It's a lot of work to find a place that will take a pet, and not charge an obscene amount of money! I scoured the newspapers, we drove the neighborhoods, and got countless numbers. 90% of them did not allow pets. Jon would ask "Would you allow a cat?" There would a long pause on the other end, and they would say "No." Their pet policy is a guard against dogs, we understand that. But the only thing Pope destroys is our own property, and we've managed to curtail about 99% of that behavior (he'll still scratch the back of the couch if he has excess energy).
Anyways, we may have found a place. It's off South Broadway, just past Virginia Avenue/Red Mile. South Broadway Park is an enclave of mostly Victorian-ish homes that have somehow avoided being torn down. We'll have roughly half the first floor of a large blue Victorian home. There's two bedrooms, and a large living room area with a fireplace and (my favorite) a floor-to-ceiling window in a reading nook-like enclave.

A couple weekends ago we went apartment hunting on a thoroughly wet Saturday. Heaven was gleefully dumping buckets of water. Jon and I reminisced about different hiking trips we've taken in which liberal amounts of water were involved.
My stories (slowly adding to them!) come nowhere near Jon's. He tells of hiking the Appalachian Trail when the trail was nothing more than a cheerful river. I think his worst one is when he went somewhere in Tennessee with his friend and it rained nonstop the entire time. If you can, imagine hiking in clothes thoroughly sopping wet in 50 degree weather. Shirt, pants, underwear, socks, boots, the whole shebang is so soaked that you can grab a fistful of shirt and squeeze out enough water to fill a Nalgene.
This isn't the worst part.
Now, imagine peeling all of this squelching mess off, warming up tolerably for the night. Come morning, though, you must put all of your soggy clothes (which have only dried to a clammy dampness) back on. The worst part of all is pulling on wet, cold socks and wet, cold shoes. Nothing freezes you up better than cold footwear.

Finals are next week. I have one more class after this, and then I will actually be done. It is both exhilarating and terrifying.

This means I have to start looking for a job. I've been keeping my eyes open for a long time, but so few things open up here in Kentucky it is frustrating. Jon and I agreed that if an opportunity opens up in another state (I'm checking Virginia and North Carolina postings regularly), we should move and take advantage of it. I hate the thought of leaving Kentucky, though.

I counted 3 baby birds on the sidewalk the other day. They lay as if asleep, enormous beaks a slash of yellow on their pink heads.

Autumn is starting to figure out that her hands are part of her--that she can actually (somewhat) control them. She had a hold of my finger and decided she wanted to taste it. She furrowed her brow in determination, trying to aim it to her mouth, going cross-eyed in her attempt. I sat there laughing, then realized I was watching the process of her brain neurons firing off new connections.

I tell Jenni she should file away all the 'embarassing' stuff Autumn does so she can tease her when she's a smart-alecky teenager. 1) She is in love with the Lamaze monkey suspended over her carrier. She will stare at it in a trance, smiling and making expressions. We wonder if there is some kind of conversation, one-sided or not, going on... 2) She drools. 3) She passes a lot of gas. 4) She dances to country music.

When you can't think of terms like "boycott" or "resist", I think that's a sign you need to call it quits on your paper.

Hopefully this paper will turn out okay. The last time this professor asked us to write an essay, he made his requirements so vague that 98% of the class got papers back covered in red marks. Thankfully he realized his error and did not count it towards our overall grades.

For those of you dying to find out, the paper is about the serials crisis in scholarly publishing. Publishers in this field--the science, technology, and medical journals--make a 40% profit. Subscriptions to certain journals reach $30,000. Considering that publishers, particularly Elsevier, the one every librarian loves to hate, routinely raise their annual subscriptions by double digits, it's not hard to see why libraries are starting to fight back.

"The meaning of and motivation for mall walking among older adults." Activities, adaptation, & aging 19:1 (1994).

The things one comes across in a library...

Abbi gave the 300 her stamp of approval. We were surprised at how, given that it is basically a graphic novel come to life, historically accurate the movie is overall. The Persian king was so impressed with the 300 (they killed 10,000-20,000 of his men) that he wrote down their deeds. Since the Spartans fight to the death, there would have been no record of this battle were it not for the king--highly unusual since history is comprised mostly of the accounts of the victors.
The gallows humor happened for real. A Persian really did say that their arrows would block out the sun, and a Spartan really did retort that they would fight in the shade.

I am reading:
The name of the wind, by Patrick Rothfuss
Dog years, by Mark Doty
Grave Matters, by someone
The history of the ancient world, by Susan Wise Bauer
Prayer, by Philip Yancey
Secrets in the dark, by Frederick Buechner

and I'm going to pick up:
Grace (eventually): further thoughts on faith, by Anne Lamott

Dog years is a memoir of a life with pets, rather intriguing. I think I will write one about the animals in my life so far. As I am the only one who will read it, I will feel free to pen eloquent, lengthy chapters.

Last Friday, there was a wall of darkness stretched across the interstate. The difference was night and day. I was driving in bright sunshine, and it was as if Saruman was perched on some hill nearby magicking a fey storm onto the road. I entered the roiling clouds and visibility was null. Snow roared everywhere--it was like some cosmic dandruff party. Then just as quickly as I entered the darkness of snow, I drove into bright sunshine again. The effect was uncanny.

If you want a self-esteem boost, go find a baby. They look at you like you're the greatest thing on earth. Autumn is curious about everything, but once her gaze passes over your face, her eyes light up and she will stare at you in rapt adoration forever with a bubbly smile.

One time, I was walking down an aisle in the children's department at Joseph-Beth. There was a fat baby learning how to take her first awkward steps. She was staring at the ground in determination. Once I was close enough that my shoes entered her line of vision, she stopped with a fascinated, perplexed expression on her face. I watched as her eyes traveled up the length of my body, wondering what on earth it was about me that had captivated her so, and once her gaze reached my eyes, her face exploded in glee. She shrieked with joy ( I kid you not) and beamed such a delightful smile at me that nothing could stop the smile forming on my lips in return.

I'm reading the book "Grave matters: a journey through the modern funeral industry to a natural way of burial" by Mark Harris. (Yes Dwain, I know that makes me Victorian).

I'm only the first chapter in--it's making me think about something I've never really thought about before-- and I'm already wondering what the point of the modern funeral industry is considering that bodies will decompose regardless what we do.

Someone was buried on her rural property in a shroud and nothing more. I can't help but think how nice that sounds.

The weather has been so nice lately, I've been itching to go outside--go to a park or something. The itch gets particularly bad when I see people walking their dogs. That was a special daily ritual for Bear and I, and one I miss all the more now that he is gone.
Anyways, I said the other day, "I want to rent a dog and go play in the park."
Jon said, "What about Dwain's dog?"
"He's too much like a cat to count as a dog!"

Of course, we're prejudiced since we only saw him in the house, and witnessed only his house-behavior: perching on the back of a chair, huddling on Miah's lap, burrowing under the blanket.

