Kabuki and a Truck

Nasty thing happened today in the middle of some fine to good things that were happening today. Class went well enough this morning, although tomorrow is their final exam and I know we have just gone too fast for most of them to understand what they've been taught. A few of them have it, but most of them really could have used more time.

After class, I was going with friends to Washington to see a Kabuki troupe perform--really, a once in a lifetime opportunity, and we were going to see it for free for the dress rehearsal - tonight's performance was $105! But the trip up is when the nasty thing happened--we were stuck in traffic for a long, long time--an accident on the freeway had clogged things up good and proper--and we were just getting in sight of the accident, which meant we were just getting in sight of being able to move again, when a semi in the left hand lane decided he wanted to merge into our middle lane, and did so right into my car. I was sitting in the back seat so I could work on correcting, and I saw it coming and couldn't speak, I just screamed. Then the other passenger saw it and she scremed a little too, but by this time we were being hit. Now the driver is starting to honk and move a little bit out of the way, but let's face it, we're boxed in, and the semi comes forward again and hits us a second time!! Both of my driver's side doors look terrible, there are even holes torn in the back one. So we called for a trooper and now my car gets to go back to the body shop, even though it was just there two weeks ago to fix an accident from January.

The officer railed into the semi driver. He asked him what he was thinking, changing lanes in traffic that is packed in so tight. I was glad that the officer gave him a piece of his mind. I learned a couple of accidents ago to not say much to drivers who hit me or I'll end up giving them a plausible lie to tell once the police arrive! So I was happy to let the officer be frank with him.

Thankfully, no one was hurt--it could have been so much worse! But we shook it off and continued along our way and saw a great performance. Japanese woodblock prints from the 1700s and 1800s often featured kabuki performers, and some of my favorites show them making wild eyes and pulling faces. It was so strange to see that in context today. They performed two plays. The first one was boring to me (not much action, just a lot of talk, and let's face it--I don't speak Japanese). But the second one was great with lots of body movement, vocal variation, and comedy. Both plays were visually stunning, there was live musical accompaniment, it was just a fantastic performance overall.

Finally I'm home now. I have to write my final exam for tomorrow. Yikes! But then the class will be over and I will be able to focus on other things, which, unfortunately, now include getting my car fixed. :P

Big Audio Dynamite

Ok, so maybe the title is a little overreaching. But the fact is, I have a new project. After looking and looking and evaluating and looking more to find the perfect portable music/whatever else player, I ditched it and bought a big fat external hard drive (500 GB) for the purpose of collecting my music, photos, and a few other things. So now I am in the process of ripping my entire music library to MP3. Which is so much fun. I am listening to music that I never listen to because it is not in my computer. But now it is, and now I can listen to it. The whole thing makes me think of Hermione's sparkly new bag for book 7--a tiny little thing that holds way too much. (If you haven't read Deathly Hallows yet, please do--what a wonderful way to spend a weekend!)

But an external hard drive is not enough to code name this project Big Audio Dynamite. The fun part is the system of cables I'm putting together to pipe music beyond the study. Now, mind you, without a freestanding house it is really rude to do anything too loud and bass-shuddering (not that some of my neighbors over the years ever realized that--come to speak of it, it's not nice to shoot guns in the middle of the night, but some people just won't learn....) I digress. Anyway, we're not talking a big bad mother-of-all sound systems, just something to pipe some choice tunes through the house. It's fun. It makes me feel all zen with my computer and with my music all at once--everything connected, everything in balance.

ommmmmmmmm

Patriotic Zeal

Hi! Happy holiday, it's the Fourth, hooray for independence and freedom! I just rolled out of bed--it's 7:45 in the morning. The lovely thing about being a couple of time zones ahead of everyone else in the family is that they should all still be asleep (even the Boy is visiting friends a time zone away). So I'm resisting the pull to be terribly evil.

When we were kids there would be a pancake breakfast at the church every July 4. And a sunrise raising of the flag. The choir would sing some patriotic songs, it was all really quite lovely, but it did mean getting to the church early enough to call it sunrise. Which is really early in July. So dad would sneak his gigantic early 80's stereo (which, I must admit, I thought was so cool and called a ghetto blaster at a certain point in history when kids who wanted a stereo of their own really did call those things ghetto blasters) downstairs, plug it in in the hallway, crank it up full blast, and jerk us into consciousness to the tune of Stars and Stripes Forever. One year he even did it to the neighbors.

So, of course, right now I want to put on Stars and Stripes Forever and call everyone in the family. And maybe even the neighbors, who moved, but are still within telephone range.

Or maybe I'll let everyone have a nice sleep in and I'll just play it for myself and make some pancakes.

Holding Back Gale-Force Vindication

Let me tell you all what a good little lawyer the Kiddo is going to be. Today I went to my car, which I had parallel parked before class, and there was someone parked in my back bumper. I was livid. I wanted to knock in all their windows and doors. I wanted blood. The freak shouldn't have been parking there anyway--more than half the car was in a no-parking zone. I wanted to let the air out of the tires. I wanted revenge.

So I called the Kiddo to say hey, what's the deal, because I figured the police wouldn't really have to believe my side--I could just as easily have slid into that car. So the Kiddo asked me what damage I had sustained - none, really, as the back bumper is still messed up from when I was rear-ended in January. So really all I could do was call the police and see if they would ticket the idiot.

Remember. I want blood. If I had had a machine gun, I would have shot up the car.

But Kiddo the Lawyer was so calm about it, and all "Well, you could get the police to give him a ticket, or you could drive away and in a couple of hours be fine."

Well.

So I took a picture. I admit that I very much want to post it here with a "When You See This Freak Car Hit It" message, but who knows how many ways I could be held liable if anyone did. (I didn't bother asking the Kiddo about that. I like to think that I only have to be told to be a decent human being once a day.) What a good little non-bloodthirsty lawyer the Kiddo is.

I did leave a nasty note on the windshield. The jerk probably laughed and then threw it on the ground to litter the world up. I still wish I had smashed in a window or two. Hopefully Karma will do that for me.

Festivals

I am the type of person who hears the word "festival" and usually runs in the opposite direction. A festival is just one more reason why it's hard to park, one more opportunity to bump into people who aren't using their brains, a time of standing in line forever for a little bit of "fun". No, I much prefer being at home or going out to find the anti-festival, a place that is beautiful and isn't packed with people.

Not to mention that when I was a kid, the annual torture of having to go play piano in front of a judge was called "Festival". I never understood that one, as it always racked my nerves so much to play in front of a stranger that I was millimeters from tears (and the tears usually ended up falling after the performance, perfectly executable at home, fell apart with my nerves). That festival was certainly a misnomer.

I explain all of this so you can understand the significance of my saying that I would do just about anything to attend the Venice Biennale. Yes, it's contemporary art when I much prefer something older, but Venice is so amazing anyway and then to make the whole city host art from everywhere, as a matter of course, it must be beyond wonderful. (And it's not like the masterworks get dumped in the canals while the newer stuff comes in....) I imagine sitting on the Grand Canal in front of Santa Maria della Salute drinking in the view after having seen some strange but oddly likable piece of contemporary art somewhere (wish wish) and anticipating an afternoon in the Academy in front of some Tintoretto frescoes to wash my soul and set it free to fly. I imagine staying in a hotel away from the main walks of the city, getting to wander and see Venice at night, and being there long enough that on one day I even find myself escaping to one of the smaller islands for a breather with relatively fewer people milling about, then, once I am fortified by the away time, rushing back in to the excitement and buzz of thousands of people out to see the new, the curious, against an antique and venerated backdrop.

