So. I got this idea from a fellow blogger and after careful consideration, I've decided to undertake it as well.
I'll be posting one page a day of my favorite book Victor Hugo's 'THe Man Who Laughs' for your reading pleasure.
Enjoy.
http://www.themanwholaughs.blogspot.com/
I'll be adding it as a link as soon as I figure out HOW!
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
...to get BUSY again!?
heh heh.
A friend of mine brought to my attention a little google 'game' called '(blank) wants...'
The challenge (her word,not mine) is to type in your first name and the word 'wants' into the google search engine . Seriously, these are the first three that came up:
'Ashley wants to get BUSY again!' (yes, the capital 'busy' was theirs, not mine)
'Ashley wants help for hockey'
and my favorite:
'Ashley wants to know what we're doing'.
It was kind of funny. Take a stab at it. It might be worth a snort or two.
A friend of mine brought to my attention a little google 'game' called '(blank) wants...'
The challenge (her word,not mine) is to type in your first name and the word 'wants' into the google search engine . Seriously, these are the first three that came up:
'Ashley wants to get BUSY again!' (yes, the capital 'busy' was theirs, not mine)
'Ashley wants help for hockey'
and my favorite:
'Ashley wants to know what we're doing'.
It was kind of funny. Take a stab at it. It might be worth a snort or two.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Absence and Arbitrations
It has been a while since my last post, I see. Not much has occurred. We are still settling in to our new house and last weekend I made a much needed trip to Memphis to see my neglected family and allow my husband time to paint the open areas of our house. I was able to see little friends I've missed alot, the panda exhibit at the zoo, an old friend that I have not seen in years, the parents of me, and (gasp) the mall. It was nice and I rented a new Impala so the trip was smoooooothe like a speed-boat ride.
I have a dread of driving because of a couple of wrecks (no such thing as a car ACCIDENT, people!) I've been in and the nice, big, car was a pleasure and lent me an air of confidence I wish I always had.
In 1996, husband and I (and a friend ) were on our way back from the meeting and a lady in a tan Nissan Quest decided to make her left hand turn across our lane w/out checking first. We smacked into her really hard and my purty new Civic was utterly destroyed. We received a little settlement and eventually another car but I was severely rattled by that. Then, in 2002, another friend and I were hit by a gentleman (this time I was driving the tan Quest...wierd huh?) who decided to run a red light in Memphis and though physically my injuries were limited to a mild concussion and twisted ankle, I was really messed up emotionally by the unpredictability of most of the drivers with which I'm forced to share the road! My attorney insisted that I pursue the matter and so here I am, in 2006, attending an arbitration for the very first time.
Technically, an arbitration is like a cross between a mediation and a formal trial. The arbitrator (or judge) sits at the head of a conference table and gets to decide the outcome of the proceedings.
I walked into the Court Square building in Nashville yesterday, well dressed and sweaty palmed, and not even a little sure of what was going to happen. My attorney is young but sounds old and bitter (like Joe Don Baker) so I was impressed. This time though, looked windblown and uncomfortable in his ill fitting suit , a fact that perturbed me since the arbitrator lady (whose named was Tracy) was also sure to notice.
But lo and behold! Tracy is a man...a sexy older man w/ piercing blue eyes and an understanding head-bob that was instantly appealing. Not at all what I'd imagine a judge to be like.
State Farm's attorney was also young but dressed immaculately w/ wire-framed glasses that I wanted to steal. He never looked at me (not used to that, I must say) and this was irritating, obviously. My attorney was quick w/ his opening statements but I was again impressed by how matter of fact he made the case sound. Hey, he convinced me.
I was asked a million questions about the accident, both by my attorney and the cross-examining one, and eventually the arbitrator asked for closing statements. Both attorneys were equally succint (unfortunately) and made a great case for themselves. State farm does NOT want to give me any money. But, we'll see the way that turns out. Blue-eyes is supposed to contact my attorney on Tuesday and finally this rediculously long ordeal will be over.
My feelings on court proceedings are a little more positive than previously. No longer are 'opening remarks,' 'objections', and 'closing statements' relegated to the realm of tv-land. I feel like I've been thru the trenches and come out w/ a better understanding of the weaponry.
But I hope to never have to go thru it again.
I have a dread of driving because of a couple of wrecks (no such thing as a car ACCIDENT, people!) I've been in and the nice, big, car was a pleasure and lent me an air of confidence I wish I always had.
In 1996, husband and I (and a friend ) were on our way back from the meeting and a lady in a tan Nissan Quest decided to make her left hand turn across our lane w/out checking first. We smacked into her really hard and my purty new Civic was utterly destroyed. We received a little settlement and eventually another car but I was severely rattled by that. Then, in 2002, another friend and I were hit by a gentleman (this time I was driving the tan Quest...wierd huh?) who decided to run a red light in Memphis and though physically my injuries were limited to a mild concussion and twisted ankle, I was really messed up emotionally by the unpredictability of most of the drivers with which I'm forced to share the road! My attorney insisted that I pursue the matter and so here I am, in 2006, attending an arbitration for the very first time.
Technically, an arbitration is like a cross between a mediation and a formal trial. The arbitrator (or judge) sits at the head of a conference table and gets to decide the outcome of the proceedings.
I walked into the Court Square building in Nashville yesterday, well dressed and sweaty palmed, and not even a little sure of what was going to happen. My attorney is young but sounds old and bitter (like Joe Don Baker) so I was impressed. This time though, looked windblown and uncomfortable in his ill fitting suit , a fact that perturbed me since the arbitrator lady (whose named was Tracy) was also sure to notice.
But lo and behold! Tracy is a man...a sexy older man w/ piercing blue eyes and an understanding head-bob that was instantly appealing. Not at all what I'd imagine a judge to be like.
State Farm's attorney was also young but dressed immaculately w/ wire-framed glasses that I wanted to steal. He never looked at me (not used to that, I must say) and this was irritating, obviously. My attorney was quick w/ his opening statements but I was again impressed by how matter of fact he made the case sound. Hey, he convinced me.
I was asked a million questions about the accident, both by my attorney and the cross-examining one, and eventually the arbitrator asked for closing statements. Both attorneys were equally succint (unfortunately) and made a great case for themselves. State farm does NOT want to give me any money. But, we'll see the way that turns out. Blue-eyes is supposed to contact my attorney on Tuesday and finally this rediculously long ordeal will be over.
My feelings on court proceedings are a little more positive than previously. No longer are 'opening remarks,' 'objections', and 'closing statements' relegated to the realm of tv-land. I feel like I've been thru the trenches and come out w/ a better understanding of the weaponry.
But I hope to never have to go thru it again.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Decompressing
Wow. I never thought I would be the woman on the 'verge of a nervous breakdown' but, there it is. Wednesday of last week I had a now hilarious 'mommy meltdown' in which I found myself sobbing to my six year old and being far too impatient w/ the baby. Thursday night I had a pounding stress headache and was incapable of dealing w/ even small disruptions. My husband relocated the couch and I found myself lying on the floor in tears about it! Yes, I was finally cracking up. I can say this light-heartedly now because today is altogether different. Friday morning at about 2am I lay awake w/ my small son's feet in my ribs and realized I needed to decompress in the biggest of ways!
I woke up my husband at 5am crying once again and completely unraveled. It was like all the bottled up stress that I thought I was handling so well over the past year came out in one fell swoop. He held me like a daddy and patted my back. I told him I needed to get away for a whole day and maybe a night too to relax and reflect. 'I vant to be ahlone'. We agreed that I should go to Nashville Saturday, visit a salon, and stay at a nice hotel. I also made plans w/ some girlfriends to meet up on Saturday night for a few hours.
Although it probably isnt necessary to post each detail of this little sojourn, each detail actually contributed to the finished product so post it I shall.
Friday night the old man came home w/ a bottle of extra dry Korbel and ran me a hot bath by candlelight. Have I mentioned how much I dig him?