So I got a ticket a couple weeks ago. There's a police officer that directs traffic in the mornings at a busy intersection at EKU. He motioned for cars in both lanes of my road to stop, which we did. He let the cars in the road perpendicular to our road start turning left and right while we waited. When I saw that there was going to be no one coming turning into the lane of the perpendicular road heading into EKU, I thought it would be okay for me to turn right. Nope. The police officer was kind and explained the situation to me when he pulled me over because I had no idea what I had done wrong.
My mistake, clearly. But now the charge on my record is "Eluding a police officer"! This brings with it a 6 month probation of my license, and traffic school. I hate how that looks--it makes it sound like I led the police on a high speed chase!
So there you go--I am a candidate for that show Cops.

http://www.heraldleader.com/101/story/20672.html

Joseph-Beth is revamping their Lexington store...

I'm curious as to the effect it will have. Wendell Berry will not shop there, nor come for a book-signing, because he believes they are a corporate bookstore, not a local one. Others have stopped shopping there because their inventory is erratically refreshed.
It still has the ambiance that caught my attention when I first went there while visiting Asbury way back in '98, though.

There's a picture of King Leonidas on the USA Today cover, looking Spartan with things sticking out of his chest and still able to bellow a war cry.

At first I wasn't sure I wanted to see it--those Middle-Earth monsters don't quite fit into the history lesson. I read an article in an obsessive-compulsive sci-fi magazine about the moviemakers' intentions with this movie, and then it all made sense. It's told from the perspective of the lone survivor of that conflict, and naturally stories tend to snowball into giant mythic narratives. Apparently the Middle-earth monsters are just Persian warriors who shared the Spartan quality of superhuman strength. The narrator just perceived them as monstrous because they were the enemy.

I'm at my parents' shop. Mom is nagging me the frequency of my updates (Dwain is too...) So here you go!

It's funny that a person who writes about the ancient British isles and their druidic spirituality should have written a completely honest and convincing account of a particular character's conversion to Christianity. I found his story more gripping, more "real", than a lot of the fluff that is published nowadays (yes, I do acknowledge that that fluff is worthwhile to many readers out there).
I wonder how some Christians would feel about this--that a writer with a professed interest in pagan spirituality should write about ancient Christians with as much respect as she does for the Celtic culture in which she places those Christians (these are monks that have traveled abroad to live the Word of God).

(I'm talking about Juliet Marillier.)

This article about a librarian in Baghdad makes you appreciate your job tenfold here.

It is quite cold out there. The ladies at the library get a kick out of the fact that I'm used to this kind of weather (I hesitate to point out that being used to the cold doesn't mean taking joy in the stabbing pain in my cheeks whenever I step outside).

Jon gets a kick out of my levels of description for cold. My favorite is "cold as death"--that kind of cold that creeps into your bones and won't let go. It's usually our living room before the heaters are turned on. I want to point out that right now, the outside is not cold as death. There's a difference between just plain cold and "cold as death".

Jenni had her baby. Autumn will be 2 weeks old this Thursday. She grows like a weed. I saw her last Thursday, and again on Sunday. She was noticeably larger, her face more round.

All babies look alike in the beginning--it's something to do with being small and pink and having hazy blue eyes--but you can't stop staring at the one you know. We watch her every movement, waiting for the break in the clouds--the brief moment when her eyes open and the light shines forth. She spends those brief moments looking puzzled, wondering at the big shapes hovering over her uttering complete gibberish.

When I told Jon I wanted to see Ghost Rider, he put his head in his hands and gave a despairing "Noooo!"

It always takes a little bit to readjust to school. I have 2 classes within one day, at weird times, so it's impossible to do anything much except wait in between. I'm taking Collection Development and Technical Services.
Professor Carrigan teaches the Collection Development course. He always has fun at the interpreter's expense. He deliberately says "blah blah blah" to see them sign it. You start out with your index fingers pointed out, touching at the tips, other fingers curled in, then move them away from each other while moving them up and down, as if you are illustrating a very pointy mountainrange.
That explanation probably makes no sense, but even non-hard-of-hearing people--once they see the sign--will appreciate it illustrates the concept.

I've discovered a wonderful author, Juliet Marillier. She writes historical fantasy that takes place in the British isles area. I don't normally read contemporary authors of fantasy/sci-fi simply because there is so much of it out there, and I have no desire to spend time separating the wheat from the chaff. But I decided to browse the new fantasy section at the library and happened across her newest book, part of the Bridei Chronicles, and devoured it within a week. I am starting to see what kind of books I tend towards, ones that give character to the environment, so that the landscape has a life of its own and thereby makes the characters of the stories more real.
I also like fairy tale re-tellings, so I snapped up her Daughter of the Forest when I saw that it was the story of the brothers that are enchanted to become swans and the sister that must toil for years at making clothes that will turn them back into humans. Not only does she make the fairy tale real, she adds insight that makes the reading experience richer.

Hello. I think I have forgotten about my blog for a while. I guess that's what the holidays do to you.
In a strange twist of events, Jon got a teaching job that he applied for but was turned down because a certified applicant had applied. They offered him an instructional aide position (which is quite beneath his talents--I speak with no bias towards him-- he really does know his science stuff), which he accepted just to get his foot in the door. Then on the very first day of work, within several hours, they offered him a teaching position. How crazy is that?
So it looks like we'll be moving to Wilmore, since W. Jessamine high school is about 4 miles outside of it. We're happy to be getting away from Lexington, but it'll feel a little weird going back to the town where I went to college. I remember the first couple years of not having a car, and just being able to go to Wal-mart in Nicholasville was a treat (even though I was well aware at that time of how ridiculous that was, having been given relative freedom by my parents while in high school--I know Mom is laughing over this right now, but I guess I was a rather boring kid who didn't do much to rile the parents. I don't have any stories to tell that can top those of Sue's).

I just finished my Public Libraries final. My brain is currently fried and I am incapable of any meaningful conversation. I haven't read a fiction book for a couple of months, and I am feeling the lack. Times like this, when my school responsibilities are finished and the break looms ahead with its comforting blankness, are when I crave the library and roaming the stacks.
I think I have 15 holds at the library now, and who knows how many books I've checked out?

Meet Burger & Fries

My reward for finishing this semester will be the movie Eragon. It comes out December 15th, the day of my last final. It will be in the tradition of the LoTR movies, which conveniently came out at the end of finals weeks in our last couple years at Asbury. It was our motivation during cram-sessions at 2 in the morning.
(We dressed up for the first movie--how dorky does that make us? Jenni & Sue were elves, and I was a Ringwraith because all I had was black clothes).

This is something Dad needs to do : create a wishlist at amazon.com For example, check out my list (note that this is not a hint for Christmas gifts). Go to amazon.com, hover your mouse over the Find Gifts button and type in my email in the Find someone's wishlist box.
Just search for books you're interested in, click on the "add to my wishlist" button for each book, and you're done -- and now other people can easily get things for you ..

