart-shaped cake with pink frosting, ditto cookies, tea, tiny sandwiches, punch, etc. But the pinnacle of the event was, of course, the actual Valentines (especially the year that my brother ate too much and distributed pink vomit over the table). My sister and I would spend weeks ahead of time carefully creating cards out of construction paper, paper doilies, glue, and gold & silver pens. Then we would construct our mailboxes with a hole at the top, similarly festooned. Our friends would come over in their frilliest outfits and we'd eat and drop Valentines in each other's boxes.

-Bronwen & I once created a very authentic medieval castle in 6th grade. We even used salt on the walls for a realistic gritty feel. It took forever.

pros & cons

Reasons I'm Spoiled (Spoilt?)

1. Most days I don't have to be up before noon.
2. I don't have to pay library fines.
3. I have a basket of Sensaria* at my disposal.

Reasons I Should Be Pitied

1. I have a thirteen day workweek.
2. I'm scheduled to work at 7 am this Saturday.
3. Fewer than three days of dairy left.

*That's the generic website - if anyone wants to see my personal site, email me at jessmonster at gmail dot com.


Perfect for this time of year - and currently featured above our bookshelf! We've got a little bit of a Nikki McClure obsession going on at our house. I count sixteen of her pictures in our apartment, which includes a calendar in each of our rooms and several framed cards.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

random late night photo

 
I've always wanted a telephone like this. Except you couldn't move while you talked. But so stylish. (Taken at Pittock Mansion.) Posted by Picasa

check

-Eat dinner before 10 pm - check.
-Watch The Incident at Loch Ness while blogging - in process of checking.
-Become absorbed in Julie & Julia - check.
-Be inordinantly delighted with new uniform cardigan - check.
-Note use of seed stitch in aforementioned cardigan - check.
-Contemplate how Lewis & Tolkien would have disapproved of use of zipper in cardigan - check.

Show & Tell

My calendar. Better quality than all the blurry pictures I was taking. This is the third year I've bought one of hers and I LOVE THEM.

self-righteousness for breakfast

Update: I put The King of Attolia on hold on Monday morning, at the county in which I live but do not work. In Jessmonster's Vision of the Way Things Should Work, that book would've been in transit to me by Tuesday. At the latest. When I checked online Tuesday morning, there was no transit. I know what we do in my county - if the book is available, it will be in transit after a day - so I got very self-righteous and called the nearest branch with a copy available, to make sure it was actually on the shelf and have put it aside for me.

(I will now proceed to whine about things that I don't really care about.)

They've got one of those phone systems where it says things like, "for spanish, press one (except in Spanish), to be transferred to the central reference line, press two, for hours and location, press three, if you are calling from a rotary phone, or to be transferred to a real live person at this library, please stay on the line." Then, the message repeats itself. And a third time. And finally you get transferred. I hate phone systems like that.

So a nice friendly person answered the phone and I gave my little on top of things speech: "Hi, I'm wondering if you can pull a book and hold it for me? It's The King of Attolia, by Turner. Yes, Turner, Megan Whalen. You have it filed in teen fiction. Thanks." I hold. She comes back. "It's actually called The Queen of Attolia," she says.

Um, no. I know what the book is called, thank you very much. There's a little thing called sequels. So I drive to the lovely little library - actually a gorgeous, new little library with a nifty parking garage underneath. And then? Then I finish the book in twenty-four hours.

New topic! I am generally unable to make or eat breakfast until I clean the kitchen. I can be starving and crying out for a cup of coffee, but first I must unload the dishwasher and wash the soup pot and reassemble the blender and wipe down the counters. I don't have the same compulsion to clean up after myself - I can put that off - which is really unfortunate because it would save me a lot of time in the mornings. Oh well.