Saturday morning I enjoyed breakfast w/ the boys, packed a little overnight bag, and headed off to Nashville and my salon appointment (after making a quick stop at Marti and Liz for a darling pair of ballet flats...ha). Salon Fx in Nashville is a somewhat upscale full-service salon that excels in great customer service. A plump little lady w/ a soothing scottish accent gave me a collagen facial (girls w/ dry skin...you MUST TRY). The room was dark and warm and smelled of lovely eucalyptus-type extracts. As the collagen mask melted on my face I thought about small things. Things that tend to be pushed aside when you're stressed like my dislike of buffets and my love of Grace Kelly. The pedicure that followed was even more relaxing though I seem to have become more ticklish in my old age. I sighed my lazy way to my car and decided it was much too dirty to escort my queenly personage so off I went to the local 'crackhead carwash' where the personell is a bit raw but the services superb. In my now clean automobile, I headed to the Hilton and was thrilled to discover warm cookies and cold milk at the check-out desk. Need I say that I'll be visiting this hotel again? The room was nice and immediately after dropping my stuff I headed down to the hot tub which was completely empty and super hot. I read my current C.S. Lewis Chronicle and watched the sun set in brilliant hues of red. Already I'm a different person.
Saturday night, a dear friend and I made a little detour to Opry Mills where I allowed myself the further freedom of purchasing a few sale items at Banana Republic. My retro style was wholly satisfied by their new spring collections...who knew? We left there to meet other dear friends at The Flying Saucer, a loud and cozy (yes it makes sense) beer emporium downtown. Flying Dog Pilsner is my new favorite brew, by the way! Afterwards it was dancin' time at Decades, a club that caters, evidently, to older yuppies w/ a fetish for the eighties. There were some youngns there too but did they know all the lyrics to 'Footloose' and 'You Give Love a Bad Name'? I think not. My awkward left feet were in their element for sure. But by one a.m. I was burned out on that stuff and pretty happy to discover that the others were too. I returned alone to my hotel and drank champagne and read until my Opry Mills friend returned and chatted w/ me until 4am.
8A.M. Sunday. I'm lying awake wondering if I would be better served by a couple of extra hours sleep or another dip in the hot tub. I opted for the latter and Friend accompanied me down to the otherwise empty pool area. When we were significantly pruny, we made our way back up to the room and prepared to check out and get breakfast.
By 1pm I was back in the lovin' arms of my family and completely rejuvinated. Was this really enough, you may ask? Well, yes actually. I don't know that any more time away would have been beneficial as I was already missing my boys dreadfully and I'm equally sure that any less time would not have been sufficient.
The hotel time in the hot tub seemed the most therapeutic though the facial and pedicure run a close second. The dance club and its patrons only reaffirmed my appreciation for my own early-to-bed life. The frivolous mall inhabitants seemed shallow and swarmy. The buzzing city and its crackhead carwash made me hunger for the clean smells of cow patties and cedar trees. As I drove back home w/ my friend talking of prayer and important things, I felt calm.
And yesterday afternoon, a manchurian ring-necked pheasant wandered in our back yard. As we stared at it silently and in wonder, I couldnt help thinking that this was a very positive thing. No matter where it came from, could it possibly find a better place in the world to visit? Nah.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
purrr-teee
So here is the view from my front door. We've been here a week now and it was very nice this morning to wake up to a light snow. We were promised 3 to 6 inches and though it's still coming down pretty hard (which may or may not be evident from the picture), I doubt that's gonna happen. I think it was a little too warm at about 34 degrees. Anyway, I have never been so happy with my surroundings before. Being raised in the suburbs has its advantages but views are hardly one of them. And now, I feel I'm in my element w/ this view from my bedroom window and another equally pretty one from the bathroom.I took advantage of my gargantuan tub this morning for the first time. Lying in the steamy hot water (finally the water heater can accomodate a full bath!) and staring out the window at the snow was something I never expected to experience in my own house. Sigh.
But there is still a lot to do and I am supposed to be pulling boxes out of the basement as I type, so off I go. More later?
Notes from the past week: The Grammy's were a disaster. Is music really this mediocre? And is it sacriliege that I enjoyed Kelly Clarkson's performance more than the much touted 'reappearance' of Sly Stone? At least she stuck around for the end. I thought the lost look on all those big stars' faces when he took off was pretty great though. And the blonde mohawk was classic stuff, of course. Anyway, the show itself had a few high points (Madonna's legs-good lord) and a significant ammount of low (Christina Aguilera trying to wrap her tonsils around a jazz classic and failing miserably) so all I can say about that is -thank goodness for Tivo!
Friday, February 03, 2006
'Ten Years We've Been Rusting'?.....
I recognized a pretty obvious mistake in Disney's Beauty and the Beast today. My youngest has developed a love for it (ALMOST as much as Seven Brides...) and so I'm treated to the chorus of Belle and Be Our Guest repeatedly throughout the week.
I have to say, I am pretty fond of Beauty and the Beast. I remember seeing it for the first time at the theater and thinking the opening sequence was the best I've seen yet. The lovely english voice telling the story of the spoiled prince is really enthralling, as are the stained class story pictures and the moving shot of the Beast ripping up his beautiful portrait. Remember that portrait? The young man w/ the blue blue eyes and the shoulder lenth locks? I've always loved that part.
Anyway, I was listening to the lyrics of Be Our Guest and recognized quite a big goof. I guess the screw-up is more the fault of the lyricist than the artist but, who knows? In the lyrics to the song, Lumiere says : 'for ten years we've been rusting/ needing so much more than dusting', right?
Well, the story goes ' the rose was actually an enchanted rose that would bloom until the Prince's twenty-first birthday. If he couldnt learn to love and get someone to love him in return; he was doomed to be a beast forever.' So the BEAST is not yet 21. If they've been 'rusting' for ten years wouldnt that have made him about 11 at the time the spell was cast? Does that prince at the beginning look like a child to you? Hmmmm......
OOPS! (I love finding stuff like that. Such glee.)
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Vargas
I've recently become very attached to the incomparable art of Vargas.Though I've seen it for years, it wasnt until recently that I really began to research his style and more obscure works. This, for instance, was one of the legacy nudes of his career and truly showcases how brilliant an artist he was! I don't think anyone else has been able to capture the female form w/ such exquisite (and forgiving) detail before or since. His ideal ladies were not too thin but very human and altogether gorgeous!
Bettie Page and others of her generation of pin-up model used Vargas girls' to set the standard and small wonder. Thanks to Sabina and Heidi Van Horne (whose respective sights are super stingy w/ photos or I would have posted some eye candy for the boys) for keeping the image alive!
Viva La Vargas!
The Last Leg
So, some of you may be wondering what is going on w/ our 'house' sitch-ee-ayshun'.
We are finally on the home stretch. Our deadline is Monday and we are doing the 'finishing' touches right now, though we will barely just make it.
Today we have painters and carpet-layers coming in. Tomorrow we will finish up the plumbing and Friday the builder is coming in for his final carpentry products like built-ins.
This has definitely been a learning experience and we have run into a few major hurdles along the way but I can honestly say that I now have my dream house! There isnt one inch of that I don't love! Though there are some things concerning the process that I would have changed; the actual finished product is exactly what I wanted. The paint colors are all completely satisfying (ranging from a very deep peacock to a soft sea-green) ocean colors and I was able to splurge where I liked and get the granite countertops and lovely hardwood floors I always wanted. The fluctuation of golds, greens, and blues seems to convey exactly the soothing feeling I wanted. I have very traditional taste in most respects so the majority of my decor is along those lines but I also have a deep attraction for mid century modern design so I gave in to that when I liked. Therefore, my kitchen has granite countertops and pale wood cabinets but the floors are black and white tile and the fixtures are 'fifties-chic'. It's wonderfully incoherent. I made the most of my ebay membership by buying the majority of my new furnishings over the past year from different ebay stores that offer great deals on clean, modern furniture and window coverings. Bamboo shades are my absolute favorite thing and I was able to purchase them cut-to-order for a fraction of what most companies charge. Thank you payless decor!
I have one more major purchase to aquire: an oriental rug for my front room (the room that will house all of my grandfather's precious art). I am very picky and and holding off on this intentionally, to see what the paint, pictures, and furniture will require once everything is put together. I also don't want to hide my ash floors too much.
So, that is that. I'm looking forward to finishing up the decorating when we move and finally getting settled in. I feel like my life has been on hold for so long!
Then I can 'sound my barbaric YAWP over the rooftops of the world' from simple relief!
We are finally on the home stretch. Our deadline is Monday and we are doing the 'finishing' touches right now, though we will barely just make it.
Today we have painters and carpet-layers coming in. Tomorrow we will finish up the plumbing and Friday the builder is coming in for his final carpentry products like built-ins.