Of course in this dream I am also there long enough to visit other cities: Genova, Firenze, and finally Assisi, Rome, Capri, Palermo...

Off Task.

Right now I'm supposed to be writing one of two final exams I'll be giving in the next two days.

I'm supposed to be writing them so I can get to bed so I can get over the cold that has attacked me to the very core and made me so exhausted I can't make it through the day.

I'm supposed to be eschewing the Internet and the television and concentrating on the task at hand. I even tried going to work on the exams at a location without Internet or cable. Of course, though, since I'm sick and out of my mind, I didn't take the proper books, so here I am at home where there is Internet and cable and I just finished watching a documentary on Tianenmen Square and the changes in China since 1989. Last night when I was supposed to be working I was watching a documentary on being a nightowl and insomniac. I love documentaries. What a fantastic medium--to make your point with experts and witnesses and pictures, sound and motion. Viva la revolucion!

Hooray for PBS and independent filmmakers! Hooray for freedom of speech! Hooray for information so easily available, so nicely digestible, so incindiery and wild!

Yeah. I should get back to the test.

on Work and More

All right, for anyone who has been in suspense since my last post, I decided to take the summer job. Which we all knew I would do. There's only one word for me. Spell it with me:

S-U-C-K-E-R.

When I have been stealing time from the piles of work that surround me and make me feel guilty for doing anything but pay attention to said piles of work, I've actually had some lovely little things happen in the past couple of months. Dad came to visit for spring break, and although I made him sit around while I worked for much too much of the time, we did fit in some fun things, including catching a show of orchids (which Dad thoroughly enjoyed, especially as they reminded him of the beautiful island of Zamboanga in the Philippines) and seeing the National Cathedral, and driving out to Assateague Island to see the wild ponies, or the "Fat Salt Ponies" as Amilynne has named them. (She apparently saw a special on them which stated that they are plump because of the extra dose of salt in their sea-island diets.) They were really cool. Dad also got his first visit to the Atlantic. Here are the pictures to say the thousands of words I'm too impatient to write:

In other news, I also discovered the amazing poetry of Mary Oliver. The poems are the most real and powerful and spiritual descriptions of the natural world that I think I have ever encountered--I can only read so many before it is too much and I have to set it down for fear of my soul bursting out of my skin. So I'm reading the books slowly, and re-reading poems several times before moving on. Amilynne is mad at me because I told her I think Mary Oliver might be my poet (meaning Billy Collins may have been bumped from the top spot). I don't know. I love them both, but I can't argue with the power of this. Here for your pleasure, a link to several of her poems.

The joy is that this has me writing poetry again. (Yes, Billy Collins, I know that doesn't necessarily please you.) Not that any of it is good yet. But if I'm not writing it's never going to get any better, and it feels good to be in a creative moment, because I've been out of one for a long time.

And it feels good to shake my little fist at the piles of work and say, "Yes! But first this!"

So I'm still up

and it's almost 1:00. I should really be asleep, but I'm not.

I'm trying to decide what to do with my summer. I had declared that this would be the summer of peace, and that really I would refuse anything that came my way. Now I'm faced with the opportunity to teach a class at the university and I am torn. On the one hand, who turns down decent income for a 5-week stint? On the other hand, I had promised myself a summer off. I keep going back and forth on it. There are a lot of things that normal people do to take care of themselves and their interests that I just haven't had a chance to do since September 2003. Not to mention that I have side projects (stained glass, painting, books to read) that could easily fill ten summers. I haven't been really truly creative since I started my master's and I really need to give that an outlet. Anyway, I have to decide by Friday. And I am absolutely torn.

And losing sleep.

on Sting

One of the times I didn't get to see Sting.

I could go for a Police reunion tour, but you know that for me it would be all about Sting.

Yes, I caught the Police opening the Grammys tonight. I didn't know what I would think. And then Sting started to sing and it was good. I didn't care much who was playing the other instruments, it was all about Sting.

You see, once upon a time, a long time ago, when I was 14 or so, my cousin came to visit, and she had a copy of Dream of the Blue Turtles. We hung out and I had a listen, and late that night, long after she had gone to bed, I was still listening. The lyrics were profound: they spoke to my greatest fears, appealed to my growing sense of social justice, and enchanted me with their poetry and with descriptions of places I hadn't yet imagined. The music and the voice were rough and smooth and played tricks I wasn't expecting. I greeted Sting's pursuant albums with the same mix of awe and adoration. Hours have been spent just listening. Tears have fallen. Ultimate Sting mix tapes have been made. I spent years waiting for the chance to see Sting on tour - but whenever he came near I was elsewhere. When I finally got to see Sting perform live, my heart just about burst. I could not stop the tears that welled over the whole time he was on stage. OK, so I mist up easily, but that was extreme.

Hearing him sing the earlier Police stuff is fantastic. (Hearing him sing the ABC song would be fantastic.) Do I care about the Police reuniting? Only as a vehicle for another tour with Sting, another chance to have all of that live emotion and greatness blow me off my feet again.

It's an architecture kind of day

I'm vibing with buildings. Found a couple of cool things. I was reading about the current soccer moratorium in Italy (national crisis!) and the article referred to "Palazzo Chigi" as an entity - Ha! *Click* went my brain and off I went to find a picture of seat of Italian government. Here is Wikipedia's version:



I also came across an article on Time.com referring to the top 150 examples of American architecture as picked by the American public. The list is here. Hmmm. The Empire State Building is definitely not my favorite (for old skyscrapers, the Chrystler building is cooler), and the White House is not nearly as cool as the Capitol. But what a fun list to go over and look at. I haven't decided yet which is my favorite. I'll let you know when I do.

Bozzetto's Take on Italy

Click here or on the title to experience the truth about life in Italy, as compared to the rest of Europe.

I split my sides. The bus thing is SO true.

Where is my Robot?

I've been home for two weeks now and the house is still a mess and I'm still behind in what I need to get done for work and I went to do laundry and of course the facilities are down so I've got to go to the laundromat. And I would just like to ask: Where is my Robot? Where? They just had the big tecchie show and woo-hoo there's a new cellphone coming out (hello - I've had a cellphone for a LONG TIME now and the one I've got lets me phone. It's a phone. That's all I need there.) but why did no one unveil a robot? A robot to keep the house clean and calculate the balance in the checking account (and do my correcting) and run to the laundromat when the laundry facilities are down. That is the invention I would buy into and make room for...a personal assistant I would only have to buy once.

Did you see the Electric Grandmother when you were a kid? She should be the prototype. She knew when to make chocolate chip cookies and she handled the house with ease. I would not be like the little girl in the story. I would embrace my Electric Grandmother with thankfulness. I would make sure she had a nice rocking chair for when she was plugged in every night and I would pay the electric bill with a song in my heart.

So please, Steve Jobs, take your iPhone and go back to the drawing board. I'd like to see the first issue of an electric grandmother announced at the conference next year. Put all of your people on it, maybe team up with the folks at MIT. But hurry, please. My to-do list isn't getting any shorter.

Resolved: Must Blog in 2007

Here I am at my computer making "lesson plans." Right. Unfortunately, I'm still running on mountain time, which means my body thinks there is plenty of time to get the work done and still get some sleep before work in the morning. And that is why procrastinators should only travel in a westerly direction... might miss some days entirely, but it will always feel like sleeping in!

Anyway, I suddenly remembered that I used to blog. And that I enjoyed it. And it really fits in with my one and only (2-part) resolution for the new year: to take better care of myself and enjoy life.