Just an idea.

I don't know how we do it, but our account has remained stable, despite paying out extra extra $ for my second class at UK (tuition jumped double digits this year). I must take after my parents, who hardly spend money on anything extraneous. I look at $10 shirts at Target and debate whether I really ought to get one. I spend 10 minutes at a used bookstore contemplating whether I should purchase a $3 book. I wait to get home and eat a bowl of cereal rather than stop on the road for lunch.

I don't have anything exciting to report ... just trying to keep my habit of filling up this blog (even if it means putting in our Christmas wish list) ...

There's a new used bookstore that opened up in Lexington : Half-Priced Books, or something like that. Their range of books was quite impressive. Though not on the scale of the used bookstore in Milwaukee, nonetheless Half-Priced Books reminded me of it.

Check out this website: http://www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com/

Click on the "best kitlers" button in the lefthand column to see some truly odd hairless cats.

Christmas present ideas :

for Jon-
-giftcard to Performance Bicycle (website)
-hiking long underwear (if you so desire, I can purchase the items here and you can pay me back)
-cloth cycling cap with some steel company logo on it (I can't think of the name)

for Laura-
-The ladies of grace adieu, Susanna Clarke
-Money for clothes and shoes. Or we can go shopping while we're home. I don't care.

for us-
B&N giftcard
Target giftcard (good idea to suggest to Grandma if she insists on getting us something)

Sorry we don't have any more original ideas, but it's better to stick to what we need/really want rather than come up with some silly ideas.

Hope this helps.

Here's an image from Google Earth of some mountaintop removal areas in Kentucky.

This is a very sensitive issue. Anybody looking at the pictures, or who has seen a leveled mountain, is quick to decry mountaintop removal. (Jon and I have seen some non-existent mountains first-hand in Virginia). You have to look hard to find areas of mountaintop removal. The companies are smart and keep one ridge of pretty trees between their operations and most major roads.

Yet we continue to use the very thing that fuels this practice.

A new book is out that I would like to read very much: The Book of Lost Things, by John Connolly. The covor alone is thrilling. It's amazing how much latent memory we can associate with certain things. I saw book somewhere of Grimm's fairy tales that had paper-cut scenes illustrating particular fairy tales, that struck me, apparently deep inside, since the cover of this new book has compelled me to read it. Another latent memory: when Jon and I first started dating, he always wore a wristwatch, a practice that fell off the longer we got to know each other. Then the other day, he put it on and when I saw it on him, I was immediately broadsided with memories of our first months together.

I fixed the one particular javascript problem, but now I have a problem with a php script. I think it has something to do with how I've phrased the location for the php script to load into, or where I wrote the location. I don't know because the professor hasn't talked about it, so I'm rather impressed I even got part of the php script to work.

This is making my brain flip inside out.

Borat: Cultural Learnings of America to Make Benefit the Glorious Nation Kazakstan :
uncomfortably, bitingly funny. There are some scenes Jon and I thought were overlong and rather unnecessary (the 2 men fighting, in particular. I leave it at that because it is a scene that will never leave you for the rest of your life), but there were some telling scenes.
The one where he sings the national anthem in a Virginian rodeo was unnerving. He started by saying he was in favor of the war, that we need to fight the terrorists, etc. The crowd cheered. He said we should never rest until all the terrorists have been killed. More cheering. Then he shouts, "We will never rest until the blood of every man, woman, and child has been shed." The crowd erupted in cheering.
I would not recommend this movie for everyone, but for those who appreciate satire, it was very good.

I hate computers.

I have been trying and trying to create a simple "mouseover" effect in javascript. What is supposed to happen is when the mouse hovers over a particular image in my webpage, a new image is supposed to load, for the whistle and bangs effect, then revert to the original image when the mouse moves away.

There must be some little comma or imperative word that I am leaving out, even though I have copied scripts verbatim from the internet. Maybe my computer is having a laugh.

Abbi tells me that the IT person at her work reads computer codes for recreational reading. I can't imagine.

(It's an animal theme...)

There are skunks laying on the road, plumes of gore spilling elegantly from their sides, like crimson sashes falling open. I can't help but notice how many of these unfortunate victims lay as if asleep, undamaged paws tucked under their furry chins.

That smoky cat that lives in the nice house several doors down was lurking in the landscaping, its wispy fur mingling with the color of the dark earth so much that I double-checked to see whether I was imaging those yellow eyes floating in the bush. He appeared slightly miffed that I saw him, and turned his head to watch me pass, triangle of pink tongue delicately pinpointing his chin. (Everytime I see him, his tongue is sticking out...)

One day we thought we had lost Pope and were checking and rechecking the closets and under the bed and chairs in mounting panic (for he almost always comes dashing out whenever we call his name). As a last resort, I started poking the tangled bedsheets and uncovered his nest. He had burrowed into the covers and made a flannel cave exactly his size and shape. When I lifted the sheets to peer in, heat radiated out in waves.

It was multicultural day in the paddock today. Camels, llamas, and cows were all grazing together in a field that I pass every time I drive to Frankfort.

It's always startling, no matter how many times I've already seen it, to round the bend and see that camel, sturdy hump casting a long shadow in the rising sun. One day it was watching the daily commute, its long neck snaked over the edge of the fence.

I sleepwalked (sleptwalked?) last night. I got up around midnight and yanked the sheets off the bed. I don't remember getting up, but I do remember waking up to find myself standing at the end of the bed, holding an armful of sheets. Jon says he woke up, asked me what I was doing, I replied "I don't know," and went back to sleep.

It's unnerving that our bodies can do things while we are unaware.

Some people at work (in Frankfort) dressed up today. Two of them seemed uncannily suited for the costumes they picked out. One guy, who has a baby-face and squeaky clean looks, came as a baseball player ( I couldn't help but think Little League ). The other guy has razor sharp features and flinty eyes, which completed his pirate outfit. He even brought his parrot.

People are trying to determine if Rupp Arena is haunted :

http://www.kentucky.com/mld/kentucky/15890355.htm

Jenni's shower was a success. She got lots of cuddly baby things and other items that you ooh and aah over without any real understanding of what they're for. I guess I have to wait until it happens to me (something Debbie wishes would happen tomorrow).
Sue cooked, Amanda did the games, and I decorated. I was particularly pleased with the centerpieces I did, copper roses and rose hips in a teapot and red vase. Jenni kept commenting on the decorations, so I'm glad I set the mood. She loves fall, so we went with an autumnal decor.

Heroes seems like it will be an interesting show, though it borrows from X-Men.

Jon probably won't like it : "What's the point?" (He abhors Lost because it is a show built on nothing. When I countered that Seinfeld is a show about nothing, he retorted that at least it's about finding humor in everyday occurences. Contrast that with an island of lost passengers whose story seems to have taken a dive down a rabbit hole just to keep the show going).

