29 December 2009

Vegas Recap

In lieu of a crapload of gifts, stuff, and toys, we decided to treat ourselves (as a family) to a little getaway trip. Destination? Vegas.

We were there two days and three nights. Here's the summary:
(Numbers are all rough estimates)

50: Escalators ridden
10: Moving sidewalks ridden
1149: Feet in the air above LV (on the Stratosphere Tower Observation Deck)
5: Near-vertigo attack (or, at least, near vomiting)
1: Old couple seen in matching track suits
5: Partially naked live women seen by my ten-year-old son
9: Modes of transportation taken (foot, taxi, plane, bus, minivan, escalator, elevator, inclinator, moving walkway)
3: Mimosas drank at Saturday's Champagne Brunch at the Luxor
25+: Number of provocative posters seen by family
5: Homeless persons passed
2: French desserts consumed (eclair and some french chocolate flower-thing)
$$$$$$: Money spent on food
Countless: Women seen wearing tight leggings/jean and boots combo
12.99: Price per pound of M&Ms at M&M World

Other mentionable moments:

Best Christmas Decorations: The Conservatory at Bellagio

Heather's Dream Shower: Our room - the Luxor Hotel

Weirdest Dressed Couple in Vegas: Typical nice-looking elderly woman (black, elegant, classy) and her date, who had on an argyle sweater and sweatpants

Best Thing: Going to a great steakhouse and great show (cheaply!) with a family friend on our last night there

Coolest Set of Stairs: Pink Shale Mosaic at the new City Center

You should all go. Yes, it well deserves the name "Sin City", but really, you should still go.

19 December 2009

Ode to Zinfandel

O Wine! Blessed tender orb of the vine!
Your sweet bouquets explode upon my tongue;
I would travel through oceans to call you mine.
Songs the Greeks and Californians have sung
of your merits through all ages of time.
Not cherry, not strawberry, not red pome;
To the radiant grape, these fruits are dead.
Nor pomegranate, nor rhubarb, nor lime;
Nothing! The grape was glory of Rome!

But, make not my mistake: go white, not red!

08 December 2009

Ode to Cocoa Pebbles

You know, when I was college taking all my literature courses, we had to read John Keats...because he was, like, the staple amongst Romantic poets.

And he may have been great and all that, but really...an Ode on a Grecian Urn? How long did he stand worshipping the urn before he composed those fifty lines? I mean, I like pottery too, but not enough to write a flowery, prosy poem about it. Aaaah, what do I know about it?

Looking back, that above immature behavior was my youthful ignorance and underappreciation for the fine arts. And so, I intend to rectify that now. I do hope John will forgive for my poor imitation. It will certainly not be as beautifully lengthy as Mr. Keats'.

My subject will be one of my favorite breakfast cereals: Cocoa Pebbles

ODE TO COCOA PEBBLES

O sweet chocolate-sweetened rice cereal treat!
Thou art music to my tongue at break of day,
I would worship you every morning, had you feet.
Your delicate shape and airy form may
Remind of me of heaven and the wings of a dove.
Twelve vitamins and minerals added to every toothsome bite
It's you who makes my milk the chocolatey nectar of the skies -
And I would endure pain and suffr'ng sent from above
to experience your glory and revel in your carbohydrated sight.
Forget calories and sugar intake! I see naught but perfection
in your chocolate-coated eyes!


For Simpler Folk:

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
The only question today:
One bowl or two?

Hail Cocoa Pebbles!

21 October 2009

The Threefold Law

OK, I'm not saying I've been everywhere and I've seen everything, so you fellow pagans out there...feel free to correct me.

Pagans and Wiccans, in general, try to live their lives as simply as possible. There are no Wiccan Ten Commandments, per se, but there are a few guidelines. One of the appealing things for me is the flexibility for interpretation of these guidelines. There are a couple of principles that I try to apply to my existence, which include:

1. Everything in this universe is connected and sacred. Everything.
2. People are responsible for their own actions - thus "Do what ye will, but harm none". Ultimately, whatever you choose to do, you must willingly accept the fallout, good or bad.
3. Because of the connectedness of the universe, whatever you send out into the world comes back to you.