So Hooray! Hooray! Last semester is over. I graduated, taught my first college class, and worked full-time to boot. I am SO happy not to be taking a class this semester. I remember how happy I was to take my first class for certification--it felt so good to be back in school--how things change! I am so ready not to be taking classes for a while!

Anyway, so the holidays were good, if brief. Lots of playtime with Junior, the whole family was at Dad's and we had a pretty good time. Junior is the cutest child in the whole world ever. He loves to tell stories--I do wish I knew what he was saying--but it is so fun to listen to him just talking away.

And now it's back to work until the end of June. Far away, but we'll make it.

Greetings from the Hermitage

I know that I have completely disappeared from the world. What craziness is everywhere! But I am involved in an epic struggle between success and failure--Will I graduate in December? The answer lies very much in how much I can cram into the next week.

And in spite of it, here I am. Here's why:

I work better with something else going on. Music, usually, although PBS also can work very well. It keeps one section of my brain from going completely batty bored with whatever is going on that I must pay attention to. For example, the last couple of nights they've been showing a documentary on Benjamin Franklin, which I believe is by Ken Burns. Fascinating, and a nice story, and I can generally stay on track and be very productive with something like this on.

Until tonight they showed a documentary called "A Touch of Greatnes" about an educator named Albert Cullum. Basically he had elementary school students in the late 50's-early 60's debating the merits of Shakespeare, Shaw, and Sophocles, learning geography, and doing all kinds of crazy learning. Man I wish I could have had him for a teacher! One student's vocabulary notebook had 290+ words for the year and she actually learned to use them because the whole class was this wriggling organism of collective learning. I got so wrapped into this--I was sitting on the edge of the ottoman to be closer to the screen to drink it all in. And the thing was, it was obvious that Mr. Cullum was having the best time of anyone. That is the teacher I want to be--the one having a jolly old time in the learning atmosphere I've created. The one who figures out how to play our way to a better understanding. Anyway, now I'm all fired up and I've gotten some portfolio work done, and I'd better get back to it because I have miles to go before I sleep.

Surprise!

So I was out watering the garden, when something jumped out of the chives.

Yes, it's a praying mantis. I have never seen a real one before. At first it took me a second - maybe it was a walking stick? Because it's brown and I thought praying mantises were green? Or maybe they are and this is really some kind of walking stick or walking leaf or something. Anyway. Moot point. The deal is, I don't think I've ever seen anything like this before. It was BIG! So I ran inside and grabbed my camera, and now you see the result.

Since we're at it, here is my rosemary. Isn't it beautiful?

And yes, I do think it likes having the gnome there. And so does the laurel plant (it has two of them).

Fun in the garden. Fun for everyone.

Amilynne's Idea

Amilynne says the Mona Lisa should go to the winners. Buon idea! Of course, she was going to award pasta to the French if they won. I don't know what Italy would have done without pasta for 4 years. And honestly, I don't know what the French would have done with it. Good thing the match turned out the way it did.

A Brilliant Italian Win

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Guess who is putting a gigantic soccer ball on the door of her classroom for the next 4 years??? Forza! Forza! Forza!

(And shame on Thomas for texting me "Vive la France" during the game. Vive les headbutters what?)

You know, though, that game really did have me on edge - I must have been really holding my breath because the second Italy won and I started jumping up and down and whooping and cheering I about toppled over! This wave of quasi-unconsciousness hit, I got terribly dizzy, and I had to sit down a second. I seriously feared I would faint. Wouldn't that have been priceless--knocked out by Italy's championship run. Ha!

I'm also naming Andrea Pirlo player of the game. Of course, Gennaro Gattuso was also brilliant - talk about being everywhere at once, and Gianluigi Buffon is goalkeeper extraordinaire. (Oh my goodness - when he knocked Zidane's shot over the goal - fabulous!) But to me, Pirlo was just always there putting on the heat and setting up opportunities. He also shot in the first penalty shot after overtime. Forza!

(I've linked the title of this posting to the FIFA highlights, as long as they will remain posted. Enjoy.)

Crazy4Calcio

I woke up this morning with visions of Italy winning the World Cup dancing in my head. So all I can really say is:

FORZA AZZURRI!!!

Elementary, My Dear

So I'm a week into the internship at the elementary school. I'm tutoring this cute little kid and having a ball. I did a reading interest survey with him where I was naming different topics that books could be on and he was grading them - an A meant he was really interested in it, an F meant he wasn't interested. So I was going down the list and he was giving lots of As and Fs and some Cs and a couple of Ds and I got to "love" and he said "A+!" And I kind of chuckled to myself because I'm used to teenagers (and to myself, and to some of my friends) who would rather die than admit that love is any more than an F--. He was so cute! Then, near the end of the list, I got to "family" and he said "A+ a hundred!" Computers got "A+ a hundred!" too.

Anyway, I could just eat this kid up. He was sleepy today from fireworks last night and he kept putting his head down and making snoring noises. Especially when I was asking him to do hard things. It's just fun that he's young enough that nutty is OK and playing is an acceptable free-time activity.

School

The Boy got out of school last week, Amilynne got out of school this week, and I have two more weeks of school.

The seniors who started at the high school the same time as me graduated this week. I admit I will miss the class of 2006. The students I worked with, especially the ones who were still studying Italian this year, are great people with fun personalities. I hope I get the chance to see what some of them become.

But for now, I'm just pushing for summer vacation. It will not get here soon enough.

"...speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world..."

Imagine my joy when I found this one on Microsoft clipart:

The funny thing is that they had it listed under Italy, Milan, and Stained Glass Windows, but not under Dante.

I flipped when I found it. I went back to Purgatorio XXVIII to read about Matilda. How fantastic it all is.

The fourth years started Dante this week. Joy, joy, joy.

Spring Break Review

When I went to Texas and Louisiana last month for spring break, I bought a snazzy little digital camera. Hooray! I've got to say--it has been way too long in coming. But I had decided the week before that it would be my tax refund treat this year, and then once I got on the plane to Texas I realized that I had forgotten my regular camera (which, by the way, is eleven years old and has produced pictures with a hairline crack in the top of the frame for at least half of those years), so once I got to Texas I hit Best Buy and hooray! I'm the happy owner of a cool new camera.

Of course, once I got home, it has taken a month for me to install the software so I can download pictures to my computer.

But now I have, and now they're there, and now I can post a picture or two (or four) from the trip.

Here is the camera's first picture. A close-up of the shepherd's pie will be a feature on the new Casseroles...Hella Good! website that Amilynne and I are going to build. But here is the full picture, with my splendid friends Hunada, Daryl, and Elizabeth, who love me enough to get together for shepherd's pie when I come to Texas:

Next, here is cool Marianne at Oak Alley, the fabulous old plantation we visited between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. The trees are three hundred years old. And can I say how fantastic it was to see Marianne? We hadn't visited for ages, not since she got married four years ago. Which seems almost as long as the trees are old.

On my way back from Louisiana, I had an otherworldish experience. This is where I found myself:

Anyway, when I got back to Texas, Elizabeth and I went to the Botanical gardens and there we beheld something you would ONLY see in the Lone Star State:

Little chica is practicing her pose. Yikes!

And I just have to add this picture because it is so cool to have a camera that can do it:

See the dew? I love my new camera!

But not as much as I love my friends! :D

On Libraries and Languages

On Libraries:

Last night I went to a university Italian faculty party to get to know the faculty and just to enjoy being like an Italian for an evening. It was fantastic!!! I just don't get to use Italian conversationally very often (and that shows--I found myself switching to English too often last night when I was talking--anyway, it was a LOVELY evening, I brought one of my students along and I think he enjoyed it a lot too, and it was just great.