This has definitely been a learning experience and we have run into a few major hurdles along the way but I can honestly say that I now have my dream house! There isnt one inch of that I don't love! Though there are some things concerning the process that I would have changed; the actual finished product is exactly what I wanted. The paint colors are all completely satisfying (ranging from a very deep peacock to a soft sea-green) ocean colors and I was able to splurge where I liked and get the granite countertops and lovely hardwood floors I always wanted. The fluctuation of golds, greens, and blues seems to convey exactly the soothing feeling I wanted. I have very traditional taste in most respects so the majority of my decor is along those lines but I also have a deep attraction for mid century modern design so I gave in to that when I liked. Therefore, my kitchen has granite countertops and pale wood cabinets but the floors are black and white tile and the fixtures are 'fifties-chic'. It's wonderfully incoherent. I made the most of my ebay membership by buying the majority of my new furnishings over the past year from different ebay stores that offer great deals on clean, modern furniture and window coverings. Bamboo shades are my absolute favorite thing and I was able to purchase them cut-to-order for a fraction of what most companies charge. Thank you payless decor!
I have one more major purchase to aquire: an oriental rug for my front room (the room that will house all of my grandfather's precious art). I am very picky and and holding off on this intentionally, to see what the paint, pictures, and furniture will require once everything is put together. I also don't want to hide my ash floors too much.
So, that is that. I'm looking forward to finishing up the decorating when we move and finally getting settled in. I feel like my life has been on hold for so long!
Then I can 'sound my barbaric YAWP over the rooftops of the world' from simple relief!
Friday, January 20, 2006
WWCND
There is absolutely nothing to say about this. But I strongly suggest that you do yourself and everyone you love a favor by visiting this site.
Evidently, the fate of the world may well be at stake!
http://chucknorrisfacts.com/
Thursday, January 19, 2006
The Perfect Childrens' Movie???
When my six year old was about two, he noticed Bambi. Every day he wanted to see Bambi two or three times. Later on, he became obsessive about Dumbo. When he was about 3, Star Wars was his favorite thing in the world and I was greeted w/ the Imperial March on a daily basis (which I don't mind actually...great movies, all). My point is, kids seem to thrive on repetition. They find a thing they love and then they want it all the time. Usually by about 2 years old they become super stubborn in this area and woe to the one who stands in their way. And eventually most of us find that giving in can buy us much needed 'me' time.
Since I work at home, I've kind of been on a mission to find the ideal 'distraction' for my 19 month old. He has a much shorter attention span then his older brother had at the same age. I've tried every Disney movie I could find and the tried-and-true Star Wars saga as well. Nope. He will have none of the 'sitting still' thing (meetings are CRAZY)! Then, last week, I discovered IT! The only movie that my little one will watch almost to completion and stay as happy as a clam. What is this 'balm' of Hollywood, you may ask?
It is none other than the silly, colorful, and somewhat rediculous (but marvelously fun) Seven Brides for Seven Brothers! The moment Howard Keel starts to belt out 'Bless Your Beautiful Hide', I can count on at least 40 minutes of quiet time from the child who would initially only give me about five. Yay Stanley Donen!
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
"...they ain't even Old Timey!"
Sure am lovin' this stuff!
The Old Crow Medicine Show have been around for years but it's really a shot in the arm to rediscover them. Their cover of Bob Dylans 'Wagon Wheel' is nothing short of brilliant but it's their 'old timey' stuff like 'Tear it Down' that really gets the 'mule kickin' in my soul.
Visit the site provided and enjoy some samples!
http://www.crowmedicine.com/
Friday, January 13, 2006
The Upchuck Funnies
I've been slimed!
My kids have both come down w/ the same nasty stomach ailment at precisely the same time. They are puking in unison and crying in harmony. It is very sad but at the same time very funny because kids are so different when they are sick than we adults are prone to be. They can heave until it sounds like they're about to lose something and then immediately be up and around, laughing and singing. My little one has it the hardest. He is throwing up every few minutes but doesnt quite know when it's coming so he trots around leaving little blue piles of slime all over the place. I always give my kids gatorade when they're sick (so they won't have to experience the angst of dry-heaves) and the silly little store up the road only had two flavors, both w/ the most intense pigment possible for a beverage. Fierce grape (an electric blue) and Fierce berry (hawaiian punch red) were the only ones available...(what happened to that nice arctic frost?!). I have used up every towel and every wet-wipe in the place! But he remains oh-so-happy, running around laughing and talking and even trying to clean it up all by himself.
My six year old has an equally positive 'sick' attitude. He throws up heartily and then immediately tells stories...long ones that don't end until he runs out of ideas. I picked him up early from school today and he was so pitiful but right now he's lying on the couch drinking that ghastly blue gatorade and watching Attack of the Clones. He asks me non-stop questions about the dialogue (as if he hasnt seen it a dozen times already) and quietly runs to the bathroom every so often. But again, he remains in better spirits than when he is well. I think it's because he knows mommy will always be especially tolerant when he's sick...true, true.
On the other hand, when I am sick, I am useless and melancholy, as is just about any adult I know. I think we take advantage of being laid-up to get away from the chores of the day and we feel compelled to pretend it's alot less fun than it really is. The next time I have the stomach flu (which is bound to be soon), I'm gonna watch the Star Wars movies in their entirety and call everyone I know to tell them I'm sick. Then maybe I'll pull out all the stops and find some great, pointless anecdotes to bore their resigned ears. So, everybody beware!
Blog Bonus:
A great recipe for busy moms who don't have the time or desire to make their youngn's a hot breakfast before school:
Crockpot Oatmeal
1 cup Oatmeal (old fashioned oats)
3 cups water
1/2 cup heavy cream (or milk or half and half but they're kids so why bother with that)
1/4 cup brown sugar
pinch salt
At night , put oatmeal and water in crockpot on low. In morning, add cream or half n half and salt; stir to blend. If desired, add raisins, cinnamon, or vanilla. Dish up and sprinkle w/ sugar.
Yum Yum, oatmeal as creamy as tapioca! Just like Grandma used to make (well, not my Grandma, but somebody's I'm sure).
My kids have both come down w/ the same nasty stomach ailment at precisely the same time. They are puking in unison and crying in harmony. It is very sad but at the same time very funny because kids are so different when they are sick than we adults are prone to be. They can heave until it sounds like they're about to lose something and then immediately be up and around, laughing and singing. My little one has it the hardest. He is throwing up every few minutes but doesnt quite know when it's coming so he trots around leaving little blue piles of slime all over the place. I always give my kids gatorade when they're sick (so they won't have to experience the angst of dry-heaves) and the silly little store up the road only had two flavors, both w/ the most intense pigment possible for a beverage. Fierce grape (an electric blue) and Fierce berry (hawaiian punch red) were the only ones available...(what happened to that nice arctic frost?!). I have used up every towel and every wet-wipe in the place! But he remains oh-so-happy, running around laughing and talking and even trying to clean it up all by himself.
My six year old has an equally positive 'sick' attitude. He throws up heartily and then immediately tells stories...long ones that don't end until he runs out of ideas. I picked him up early from school today and he was so pitiful but right now he's lying on the couch drinking that ghastly blue gatorade and watching Attack of the Clones. He asks me non-stop questions about the dialogue (as if he hasnt seen it a dozen times already) and quietly runs to the bathroom every so often. But again, he remains in better spirits than when he is well. I think it's because he knows mommy will always be especially tolerant when he's sick...true, true.
On the other hand, when I am sick, I am useless and melancholy, as is just about any adult I know. I think we take advantage of being laid-up to get away from the chores of the day and we feel compelled to pretend it's alot less fun than it really is. The next time I have the stomach flu (which is bound to be soon), I'm gonna watch the Star Wars movies in their entirety and call everyone I know to tell them I'm sick. Then maybe I'll pull out all the stops and find some great, pointless anecdotes to bore their resigned ears. So, everybody beware!
Blog Bonus:
A great recipe for busy moms who don't have the time or desire to make their youngn's a hot breakfast before school:
Crockpot Oatmeal
1 cup Oatmeal (old fashioned oats)
3 cups water
1/2 cup heavy cream (or milk or half and half but they're kids so why bother with that)
1/4 cup brown sugar
pinch salt
At night , put oatmeal and water in crockpot on low. In morning, add cream or half n half and salt; stir to blend. If desired, add raisins, cinnamon, or vanilla. Dish up and sprinkle w/ sugar.