This last one has been on my mind for the last day – it’s referred to as the Rule of Three or the Threefold Law. Basically, if you send out good vibes, that’s what you get back. Conversely, if you send out bad energy, that’s what returns to you.

It’s not a hard and fast, black-and-white rule, and thus, the skeptics inevitably have a problem with it.

Many Wiccans apply this rule especially when they are working magic. However, that is a realm in which I do not have much experience…but the Rule of Three is an idea I think would apply in the mundane world.

See, the problem at my house these days is the negativity. We are busy and stressed, certain members of the household are unhappy with their jobs, and relationships are just not exactly where they should be. There’s a lot of tension around here some days. My husband rolls his eyes at this, but this house has absorbed a lot of the negative energy – I can tell. Often I feel oppressed just when I walk into this house. It’s seeped into the carpets and walls.

I believe the Threefold Law is at work here. We’ve sent the negative energy out into the universe, and it’s now what surrounds us. No surprise, really. However, we are at least conscious of it now and are endeavoring to send positive vibes out into this house and world.

Alas, I suppose I should also locate a good banishing spell to get rid of the junk that’s still here.

13 October 2009

Watching Little Ones

And no, I don't mean this in a deviant, pedophile way.

Life is pretty busy around here - almost more so than when I was working full-time. All five of us are involved in at least one activity...and that equals craziness.

However, I still have found the time to watch my children grow and marvel at what they can do.

For example, my ten-year-old now eats everything. I mean, he just simply falls to it. Seconds, thirds, and fourths, if it's something he really likes. He's growing, and I realize we are headed for the teen years. He's also a voracious reader, as well as avid video game player, drawer, and dancer. That makes me think of my friend Kimba's MBRH. He (MBRH) had the same interests as a kid, and he seems pretty cool now, so...

Then, Kirby is eight going eighteen. She's very much the mother hen, the leader, the bossy Bessy. I think I'm OK with that, though. I call her 'assertive'. Even if she does alienate some people because of it, I do think it's a trait that serves a woman well later in life.

And oh! The baby. Thank goodness he will still let me hold and kiss him. However, he knows how to maneuver his way around a computer! I let him have some laptop time in the morning, while I'm getting ready. (Don't worry, he only wants to go to Pokemon sites!). Well, he's quite the pro at mousing, clicking, etc. He hasn't really caught on to Internet surfing, though...LOL. So, while he's "mature" in that regards, he still is enough of a kid to want to lick the spatula after helping me make a cake.

I used to scoff when all those old folks instructed me to enjoy the time I had with them now, because they'd be soon grown up. Huh, well, I don't scoff anymore. I welcome each new phase of development, that's for sure, but it's mingled with that strangely hollow feeling that time indeed marches on. We sure don't get anything back.

I am thinking now of Robert Herrick's poem (famously quoted "Dead Poets' Society").

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying.
This same flower that smiles today,
tomorrow will be dying.

25 September 2009

Oh, To Be a Parent In Colonial Times

Last summer, we visited Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia, and I purchased (but forgot until Brent found it a couple of days ago) a pamphlet called "The School of Manners OR Rules for Children's Behaviour".

The title's much longer, but you get the point. A guide for how children in colonial times should behave. Check this out.

Chapter III - Of Behaviour at Home

1. Always bow low at coming Home, and be immediatly uncovered.

2. Be never covered at home, especially before thy Parents or Strangers. (What's all this with the hats?)

3. Never sit in the presence of thy Parents without bidding, though no Strangers be present. (Now, that's weird.)

4. If thou pass by thy Parents, or any place where thou seest them, either by themselves, or with Company, bow towards them. (Now, that one, I dig.)