Anyway, the party's hostess LOVES books. She is a book collector. She has such a collection that she has built a separate library the size of a small house for herself, and it is all shelves and books. And get this. I was randomly exploring one aisle when my eyes fell on a book by my great grandmother. I just died. I mean, it was never the most popular or well-known book (although my dad told me last night that when it was published it did win an award in California for being the best new book for jr. high students). That was really cool.

On Languages:

Last week W made some idiotic remark about how the national anthem should only be sung in English. Apparently someone countered with a claim that W did, in fact, sing the national anthem in Spanish when he was on the campaign trail. Scott McLellan, the white house spokesman on his way out, retorted by saying that the claim is "absurd" because "He's not that good with his Spanish."

Give me a break!!!

Every semester I teach my students to memorize a poem in Italian that they don't necessarily understand and that they probably couldn't read flawlessly if handed for the first time. Almost all of them have it nicely memorized in 4 months. Learning to say things you don't understand is a big chunk of learning a language! I forwarded the news story to friends and family with this attached:

"What idiocy. We all know that you don't have to know a language well to sing in it, you just need some coaching (coaching that I think would be availble to someone courting the Latino vote!)"

To which Amilynne replied:

foo nee coe lee foo nee coe la foo nee coe lee foo nee coe LAAAAA, yamma yamma yo foo nee coe lee foo nee coe la HEY!

Which is close enough.

Nice to know that Scott McLellan thinks the President is about as smart as my least motivated urban high school students.

Homies

I'm ripping another picture off of the Kiddo's website. This one cracked me up.

Because I'm still in Junior High

I have not changed at all. I am essentially the same teenager I have always been.

I've added two new albums to my collection this week: Future Retro (Great Alternative Anthems of the 80's Souped Up With Dance Beats) (e.g. Crystal Method does Bizarre Love Triangle) and Morrissey's new Ringleader of the Tormentors. And I have to say that both are very good. No one can orchestrate an opening like Morrissey can, no one at all.

On top of that, I have worked late late late this week, and how do I keep going? Just a simple mix of Morrissey and Midnight Oil, please. (Dear reader, you do know that Blue Sky Mining is Midnight Oil's greatest album, followed closely by Earth and Sun and Moon? They're not just Beds are Burning, no, no, no.) Since we're doing finest albums, Morrissey's is, of course, Viva Hate.

(Earth and Sun and Moon is so good on headphones walking through a forest.)

Which begs a discussion on picking favorites. Is the favorite the song you hear first off, identify with, and claim, love at first sight, whole-hearted and blindly? Or is the favorite the song that etches itself slowly into your soul, hook by hook, riff by riff, until it is part of the fabric of your soul and tearing it out would cause a loss of self?

Are we talking about love now? or worship? Do we leave particles of our souls with the things we love in exchange for the memories? I once worked for a man who owned a very nice shop, and he claimed that if you go into a store, and find something you like, and pick it up and walk around with it, feeling it and adoring it, and then put it back, someone will come find it and buy it because of the piece of you that rubbed off on it. Interesting, but when I think of the things I put back and regret having put back (the jewelrey box in Genova, for starters) I wonder if what I'm missing is the piece of me that stayed with it when I walked away.

How much worse to leave our friends! Our favorites! The ones to whom we have given large chunks of our souls (please don't lose them), who finish our thoughts and travel our same paths not nearly long enough --

And so we capture what we can: photographs, songs; and we write notes and letters; and all the while it's more of our souls that we are leaving on these treasures -

And our yearbooks say "Stay Sweet!" and "Friends Forever!"

And somewhere we are. Because they are in us and we are in them,

because we're still in junior high.

The Worst Driver On Earth

On my way to the bank yesterday, I saw first-hand what happens when the biggest idiot in the world gets behind the wheel of a car. I was at a light waiting for opposing traffic to clear so I could make a left-hand turn, when suddenly this little car zips completely around me and makes a U-turn. I had to slam on the breaks. Since I was in the turning lane, it means that this guy entered the intersection from a "go straight only" lane, but instead he took the whole intersection as his own and zoomed completely around me. My heart stopped as he roared into my view (I had been watching oncoming traffic looking for an opportunity to turn). I slammed on the horn, but it took just a second as I registered the shock, so he was already driving away and probably didn't see me flip him off.

The diagram of what happened is above. I am the cute gold car, my path is in blue, because I stayed so relatively calm throughout the experience. (HA! But at least I was cool enough that I didn't plow into him!) The idiot is driving the teal car. His path is hot pink because he thinks his driving makes him hot stuff. I think it makes him the world's biggest idiot.

I Did It AGAIN

This morning I actually woke up five minutes earlier than I did yesterday morning.

For anyone keeping track, that meant I woke up 55 minutes late. I can't believe this. I even set a third alarm this morning, and I still just didn't wake up. I WILL NEVER GET USED TO DAYLIGHT SAVINGS!!!! On the bright side, though, I guess this means that my chances of dying peacefully in my sleep are probably higher since I won't wake up for whatever horror kills me.

My new look is barely dried hair and just a hint of mascara. If this continues, my new look will be pajamas.

Two notes on the bright side: 1. At least they hadn't yet marked my name with highlighter for being late when I signed in today. & 2. It was still light out when I left my class this evening. That was so nice. Like I hadn't ruined my whole night yet.

GIVE ME BACK MY HOUR!!!!!

I swear, I've got to figure out a way to charge a VERY high interest rate on the hour that that government steals from us in the spring and gives back in the fall. My body did not get up this morning until the usual time--meaning one hour late--so wasn't everyone at school so happy to see me run in at 7:30. (SHAME ON ME!)

Can we please just pick a time zone and stay with it?

I sometimes get this feeling like I should saw off the top of my head and alleviate the pressure that has built up during the day. I need to go home and take a nap, but I also need to go home and finish my correcting because I have a small load of journals from my advanced classes that are due tomorrow, and it will take me all the time I have to get those done.

You know you're a resident of the ghetto if.....

It is T-8 hours to my comprehensive exam for my master's degree.

About 4 hours ago, I called Papa John's to order a pizza. It seemed the student-cramming-for-a-test thing to do. It is also something that I never do. I seriously may have never had a pizza delivered to this place. Maybe once my first year here, but maybe not. I don't remember.

At any rate, the nice girl who answered the phone when I called Papa John's had to inform me that they don't deliver to my area after dark.

As I listened to gunshots about 1 1/2 hours ago (like a whole gun being emptied rapid fire), I just nodded my head and thought, "Yes, that's why I couldn't get a pizza tonight." When Thomas called to see how the studying was going and I told him the story, his immediate reaction was "You do live in the ghetto!"

"Yes," I replied, "that pretty much confirms it."

Disincrostare

Lately, I have been listening to Italian music radio at work. I would listen to it at home too, but somehow my computer here can't bring it up. You can see if your computer will do it by clicking to RadioItalia here. Good luck.

Anyway, there is this crazy commercial for non-stick spray with this nutty song that gets stuck in your head and really is as annoying as irretrievable popcorn hulls between your teeth. The saving grace in this commercial is the use of the verb disincrostare - to remove a baked on crusty mess. I told my students about it today and one of them just smiled and said that she loves the way Italian has crazy words like that.

I must agree with her. I love it too.

Jon Stewart - Hooray!