Yum Yum, oatmeal as creamy as tapioca! Just like Grandma used to make (well, not my Grandma, but somebody's I'm sure).
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Mr Pritchard's Scale
I've never been that 'into' poetry. I've never understood the appeal of reading it aloud or even just reading it at all. Don't get me wrong, I love poetry when I see it but I just don't seek it out all that much. I get bored kind of quickly if there isnt a story to keep me interested.
Last night I was pondering this and wondering what I truly considered great poetry. The movie Dead Poets Society had this hilarious scene where Mr Keating instructs his students to rip a 'forensic' explanation of poetry out of their books and I stand by this as well. Poetry should not be dissected since its beauty is actually in the 'ear' of the beholder. Though I may voice my own opinion about it I certainly don't state it as fact. But I digress.
When I was young, I loved Shakespeare's Sonnets. Now, I still love them but more mildly. They bore me after awhile (though I believe they are considered technically perfect?). I like the one that says 'love is not love that alters when it alteration finds...' Isnt that pretty? Later, I really started loving Alfred Noyles' 'The Highwayman' ,since it's a story and kept me very interested. 'The Lady of Shallott' is another of these great story poems....and 'the jabberwocky', come to think of it. The Song of Solomon is a beautiful example of lyrical prose...another form of poetry, in my book. E.E. Cummings has a wonderful way with words as does Robert Frost...especially when it comes to nature. My husband loves Charles Bukowski's realistic approach to poetry and I love Theodore Rhoetke for the same reason. Rhoetke can write beautiful things about love (i.e. 'I think the dead are tender, shall we kiss?') and equally beautiful things about drinking the contents of a spittoon, on a dare (see 'The Golden River'). I certainly like Walt Whitman and Lord Byron but I couldnt name a poem of theirs that really 'gets me'. Maybe if they were set to music?
So what is the best poem ever written, according to me? At the risk of oozing w/ literary sacriliege, I'll tell you. The name of the poem is 'What was I Afraid of?' by Theodore Geisel (also knows as Dr Seuss) and it goes like this:
What Was I Afraid Of?
Well,I was walking in the night
And I saw nothing scary.
For I have never been afraid
Of anything. Not very.
Then I was deep within the woods
When, suddenly, I spied them.
I saw a pair of pale green pants
With nobody inside them!
I wasn't scared. But, yet, I stopped.
What could those pants be there for?
What could a pair of pants at night
Be standing in the air for?
And then they moved! Those empty pants!
They kind of started jumping.
And then my heart, I must admit,
It kind of started thumping.
So I got out. I got out fast
As fast as I could go, sir,
I wasn't scared. But pants like thatI did not care for. No, sir.
After that, a week went by.
Then one dark night in Grin-itch
(I had to do an errand there & fetch some Grin-itch spinach).
Well, I had fetched the spinach.
I was starting back through town
When those pants raced round a corner
And they almost knocked me down!
I lost my Grin-itch spinach
But I didn't even care.
I ran for home! Believe me,I had really had a scare!
Now, bicycles were never made
For pale green pants to ride 'em,
Especially spooky pale green pants
With nobody inside them!
And the NEXT night, I was fishing
For Doubt-trout on Roover River
When those pants came rowing toward me!
Well, I began to shiver.
And by now I was SO frightened
That, I'll tell you, but I hate to.
I screamed and rowed away and lost
My hook and line and bait, too!
I ran and found a Brickel bush.
I hid myself away.I got brickels in my britches
But I stayed there anyway.
I stayed all night. The next night, too.
I'd be there still, no doubt,
But I had to do an errand
So, the next night, I went out.
I had to do an errand,
Had to pick a peck of Snide
In a dark and gloomy Snide-field
That was almost nine miles wide.
I said, 'I do not fear those pantsWith nobody inside them.'
I said, and said, and said those words.
I said them. But I lied them.
Then I reached inside a Snide bush
And the next thing that I knew,
I felt my hand touch someone!
And I'll bet that you know who.
And there I was! Caught in the Snide!
And in that dreadful place
Those spooky, empty pants and I
Were standing face to face!
I yelled for help,I screamed. I shrieked.
I howled. I yowled. I cried,
'Oh, save me from these pale green pants
With nobody inside!'
But then a strange thing happened. Why those pants began to cry!
Those pants began to tremble; they were just as scared as I!
I never heard such whimpering
And I began to see
That I was just as strange to them
As they were strange to me!
I put my arm around their waist
And sat right down beside them
I calmed them down.
Poor empty pants
With nobody inside them.
And now we meet quite often,
Those empty pants and I,
And we never shake or tremble.
We both smile
And we say'Hi!'
There you have it. A wonderful poem that would have to rate pretty high on even Mr Pritchard's nasty scale. Of course without the artwork, it suffers some.
Last night I was pondering this and wondering what I truly considered great poetry. The movie Dead Poets Society had this hilarious scene where Mr Keating instructs his students to rip a 'forensic' explanation of poetry out of their books and I stand by this as well. Poetry should not be dissected since its beauty is actually in the 'ear' of the beholder. Though I may voice my own opinion about it I certainly don't state it as fact. But I digress.
When I was young, I loved Shakespeare's Sonnets. Now, I still love them but more mildly. They bore me after awhile (though I believe they are considered technically perfect?). I like the one that says 'love is not love that alters when it alteration finds...' Isnt that pretty? Later, I really started loving Alfred Noyles' 'The Highwayman' ,since it's a story and kept me very interested. 'The Lady of Shallott' is another of these great story poems....and 'the jabberwocky', come to think of it. The Song of Solomon is a beautiful example of lyrical prose...another form of poetry, in my book. E.E. Cummings has a wonderful way with words as does Robert Frost...especially when it comes to nature. My husband loves Charles Bukowski's realistic approach to poetry and I love Theodore Rhoetke for the same reason. Rhoetke can write beautiful things about love (i.e. 'I think the dead are tender, shall we kiss?') and equally beautiful things about drinking the contents of a spittoon, on a dare (see 'The Golden River'). I certainly like Walt Whitman and Lord Byron but I couldnt name a poem of theirs that really 'gets me'. Maybe if they were set to music?
So what is the best poem ever written, according to me? At the risk of oozing w/ literary sacriliege, I'll tell you. The name of the poem is 'What was I Afraid of?' by Theodore Geisel (also knows as Dr Seuss) and it goes like this:
What Was I Afraid Of?
Well,I was walking in the night
And I saw nothing scary.
For I have never been afraid
Of anything. Not very.
Then I was deep within the woods
When, suddenly, I spied them.
I saw a pair of pale green pants
With nobody inside them!
I wasn't scared. But, yet, I stopped.
What could those pants be there for?
What could a pair of pants at night
Be standing in the air for?
And then they moved! Those empty pants!
They kind of started jumping.
And then my heart, I must admit,
It kind of started thumping.
So I got out. I got out fast
As fast as I could go, sir,
I wasn't scared. But pants like thatI did not care for. No, sir.
After that, a week went by.
Then one dark night in Grin-itch
(I had to do an errand there & fetch some Grin-itch spinach).
Well, I had fetched the spinach.
I was starting back through town
When those pants raced round a corner
And they almost knocked me down!
I lost my Grin-itch spinach
But I didn't even care.
I ran for home! Believe me,I had really had a scare!
Now, bicycles were never made
For pale green pants to ride 'em,
Especially spooky pale green pants
With nobody inside them!
And the NEXT night, I was fishing
For Doubt-trout on Roover River
When those pants came rowing toward me!
Well, I began to shiver.
And by now I was SO frightened
That, I'll tell you, but I hate to.
I screamed and rowed away and lost
My hook and line and bait, too!
I ran and found a Brickel bush.
I hid myself away.I got brickels in my britches
But I stayed there anyway.
I stayed all night. The next night, too.
I'd be there still, no doubt,
But I had to do an errand
So, the next night, I went out.
I had to do an errand,
Had to pick a peck of Snide
In a dark and gloomy Snide-field
That was almost nine miles wide.
I said, 'I do not fear those pantsWith nobody inside them.'
I said, and said, and said those words.
I said them. But I lied them.