5. If thou be going to speak to thy Parents and see them engaged in Discourse or Company, draw back, and leave thy business till afterwards; but if thou must speak, be sure to whisper. (Personally, I totally agree with this one. It seems I see a lot of parents who let their kids interrupt them in the middle of a conversation with other adults...uh, NO!)

6. Never speak to thy Parents, without some Title of Respect, viz. Sir, Madam, Forsooth; according to their quality. (By the way, viz. is another way to say "in other words".)

7. Approach near thy Parents at no time without a Bow. (What is UP with all the CAPITALIZATION?)

8. Dispute not, nor delay to do thy Parents' Commands.

9. Go not forth of doors without thy parents' leave, and return within the time by them limited. (The oft-battled-over curfew.)

10. Come not into the room where thy Parents are with Strangers unless thou be called, and then decently; and at bidding, go out; or if Strangers come in while thou art with them, it is manerly with a bow to withdraw.

11. Use respectful and courteous, not insulting or domineering carriage or language towards the Servants.

12. Quarrel not, nor contend with thy Brethren or Sisters, but live in Love, Peace, and Unity.

13. Grumble not, nor be discontented at any thing thy Parents appoint, speak, or do.

14. Bear with Meekness and Patience, and without murmering or sullenness, thy Parents' Reproofs or Corrections, nay, though it should so happen that they be causless or undeserved.

Obviously, I think that some of them are a little out-of-date...but, really, many of them are still relevant today.

24 September 2009

Disappointment Builds Character

Nominate me now for Mom of the Year!!! Vote today! Mom of the Year today, President tomorrow!

It's this tale right here that's gonna clinch the award: three times in the past twenty-our hours have I taught my children the hard-boiled lesson of brooking disappointment.

Incident #1: Last night, Elliot took a miniscule bite of his tuna fish sandwich and three to four bites of his potato cheese soup (prepared by Spencer and I; it was a Weight Watcher recipe and will be made again in our house soon). So, I told him no sweets/treats/desserts later (my mom and I were going on a walk that would end up going past Smokey Row). At the time, he was fine with it. Later, my dad commissions my mom and I to stop by the store for peanut clusters (his sweet tooth attack). We brought them home, he opened them, and guess who wanted one? Yep. The kid who had eaten very little of his dinner earlier. I said no. I repeated it firmly a couple more times. Had I not been there, my dad would have totally let him chow down. Anyway, that was crying attack #1 - it was short-lived and we all survived.

Incident #2: Today, around 3:30, the older two get home from school and immediately go for a snack. No prob. I need to run some errands, and Elliot wants an apple to eat on the way. No prob. We get to my office, and it turns out there's cake in the faculty lounge. Spencer is offered a piece, Kirby declines, and Elliot wants one too. Except - he nibbled the skin off of his Pink Lady apple before handing it off to Kirby (apples, by the way, Brent informed me are, like, 89 cents an apple right now). So, by way of last night's example, no cake for Elliot. Crying attack #2, but again, he was done within ten minutes.

Incident #3: I'm picking up a few incidentals at Walmart (this is shortly after incident #2). In a weak moment, I am persuaded to buy a "Bop It" game. We play it in the aisles for several moments, laughing hysterically. What the heck, I think, I've been a hard ass the last day. We throw it in the cart, and I tell the kids explicitly, "No touching the Bop It. It's there now, and we'll play the crap out of it when we get home." Well, as we're waiting in line to play, Spencer is so bored and, while I'm distracted, he takes the game out of the cart to mess around with it. Huh. Well, I can't buy it for them now. So, yes, I make my kids put it back. And I was disappointed as well...it would have been fun to play. You should have seen Spencer's face. Very, very, very disappointed.

So yeah, I've been the Bad Mom the last day. However, it's possible my kids are better because of it.

Now gimme my trophy.

17 September 2009

The Part-Time Circus

I'm wrapping up week four of the new job-career lifestyle, and I have to say...

I think I want to work part-time for life.