I had a good time watching the Oscars last night. Why? Well, if you didn't read the title of this post: Jon Stewart - Hooray! Shall we compare last night's awards to last year's? My rundown of the 2005 ceremony is here. Please refresh yourself, I will make comment:

1. Jon Stewart doesn't have to yell at us to be funny. His opener had me rolling - not hitting mute like last year. The whole bit with George Clooney was great.

2. George Clooney also gets the best acceptance speech of the night award. Do you think he might get to be sexiest man alive again? He certainly beats this year's winner. And he has a lake district house in Italy.

3. Dolly Parton. 'Nuff said.

4. I can't imagine what I would have cooked for the best picture nominees had I thrown a party this year. Racist ethnic foods for Crash? Fancy western hors d'oeuvres for Brokeback Mountain? I might have had to resurrect my smoking cigarette cake for Good Night and Good Luck. That might have been fun.

5. Martin Scorsese wasn't up for anything this year. Hooray.

6. I didn't see Puffy there. I'm sure he was there, but I didn't see him. I didn't miss him. But a torch-wielding mob needs to hunt out the people who thought that the pimp song was the best of the year. Was it just a bad year for music?

7. Jon Stewart cracked me up.

And that's it. Until next year.

Republishing: Amilynne is Brilliant

I originally published this on the new Amilynne & Melissa collaborative Blog of Blood. Amilynne then informed me that if I was going to brag about her it had better be in the traditional context of this blog. So I am republishing the following, which I originally published Friday, Feb. 26 on the Blog of Blood. Then I'll go erase that post--so you'll only be able to see me brag about my sister here:

Amilynne is Brilliant

As the Olympics finish tonight and Neve and Gliz become a footnote in history, there is something of much more consequence about which to write: Amilynne got a perfect score on her Language and Literature PRAXIS test. She is too modest to tell you herself. But if you ever need to know which novel has a coffeehouse named for one of its characters, she is the one to ask.

It's so nice to have a sister who is perfect. I just don't have to worry about being perfect at all, I have Amilynne to do that. I can just live my life and enjoy the warm glow of her brilliance and let it reflect off and bounce around and do acrobatic tricks.

On a completely different note, sort of, please check out the last page of the March issue of Smithsonian for an article about the words English hasn't borrowed from other languages.

SuperGreat Fantastic News

So this week there is some SuperGreat Fantastic news to report--Amilynne landed her first real-live, need-a-college-education-for-this-one job. She's a teacher! She interviewed Wednesday, was hired on Thursday, and started Friday. Basically, the teacher she worked with to do her student teaching said that she was the best student teacher he'd seen in 30 years, the department head wrote her letter of recommendation, and now she works there.

And I have to think--how cool would it be to have Amilynne for your teacher? She is hip and cool and brilliant. Yesterday she was at the museum looking at an exhibit of Roman frescoes and working out a lesson plan for this week. I want to be in her class.

Anyway, that's the best news of the week. Hooray!

Mouse Fire

So if you have been as amused as I have been by the story in the news about the guy who tried to burn a mouse in a leaf pile, only to have the mouse (on fire) dart back at his house and burn the whole thing down, please make sure you have read Billy Collins' poem "The Country." There's a link to it (although stanza breaks are omitted) if you'll click on the title of this post.

Coming Through in Stereo

I know you won't be surprised when I report once again that living in my apartment is hell.

Here it is, after midnight, I'm trying to get some work done, and the music pours in--not from just one neighbor, but from the neighbors on the other side of me now as well. New people moved in about 6 weeks ago and the noise level has steadily increased. Now the music coming in is clearly audible no matter where I try to hide in my apartment, and at this moment, I kid you not, the discs the two neighbors are listening to have the exact same tempo and could be mixed quite neatly into one song by any talentless DJ who felt the urge. Me, I don't feel the urge at all. I just feel annoyed. Like I want to shoot up some stereos. I just can't believe that on a Wednesday night these people think they need to keep the whole world awake with their crappy music.

You'd think this really was the full-fledged ghetto. At this rate, it won't be long until it really is. Thug central, here we come.

Dare

I dare you to look at how cute Junior was at Christmas and not think he's the cutest baby ever.

Haiatus

Well, I didn't post for a while. The beginning of December brought Hell's wrath with it--finishing projects for my class, state testing, not to mention I still had to teach. Somehow I emerged from it all on the 17th still able to catch a flight home for the holidays. Home was blissful--far from the soul erosion that is my normal daily life. I finally got to see & play with Junior. What a sweet baby! He has gigantic blue eyes like searchlights and he loves to look around--in fact, he hates to be held in such a way that he can't look around--he won't let you do it--and he hates to go to sleep because it means he has to close his eyes. He is such a sweetheart and he wrapped his auntie around his little finger so fast.

One quick story about holiday shopping:

Before I went home, Thomas and I were out one day. He had taken me to a gallery to see some pottery that he liked a lot. After admiring the pottery, I was just looking around and I found the funniest little pewter pin. Just a small pewter square with a little jingle bell attached, and stamped on to it, it said "As Merry as I Get." Ha ha ha, I thought it was great, and as I picked it up to show Thomas, I noticed the $46 price tag. Gagging, I turned the price tag forward and said "Not that merry." We rolled our eyes, and the person working there, who had heard us from the back, came out laughing. "What does it say?" she asked, explaining that there was so much stuff in there that she couldn't keep up with everything. I showed it to her, and she just chuckled. She had thought she had heard me read "Not That Married." Which is probably a pin that someone would buy too.

One of the fantastic things that happened over the holiday was the discovery that Billy Collins has released another collection of poetry. Hooray! I grabbed one up for Amilynne, and, so as not to gift her a used book, I grabbed one up for myself as well. Splendid as usual.

But the best thing happened on the way home. Friday morning, Dad took me to the airport, and after I said goodbye to him at the security checkpoint, I went up to my gate and cried and cried. I was heartbroken to be leaving. They boarded us on the plane, and I sat there with tears running down my face, and then a Christmas miracle happened--they asked for 12 volunteers to bump--heavy snow in Minneapolis meant they had to take more fuel and fewer passengers. My hand shot up and I got off that plane as fast as I could. I got them to let me stay through Sunday (which I didn't do in the first place because it cost so much more than leaving on Friday), and I got a voucher for a round trip ticket to boot. Hooray! I get to go home again this summer! For free! I called home for dad to come get me and the next two days were great.

So that's a month in a few words. Too much shopping, and a bit of extra time at home. And now, if all goes well, I'll finish my master's degree in a year or so and I'll be that much freer. Commence the countdown.

Euphoria

Yeah! Yeah! Hooray! It's a snow day! I'm going back to bed.

Little Stories

Just two little stories because really not much is going on worth writing about.

Still a Geek Calling the Radio Station

Two weekends ago I was driving and listening to the radio station. This most amazing song came on. Fantastic guitar, very metal, but oh, such skill evident in the playing. The song definitely had two parts--the first half, which included the singing, and the second part, which was a classic metal anthem with lots of fantastic electric guitar. Very Metallica, but the voice wasn't gravelly enough. The song was long--I reached my destination and sat in my car for another minute listening to it end. Of course they didn't say what it was. I got home later and popped up MusicMatch to listen to samples of the latest Metallica disc, but it wasn't the same. I hopped around listening to other metal bands, but they didn't match either.

Zoom forward a week. Saturday night I'm out driving again, and here comes the song again. And again, it is a truly great song. And again, it is played without identification. I absolutely had to find out what the song was. So when I got home I raced to the computer and found the station's website, but there was not any kind of "recently played" list. There was no way to chat with the DJ. I hunted through the pages of the site until, really little, I found what might be a phone number--and it was. And after describing the song to the DJ (which really makes one feel like one is a geek still in junior high) I found out that it was Metallica, in fact, it was 1984 Metallica, Fade to Black. So now I have downloaded my beautiful song and I can listen to it whenever I want, like, for instance, right now.

