Remedial Reading

Ever have one of those moments where you realize that you’ve heard about something for a really long time, and yet you have no notion of what that thing really is?  And that the thing you had heard of is something that, given your background, age, or proclivities (or all of the above) is probably something you should have known more about?

For me, recently at least, this thing is The Dark is Rising Sequence.  I had never read it.  I would hear occasionally about it – mentioned in the same canonical category as the Narnia books, or Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain.  I was a kid who, for some considerable period of time in the fourth and fifth grades, never left the house without at least two of the Narnia books with me (it wouldn’t do to be caught out in case I re-finished one and had to start another – I have no idea how many times I re-read all of them).  I engaged in some very earnest conversations with a friend, another girl with similar interests, about the proper way to keep them on the shelf (in order of their writing or chronologically).  I also loved the Lloyd Alexander series and re-read it many times, though I didn’t own it until adulthood.

Other authors did, of course, pass my way.  I read the T.H. White Camelot books once, but those books didn’t engage me for the multiple re-reads of the others (had his wonderful Mistress Masham’s Repose not been out of print when my family read it, we probably would have owned it instead of borrowing, and I probably would have torn through it a few times more, but it wasn’t, so we didn’t, and I couldn’t).

I had lots and lots of well-meaning adults recommend books to me, based on my love of fantasy and escape.  But I don’t think anyone ever recommended The Dark is Rising to me.  Which is really odd.  I was the right age (the books were published in the 60’s and 70’s), had the right sort of tastes (see above), and I had seemingly endless afternoons of New Hampshire summers to curl up on the sofa and read.

I wonder how this oversight happened.  At any rate, it’s being rectified now.

You call that a laptop?

This is a laptop, baby.

You call this a laptop?

An unflappable double-laptop.

Unflappable.

Finally…

The sinus infection really did me in – it took until now to get here.

But I did it.

What passes for sport in our house

Smith shoots, it’s high….

OH! And it’s blocked by El Milo!

What a save – DC United’s defense is lucky to have such a promising young keeper…

Smith shoots - and is blocked by El Milo!!!

Strange Conversation

My friend Chris and I have an ongoing conversation about music – we introduce one another to new music and discuss the merits of various artists and albums.  We trade off buying concert tickets for mutually beloved artists as well as introductions to new ones.  John and I brought him to see Jonatha Brooke, he roped us in to see Chris Smither (as someone who owns several versions of “Love me Like a Man,” I was ashamed to admit I knew little of the artist who wrote it).  I have pretty eclectic tastes and a fairly wide music collection by most people’s standards, but Chris blows me out of the water, owning thousands of CDs.  It’s always a coup for me when I can introduce him to someone new.

So it was a bit trippy this morning to come in to work and find Kris Delmhorst’s “Strange Conversation” sitting on my desk.  I sent Chris an e-mail:

Are you lending or returning this to me?  I can’t remember talking about this to you or lending it to you, but I also can’t remember if I own this on CD or just have a downloaded copy from iTunes…

He was crushed to find out I already knew about her.  On the other hand, I thought it was pretty cool to finally have a somewhat obscure artist both of us had heard of.

Cute – multiplied

Still not 100% in the old “healthy” column, but getting back a bit. I do, however, have some cute photos of my friends Miklos’ and Michelle’s first-born (second-born is due next month). Martin was terrifically intrigued by all our critters, though he was leery of Tosh at first.  He spread toddler cheer all around the place for a very pleasant evening (yes, he’s only almost three, though he looks about five).

He angled quite successfully for the orange creamsicle cat-fish:
Martin, fishing for the elusive Milo

Got a consultation from Dr. Melanie on the best way to snag the critter:
Mel, consulting on cat-fishing

But this one has to be my favorite – you could photoshop them onto the end of a pier and it would look like they’re fishing together:
Gone fishin'

Milo wasn’t the only beneficiary of having a kid around the place. Tosh did his nice, patient puppy routine while Martin learned how to give a dog a cookie:
Giggling ensued

And was rewarded by a big game of tug (Martin had clearly gotten over his worries that the dog would eat him by this point):
Martin and Miklos - playing with Mac

Lest you think the humans didn’t get to have some good kid-fun too, let me dispel that notion. One of the many examples of Martin playing with the grownups, here with Yvonne:
Playing with Yvonne

That’s all for now.  As much as I’d like to crawl back into bed, I must head off to work.  ::sigh::

Irreverent before she even knows what that means

My friend Marie’s six-and-a-half-year-old, facing a window display containing a set of china figurines which depicted the Last Supper:

“Is that the God family?”

For my next unnatural act…

…I shall hit a rather arbitrary yet significant milestone. The mile-ometer on my iPod says that I have run/walked 99.27 miles since getting the thing in late August (1st run on August 26, 2007). Dang, but I do love that little gadget. Data is good.

So early in 2008, possibly the day after tomorrow, I shall have exceeded 100 miles.

Oh, and Lance Armstrong told me I burned a “significant” amount of calories with today’s run. Considering his fitness level, I suspect sarcasm, but I’m trying to take it well.

Happy New Year, all.

I don’t do resolutions

But recent discussion with friends has shown me how much I’ve fallen away from some things I used to enjoy. Namely, creative stuff. Yes, I do this, and I twiddle with sticks and string and come up with (mostly)wearable stuff. But once upon a time I used to fiddle with watercolors and other fine art stuff.

So, today I bought this

Supplies

And looked at this

Inspiration

And made this

Art.  (Sorta)

If I hear “Well, if it keeps us safe…” in a so-called security line One. More. Time.

In the end, IÂ’m not sure which is more troubling, the inanity of the existing regulations, or the average AmericanÂ’s acceptance of them and willingness to be humiliated. These wasteful and tedious protocols have solidified into what appears to be indefinite policy, with little or no opposition. There ought to be a tide of protest rising up against this mania. Where is it? At its loudest, the voice of the traveling public is one of grumbled resignation.

Amen.

(Yes, I’ve been more or less off the grid. Back in a more organized way soon.)