Yeah, I'm spinning three plates, but consider that I now get a decent lunch hour and I have time after work to get a pedicure and fix my kids' after school snack...well, it doesn't seem so bad.

I'm sure it will be different when the weather gets colder, but I love being able to step outside everyday. That I, in some sense, can experience the outside world in between the hours of eight a.m. and four p.m. is amazing.

Right now, I am crazily busy, and the schedule seems way hectic, trying to juggle work, soccer, gymnastics, Girl Scouts, and a community theater play, but I still am feeling a sense of peace. I'm not cooped up in a hermetically sealed, artificial environment all day. I have more freedom than I have for the last ten years. My husband and I chat in the mornings, and all throughout the day actually.

If my life were a commercial jingle right now, it would be "ba da ba ba ba...I'm lovin' it!"

01 September 2009

Ten Dollars on Tuesday

Welcome September!

To me, September is one of those months that creeps in, unawares, while everyone else is either yearning for the leisure-days-gone-by of August or the costume-crazed candy fest at the end of October.

September the middle child. Of course, you love it, but you kind of forget about it when pulled apart by the demands of August and October.

The weather is already changing here. Mornings are cool, afternoons are balmy. It's hard to tell if fall is really here, of if there's a little Indian summer left in the seasonal gas tank.

Anyway, here in town, the local Farmer's Market is open on Tuesdays (and Saturdays, but I didn't have one of those handy). I live about two blocks from it, so my clever idea for the day was to walk the kids up to it. We'd combine some local shopping time with a little exercise with a little snack. Three birds with one stone.

I took only ten dollars. After we browsed one time, we were ready for purchases...

1. After sampling jams, the kids chose the pear jelly. The vendor here also gave us all free, organic, pesticide-free apples. :)

2. Homemade toffee.

3. A loaf of wheat bread. How could we buy jam and not bread?

4. By this time, I had seventy-five cents left. Just enough for a chocolate chip cookie for each child.

And that's it. My ten dollars were gone. I didn't buy any produce, no veggies, no melons...but the rewards?

1. A pleasant walk in the sunshine with my children.
2. A smug feeling at boosting the local economy.
3. Homemade toffee that I would waste a diet for.
4. An conversation with my children on the way home that ran along the lines of..."people at farmer's markets are much nicer than at Walmart."

My advice to you: go find a FM to patronize! Today!

27 August 2009

First Day Of School, Nelson-Style

The dawning of a new era. The part-time teacher/professor.

Let me summarize.

1. I dropped my kids off at the bus stop for their first day of school, then headed to part-time job #1, where I would take some photos for the yearbook. This was from 8:00 to 8:30. At 8:30, I leisurely left the building to take my youngest son to daycare (temporary for the next week). Then I came back to PT job #1 and taught my ONE class. Then I walked out of the building for the day!

2. Since my college teaching job doesn't start until Wednesday, my husband and I went out for lunch. Then I strolled over to my college office, did about 45 minutes of work, and then leisurely strolled out of that building.

3. I picked up a few things at the grocery store, and then I headed to the library. In the middle of the afternoon! I felt so decadent. In fact, one of the librarians who knows I'm a teacher asked why I wasn't in school. Like a truant!

4. Then I picked up my youngest from daycare, and then we walked down to the bus stop to await the arrival of the two schoolgoers.

And, it was a lovely, sunshiny day. Almost perfect!

I shall report back when the college classes start. That might change things! :)

22 August 2009

Really Important Stuff

Commence nutshell:

*Two days of school are done. 177 to go. College classes start this Wednesday.

*Two really important books read recently: Ominvore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan and No Impact Man by Colin Beavan.

*One eye-opening documentary watched: Food Inc.

*Friends: Love them lots. They don't even know how much they touch my life.

*Husband: Has been a patchy summer. Feel recommitted...moreso than I have for a long time. We are working on our positivity problem at current.