Weather Report

The first winter storm came through. Nothing makes a teacher happier than the prospect of snow. A lot of teachers wouldn't openly admit this - as though telling the truth were unprofessional - but I do. I love a snow day. I love an excuse to stay in the house sipping hot chocolate and watching movies, and I love having a bonus day to catch up on the correcting. So Sunday night as the weather reports were all about the incoming storm, my eyes were glued to the TV for updates.

One update, though, really left me giggling. The oh-so-serious talking head weatherman guy was pointing at his map, which showed the state divided into bands according to the heaviness of the snow that was going to fall, and each little band was labeled with something like rain/sleet/snow or 1-3", but on the band that represented the most snowfall, the label was FALLS LIKE LARD. Think about that one a second. I don't know how lard would fall, but I do think it would fall more heavily than even the heaviest snow. I was in stitches. I called my dad to tell him about it, so yesterday he left me phone messages like "CNN is reporting a storm in your area, but they didn't say anything about larding." The thing is, the weatherman must have realized how dumb it looked, because the next time he came on the label was changed to HEAVY BAND? Hooray for local television.

The snow was enough to close school an hour early yesterday. I'm hoping for full closure today, but I fear that the best I'll get is a delayed opening. The precipitation was too light too early last night. I was cruising around until about 8:00 getting bills in the mail and really, the roads were perfectly safe. It's currently 30 degrees. So maybe things have frozen up a bit, but I am resigned to getting ready for school like normal today. Bummer.

Walk the Line

Well, hooray, hooray, I went to see a movie.

And it was fantastic.

You know Joaquin Phoenix is going to be good. The enjoyment came from Reese Witherspoon's fantastic performance. I'm so tired of her as cute and fluff and this role let her get beyond that and into the realm of a real character.

Anyway, enough has been written on it. I do hope that Oscar nominations come around for them, and for the writing as well. And a few more: director, costumes, maybe best picture. I did like the film.

And since I'm on the topic of movies, here's what else is on my mind:

The new Harry Potter film was just what it promised to be: an action flick. Choppy beginning, scary monsters, good pull-you-in with the Ball, tears shed at the end. I also loved the bit with Moaning Myrtle.

Spanglish came on HBO this month. I missed it in the theaters but I simply LOVED it, and the DVD arrived from Amazon today. (HBO didn't replay it often enough for me.)

And last but not least, finally in February The Best of Youth (La meglio gioventù) is coming to DVD. I saw a review of it on CNN.com forever ago--it's seriously been at least a year. I saved the review to my desktop so I wouldn't forget to keep checking up on it. Of course, it came nowhere near here in the theaters, but here's the review and you can see for yourself how good it sounds. I can't wait to get my hands on it:

'The Best of Youth'

Reviewed by Lisa Schwarzbaum

Were "The Best of Youth" to air on national television, as it did in its original incarnation in Italy two years ago, I can assure you that everyone would be talking about it for weeks.

As it is, I can promise you this: Every lucky moviegoer who commits to the six hours this magnificent Italian drama requires -- ingestible in two discrete three-hour installments -- won't be able to stop thinking about gentle, empathetic Nicola Carati (Luigi Lo Cascio) and his broodier, more tempestuous sibling, Matteo (Alessio Boni), the two brothers whose lives come to embody nearly four decades of modern Italian history in one grandly engrossing experience.

Have I convinced you yet to invest the time? "La Meglio Gioventù," as director Marco Tullio Giordana calls his prizewinning narrative masterpiece, begins in Rome, in 1966, when the Carati boys -- two of four children born into a middle-class family -- are just launching their adult lives. Nicola wants to become a doctor (to which end a kindly professor urges the young man to move away because "Italy is a dying, useless country"); Matteo has more longings -- he's a passionate reader of books -- and fewer plans.

Nicola identifies with liberalism and enlightenment; Matteo becomes a soldier, then a cop. And as the lives and fortunes of the Carati clan wax and wane, expand and intertwine, their intimate struggles, joys, and accommodations reflect the rhythms of societal life on a larger scale: The 1966 Florence floods, Italy's 1982 World Cup championship, the terrorism of the Red Brigades, and the violence of Mafia murders share equal, gracefully apportioned weight with personal history. (The geography shifts too, from Rome to Florence to Turin to Palermo to the Tuscan countryside, with a magical stop in Norway.)

Like a great novel from a more expansive bygone age, "The Best of Youth" is full of big thoughts; like a great soap opera, it's also full of sharp plot turns, vibrant characters, and great talk. It is, in short, the best of cinema.

EW Grade: A

Little Dubbi

Amilynne and I were on the phone last weekend and she started play-cheering for wilderness areas that are lost to human development. So I started to call her Little Dubbi. Here is a picture:

Isn't that a lot of fun?

So we were talking this weekend (she didn't see the picture until I finally got the kinks worked out on Friday) and she said "What's that on my head?" and I said "It's a cowboy hat." Come now. It's not beautiful, but even our brother the scientist recognized it as a cowboy hat. Amilynne is refusing to use her immagination. "Oh. I thought it was a squirrel or something." Then she asks, "Where are the ground squirrels?" "Obviously, they are on your head, Amilynne." "Oh."

And the conversation turned to other things, like eggnog. At home, we always cut eggnog with sprite or ginger ale or something, and as I have gotten older, I have decided that I do not like this. Too wierd, the bubbles and the dairy product all together. So I say to Amilynne, "I don't like my eggnog cut with pop." Amilynne explodes with laughter. "Pop! You said pop!!!" Yes, I exposed my roots there.

So Amilynne agreed that I could post the picture of Little Dubbi if I would also admit that I say "pop." Usually I say soda now. But yes, pop comes out of my mouth from time to time. Or out of my nose if someone makes me laugh while I'm drinking it.

Enough said. Just please call Amilynne "Little Dubbi" the next time you see her.

Paperless Voting

I went to the polls today and to my dismay they have replaced the old dinosaur lever pulling machines with fancy new computerized voting systems--only they're the paperless kind, and I just can't say how much I don't like that. Not very much at all. I firmly believe that there should be a paper trail in case there is any suspicion (or knowledge) of an electronic failure. But just because some idiots in Florida who don't know how to punch a paper ballot made a careful recount necessary, the trend now seems to be to eliminate the possibility of such a recount by creating a paperless system.

I don't trust it. I don't trust it because as much as we depend on computers, we all know that they fail from time to time. For example, as important as is the state-mandated testing in schools, when that testing takes place on a computer, there is generally some kind of glitch that makes it difficult. And as important as that is, elections are immeasurably more so.

Big brother is taking over, and I find myself with misgivings.

Failed Experiment

I really prefer Daylight Savings time to normal time. I would rather see the sun later than earlier. So last week when normal time took back over, I rebelled and stayed on Daylight Savings. Everything was so much nicer. I got to go to work at 8:00 instead of at 7:00. At first, I got so much more done in the mornings! But the week wore on, and Thursday morning I found myself getting up at 6:30 (daylight savings), which was not early anymore. Friday as well. So yesterday I gave in and changed the clocks, defeat admitted.

I was telling my dad about this last night and he told my how my grandmother hated daylight savings because it meant the heat of the day would hit earlier, making her miserable while working in her garden. So I see that there could be some resistance toward my plan of keeping Daylight Savings time permanently. My suggestion would be that since Daylight Savings is not practiced in Arizona, non-practicers could flock there. Another suggestion would be that of carefully choosing which side of the time zone to live in. The closer one lives to the western edge of one's time zone, the later the sun will rise.