Jon, his parents, and I drove out to Middlesboro to look at a P-38 that had been dug out of a glacier several years ago. I found the story interesting, even if I didn't want to linger for an hour poring over the plane itself and all the artifacts associated with it.
Apparently, back in WWII, a fleet of P-38s were abandoned on a glacier somewhere near Iceland or Greenland because they ran out of fuel. In the subsequent years, they were buried under more than 200 feet of ice!

This has been a week for mushrooms!

When Jon and I first stepped onto the Pinch-'Em-Tight trail, we spotted these hippie mushrooms (one literally thought of those gnomes, and of all those psychedelic drawings from the '70s). They were squat little things, the flesh like rich butter and the tops an unusual orangish-red speckled with pale spots. You could imagine a gnome furtively sawing the tops off to use as hats.

We also saw mushrooms that literally looked like pancakes (not the best thing to see if you're a hungry hiker), down to the spots that looked like the bubbles that rise to the surface when pancakes are almost done cooking. There were shockingly orange, spindly mushrooms, plain dirty-sock colored ones, tiny ones, huge ones. There was even a mushroom that looked like a delicate ironstone cake stand, complete with drips of frosting curling off the edges. I had to stop and examine it!

Here in Lexington I've seen two fairy rings--one that spanned a twenty-foot front yard. It's hard to imagine that we are treading an organism that large--who'd have thought of fungi spreading so far underground?

"The Evergreen Tree of Diabolical Knowledge"

I found this deliciously titled book while browsing the rather mundane, tweedy library/librarian section of the Young Library. It refers to the rise of circulating libraries in the 18th century, which enabled young, virtuous people to read things like gasp popular fiction.

I also came across the bibliography section, which is proving a great delight to meander in. There's a thick tome of bibliographies of the mention of Western outlaws in pamphlets and books, a bibliography of Woodrow Wilson's life and times, the rose, etc. etc.

Our computer does not like secure websites, so writing for this blog isn't the most pleasant experience when an entry gets lost because the computer throws a fit. We probably have a virus somewhere in this thing.

We went to the Gorge this weekend and hiked a 12 mile loop, starting from the Pinch-Em-Tight parking lot and working our way around to Gray's Arch. It was a very pleasant weekend--nice to get away from the city and actually see the Milky Way in the black-blue sky. Gray's Arch is an epic arch that commands the little rhodendrhon-flushed ravine below. Quite neck-achingly impressive.

Jenni finds out the sex of her baby this Wednesday. I'm rooting for a girl. Sue is hoping for a boy. This is war!

A new shop opened up in the old Paisley Peacock space. I ducked inside for a look and was blown away by the cornucopia of lushly colored yarn and knitting books, and other such crafty things. It's called "Rebelle : Reinventing Domesticity." On a side note, another yarn shop opened up on High Street, Magpie Yarns. I can't believe my luck! Lexington went from a city with Michael's and its hideously colored yarns (think UK blue and canary yellow) to having two indie crafty shops with gorgeous yarns.

Do not eat at Kashmir's.

Jon got salmonella from them and was laid up for a week with severe cramps, losing 9 pounds in 4 days. A friend of his got it as well, and got sick the next day after they ate there. He heard of someone else who also got sick around the same time as they did.
The lady from the health department called him to let him know the results of her investigation. She did a food inspection of Kashmir's and they got a 74. Some of the things she found: their fridge was not kept at the proper temperature, there was no hand soap (this bit makes me recoil), their hood was malfunctioning, and there was an overall sense of "general filth". When she went back, they got an 84. She's going back a 3rd time, and if Kashmir's hasn't improved, they will be shut down.
Food inspection results are published in the Wednesday edition of the newspaper. After what Jon went through, we will be checking it regularly.

Jon's Life Adventure Camp reunion was this past weekend. The property is out in the Gorge area, up some winding, pot-holed gravel road past Stanton. We camped behind the trailer of Wolf & Renata Hicks. While giving us a tour, they said that the bathroom inside could be used for number 1, and there was a composting toilet in the back corner for number twos. They get water from a stream that runs out back, but they don't use it for cooking unless it is going to be boiled. It looked like they brought in drinking water. Imagine living a life like that!
The property was cleared of trees, and it looked like nature was waging a war to reclaim it. Any part of the property that wasn't clearcut was swelling with grass and weeds. It seemed like it swelled a bit everytime you blinked.

Jon's Life Adventure Camp reunion was this past weekend. The property is out in the Gorge area, up some winding, pot-holed gravel road past Stanton. We camped behind the trailer of Wolf & Renata Hicks. While giving us a tour, they said that the bathroom inside could be used for number 1, and there was a composting toilet in the back corner for number twos. They get water from a stream that runs out back, but they don't use it for cooking unless it is going to be boiled. It looked like they brought in drinking water. Imagine living a life like that!
The property was cleared of trees, and it looked like nature was waging a war to reclaim it. Any part of the property that wasn't clearcut was swelling with grass and weeds. It seemed like it swelled a bit everytime you blinked.

-A boy came up to me at Joseph-Beth and asked to look at the Harry Potter brooms. While caressing the handle, he looked up and asked with that innocence native only to children: "Does this fly?"
I told him, "Well, if you make-believe, yes it does."

-A bumper sticker I saw today: "How sad -- Kids run wild while dogs go to obedience school." I can certainly relate to that after experiencing the kids floor at Joseph-Beth.

We got a behind-the-scenes tour of Sheabel's, the vet. place that Allie works at. It was neat to see the surgery and grooming rooms, though the bad-news room wasn't much fun to look at. It had a squashy couch for people to spend the last minutes of their pet's life. We met a vet who does specialty work, but I couldn't help but wonder whether he'd have a job back in the days when pets were just animals. I love my cat and my dog, but I don't plan on spending big bucks to prolong their lives if they have terminal problems.
There were some weird looking dogs in the kennel; they looked like beagle heads stuck on badger bodies. We also got to meet a Hemingway cat--she had an extra claw/appendage on each paw. If you held her paw up, she looked like she was giving you a Vulcan greeting.

Dwain has a link to this on his website : the Encyclopedia of Arda I've had time to browse their Movie-goer's section, which is quite an extensive compilation of the various inconsistencies and differences between the movies and the books.

I will always have a special place in my heart for the movie The Fellowship of the Ring--indeed, I even associate my college years with it, but the latter movies weren't quite up to par. Poor Faramir! To see such a character sunk to such squirmy, insecure depths!

School starts tomorrow. Am I a dork because I'm looking forward to it; or am I looking forward to it because work is rather boring?

It's my birthday on Friday and I just realized it will be only FIVE more years until I'm 30. I used to tease my older friends with that--"You're a quarter of a century old!"--and now the joke is on me. That means my parents are more than half a century old, and both my Grandmas are approaching their centuries. Time is weird.

