Showing posts from August, 2011

Book? Check. Pajamas? Check. Baby Nieces? Check.

To calm the mind: a favorite picture from last Christmas.


It's a strange feeling to be waiting for a storm. You get this weird sense of suspension. I'm taking advantage of all the warnings to stay indoors, and doing some good work this weekend.

I called my parents, who live in southern New Jersey (outside Philadelphia), and asked them, "How's the weather?" Har-de-har.  My Dad cheerily told me that he figured out the vector of the wind and is fairly confident that if the big willow tree falls, it will land between the house and the garage.  My Mom, who grew up on a vegetable farm, told me her heart is going out to all the farmers who have acres and acres of tomatoes ripening at this moment. Rain like this is devastating to tomatoes, she said.

It started raining around 1pm here; the worst rain and wind are predicted for tomorrow; I'm not concerned, though I do expect we'll lose power. As I watch the radar map on TV, I keep thinking of Laura Ingalls Wilder and The Long Winter.  They had no way of knowing when the n…

Pants Pants PANTS

Perhaps (based on emails I received from friends across the pond) I should have clarified that when I said (in my last post) that Shah Rukh Khan stole my pants (in my dream) and wore them in the rain, I meant pants in the American sense, not pants in the British sense (see definition 2b). Allow me to clarify this now, for the sake of Dream Shah Rukh's dignity. :D HE STOLE MY TROUSERS, OKAY?

Relatedly, here's an amusing dictionary of British slang.

I'm not sure what it says about my reasoning capabilities that during the earthquake on Tuesday, as my house swayed back and forth and my mind tried to make sense of what was happening, I got to "a monster-sized backhoe is picking up my house and carrying it away with me in it" before I got to "earthquake." I thought to myself, "Don't the backhoe people understand that I'm still in the house? Why was I not informed of this move?!"

Personally, I think all it means is that I've never expe…

Dreams, Whales, Books

I've been rather itinerant for the last week or so... did some visiting, some birthday celebrating, and so much reading that you'd think I'd be reading in my dreams. Instead, I had a dream that Shah Rukh Khan raided my suitcase, stole my pants, wore them in a rainstorm and ruined them. This is nearly as random as the dream I had once that Eminem was my boyfriend: when he came to visit, my father chased him around the house in a rage. Or the dream I had last night that I found a pair of glasses, needed to know whose they were, and hired a private investigator to find out. The role of the private investigator was played by Matt Damon. This is usually the situation when actors appear in my dreams -- the actors appear not as themselves but playing the role of someone else. Not the case with Shah Rukh. He was himself when he stole my pants. The nerve!

Anyway. Itinerant. I went on a whale watch, with 7 Seas Whale Watch in Gloucester, Massachusetts. (The link automatically…

Chime, Outnumbered and Stuff

Kangaroo summoning and socks seem to be going head to head as the best birthday presents in my birthday poll. As I recall, that was the case last time, as well. (I actually voted for the least popular item, the foot-fungus-ridden seven league boots. Because being able to travel seven leagues in one step feels worth the itch right now... ^_^)

In other news, I will spend my whole life trying to write a book as beautiful as Chime, by Franny Billingsley. Seriously, folks, this is one of those books where my post-it flags became so numerous that I started to feel like I was flagging the whole book. The delicacy of these characterizations, the depth of feeling captured, the familiarity of some of our most basic and self-destructive feelings -- guilt for hurting the people we love, turning to self-hatred, then deciding to try to heal -- this book is gorgeous. (Also, randomly -- and referring back to a previous post -- it strikes me that it's a book that Terrence Malick could make i…

Birthday Month on the Blog

August is Extreme Birthday Month here on the blog. This month, I turn 35, my father turns a particularly distinguished age, and the babies, if you can believe it, turn TWO -- and that's not even taking into consideration all the friends with birthdays now-ish. I'm sending happy birthday wishes to Switzerland and France this week! :o)

I have to say, I feel bad about how weak my blog posts have been lately. I just... well, remember my blog post with the emoticons? Please refer to that if you're wondering how I am. It's not a permanent state. That's the best that can be said of it.

Because I don't have the juice to create a new birthday poll and because I'm still rather fond of the one I created three years ago, here it is again: What would make the best birthday present? Please vote! If you can't see the poll, check it out on my Blog Actual.

What would make the best birthday present?

Yours in needing some rest,

♥♥♥s to Sydney

Can your local performance arts center put together a promotional video like this one?

Email users, if you can't see it, go to my Blog Actual.

It's called The Ship Song Project. The original song is by Australian Nick Cave. It's performed by Neil Finn, Kev Carmody and The Australian Ballet, Sarah Blasko, John Bell, Angus and Julia Stone, Paul Kelly and Bangarra Dance Theatre, Teddy Tahu Rhodes and Opera Australia, Martha Wainwright, Katie Noonan and The Sydney Symphony, The Temper Trap, and Daniel Johns and the Australian Chamber Orchestra. It's directed by Paul Goldman and arranged by Elliott Wheeler.

You can read about the making of the video, see photos, and learn more about the Sydney Opera House here. Thank you to Brian Ibbott at Coverville for the links.

Sydney, I ♥ you.

La La La La

In the Boston Public Garden, walking on the grass is not allowed. The other day, codename: Isis (nearly two years old) kept trying to climb over the low chain to get onto the grass. Codename: Cordelia said to her, "No, Isis, we're not allowed on the grass." Isis said, "Okay Mommy." Then she threw her hat as far as she could over the chain and said, "I need to go get my hat."

In the meantime, in order to stop codename: Phoenix (nearly two years old) from trying to climb into the duck pond in an attempt to bring a duck his missing feather, I had to create an elaborate story about how the feather was going to float across the water to the duck all by itself. (Around boats and over waves, dodging the fishies.)

Hey, Cambridge-and-Environs residents! Bob Slate is coming back! YAHOO! Those of you who've been reading my blog for a while may remember how sad I was when the news came out that Bob Slate Stationer was closing.

In other news... for those of…