My deal is, if the government thinks that daylight savings would save us on energy until November, why don't they think it would work into and beyond November? Can't we just say "Hey, we're a daylight savings country (except Arizona)!"? Better yet, we could just move Arizona to Pacific time and be a daylight savings country all around.

Stop looking at me funny. I really think I'm on to something.

A Word to the Wise

Swiss Miss Chocolate Sensation is the hot chocolate of the year. In a not-too-big mug, 2 packets, mixed with a bit of half & half and some flavor syrup (black cherry & almond or raspberry) and filled with water hot from the teakettle, and suddenly I'm looking forward to a chilly winter. This cocoa mix is actually chocolatey. So nice.

Just Because I Could

So I was roaming the Halloween aisle at the store and what did I see? Pumpkin Peeps. Knowing that there were still some Easter Bunnies floating around at home, I did what anyone should do, and brought the pumpkins home for a war.

In no time flat, the pumpkins had the bunny surrounded. And into the microwave they went.

Scary! Looks like everyone has fainted for loss of...well, not blood....

But the stale Easter Bunny can stand back up in one piece--those fresh pumpkins were too oozy to make a last stand. So bunny went into the trash, and pumpkins went into s'mores. Not a bad ending to this little match, I must say.

Happy Halloween!

Go West!

To anyone who doesn't understand why my heart resides in the West, I submit this picture of the north end of Cache Valley--Red Rock Pass in Idaho. I just got the last of my pictures from this summer back, and this was among my favorites. See how the clouds trail off into the distance. See the varied colors of green against the foothills. See more mountains off in the center distance. This is beauty and freedom. You should see it in person.

And Amilynne is cute too.

The Problem Won't Go Away

This morning I woke up at 4:30. The people above me were taking a shower and there was some serious water coming down on the plastic over the hole in the ceiling. So much water that when they stopped, I decided to take a lightning shower before someone else got in and the water gushed. Good thing. Five minutes after I got out of the shower, one corner of the plastic came free, and a great gushing of water poured into my tub. How disgusting if I had been in there when it happened. How disgusting anyway.

So I waited until I was about to leave for work and called it in to maintenance. I think I woke the maintenance person up. He didn't sound happy to hear from me. I explained that I was pretty sure there was a leak related to the tub/shower above me because the dripping got so much worse when they were in the shower.

I got home this afternoon around 5:30. There was a note in the door saying that some plumbing and re-caulking had been done upstairs, but I came in to find that there is still a hole in the ceiling and there was a mess of ceiling particles in the tub, along with some footprints from a work boot. I flipped. Not only was the ceiling not fixed, a mess got left behind for me to clean up again.

I called the management office.

After telling the whole story to the girl who answered the phone, she said that they have ordered in sheetrock to fix the ceiling, but it's not in yet, and she offered, "well, I can send maintenance in to clean it up tomorrow." No good. No good at all. How am I supposed to get ready for work in the morning if I wait for maintenance to clean it up? No, I told her that I want a discount on my rent this month for my inconvenience. She told me I would have to speak with the manager, who (of course) was on the phone. I said I would hold. Every three or four minutes the girl would be back, acting surprised that I was still on the line. After more than ten minutes, she took my number, promising to pass the message on. Well, I did not receive a phone call. I am irritated beyond belief.

They think I am being terrible, but at work today the other teachers said, "You haven't called the health department yet?" I figure I am a fairly patient person. I just don't like being taken advantage of. Like what's this about ordering in sheetrock. Can't they just run to Home Depot? Are you telling me that there is not one piece of sheetrock to be had in this whole town?

New Shower Curtain

Well, today I purchased a new shower curtain for myself. You see, the ceiling above my shower had been looking suspiciously as though water damage were happening, and I called maintenance to have it looked at, but it wasn't a big enough problem to send someone until the ceiling fell into the tub and ripped up my shower curtain. The ceiling fell Friday evening, and at 10:00 p.m., after diagnosing the problem as the people above me do not use a shower curtain and they let water pool on the floor, maintenance said they would be back Saturday to fix it. Saturday afternoon. And then there was the whole mess to be cleaned up--moldy dust, bits of drywall, etc. etc. etc. CHE SCHIFEZZA!!!! You ask me, the freaks who live above me should have been down here sanitizing my bathroom and purchasing a new shower curtain for me (and one for themselves as well). It's not really even fixed yet--they have hung plastic under the hole and will fix it sometime next week. The disturbing part is that water is dripping onto the plastic. Not tons of water, just little drips, and I do still suspect that the problem lies in the plumbing as much as with the non-shower-curtain-using-fools. But I could be wrong, I could just be underestimating the damage a fool can do. At any rate, I get to look forward to cleaning the bathroom again after they come in and fix the hole. I should charge the apartment complex for my time.

As you can see, I'm posting this at 3:15 a.m. This is because it was after one when I finally felt like attacking the mess. That is probably due to a lot of factors, but the real one is that I am a night owl and I do better after one than at any other time of the day. Deciding to take a job that requires me to arrive at 7:15 really went against my nature. My retirement goal is to never see 7:15 again. In the middle of the night, my energy and creativity pick up, and I can get a lot done. Anyway. I digress. Or I'm done. Enough complaining. I've got homework to do.

Junior is the Cutest Baby

Look at his stand-straight-up hair and long little fingers! Look at his big big eyes! I am the proudest auntie. We'll keep him.

LOST is driving me crazy!!!**

**I should probably expound on the topic, but anyone who is following the show knows exactly what I mean, and anyone who is not following the show just wouldn't understand anyway.

Call Me Auntie

Junior was born this morning at about 11:00 a.m. EDT. Healthy, with some dark brown hair*. Hooray! Hooray! Kiddo and the Wifey are doing fine as well. So all my students were greeted this afternoon with the conversation starter "Io sono una zia!"

I can't wait to see the whole family at Christmas! 59 days and counting.

*note, added at 10:58 p.m.: The Kiddo reportedly told Amilynne that Junior's hair sticks straight up. Which is wonderful, because it was a year before the Kiddo's hair would stay down. Good to see some traits passed on.

PandaCam

I am an absolute geek, but bears are my favorite animals, so when I bumped into the PandaCam from the National Zoo I was hooked. There is a new baby panda that was named Tai Shan in a ceremony yesterday, but really, if you're lucky, you'll get to see mom attack some bamboo. (Tai Shan just sleeps a lot.)

Bears are fun! Bears are cool!

Laissez les bon temps roulez!

With all the bad news that has been filling every second of every day, some good news was finally reported on CNN.com--Cafe du Monde in the French Quarter of New Orelans is ready to reopen Wednesday morning at 6 am. Hooray! Who doesn't love a beignet?

The Cell Phone Middle Ages

Once upon a time you could get a Nokia 5160 or something like that -- anyway, you know the phone I'm talking about -- the ancient one that resembles a small brick. Well, I had dropped mine a few too many times and it wasn't working so well. Big deal, you say, you can now get a real phone with a camera or iTunes or something on it. Except that if I change phones, I will get kicked off of my plan and have to pay much more for less monthly service. I subscribe to a company that was part of AT&T Wireless, which of course was gobbled up by Cingular, and they really just want you to pay too much for limited minutes. Right now I have unlimited minutes, and I want it to stay that way. To do so, I have to keep my phone working, because if I change phones I have to change to a Cingular plan (or switch companies).