A fat brown spider with a body shaped like a rough thorn lives on (or, I should say, between) the garbage and recycling receptacles. Everyday, it spins a new web about the span of my arm, stretching from the handle of the blue recycling bin to the ivy on the ground. I lift the lid carefully, and the web stretches and flutters like a piece of thread crochet. It squats in the center, skinny legs tucked in, ready to spring at any hapless bug the web ensnares.

While rummaging through my stuff stored in the Edwards' basement, I came across a bag of books--it must have been forgotten in the move to Stone Ave.--that contained the Anne of Green Gables series. The time seemed right to re-read them (you know how you can't read some books unless the moment is right--I couldn't read the Lord of the Rings at a certain point, only to pick it up again a year or so later and lose myself forever in Tolkien mythology), so I carted them all home and have been plowing through them. I'm almost finished with the third book already.
Anne is turning out to be one of my favorite literary characters. She is described at one point as being "surrounded by possibility", which makes me think of my cousin Rosie. When Rosie walks into the room, things seem to pick up. She has that rare talent of being the center of attention without demanding it; people flock to her, not because they wish to get on her good side, but because she seems to bring out the best in those around her.

We got a food processor from Jon's parents as an anniversary present. We sacrificed a potato so we could see it in action. The spud was gone in 3 seconds, reduced to white specks plastering the sides of the bowl (I think we pulsed it too long, but it was fun nonetheless). Jon was giggling like a little boy.
I'm looking forward to making hummus and salsa!

Sue recommended Paradise Alley to me, so I've started working on it. The book is thick enough to serve as a handy doorstop, or to knock an unwary pedestrian severely unconscious. It's taking me a while to get into: all those descriptive passages for mere minutes of a character's time! It takes place in New York City against the backdrop of the Civil War, while the draft is being enacted and plenty of Irish-Americans are unhappy with it. I must be hundred or so pages in, and it's still morning of day one, in the dead silence that comes before a mob outbreak. Rather unnerving.

On my way to the library, some guy stopped me on the street and told me I "look like that girl from Princess Diaries".

I'm reading a book titled GenerationMe, which is a study on how the generation after the Baby Boomers has high opinions of themselves and feels no need to cater to the needs of others. I'm only a couple chapters in, but it's rather interesting. The author has compared hundreds of thousands of personality tests of this generation to that of past generations, and has found some marked differences, such as a growing disregard for convention, the belief that we know everything and therefore don't need to listen to our teachers, etc.

There's a new animal on the farm at Maple Hill Manor. Tyler got a Tennessee Walker horse for his birthday, and she's a very friendly one at that. Any time we came to the fence to watch the alpacas and llamas (a decidedly more reserved set of animals), Penny would march up to the fence and push her face into our hands. She'd be looking for a treat, but would stick around for a scratch.
She seemed to tolerate the other animals well enough (even gracious enough to allow one little alpaca to treat her as mama and nose around her belly for a nipple to nurse from), but when she got annoyed, she'd stamp her hooves and nose them out of the way. One time, she elaborately walked up past a llama, paused with her rump against him, as if loudly stating "I'm ignoring you!", then raised a mighty-muscled back leg and kicked him!

We're getting ready to head to Maple Hill Manor for our anniversary weekend. I remember the first time we drove out there, cautiously optimistic about its potentiality as our wedding site. When we pulled up, I took one look at the house, the giant tree shading the lawn, the red barn, the alpacas grazing in the adjacent field, the dogs and cats trotting out to greet us, and looked at Jon. That look was full of meaning.
Every time we go back, our experiences have always been pleasant. The owners are gracious, the grounds a balm to the spirit (I can't avoid the cliche). This keeps pulling us back. The same goes for Shaker Hill in Enfield, NH and the Woodstock Inn in N. Woodstock, NH. Whenever we go back to the Whites, we make sure to stay at those 2 spots. We're in a rut!
This means I now understand why Dad and Mom revel in their preference for familiarity. They go to the same restaurant every Friday night. The people there know them by name, and will find a spot for them even if there's a long line of people ahead of them. They keep going back because the food is good, the service great, the familarity comfortable.

I rented a version of the Mikado that was set in the flapper era, with curly bobs, drop-waist dresses, and curly moustaches. Eric Idle, from Monty Python, stars as the Lord Chief High Executioner. The scene in which we first meet him is priceless, the physical humor truly funny, not stupid-funny, like those Will Ferrell movies. Anyways, the chorus is singing "Behold the Lord Chief High Executioner, etc. etc.", and he comes skipping out in a pale yellow and white sweater/shorts tennis outfit complete with knee-high white socks, simpering at his observers under a ridiculously boy-ish center-part, ear-length haircut.
Reading this doesn't remotely convey the hilarity of that scene. :(

My apologies for a listless blog. Our computer likes to disconnect from the internet at random times without consulting us, which makes posting to this blog a haphazard affair.

Anyways, we got home safe and sound from a whirlwind weekend of family reunions, a wedding, and an 80th birthday gathering for the family matriarch. Dad said this just might be the last time we might see some family members, so that added a weird dimension to it all.

My cousin Julie is a hoot to watch, and fun to be around. During the wedding ceremony, right before the ring exchange, she paused to hike up her strapless gown. At another point, while stepping down from the candle-lighting, she swayed with her arms out wide for balance. She told me later at the reception she didn't care whether her dress got dirty. Not your typical bride!

Jon and I aren't going back to Asheville any time soon. The free spirit, hippie-ish atmosphere was a little much for us. What was particularly annoying was the number of "beggars" we encountered. Some guy came up to Jon and asked him to buy him a beer. Another guy, a well-dressed skater covered in expensive jewelry, asked us for change.
I don't know why I found that so annoying, almost to the point of being insulted. I could only think of the true homeless people I've encountered here in Lexington, who truly could use some help.

Jon's friend presented a short history of Asheville. Back in the heyday of the "back to the land" movement, hippies moved to the mountains of North Carolina, wanting to encounter mountain culture and live off the land. Well, they found out that mountain culture didn't fit their romantic ideals, and that living off the land was hard, so they all went to Asheville.

Asheville had some neat craft stores that I would definitely like to visit again: Earth Guild, Purl's Yarn Emporium, and Chevron Bead Trading Post. They also had a neat little restaurant, Rosetta's, which served vegan fare that was quite good. I'm not sold on tofu (my flavorbuds weren't sure what to think of tofu, so they thought of chicken while I was eating it, which somehow grossed me out because the texture of tofu is quite different). I also couldn't help but wonder how my fellow diners would feel if they knew Jon and I were planning to raise meat goats.

I have discovered a delightful BBC series that allows me to indulge in my childhood fantasy of living in castles and wandering through the Highlands. Monarch of the Glen tells the story of the MacDonalds and their adventures in trying to maintain their estate. It's worth watching just for the scenery alone.

Jon and I have discovered two delicious restaurants lately.