Then I reached inside a Snide bush
And the next thing that I knew,
I felt my hand touch someone!
And I'll bet that you know who.
And there I was! Caught in the Snide!
And in that dreadful place
Those spooky, empty pants and I
Were standing face to face!
I yelled for help,I screamed. I shrieked.
I howled. I yowled. I cried,
'Oh, save me from these pale green pants
With nobody inside!'
But then a strange thing happened. Why those pants began to cry!
Those pants began to tremble; they were just as scared as I!
I never heard such whimpering
And I began to see
That I was just as strange to them
As they were strange to me!
I put my arm around their waist
And sat right down beside them
I calmed them down.
Poor empty pants
With nobody inside them.
And now we meet quite often,
Those empty pants and I,
And we never shake or tremble.
We both smile
And we say'Hi!'
There you have it. A wonderful poem that would have to rate pretty high on even Mr Pritchard's nasty scale. Of course without the artwork, it suffers some.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Barbarella Bound!
I've never been one for 'new year's resolutions'. However, it's impossible not to write '06 on your checks and not feel a slight sense of motivation. I usually have one 'new' thing in my head to accomplish, which prevents me from being bogged down w/ a list.
This year, thanks to this blog, I can share it with the world. I'm trusting that none of my readers will take advantage of my generosity by asking about or otherwise sneaking a look at my progress...heh heh.
In 2006 I would like to look like Barbarella. Well, maybe not the white leather jumpsuit or go-go boots. I might could also forgo the giant gun and the big hair. Let's just say, I think Jane Fonda's striptease in the beginning of that horrible movie revealed the best looking physique committed to celluloid. Not too 'hard'-just toned enough...somewhat attainable? Well, we'll just see about that.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Dappled and Drowsy and Ready to Sleep...
I realized quite suddenly this week that I am getting older. I am approaching that age that is crudely known as 'mature adulthood'. The realization hit me as I was looking in the mirror. I stared at myself for a very long time just to see if I could get a better understanding of what others saw when they looked at me. It was a moment of vanity, I know, but it provided me w/ an interesting thought. And the longer I looked the more deformed my face became until I was a complete stranger 'unto myself'. I am of the opinion that Van Gough became crazy from looking at himself. Really. He stared at himself so long that he got tired of what he saw and decided to vary the reflection by lopping an ear off. Doesnt that make sense? Well, it did last night when I was thinking it.
So even though an honest physical reflection of ourselves may be difficult to comeby, here are the signs that led me to this simple conclusion: I'm a grown up.
1.'going out' gets old real fast-In May, my husband and I celebrated our 10th anniversary. Such a monumental turning point was noteworthy so we made a plan to celebrate in Memphis, where there are a number of more-than-willing babysitters available. We stayed at a four star hotel, bought a bottle of champagne, went to several restaurants, saw a band play, and after the first day were wholly bored. Don't get me wrong, we love each other magnificently. But we realized rather quickly that our relationship has evolved into a parental one and that without our children, we feel a little empty. Since then, we've only been able to go on one other date. Last month we went out to see a band play and stayed out til (gasp!) 3am. We made a joint decision after that to enjoy the late evening hours sparingly and have more daytime dates. We are WIPED OUT otherwise...ha. Which leads me to my next point:
2. A 9pm bedtime doesnt seem all that wierd- When I was in my teens, the thought of a nine o'clock bedtime would have been ludicrous to say the least. Since I've been married, I've adapted to the fact that my early rising husband likes to bed-down early but I've enjoyed having the time after he dozes off to watch whatever I want on the telly. Now, since we live in one room and the children are 9' o clock-ers, we all have the same bed time. And, you know what? It's not impossible for me after all. I'm asleep almost immediately and bright-eyed by 6am. Wierd.
3. Fads are for kids- Trends were always my downfall. I had the hardest time developing a style because as soon as something looked cool, I was buying into it. At my moving sale this year I sold almost everything I owned when I realized that it just looked 'too young'. Since then, I've invested in almost all tailored pieces spiced up w/ a few fun t shirts and fifties style items. I realize that even though I finally look 'my age', I also look a lot more comfortable.
4. Travel is a luxury; moving is NOT- It was this year that my husband and I decided it was time for us thirty year olds to settle down for good. We called the bank, bought 20 acres of land, a houseplan, and breathed a contented sigh. We are here for good. This is our home. Our children can grow up here, spread roots if they want, or visit forever if they don't. I still have a strong urge to travel but a once or twice a year vacation sounds just fine to me.
5. Arguing is a waste of time-Now I don't know if that is a 'mature' decision or just a tired one but it certainly saves time. I just don't have the desire or the energy to argue (debates are different, Barbie!). If you are going to put so much effort into being right, then you deserve to be! I've had to bite my lip a few times but have decided the non confrontational me is a better person, altogether.
6. Ponds and Bag Balm- And here it is. The final sign that I am definitely getting 'up there'. Ever since I was little, I've always equated the smell of Pond's Cold Cream w/ my mother. Coffee and terpentine were my grandfather's smells. Suddenly, my normal/ combination skin has become redicuously dry and I am able to see why so many women have sworn by the greasy white stuff. It works! So at night, I go to bed w/ my nose full of Ponds and bag balm (an ancient remedy for dry hands that smells like medicine...my husband's cure of choice). And in the morning, I wake up to the smell of Ponds and coffee.
Now, if I could just find some turpentine....
So even though an honest physical reflection of ourselves may be difficult to comeby, here are the signs that led me to this simple conclusion: I'm a grown up.
1.'going out' gets old real fast-In May, my husband and I celebrated our 10th anniversary. Such a monumental turning point was noteworthy so we made a plan to celebrate in Memphis, where there are a number of more-than-willing babysitters available. We stayed at a four star hotel, bought a bottle of champagne, went to several restaurants, saw a band play, and after the first day were wholly bored. Don't get me wrong, we love each other magnificently. But we realized rather quickly that our relationship has evolved into a parental one and that without our children, we feel a little empty. Since then, we've only been able to go on one other date. Last month we went out to see a band play and stayed out til (gasp!) 3am. We made a joint decision after that to enjoy the late evening hours sparingly and have more daytime dates. We are WIPED OUT otherwise...ha. Which leads me to my next point:
2. A 9pm bedtime doesnt seem all that wierd- When I was in my teens, the thought of a nine o'clock bedtime would have been ludicrous to say the least. Since I've been married, I've adapted to the fact that my early rising husband likes to bed-down early but I've enjoyed having the time after he dozes off to watch whatever I want on the telly. Now, since we live in one room and the children are 9' o clock-ers, we all have the same bed time. And, you know what? It's not impossible for me after all. I'm asleep almost immediately and bright-eyed by 6am. Wierd.
3. Fads are for kids- Trends were always my downfall. I had the hardest time developing a style because as soon as something looked cool, I was buying into it. At my moving sale this year I sold almost everything I owned when I realized that it just looked 'too young'. Since then, I've invested in almost all tailored pieces spiced up w/ a few fun t shirts and fifties style items. I realize that even though I finally look 'my age', I also look a lot more comfortable.
4. Travel is a luxury; moving is NOT- It was this year that my husband and I decided it was time for us thirty year olds to settle down for good. We called the bank, bought 20 acres of land, a houseplan, and breathed a contented sigh. We are here for good. This is our home. Our children can grow up here, spread roots if they want, or visit forever if they don't. I still have a strong urge to travel but a once or twice a year vacation sounds just fine to me.
5. Arguing is a waste of time-Now I don't know if that is a 'mature' decision or just a tired one but it certainly saves time. I just don't have the desire or the energy to argue (debates are different, Barbie!). If you are going to put so much effort into being right, then you deserve to be! I've had to bite my lip a few times but have decided the non confrontational me is a better person, altogether.
6. Ponds and Bag Balm- And here it is. The final sign that I am definitely getting 'up there'. Ever since I was little, I've always equated the smell of Pond's Cold Cream w/ my mother. Coffee and terpentine were my grandfather's smells. Suddenly, my normal/ combination skin has become redicuously dry and I am able to see why so many women have sworn by the greasy white stuff. It works! So at night, I go to bed w/ my nose full of Ponds and bag balm (an ancient remedy for dry hands that smells like medicine...my husband's cure of choice). And in the morning, I wake up to the smell of Ponds and coffee.
Now, if I could just find some turpentine....