So last night I was picking up the new Franz Ferdinand disc at Best Buy and Lo and Behold there was a battery for my phone on clearance for $8. I bought two. I intend to ride this unlimited phone wave as long as I can. I got the battery attached to the phone, and it doesn't jiggle off in mid-conversation, and it doesn't die so much in mid-conversation, hooray hooray hooray. It appears that my fabulous phone plan is mine for a little while longer.

Green Grapes and Cheese

I got the most fantastic green grapes at Food Lion yesterday. They aren't too sweet, they are perfectly firm, and they're seedless. And although red grapes are usually prettier and therefore yummier in my book (I probably wouldn't have a clue in a blind taste test), these are as good as any red grapes. Green grapes remind me of my grandma because when I was five and my brother was in the hospital with some leg problem, I spent a lot of time shuttling the two hours between our house and hers, and she liked green grapes in the car. Now that I think about it, I don't really know if she liked green grapes in particular--she probably just felt that they were pretty mess-proof with a five-year-old granddaughter riding along. (She was shocked a couple of years ago when I told her that I associate green grapes with her.)

Anyway, last night the fantastic green grapes were paired with two new cheeses and some genoa salami. On my way home from the class I take on Monday nights, I pass this market that's just little and cute, and last week I decided I would finally pop in and see what was inside. There was a cheese counter inside! And a cool proprieter who really loves cheese and wants to have the world try some. I tried some stilton with mango and ginger there (yummy) and bought some Torta Novara. It is a layered creamy cheese that melts like butter on warm bread with a pesto-ish mixture in between. Right up my alley.

(Once upon a time I actually went to Novara for a very brief part of an afternoon--I saw the church there--it had pictures of skeletons giving birth--kinda way out. Too bad the photos of inside the church did not turn out.)

The second cheese of the evening was 6 month aged manchego cheese from la Mancha. (I am I, Don Quixote!) It was very sharp, and it was actually really very good with the salami.

I am so sad to see the days grow shorter and winter approaching! A dearth of fantastic green grapes is inevitable. At least cheese is year-round.

Warhol Lets Go

This blog needed some color! Thank heavens for the new surrealism show at the Wadsworth Atheneum. It prompted the good folks there to give us, the masses, the opportunity to create our own surrealist canvases. To have some fun of your own, click here.

Science is cool!

Princeton's online art show of images from science. I say wow.

Harp Plucking

Last night I was watching the New York Philharmonic on PBS--a great concert of Chopin and Mahler (even if the special pianist for Chopin felt he had to make creepy faces of staged ecstasy and art into the camera). Anyway, it came time for Mahler, Symphony No. 1 (Titan) and the music was beautiful and I was watching when I saw the harpist and realized that I had never plucked a harp.

I called dad to comment on that one. He told me that he had commented at grandma J's funeral that he figured the second thing she did upon her arrival in heaven was sign up for harp lessons.

So today I bumped into the harp teacher at school and asked her if I could pluck a harp. (I almost didn't--what an idiotic request! Sort of like really wanting to drum the tympani.) She asked jokingly if she could charge me for the lesson. Anyway, we chatted for a while, then she showed me how the red strings are Cs and the black strings are Fs and how the pedals do the sharps and flats (I hadn't even realized that harps have pedals--the four-limb coordination it takes to play one must rival that needed to fly a helicopter), and how to snap my fingers in and hold my elbow up. Then she told me to relax before I strummed a C cord. Ta-daa! So I plucked a harp today. Checkmark in the box.

A note on Mahler--on my 20th birthday I got up early and with a friend lugged my boombox to the top of the fire tower near where I was working--he couldn't believe I had never listened to Mahler. We brought Symphony No. 2 (Resurrection) and it was simply brilliant. Since then, I have found that I also very much love Symphony No. 5.

As far as Chopin goes, I love the second movement of piano concerto number 2. The first time I heard it was in a humanities survey class (what a fantastic time! I also fell in love with Brunelleschi's dome that semester--) and it brought me to tears. What a geek I am.

And since I'm writing about classical music I guess I had better go all the way and just say that very little can compare with Smetana's Moldau. I can put that on, lay down, and be at perfect peace with myself and the world. It also imparts the feeling of my soul freeing itself and flying straightway out of my chest to live a very charmed life different from my own. Fantastic.

Lost in Translation

note: 20 April 2014:
Apparently the attribution of this poem to Pablo Neruda is false.  According to a 2008 article in la Repubblica, an Italian senator quoted it in session, and this brought the president of Neruda's Italian publisher to make a statement that this poem is not his.  It is apparently by Martha Medeiros, a Brazilian writer.  Due to this fact, I have edited my original post to replace her name where I had mistakenly credited Neruda.  My apologies to all, and my thanks to Dario Sorgato for having described the error.

I was just translating a poem for Amilynne. It's one that I have had my third year students memorize and it is fantastic-- Chi muore (Ode alla vita) by Pablo Neruda Martha Medeiros. I found this poem online, and the title of this post links to it in Italian. I have found about a zillion variations, but I like this one, and the site seems just as likely to house the right version as any. I have also looked for it in Spanish and in English, but I have been unable to find either, and since I have not found it in Spanish I wonder if it really is originally an Italian poem. Who knows.

Which really puts me in the mood to watch Il Postino.

Anyway, here is my translation to English for your enjoyment:

He who dies (Ode to life)
Pablo Neruda Martha Medeiros

Slowly dies he who becomes a slave to habit,
repeating the same journey every day,
he who doesn’t change his march, he who doesn’t risk
and change the color of his clothes, he who doesn’t speak to he whom he doesn’t know.

Slowly dies he who makes of the television his guru,
Slowly he who avoids a passion dies, he who prefers
black on white and dots on is rather than a togetherness of emotions
exactly those that make the eyes shine,
those that make the heart beat
before error and feeling.

Slowly dies he who doesn’t overturn the table,
he who is unhappy in his work,

he who doesn’t risk certainty for uncertainty
to follow a dream,
he who doesn’t permit himself at least one time in his life
to flee sensible counsels.

Slowly dies he who doesn’t travel, he who doesn’t read,
he who doesn’t listen to music,

he who doesn’t find grace in himself.
Slowly he who destroys his own love dies,
he who doesn’t allow himself to be helped.
Slowly he who passes his days lamenting
about his own misfortune or the incessant rain dies.

Slowly dies he who abandons a project
before beginning it,
he who doesn’t ask questions about topics he doesn’t know,
he who doesn’t answer when he is asked something that he knows.

Let’s avoid death by small doses,
remembering always that being alive
requires a much larger effort
than the simple act of breathing.

Only burning patience will bring
within reach a splendid happiness.

Basil under attack--One gets away

I was out watering the garden today and found two caterpillars in the basil. This upset me. Rosemary and basil are the two reasons for the garden--the rest is just superfluous and exists to greenify the patio. I immediately put the gloves on and got the scissors, but this time one of the caterpillars figured out that he was headed for the canal and jumped. I got him back on the leaf I was carrying, but as I was walking he fell off and is now in hiding somewhere in the lawn. I looked, but I couldn't find him anywhere. The neighbors must think I am absolutely nuts.

Anyway, the first time it fell, I tried to pick it up with a gloved hand and let me just say that all that fluff makes these critters really hard to catch. It was like trying to pick up silk threads that are magneted to the ground. What a defense. I really would like these little guys if they would just stop eating my plants. But they won't, so I will just continue escorting them to the canal.

Hooray!

The tension is back. Season 2 of Lost premiered tonight. So much going on! And I just wanted to scream at about a thousand different moments. So much fun.