*Changes: Soda pop will be permanently gone from our house by next week. This is big, especially for Brent...but I am very proud of him for trying. Also, plastic reusable water bottles for every member of this house - no more purchasing bottled water. Furthermore, school rules regarding screens back in effect: no video games/computer games during the week. And finally, this family is making an attempt to limit restaurant eating.

*And hey...let me show you what I did after watching Food, Inc. today...



End nutshell. Have a good week.

01 August 2009

Happy Lammas!

As a kid, this time of the year held nothing special for me. It was still summer, and school was weeks away. Most of my summer had become that blur of hanging out with friends, work/play, sleeping, eating, watching TV, etc.

When I started my teaching career later on, August first was usually the beginning of the end. School preparations crept back into the corners of my mind, and trips to clean out my classroom began.

At this time of my life, August was usually accompanied by that feeling of dread. The leisure of summer was dwindling - fast.

Two events have since changed my outlook on August. First, when I became a pagan, August first was the holiday of Lammas – the first of the harvest holidays. Roadside stands selling all kinds of produce cropped up everywhere I went, and I suddenly understood this was no coincidence. Mother Earth was yielding up the very first fruits of her labor. Fall was already permeating my environment, even though August was considered one of the hottest months of the summer.

Secondly, my third child was due on August 4, 2004. Since it was my third, I had full hopes of delivering a baby early. So, on August first, my pagan friends from Minnesota and I gathered in the circle at the farm to celebrate, and for the first time in my life, I ate a whole jalapeno pepper. I felt it was a small sacrifice to make if it might induce labor.

Elliot was born two weeks after my foolish pepper digestion. It obviously didn’t work.

Despite this, August has grown on me. It is the beginning of the season of change, after a summer of heat, sun, and dry soil. It will also always remind me of my little baby boy.

Happy Lammas and happy harvesting!

28 July 2009

Something To Consider, Mr. President

Dear President Obama,

First of all, congratulations on your official birth certificate record. Now that it’s been proven you were born in Hawaii, all those dumbasses who claimed you were illegal can shut the hell up.

Second, your plan for Universal Health Care? Let me say that I fully support it. I mean, after all, I already pay high premiums for who-knows-what, so I’d rather not be deceived about who exactly I’m paying for.

However, I do feel you’re trying to change too much at one time. I know, I know, Mr. President, that’s what we elected you for, but you know how the good ol’ boys in Washington are – change comes slowly, if even at all. Please allow me to propose baby steps, and one that would certainly be worthy of Congress’s attention.

Universal Facial Care

You see, I just visited my local salon today to get a facial. Mr. President, this is only the second time in my thirty-some years that I’ve had this done. And I have no idea why this is. Most people associate facials with that guy from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, freaks, and women – that last one definitely being the case for the small Iowa town I live in. There is such a thing as a “man facial”, something most guys around here would never, ever consider doing. After all, they might like it. This is truly too bad.

I would only like a moment further of your attention while I describe to you the “facial buffet”. These steps below make up the “European” facial, and let me say, those Europeans sure got it right.

1. Make up removal cream
2. Hot towel
3. Round one moisturizer
4. Hot towel
5. Exfoliating scrub
6. Scalp massage – seriously, Mr. President, I went comatose for several blissful minutes during this one
7. Hot towel
8. Round two moisturizer – a nice little hairline massage during this one
9. Hot towel
10. Mask and cucumber slices (at least, I think they were)
11. Upper arm, shoulder, and neck massage – I may have flatlined here
12. Hot towel
13. Final moisturizer

This whole appointment took an hour, and I emerged like the proverbial butterfly. I greeted the world with a relaxed, genuine smile. Nothing or no one could faze me. I felt empowered! Imagine, Mr. President, doing a round of facials before a UN Council meeting or peace negotiations in the Middle East – I don’t think I need to explicit; I'm sure you probably understand my point here. Facials would be a ginormous step towards world peace. Not to mention United States peace. Who knows? Crime rate may go down!