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Right Turn, Clyde
Confrontation. It seems that most of America thrives on it.
I told a friend one time that I was very passive and avoided confrontation at almost any cost. Just a 'peacemaker', I. She laughed and said if someone came up and hit me in the face, I'd definitely retaliate. Well, through personal experience (another story, another time) I can say that just isnt the case. I'm of the 'make' that sees laughter as a more fitting solution to being attacked, not that everyone should be that way.
And evidently, not everyone is. I found a couple of very funny and interesting entries of that nature on foundmagazine last night. The one here to the right seems to be just a warning written to no one in particular. I wonder if Christine lived in an apartment complex and the note was posted on the bulletin board. Or maybe this could have been found on a telephone pole along w/ some outdated band flyers? It's fun guessing. I like the small addition of a 'baby fact' at the end. I know we were all concerned about that. Ha.
The one to the left is more direct and has obvious connotations. One can't help but wonder how old this girl was. Also, the choice of stationary is odd, as it makes the message seem a little less severe; but perhaps that was intentional.
The thing is, I envy these people somewhat. They are obviously overflowing w/ confidence to be so vocal about their feelings and that is something. I tend to want to say much more than I have the gall to, and then am left feeling oh so empty inside. Sigh.
But no negativity here. Enjoy the above notes and all of the fun presumptions involved!
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Cockle-Warmers
Yesterday was a fun day for the tadpoles and me. Of course any day I don't have to work is fun but yesterday seemed very relaxed in comparison to our normal outings of late. We usually seem to have more things on our plate than we can possibly deal with and yesterday was a day that we just kind of 'let it lie'.
We made a trip to Lebanon (much farther than it used to be) to see a movie and meander around. I don't know what made me decide I would go buy a pair of jeans on the weekend of Christmas but being an 'non-observer', I simply forgot what day it was...categorically, that is. Anyway, to 'The Gap' outlet I did go and luckily was able to fight my way to the cash register w/ both kids intact and a couple of items I was lucky enough to secure. The lady at the register fell in love w/the littlest one, as most people do, and immediately crooned,
' what is Santa bringing YOU this year, precious'? Before I even had a chance to respond, the fiver gave her a withering glance (which we discourage but oh well) and said 'We don't believe in Santa Claus. Christmas is a pagan holiday'. Of course I was full of pride but a bit nonplussed at the same time. I smiled my warmest smile and left the building in a hurry. I swear I didnt feed him the answer, just explained what pagan means and if you ask him he says 'false gods'. His ability to 'get' stuff thrills me to my toes.
Our next stop was the absolute armpit of holiday shopping, Wal Mart, and if I had the ability to spell that out in squirmy horror font I would. The people were literally wal to wal ( ha). I was able to purchase three items and only had to wait in the express line for about thirty minutes, all the while dealing w/ the innappropriate comments and baby hand grabbing of the people behind me...ugh.
So the theater was a haven by then, believe me. It is a new theater w/ a pleasant atmosphere that is somewhat darker than is typical and the cozy smell of popcorn and new paint throughout. They have a bunch of video games by the entrance and the absolute highlight of the day was watching litt'lun climb up on the Star Wars game and carry on: 'eee-daaaaa, eeeee-daaaa'. ( No idea what that means but it means he's happy so that's what counts, right?)
We saw 'The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.' I read these books religiously as a child and was really looking forward to it. I was a bit distracted at first; the baby was continually dropping his milk duds and one of them landed squarely in my hair. I was back and forth for some time replacing straws and such. But when he finally went to sleep, I was soooo happy. It was wonderful to see the characters and story so faithfully brought to life. It warmed me especially to see Aslan so lovingly portrayed w/ the voice of Liam Neeson and the White Witch kept as abstract as possible-in keeping w/ the book. She was kind of the personification of all that is evil, not as three dimensional as other famous villains. Tilda Swinton looked chillingly (no pun intended) statuesque throughout. Of the children, Edmund was my favorite; true to the book, he was the most 'human'. The battle sequence was thrilling, especially during the violent clash of the Narnia 'wildlife'. And Jim Broadbent gave a wonderful and surprisingly unrecognizable performance as the Professor. I am imediately possessed w/ a strong desire to re-read the books, hopefully aloud to my oldest son. I think he'll apppreciate it much more now that he's seen the movie.
When I got home I found that trusty ol' Netflix had sent me the military comedy 'Mr Roberts', so I gave it a watch also. Mr Roberts, played by Henry Fonda, is a military commander onboard the 'bucket', one of the only American vessels yet to see any action. His ennui is further enhanced by his aversion to his crusty Captain, James Cagney. The clash of these two characters drives the movie along at a brisk pace but it's the comedy relief of Jack Lemon, as Ensign Pulver, that makes the movie. The final scene made me want to stand up and cheer....
'...now what's this crud about no movie tonight?'
'Cockle-warmers' indeed.
We made a trip to Lebanon (much farther than it used to be) to see a movie and meander around. I don't know what made me decide I would go buy a pair of jeans on the weekend of Christmas but being an 'non-observer', I simply forgot what day it was...categorically, that is. Anyway, to 'The Gap' outlet I did go and luckily was able to fight my way to the cash register w/ both kids intact and a couple of items I was lucky enough to secure. The lady at the register fell in love w/the littlest one, as most people do, and immediately crooned,
' what is Santa bringing YOU this year, precious'? Before I even had a chance to respond, the fiver gave her a withering glance (which we discourage but oh well) and said 'We don't believe in Santa Claus. Christmas is a pagan holiday'. Of course I was full of pride but a bit nonplussed at the same time. I smiled my warmest smile and left the building in a hurry. I swear I didnt feed him the answer, just explained what pagan means and if you ask him he says 'false gods'. His ability to 'get' stuff thrills me to my toes.
Our next stop was the absolute armpit of holiday shopping, Wal Mart, and if I had the ability to spell that out in squirmy horror font I would. The people were literally wal to wal ( ha). I was able to purchase three items and only had to wait in the express line for about thirty minutes, all the while dealing w/ the innappropriate comments and baby hand grabbing of the people behind me...ugh.
So the theater was a haven by then, believe me. It is a new theater w/ a pleasant atmosphere that is somewhat darker than is typical and the cozy smell of popcorn and new paint throughout. They have a bunch of video games by the entrance and the absolute highlight of the day was watching litt'lun climb up on the Star Wars game and carry on: 'eee-daaaaa, eeeee-daaaa'. ( No idea what that means but it means he's happy so that's what counts, right?)
We saw 'The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.' I read these books religiously as a child and was really looking forward to it. I was a bit distracted at first; the baby was continually dropping his milk duds and one of them landed squarely in my hair. I was back and forth for some time replacing straws and such. But when he finally went to sleep, I was soooo happy. It was wonderful to see the characters and story so faithfully brought to life. It warmed me especially to see Aslan so lovingly portrayed w/ the voice of Liam Neeson and the White Witch kept as abstract as possible-in keeping w/ the book. She was kind of the personification of all that is evil, not as three dimensional as other famous villains. Tilda Swinton looked chillingly (no pun intended) statuesque throughout. Of the children, Edmund was my favorite; true to the book, he was the most 'human'. The battle sequence was thrilling, especially during the violent clash of the Narnia 'wildlife'. And Jim Broadbent gave a wonderful and surprisingly unrecognizable performance as the Professor. I am imediately possessed w/ a strong desire to re-read the books, hopefully aloud to my oldest son. I think he'll apppreciate it much more now that he's seen the movie.
When I got home I found that trusty ol' Netflix had sent me the military comedy 'Mr Roberts', so I gave it a watch also. Mr Roberts, played by Henry Fonda, is a military commander onboard the 'bucket', one of the only American vessels yet to see any action. His ennui is further enhanced by his aversion to his crusty Captain, James Cagney. The clash of these two characters drives the movie along at a brisk pace but it's the comedy relief of Jack Lemon, as Ensign Pulver, that makes the movie. The final scene made me want to stand up and cheer....
'...now what's this crud about no movie tonight?'
'Cockle-warmers' indeed.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Bake Sale of the Year
Two entries in one day, my oh my.