Ali Baba's, a Mediterranean grocery off Southland Dr., across from Good Foods, has a little cafe in the back that serves Shikh kebabs and other Mediterranean foods at a very affordable price. The food is almost comparable to Oasis. The servers there are very nice. I know that's odd to note, but one feels like it's an old-time cafe where everyone knows each other well.

Fusion Cafe is a new Vietnamese restaurant that opened on Versailles road (the neon yellow building can't be missed). They have some ununsual food items (like raw beef and tripe), but their grilled meats are very good. The sauce they use to marinate the meat is fabulous. Next time we go, I'm going to try one of their soups (if I can force myself to forgo their grilled beef dish).

Prissy passed away last week. Sue's cat was a gorgeous Maine Coon with wide amber eyes offset by her dark brown mass of fur. She was a very quiet cat, preferring to watch and not be seen. I could hold her, though; she would purr happily, nestling into the crook of my neck, dainty paw outstretched on my shoulder.
Sue let me "adopt" Prissy while we lived on State Street, and she would come sometimes to sleep on my bed. Having missed Muffy and Bear while I as at college, I couldn't describe my delight at having a cat once again.
Why do pets affect us so? I suppose they have a way of looking at you, seeing just you without the trappings of prejudice or preconcieved ideas, accepting you and expecting no more, no less.

"That cat [Samantha] is in love with me, but to say that it's 'mutual' doesn't begin to describe anything. I'm totally irrational about her. She and I are scandal." -Helen Gurley Brown

Last Thursday night we went to the Lincoln County fair to watch their goat show and pick the brain of Bill Zaspel, a goat farmer who attends the Edwards' church in Crab Orchard.
Seeing all the goats reminded me of why I want to work with them: they are so inquisitive! When I was meeting a buck (they can weigh up to 300 lbs), he returned my gaze calmly, cocking his head to get a better view of me around the bars of his pen. It's not the same as looking at cows, who just stare blandly back. Goats gaze at you, and you can see that they are thinking about you, sizing you up.
The younger ones were extremely curious, clambering up the side of their pens for a whiff of your hand, proffering their heads for a good scratch, looking up into your eyes and baaing their vociferious opinions.
We left feeling more confident about our wish to have goats. The Zaspels invited us to come for the kidding on their farm in September and October, so we'll get some hands-on experience (at the very least watching the process).

It is muggy. So muggy you can see the fat air molecules crowding the sky, weighing the earth down.

I had a small delight today on an otherwise tortuous walk to campus--the drive up the president's lawn struck me with memories of my evening rambles with Bear through the local park. The trees hung over the drive, trailing curtains of ivy and casting a cool shadow on the ground. I suppose the groundskeepers haven't been through for a while--the presidents' lawn had the look of a city park gone slightly wild, like Aldeen park back home.

Strange dreams haunting us today

I had the oddest dream last week. It started out with me in a movie, playing Arwen. Legolas and Arwen were falling in love with each other (Lord of the Rings was out of the picture, I guess).
Then, all of a sudden, it switches to real life, and I was getting married to Legolas. The whole elvish host was there, overwhelming the church with their ethereal beauty. I can distinctly remember peering out the door and spying Elrond up front, standing peacefully with a small smile on his face, next to Legolas. Then I looked down and, to my mortifying horror, saw that I was wearing nappy blue jeans and one of my faded black shirts. "I can't go out there like this!" I cried, and my friends (I believe it was Sue, Jenny, and my cousins) were all trying to reassure me: "It's okay, Laura! It's okay! He can see your true beauty!"
That feeling of overwhelming embarrassment and awe stuck with me when I woke up. It reminded me of the sensations Orual, the narrator of Till We Have Faces, experiences as she is about to come face to face with the God of the Mountain.
I think I dreamt this because I was wondering one day why, if faeries are so beautiful and so different (and superior) from mortals, do they steal away humans? There are tales of faerie kings whisking away a girl to be his bride, and of children disappearing from their cradles. My question wasn't answered, obviously.
Feel free to laugh at this--I have been retelling this story with delight and having a good laugh over it with my friends!

My claim to fame:

My father-in-law met Johnny Depp's father for some dept. of transportation business years ago. He was developing a greenbelt around Owensboro, KY.

Johnny Depp has come into Joseph-Beth a couple times. One time, the magazine guy offered to buy him dinner because he thought Johnny Depp was homeless, based on the way he was dressed.

I'm going to see Lady in the Water, if only because the new movie poster looks so cool.
For some reason I can't upload the image onto blogger, but here's the link if you're curious.

I faced down fear and lived to tell the tale.

I'm getting a bike! I felt like a kid again, powering down the road with nothing between me and the asphalt but the bike and my good balance. I let my fear of the bike get in the way (I refused to rent a bike in Acadia National Park in Maine in 2004 and still kick myself over it) for too long.

Basically, I'm afraid that I'll look over my shoulder, see a big blur of metal, feel a strangely numbing blow, wake up in a cast and wonder how I ever got there.. Being hard of hearing has wiped me of any sense of distance between myself and the source of sound. When that source of sound is cars, and when the wind masks their roar, well, that just makes me nervous.

But I won't let that get in the way (besides, I don't plan on riding down Nicholasville Road--even the hardiest road racers won't ride that road). Jon has a system of signals to communicate to me what's coming, and I'll work on my balance and gear-shifting so that I'm as comfortable on the bike as I am in my own skin.

The things you can read about on cnn.com...

Lewis the cat is spared

Here are some pictures from our trip to Mt. Rogers (near Damascus, VA) months ago. Jon's camera is getting old, so the pictures aren't the greatest. There are wild ponies that roam the area, and I always look forward to seeing them.

I helped a guy from the Waste Management branch today. I never fully understood J.K. Rowling's description of a character with a lion's mane of hair (descriptive, not literal) until I saw him. He had thick wavy brown hair spilling down his shoulders, and a long silver-streaked goatee.
Seems like a lot of people in environmental sciences are old hippies, or rugged outdoorsy types. Lots of silvery ponytails and Carhardt boots. The main exception are those who are in administrative positions--they tend to be clean-shaven (to the point of being pink) and wear weirdly colored polos.

I never thought this would happen, but I don't think I can ever eat an elephant ear again. There goes another relic of my childhood. It's the same with frosting. When we were little, my brother and I would argue over who got the largest buttercream flower on the birthday cake. Nowadays, I scrape the excess off--it just makes my tongue revolt.
Also--theme park rides. Jenny, Rosie, and I could ride the Zipper 13 times in a row, and it didn't faze us. Now, the mere thought of riding it makes me cringe. I think what makes me nervous is the equipment, not the motion of the ride. I'm turning into my Grandma. Next thing I know, I'll be going around the block so I won't have to make a left turn across oncoming traffic.

Pitt & Jolie to donate proceeds from baby photos to charity

I thought so.