If it’s hard for you to accept the idea of Free Facial Care for All, then consider, at the very least, your legacy. I mean, yeah, you’re the first Black president, but beyond that? Sure, there’s a White House press secretary, fitness trainer, chef, etc., but a White House Esthetician? That would definitely be a first. Michelle, Sasha, and Malia would thank you for it.

27 July 2009

Saturday's Alright For Fighting...

a raccoon.

This last weekend was a great one to pack up and get out of town for some sun, swimming, and sleeping in campers.

Captain and Mrs. Tiki, Kimba, and the Nelson clan trekked south to the lake Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Highlights include:

1.Good wood.
2.A very nice site, where an expanse of green opened up to a beautiful view of the south end of the lake.
3.Warm lake water, a sufficient beach, and three weird slimy, jellish egg sac/frog spawn bags.
4.An emergency scrub down after a potential roll in poison ivy by Elliot.
5.A much-needed nap by all members of the Nelson family.
6.Mrs. Tiki’s mom brought all kinds of veg and meat, which we made up into our own foil packets – YUM!
7.Birthday cake, as the Captain turns 31 this week.
8.A near-sunset boat ride, during which Spencer chanted/sang to himself the whole way.
9.Excellent campfire conversation – one topic being this question: What literary character would you like to be?

Answers included: Brent – the dad from Swiss Family Robinson; Kimba – Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, so she could brood. It is possible she was kidding, but it stuck.; Captain – Gandalf from Lord of the Rings; Me – Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice; and Mrs. Tiki - Minerva McGonagall from the Harry Potter books.

Note: Not that this is terribly important or fascinating to you readers, but it comes into play later.

10.A Sunday morning consisting of hot dogs and cheddar wursts after the two men (one of them being the cook) showed up from fishing way later than they meant.

But perhaps the most exciting incident to occur was the raccoon episode alluded to at the beginning of this entry.

It was past nine o’ clock, and the sliver of crescent moon was hanging in the sky. The campfire was bright, and the conversation flowing. Raccoons had frequented the campsite last night, and the first sign they’d be back was the skittering sound of paws on wood sometime close to the eleven o’clock hour. Training all our flashlights on the sound, we spun to see a large coon nearly atop our picnic table, attempting to feast on the s’mores remnants there. After a few seconds, it ran off. However, this was a bold, brazen breed of coon…he was back within minutes. It was roughly at this time that Brent had the idea to go coon hunting. He picked up the fire stick, and held it javelin-like as he advanced on the animal. If you’re having trouble picturing this, think of cavemen who seek out food…bent arm raised in front of them, other arm lifted high with a menacing spear in their hands…all this while they grunt meaningful messages to each other.

Anyway, I am not in a position to see much of Brent’s advancement, but both Brent and the Captain are getting close, and the raccoon isn’t moving. Pretty soon these four words rent the quiet night air.

“Are you shitting me?”

These words are uttered by my husband – not at how huge the coon is, but at how the raccoon is NOT fleeing. Brent understands RIGHT NOW that he very well might have to take this thing down – something he had not really intended on doing. Kimba, Mrs. Tiki, and myself begin laughing hysterically, because as if the words were not funny enough, now we see the image of long-legged Brent, javelin raised, sprinting towards the now-retreating coon, bent on destruction. A little too late, as the coon got away.

The whole incident then morphed into a Dungeons and Dragons adventure, as Brent now begins collecting rocks. His plan now consists of a rock “ranged” attack, and Captain will take over the melee combat. I jokingly ask Brent if he wants me to cast a fireball, and Mrs. Tiki says she’ll heal the party. Of course, it is mentioned at one point that if the Captain were indeed Gandalf like he’d mentioned earlier, this whole raccoon-killing thing would be totally pointless.

Lots of laughing and reenactments ensued until bedtime.

STATS
Number of food traditions: Three (walking tacos, hot dogs/chips, grilled packets)
Number of really sunburnt people: Two
Number of raccoons who survived the weekend: One
Number of times “Are you shitting me?” was said: Dozens!
Number of apple pie casualties: Almost one
Number of birthdays celebrated: One

16 July 2009

A Totally Impartial Review of "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince"

And you know I’m not a professional, so you can count on completely unbiased reporting.