So, my admiration for singer/songwriter (not a typical term used in this genre, but there it is) Neil Fallon grows w/ each passing album. Clutch's most recent entry to their impressive catalogue, Robot Hive Exodus, is no exception. While the music always offers innovative rhythyms and driving hooks, it's the lyrics that keep me amazed. Just when I think that he's reached his peak, he shells out more...and pretty quickly this time. Blast Tyrant just came out a year or so ago and it was my favorite to date. The theme seemed more exact for some reason and the songs were all excellent examples of imagery and delivery. I love the riddles and the literary references. I probably hit wikipedia more when scanning his lyrics than any other time...ha.
I like a lyricist that can go from light-hearted quips like-'I've got your number/ I steal your thunder/ I've got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm' to ' Don't worry. It's just stigmata. Pass me a napkin and don't you dare tell my mother.' There is something very refreshing about that kind of expression.
But now theres' this whole Robot Hive thing and the song Burning Beard (which has a great video incidentally). I mean, 'Ockam's Razor makes the cutting clean?'. That is great stuff, by any standard.
I encourange any who care to, even if meaty Rock n Roll isnt your thing, to check out the lyrics to this great new album and then to give them a listen if you want to hear those lyrics delivered the way they were meant to be.
My five year old can't get enough, by the way. It's hilarious hearing him sing..'yeah that's the ticket now kick out the jams!'
Yuk Yuk Yuk
So, my admiration for singer/songwriter (not a typical term used in this genre, but there it is) Neil Fallon grows w/ each passing album. Clutch's most recent entry to their impressive catalogue, Robot Hive Exodus, is no exception. While the music always offers innovative rhythyms and driving hooks, it's the lyrics that keep me amazed. Just when I think that he's reached his peak, he shells out more...and pretty quickly this time. Blast Tyrant just came out a year or so ago and it was my favorite to date. The theme seemed more exact for some reason and the songs were all excellent examples of imagery and delivery. I love the riddles and the literary references. I probably hit wikipedia more when scanning his lyrics than any other time...ha.
I like a lyricist that can go from light-hearted quips like-'I've got your number/ I steal your thunder/ I've got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm' to ' Don't worry. It's just stigmata. Pass me a napkin and don't you dare tell my mother.' There is something very refreshing about that kind of expression.
But now theres' this whole Robot Hive thing and the song Burning Beard (which has a great video incidentally). I mean, 'Ockam's Razor makes the cutting clean?'. That is great stuff, by any standard.
I encourange any who care to, even if meaty Rock n Roll isnt your thing, to check out the lyrics to this great new album and then to give them a listen if you want to hear those lyrics delivered the way they were meant to be.
My five year old can't get enough, by the way. It's hilarious hearing him sing..'yeah that's the ticket now kick out the jams!'
Yuk Yuk Yuk
That's a Pretty Big Matzo Ball...
Last night, when I couldnt sleep, my thoughts turned to my girl-friends. Most women my age probably have a number of them but I, actually, haven't had all that many. I think this is mainly due to the fact that I am one of those sad/happy/nonchalant females that keep other women at arm's length. I'm sure it's probably because of my talent for saying the wrong thing and not realizing it until years later or maybe because of bad experiences in the past, where I've put my trust in the wrong people and only discovered through the feminine 'grapevine' that my confidence was sadly misplaced. That being said, I do have a few women friends that mean alot to me and as I lay there last night in my nyquil-enhanced reverie I found myself wishing I could say a few things to all of them.
So here it is:
I'm going to list them in the order of their entrance into my life, starting with-
H.C-J: You are THE happy memory I have of my two years at Kingsbury Middle School. I cannot remember a single teacher's name or a lick of pre-algebra but I can still remember how to fold a note into a perfect little house. We were going to walk around school singing The Monkees Theme Song and wear matching outfits every day of the year (thank God we didnt). The lives of Lisa and Brendan will forever be a secret only we two can know. Thank you so much for letting me back in (albeit via email) after all these years. Now that I'm getting to know you again, I could kick myself for letting this much time pass.
R.Q.-I would never have thought as we lay awake in your room discussing the accountability of The Cure that someday our children would be living in the same 'holler', much less terrorizing the same teacher. It's a great thing and even though you will probably be moving on soon, situating yourself as an urban independant elsewhere, I want you to know that I plan to take advantage of the close proximity I have now to one of my oldest friends. A midnight to four a.m. game of spades would not be amiss.
S.S-G: During the early nineties when my family was altering forever, you were no less than a sister to me. Singing by the ocean was and is one of the highlights of my life. I will never forget how comfortable we were in those days, and how close. Unfortunately, life keeps altering and that's ok. The country mouse and the city mouse may not have agreed on everything but they remained as close as they could and they never forgot that they were both still mice. We come from a line of strong women and I am confident that if neither of us 'give up in doing what is fine', we will always maintain a healthy bond. I'm looking forward to keeping it healthy so that our children can have one too.
M.N-Even though your no-nonsense approach to life intimidates me at times, it is also the thing that makes me respect you the most. You share my love of games, disney, and all things that involve planning. When I think of that crazy thing they call 'natural' childbirth, I always think of how calm and steady you were for the duration. Both times. You're always available to help when I need you and yet, you keep your distance just long enough to make me miss you terribly.
D.P-You and your family are like a little mirror of mine. We have flip-flop personalities though. You and my husband are very similar and me and yours I think. Plus you've got two boys. I guess that's why I feel so comfortable around you. When we finally get together, it's like we've always been around each other and the conversation is forever stimulating. I love it when I see that you're online just so we can swap emoticons and funny links. I just want you to know how much I treasure the time I've spent w/ you and yours. The trip to the mountains when we were both pregnant still remains one of my favorites....the gameshows, the gorgeous leaves, the cabin, the deer, the 'piernt' in the caverns....ahhhh.
N.N.-I think you have had a few more troubles than the average person and yet you've managed to keep strong and balenced regardless. You are one of the most loyal, endearing, and funniest people I know, something that can never be overstated. As a mother, you are astonishing. I've told you before; I should have a woven bracelet reading WWND considering the number of times I've thought just that in dealing w/ my own kids. You are patient, considerate, and beautiful. Any of your friends would do anything for you, as I'm sure you know.
B.Q-L. : More than just about anyone else I know, I want you to be happy. When I hear Art Garfunkel's song 'Disney Girls', it's you I think of. I'm thrilled by your fiery loyalty and shocked (and sometimes amused) by how tenacious you can be. You've debated w/ me for hours, sang disney songs w/ me until both our throats were sore, and held my hair back when I threw up during labor. I can't tell you how much you've meant to me and still do. I need my disney girl to always be around. Ok?
To ADW-D, BS, AP, and any others I've forgotten here (you know who you are)-Even though our paths and priorities may have diverged over time, I don't want you to think I'm ignorant of how knowing you has shaped my life. I'll always be aware of that and I wish all of you happiness.
And last of all, To the angels of the congregation of Smyrna, write: All of you are so dear and beautiful and I love all of you so equally that I wasnt sure how to include you in this post. You were there when I gave my very best to Jehovah (75 a month to be exact) and for that reason all of you are like family. It has been wonderful to hear about your growth; how some of you are now mothers, some of you have unselfishly relocated, and some of you have undergone more serious changes to strengthen your faith. There is, sadly, even a new widow among you now. My heart goes out to all of you.
That's it. That's all I've got. After re-reading this I've realized it sounds a little like a farewell note...ha. Rest assured, it's just the thoughts that went through my head on a sleepless, hazy night in December.
So here it is:
I'm going to list them in the order of their entrance into my life, starting with-
H.C-J: You are THE happy memory I have of my two years at Kingsbury Middle School. I cannot remember a single teacher's name or a lick of pre-algebra but I can still remember how to fold a note into a perfect little house. We were going to walk around school singing The Monkees Theme Song and wear matching outfits every day of the year (thank God we didnt). The lives of Lisa and Brendan will forever be a secret only we two can know. Thank you so much for letting me back in (albeit via email) after all these years. Now that I'm getting to know you again, I could kick myself for letting this much time pass.
R.Q.-I would never have thought as we lay awake in your room discussing the accountability of The Cure that someday our children would be living in the same 'holler', much less terrorizing the same teacher. It's a great thing and even though you will probably be moving on soon, situating yourself as an urban independant elsewhere, I want you to know that I plan to take advantage of the close proximity I have now to one of my oldest friends. A midnight to four a.m. game of spades would not be amiss.