"The Bovine Growth Hormones designed to fatten cows quickly also cause painful udder infections. Monsanto, the multinational chemical corporation, makes a widely used Bovine Growth Hormone called Posilac, which comes with the warning that it may cause a number of side effects, including swelling and infected udders. These infections transmit pus, or dead bacteria, and white blood cells into milk, causing a disagreeable taste and unpleasant color. Factory dairies sometimes mix the milk from infected udders with normal milk, so the infected milk with its offensive flavor and color is diluted. U.S. regulations allow milk to contain more pus cell concentrations that any other country in the world--almost twice the international standard of allowable pus." --p.85, "Harvest for Hope" by Jane Goodall.

I didn't know there was such a thing as "allowable pus."

Doesn't it seem weird that cnn.com should post, along with serious world and U.S. news the name of the Brangelina baby? I will think very highly of those famous parents if they allow one of the local Namibian (sp.?) people to sell the highly coveted (reputedly worth millions) first photo of the poor baby, so that they could use that money to help the locals, instead of padding some paparazzi's pockets.

I realized that I am going to see X-Men III just because-- you know, "Just Because." It got decent reviews, but all the critics pointed out that the movie could have been so much better, due to the inherent social commentary ripe in the "mutant cure" concept. It just decides to have action, and lots of it. Hence, I'm going to see it.
I wonder about my movie-watching habits--why am I so willing to see silly movies like X-Men or MI:III, when there are plenty of more serious movies that actually have something to say about the world. Like the Constant Gardener--that movie sticks with you and makes you think of Africa, and not because of the anticipated "Brangelina" baby. (on a sidenote--Barbara Kingsolver's "The Poisonwood Bible" is an excellent, heart-wrenching book that takes place in Africa. One thing I always remember when I think of that book is one of the characters points out that Africa as a whole is not meant to support the amount of people currently living there, and that, if one looked at it from an evolutionary, nature-in-the-balance standpoint, diseases like AIDs had a purpose in keeping the numbers down. I remember wondering that Kingsolver could include such an un-p.c. comment, regardless of whether it's the character, not the author, speaking).

Apparently, dragons did exist...

The skull of Draco-Rex Hogwartsia was unveiled recently.

There was a sheepdog competition at Masterston Station. Jon and I watched a bit, and it was rather interesting. (If you've seen the movie Babe, you'll know what a sheepdog competition was like).
There was a man who communicated with his dog through a series of whistles so intricate that one certain kind of sound told the dog to take one step, another told him to go fast, yet another told him to go slow, and so on. There was a sleek sort of beauty in the dog as it raced across the field to round up the sheep, its head held low, glorying in the speed of flight.
A comical moment arose when its owner was trying to tell him, after he had rounded up the first flock, to go and get the other flock which was hidden from view. The owner kept saying "Look back!" and "lie down!", which the dog obeyed, even though it was confused--you could see the thought process going on: "But the sheep are here!" The owner hollered "What do yer think yer doin'?!", and he eventually figured out what to do.

A couple years back I went to a Greenwich Village Arts Fair in Rockford, IL, with Jon and my folks. There was printmaker there who had some neat stuff, and I always regretted not getting a print.
So, I had a thought I would try and find him. Thanks to the power of google, I got pretty close. I found a list of artist names from the Fair. It was over a hundred, and I was steeling myself to check each and every name. On a whim, I decided to start at the alphabetical end. Wouldn't you know, but his was the second name I checked?
Scott Westgard has a website with a selection of some his prints. Check out the cat (down towards the bottom, under the "S"'s and "When Nature Learns to Defend Herself". The whimsical nature of these prints are endearing.
How do you explain how art affects you? There was a certain still-life at the Mayfest near Transy that seized my attention. It was just a pear and apple, rendered in lavish paint strokes, but there was something about the color and mood of the piece that made you happy. It was the same kind of feeling I had looking at a picture of Miah's Dwain posted to his blog--a stylized branch outlined against a blue background. "Happy" is the wrong term to use--but I am not versed in artspeak.
For a certain few who read this blog (i.e. 3/4 of the 3) a Scott Westgard print would be a good gift idea...

"The Bright Field"
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
the treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

-R.S. Thomas

I could be watching CSI right now, but my blog is getting old, so here I am. I participated in a phone survey, and they sent me $5 and a longer survey booklet to fill out. With it came a TV diary, where I have to record each and every program I watch for 7 days. Each day is broken down into half-hour increments. I would hate filling it out if I was a TV boob.
Thankfully my TV diary is quite blank. It's working some kind of psychological trick on me (probably on par with food diaries)--where I don't want to watch TV because I'm embarrassed to write in what I watched.

We went to the Gorge Sunday night with Jarred and Ting-Ting, Jon's fellow grad students at the Ag Building. Being with Ting-Ting gave me the opportunity to see my native language in a new light. She said things like "I am allergic to handsome men." We all had a good laugh, and Jarred told her now that she knows what it means, she can still say it, but as a joke. I wonder how the Chinese would see me if I was abroad, fumbling with their language.
We had an adventure at Whistling Arch. Jon had gone a ways down the trail, to see whether it looped on itself. Ting-Ting and I were examining a peculiar rhodendhron leaf when we saw Jon barrelling down the trail at us, hollering, "Bees! Run!" So we ran for a long ways, all the leaves and branches we smacked into drenching us with their stores of rainwater. It seems that Jon came upon a crack in a rock formation, where there was a hive tucked in out of the rain. Some bees started buzzing out, and he didn't wait to find out what they were going to do.
Due to the rain, we stayed at a rockhouse near Parched Corn creek. It was quite impressive, like a primordial temple lined in front with stately columns of tulip polars. The ceiling was several stories above our heads at the outermost tip of the formation.

I am taking a break from researching: ("polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons" or "aromatic hydrocarbons") AND "soil remediation"
Make sense? I thought so, and here I am, an English major. How did I ever end up in a job like this? What amazes me is that one of the girls I helped out has thought so highly of me that she's recommended me to a coworker of hers, hence my new project of PAHs. That's one of the neat things about librarianship--being able to find stuff, regardless of how well you might actually know the subject.

I am rereading Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. It's one of my favorite series ever. People think Pullman is heretical, when he's really just forcing you to think about things.

This is one of the errors that many Christians, however well-intentioned, commit. They denounce books as heretical without actually reading them, without pausing to consider the questions they raise. This ignorance has contributed greatly to society's bias against Christians. Who wants anything to do with people who appear to be deliberately ignorant, who approach issues with opinions already formed, ears already deaf to what the other side has to say? Even though there are people like this in all walks of life, the spotlight is on Christians.

School is over. I celebrated yesterday by renting a movie in the middle of the day (Jean Cocteau's Beauty & the Beast) and fell asleep early on, napping for three hours. I was in a strange state of remaining slightly aware while napping, either from waking up occasionally or just dozing, so that the haunting music from the movie, combined with the eerie movie itself, made me feel as though I had entered the fairy tale itself in my dreams. It was that kind of dream where you are ill-at-ease upon waking, feeling as though you have just arisen from some great adventure, or escaped some fantastic end.