First off, the more time you’ve put between reading the sixth book and watching the sixth movie, the better. Then, when you watch the movie, you won’t remember if there was a scene in the book in which the Weasleys’ home is burned to the ground by a group of Death Eaters or not. Hopefully you won’t recall the gaggety gag way Harry and Ginny get together in the movie, as opposed to the carefully crafted, subtle way Rowling does it in the book.

But, anyway. On with the impartial portion of this review.

As you watch the movie, remember: the book and movie are separate. In fact, repeat this to yourself several times. Convincing oneself of this fact is about the only way bibliophiles like myself keep from ripping the armrests out in sheer disgust.

The movie does not start with the scene at Spinner’s End, with the Unbreakable Oath between Narcissa Malfoy and Snape, as it does in the book. Instead, after some cool footage of Death Eaters wreaking mayhem on the Muggle world, it cuts to Harry reading the Daily Prophet in a Muggle diner.

WTF?

Doesn’t this violate one of the main precepts of the whole Potter series? That Muggles have no clue what’s happening in the Wizard world, and in fact, a Ministry of Magic is in place to prevent stupidly innocuous things like a wizard reading a moving-photograph paper in a Muggle restaurant? In plain view of several Muggles?

To continue in this vein, there is then an inane conversation between Harry and a young Muggle waitress, who obviously likes him. It appears they will hook up later (she gets off at eleven), when Harry spots Dumbledore. Rather quickly and cruelly, the poor Muggle waitress is abandoned...and now the book and movie can finally dovetail at this point with the visit to Horace Slughorn. But, I ask you, what was the point of the abandoned Muggle would-be girlfriend? To be honest, it cheapens Harry and Ginny’s relationship later on…to know that Harry was almost mackin’ on some inconsequential Muggle waitress who had no clue who that “tosser Harry Potter” was. I felt dirty.

Anyway, Jim Broadbent plays Slughorn, and rather well, I must say. Jim’s been a favorite of mine since “Bridget Jones’s Diary”, and while he doesn’t have the poundage I imagined Slughorn to have, he certainly fits the goofy, semi out-of-touch bill.

Frankly, the movie does a great job of dicing and splicing the sort-of-important scenes, while keeping the relative integrity of the important ones, the key one being Harry and Dumbledore’s adventure in the cave/potion/Inferi. However, as with nearly every book-to-film project, the director felt the need to insert several stupid items that had no purpose. He butchered one of my favorite parts of the sixth book and turned it into a Nicholas Sparks novel!

Let’s just make a list here of things everyone knows:

1. Fruits and vegetables are good for you.
2. Never get involved in a land war in Asia.
3. Ginny Weasley has been in love with Harry Potter forever, but she does not do ridiculous things like tie Harry’s shoelaces, offer him a plate of some dumb English finger food, attempt to get intimate with him while wearing a bathrobe, or chase him into a wheat field, or many of the other cheesy things she said or did throughout the movie. HE came to HER, OK? SHE did not chase HIM like an idiot.

Cripes.

Speaking of love relationships, the Ron Weasley-Lavender Brown portrayal was spot on. Both actors did an adequate job of being sickeningly sweet and disgusting when appropriate. The young lady that played Lavender had superb facial expressions, and I honestly looked forward to her entrances. How many other minor characters can you say that about? Another excellent piece of work was the downward spiral of Draco Malfoy. Blissfully, the director did not spend too much time on the development of Draco’s dilemma with superfluous dialogue or action, but his journey into "The Dark Lord's Servant Hell" was well-documented by subtle makeup, short pensive shots, even shorter conversations with Potter and Snape, and dead brilliant twitching by Tom Felton.