S.S-G: During the early nineties when my family was altering forever, you were no less than a sister to me. Singing by the ocean was and is one of the highlights of my life. I will never forget how comfortable we were in those days, and how close. Unfortunately, life keeps altering and that's ok. The country mouse and the city mouse may not have agreed on everything but they remained as close as they could and they never forgot that they were both still mice. We come from a line of strong women and I am confident that if neither of us 'give up in doing what is fine', we will always maintain a healthy bond. I'm looking forward to keeping it healthy so that our children can have one too.
M.N-Even though your no-nonsense approach to life intimidates me at times, it is also the thing that makes me respect you the most. You share my love of games, disney, and all things that involve planning. When I think of that crazy thing they call 'natural' childbirth, I always think of how calm and steady you were for the duration. Both times. You're always available to help when I need you and yet, you keep your distance just long enough to make me miss you terribly.
D.P-You and your family are like a little mirror of mine. We have flip-flop personalities though. You and my husband are very similar and me and yours I think. Plus you've got two boys. I guess that's why I feel so comfortable around you. When we finally get together, it's like we've always been around each other and the conversation is forever stimulating. I love it when I see that you're online just so we can swap emoticons and funny links. I just want you to know how much I treasure the time I've spent w/ you and yours. The trip to the mountains when we were both pregnant still remains one of my favorites....the gameshows, the gorgeous leaves, the cabin, the deer, the 'piernt' in the caverns....ahhhh.
N.N.-I think you have had a few more troubles than the average person and yet you've managed to keep strong and balenced regardless. You are one of the most loyal, endearing, and funniest people I know, something that can never be overstated. As a mother, you are astonishing. I've told you before; I should have a woven bracelet reading WWND considering the number of times I've thought just that in dealing w/ my own kids. You are patient, considerate, and beautiful. Any of your friends would do anything for you, as I'm sure you know.
B.Q-L. : More than just about anyone else I know, I want you to be happy. When I hear Art Garfunkel's song 'Disney Girls', it's you I think of. I'm thrilled by your fiery loyalty and shocked (and sometimes amused) by how tenacious you can be. You've debated w/ me for hours, sang disney songs w/ me until both our throats were sore, and held my hair back when I threw up during labor. I can't tell you how much you've meant to me and still do. I need my disney girl to always be around. Ok?
To ADW-D, BS, AP, and any others I've forgotten here (you know who you are)-Even though our paths and priorities may have diverged over time, I don't want you to think I'm ignorant of how knowing you has shaped my life. I'll always be aware of that and I wish all of you happiness.
And last of all, To the angels of the congregation of Smyrna, write: All of you are so dear and beautiful and I love all of you so equally that I wasnt sure how to include you in this post. You were there when I gave my very best to Jehovah (75 a month to be exact) and for that reason all of you are like family. It has been wonderful to hear about your growth; how some of you are now mothers, some of you have unselfishly relocated, and some of you have undergone more serious changes to strengthen your faith. There is, sadly, even a new widow among you now. My heart goes out to all of you.
That's it. That's all I've got. After re-reading this I've realized it sounds a little like a farewell note...ha. Rest assured, it's just the thoughts that went through my head on a sleepless, hazy night in December.
Friday, December 16, 2005
...Of Dogs and Deer
Nature provides us w/ all types of stories.
DOGS
My dog, Helen Roper, has been a mystery to us since we moved. The night before we relocated to this little den, her mother was savagely attacked by a neighborhood German Shepherd. She wasnt tied up and it was partly our fault, I guess. She just wouldnt be tied and what do you do in that case, I ask you? Anyway, she was frolicking about loose for the last couple of weeks at our former residence and evidently she frolicked in the wrong direction. The night we were packing up our last posessions and whistling for poor old Gladdice Presley, a strange truck pulled into our drive and a forlorn looking neighbor (the owner of the Shepherd and a person we'd never met) approached. He explained that Gladdice was currently at the vet and would have to be 'put down' as there was nothing they could do for her. Of course he offered to pay the expenses and was very contrite.
We have never been the kind of people to adopt our pets like humans. They are dogs to us...pleasant but not necessary to our family unit. We thanked him and moved on. Helen, however was another story...or so we thought.
She was very forlorn for a few days. We had her tied underneath the porch here and she whined and cried so much that we had to move her after a couple of sleepless nights. She shivered always, complained endlessly, and began to look thin and wormy. Her poor ribs showed and even though she ate, it hardly seemed to help. Eventually, the howling moved us to take her a street over to our property where she wouldnt affect our sleep (like I said, not part of the family unit and not necessarily pleasant right now).
I was worried about her and told the man but he said she was just grieving probably and would get over it. Yesterday he comes in and says, 'Helen is getting really sweet and really FAT.' I smiled. ' She won't leave me alone when I'm feeding her, she's eating a ton, and now she's got these little titties.'
So, grieving Helen Roper was actually pregnant Helen. We are very curious if a German Shepherd is capable of impregnanting a beagle and if so, what is the product to be? A German Beagle? A Shegle?
DEER
Deer are such a novelty to me but I can see why the people in these parts so look forward to hunting them. They simply TAKE OVER around here. You can literally drive down any given road and see them scatter like pigeons. They are not quite as smart as you'd think either, seeing as deer season finds the woods chock-full of orange clad brethren and their weapons of choice. When it's daylight, they tend to play chicken in the roads, and at night they just stare. Occasionally, they will dare you to come any closer, moving only when your bumper says they must.
Yesterday, bringing my son home from school, I came very close to making my first kill as a group of them bounded across the road. The smallest of the little gals ran right alongside my car for a good hundred paces before finally realizing she might better skedaddle. As her white tail flipped me the bird, I couldnt help but wonder....'was bambi's mother this impetuous?'
Had she been a little smarter than the average deer, little Bambi's first winter might have ended quite differently. But such is the lay of the land.
DOGS
My dog, Helen Roper, has been a mystery to us since we moved. The night before we relocated to this little den, her mother was savagely attacked by a neighborhood German Shepherd. She wasnt tied up and it was partly our fault, I guess. She just wouldnt be tied and what do you do in that case, I ask you? Anyway, she was frolicking about loose for the last couple of weeks at our former residence and evidently she frolicked in the wrong direction. The night we were packing up our last posessions and whistling for poor old Gladdice Presley, a strange truck pulled into our drive and a forlorn looking neighbor (the owner of the Shepherd and a person we'd never met) approached. He explained that Gladdice was currently at the vet and would have to be 'put down' as there was nothing they could do for her. Of course he offered to pay the expenses and was very contrite.
We have never been the kind of people to adopt our pets like humans. They are dogs to us...pleasant but not necessary to our family unit. We thanked him and moved on. Helen, however was another story...or so we thought.
She was very forlorn for a few days. We had her tied underneath the porch here and she whined and cried so much that we had to move her after a couple of sleepless nights. She shivered always, complained endlessly, and began to look thin and wormy. Her poor ribs showed and even though she ate, it hardly seemed to help. Eventually, the howling moved us to take her a street over to our property where she wouldnt affect our sleep (like I said, not part of the family unit and not necessarily pleasant right now).
I was worried about her and told the man but he said she was just grieving probably and would get over it. Yesterday he comes in and says, 'Helen is getting really sweet and really FAT.' I smiled. ' She won't leave me alone when I'm feeding her, she's eating a ton, and now she's got these little titties.'
So, grieving Helen Roper was actually pregnant Helen. We are very curious if a German Shepherd is capable of impregnanting a beagle and if so, what is the product to be? A German Beagle? A Shegle?
DEER
Deer are such a novelty to me but I can see why the people in these parts so look forward to hunting them. They simply TAKE OVER around here. You can literally drive down any given road and see them scatter like pigeons. They are not quite as smart as you'd think either, seeing as deer season finds the woods chock-full of orange clad brethren and their weapons of choice. When it's daylight, they tend to play chicken in the roads, and at night they just stare. Occasionally, they will dare you to come any closer, moving only when your bumper says they must.
Yesterday, bringing my son home from school, I came very close to making my first kill as a group of them bounded across the road. The smallest of the little gals ran right alongside my car for a good hundred paces before finally realizing she might better skedaddle. As her white tail flipped me the bird, I couldnt help but wonder....'was bambi's mother this impetuous?'
Had she been a little smarter than the average deer, little Bambi's first winter might have ended quite differently. But such is the lay of the land.
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