The gentlemen from Maple Hill Manor want to feature our wedding in their first ever wedding brochure. They say it was one of the most beautiful weddings they've ever had. Even taking this compliment with a grain of salt, I'm still pleased. It was my desire to imprint all memories of that day with a warm, camelot glow.

I hesitate to admit that the alpacas were one of the main reasons I wanted to have my wedding there... the house and grounds themselves were quite gorgeous ... but animals are my weak point.

There have been absolutely no good movies. With no big movies like LoTR to look forward to, even as each successive one was slightly less good, my year feels so incomplete...

It's been raining all day. I could sense it, even inside my little library cocoon smack dab in the midst of the windowless, cubicle maze. My knee was twinging. How odd that our bodies can react to something that we can't "see".

With summer on its plodding humditity-soaked way, I lopped 6+ inches off my hair on Wednesday. That always feels good. The hairstylist is always overly cautious: "Well... are you ready?.." and makes a big deal about wielding scissors while holding a long lock of hair. And all I care about is getting it all off! Everyone at work thinks it looks wonderful (even though I know Grandma prefers rapunzel-length hair--sorry Grandma!).

Last day of class is next Wednesday. I have to give a presentation with another girl on the metadata scheme of the VRA Core Categories. I hate it when the attention is on me. It doesn't make me quiver in fear, just embarrassed. Isn't that silly. It's not like I'm briefing the President on the state of things.

Looking ahead to summer, with its open-ness (no summer classes because nothing was available that would be remotely helpful), is like running through a meadow on a mountaintop: I'm free! It's such an alien thought that there will come a day when I will not have to worry about schoolwork or project deadlines.

The husband of one of my friends is quite against celebrating holidays of any kind, because he feels the celebration detracts from "the reason of the season", so to speak. He hurt her feelings when he stared at the Easter basket she lovingly assembled for him and said, "I don't want that. Easter isn't about Easter bunnies and candy."
She laid into him with a lecture that celebrations of holidays are good things, that they encourage children's imaginations and give them hope. It made me think: kids don't fully grasp the meaning of holidays, but they will notice how much care you put into making some days more special than others. Someday that will translate into some food for thought as they start to comprehend exactly why particular days are celebrated.

Last night Sue had us paint eggs, and she gave us baskets with jelly beans and peeps. It was quite enjoyable. Jenni and I, being more "artsy", tried to get creative with colors, with the result of some eggs looking like they'd been dunked in mud. Sue, on the other hand, fastidiously soaked each and every one of her eggs in one color each and they all turned out marvelously bright. It's like a rainbow in a box.

Why I like hiking:
1) I can pretend I am a hobbit on a journey
2) It makes up for my childhood distaste of sports.
3) I can walk to the grocery store a mile away and carry back 15 pounds of groceries without breaking sweat.
4) I learn that some periods of material discomfort (wet, cold, etc.) are quite manageable--nothing compares to that most basic feeling of being warm as when you've been hiking in windy rain in 50 degrees.
5) I can survey a range of big hills with a knowing, distant look, a la John Muir and Daniel Boone
6) Gooey pizza and crisp beer never taste as good as when you've just stepped off the trail after a 15 mile hike. Actually, just about any kind of cooked food, for that matter.
7) Hiking is mind-clearing, like a good sneeze that clears your sinuses
8) Sleeping outside makes you see things in nature that you've never noticed before.
9) It's okay to get dirty. A little bit of grit in your coffee is character-building.
10) I get to be outside.

Things I don't like about hiking:
1) It can make me cry.
2) It can knock my toenails off.
3) I have to wear tapered pants, which make my bottom half look like a middle-aged frumpy cat lady.
4) You realize how small you are when you are stuck on an exposed ledge with a lightning storm howling your way.
5) When the birds welcome the morning, I get an ache to be outdoors--like Legolas and the seagulls. Not fun when you're stuck inside on a listless day.

I watched a DVD about the Appalachian Trail a couple nights ago. At one point, they focused on hikers' feet and the brutal pounding they get on the trail. Peeling blisters, raw heels, fungus-infected soles, and black toenails. They focused in on the black toenails just as the hiker flicked his big toenail off. That was obviously done for stage effect.
Every time I've gone hiking, my toenails have taken a beating. I invariably end up losing some, particularly my big toenails. It's the descents, the constant scrunching of your toes against the front of your shoes, as you pick your way down the trail, adjusting to the new center of gravity your backpack has given you.

Jon's progressing along the trail at a good clip. He called from the Walasi-Yee Center in northern Georgia last night to say all was well and he wasn't being chewed to a bloody pulp by a black bear.
To keep pace with him, if only imaginatively, I've started reading Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods. Bryson never fails to draw out a chuckle. A critic said he could make even dryer lint funny.
Right now, he's just completed the first day and is ready to die--to just be one with the lichen on the rock for a very long time. It makes me think back to when I first started hiking with Jon. Jon, bless his heart, always overestimated my abilities and took me to places with lots of steep climbing. I would always grow sullen about 1/2 of the way up, then downright mad 2/3 up, then for the last 1/3 of the climb, I would be weeping like a lost child, my limbs quivering on top of stumbling feet.

Howl's Moving Castle was a delight to watch. I don't normally like anime--watching it is like entering the head of a 21st century Napoleon Dynamite. Instead of "liger" and "tion", he would be creating anime.
Christian Bale was the voice of Howl, and he did that quite nicely. He has that odd quality of speaking quietly, yet making himself heard across the room. All the girls at work have a crush on him, so I guess that includes me. I even liked him in Batman, however flawed that movie was.

Spring can be stealthy. Blink and the world erupts in color. One day it was raining. I could notice a distinct difference in the pastures between the morning and afternoon--the grass was green. It was like learning the definition of the color green.

Behold the lion cut. Mojo had this done once, not for looks but because his fur was so matted.

Why does the hair on Pope freely leave his body in copious amounts--aloft on the wind, it flits aimlessly around the house--yet when we brush him, the amount we manage to get would be disdained by a bird as worthy nest building material?

I'm writing a paper on the VRA Core Categories, a metadata scheme that visual resources curators can use to describe their collections of art slides/digital images, as well as the original art works themselves. I keep thinking: "What's the point of writing this? No one cares. It won't be published." But Jon reminds me that the point of writing papers is to educate yourself, not others. So there.

I've been reading "Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief" on my breaks at work. I don't usually enjoy fantasy infused with pop-culture--it's just too self-conscious--but this isn't so bad. It's lazy summer reading material, which is why I must have picked it up, considering that the Joseph-Beth building is entering its annual sauna season. It's about a boy who discovers he's a demi-god (like Hercules) and must go on a quest to find out who stole Zeus's master lightning bolt before Zeus zaps him out of existence. Sure.