So, yeah, go see it. Or don’t. It’s got everything you’d expect: love, special effects, blood, Dumbledore’s beard, a freaky-looking young Tom Riddle, and a cool room-rearranging sequence courtesy of Slughorn and Dumbledore. Just be ready for some of the other crap too.

12 July 2009

Age Really Is More Than a Number

So. One of the most comforting things, to me, about being Pagan is our view of life and death. Death is a part of the cycle, and helps to sustain life. When I became accepting of that basic tenet, I became less scared of dying.

But...I admit, as much as I don't fear death, I am scared to death (pun intended) of getting old. I'm scared of losing my body functions, I'm scared of not being able to do things I've done for all my life, and I'm scared of sitting around, waiting for others to help me.

For example, I took my mom to the eye doctor today so she could have her eyes dilated. Turns out she's got cataracts (she's 55), and believe me when I say she was the youngest person in that waiting room. This particular doc only visits this neck of the woods once a month, so naturally you can imagine the place was packed with patients who were there to have the exact same thing done as my mom.

Again, my mom was the youngster of the group. So, there were a lot of walking canes, wheelchairs, and breathing equipment. Now you all know that my natural tendency here would be to tell this story light-heartedly, but I'm finding that I cannot treat this subject humorously at all. I'll ask that you humor me and my dark rambling a bit.

I spent nearly four hours today surrounded by frail, dependent elderly people and I am just depressed as hell. It is not distate for old people that I am expressing...and I certainly don't mean to sound disrespectful towards my elders. But, I got a long, hard look at my mother's future...and mine as well. That's going to be me someday, sitting in a disinfected, quiet-as-death waiting room, depending on some young scamp of a doctor to call my name and tell me how he's going to help me. I'm sure he'll be kind and Hippocrates-esque, but deep down I'll know that this is just the beginning. I'll be sitting in another waiting room soon, waiting for another doctor to give me another prognosis to something else that's wrong with my body. And then, sure enough, as I walk out of that doctor's office, I'll be depending on somebody, husband or child, to drive me home or get my medication or set up my next doctor's visit.

And then, see, my quality of life depends on doctors. They name my maladies, give me medicines, perform my surgeries...so that I can live longer and experience more of the aches and pains of growing old. It's quite ironic, actually.

And it's all a part of the cycle. It happens to everyone. I'm fine with the end result...I've reconciled myself to dying. I haven't quite come to terms with the way that I'll get there. I may never.

01 July 2009

Culture Club!


Newly Discovered Gem #33: Small town live music concerts, usually located at the town square/bandstand/city park.

Tonight was truly a scene reminiscent of old Americana. Young and old, rich and poor...dozens of people gathered tonight at our town's square. Every Thursday, the community band provides a free concert for all.

Tonight was the first time in my life that I attended. To make this more sadly poignant, let me remind you that this is my hometown. Out of 35 years, I have lived here for 23. And yet, here I was, a Thursday-night-concert virgin.

But, oh, make no mistake. I will be back. In addition to a nice night out, live music, blankets on the grass, the content sound of children scampering on the lawn, three local businesses provided refreshment. Popcorn from the bank, shaved, flavored ice from the drugstore, lemonade in bottles from the real estate place - ALL FREE!

Just another reason why I love summer.

09 June 2009

Twist On Prometheus - Fire-Giver

Despite the rain and impending thunderstorm a couple of days ago, my friends and I gathered for June's full moon. Disappointedly, She did not show herself to us, but we were still treated to a spectacular lightning show.

We were able to start a small fire, and it was while I was staring into the flames that I had a minor revelation. I say minor because it was information I already knew, but that point in time, it seemed to have specific relevance.

Fire is the only element I can think of, besides water, that is both destructive and purifying. Anyone who has seen a house fire knows how quickly the blaze can destroy everything they've ever worked for. Fire nearly changes everything that it comes upon, and even those objects that can claim to be fire-retardant are still altered in some way, albeit minor. On the other hand, anyone who has seen a planned prairie fire knows fire is the only thing that allows the grasses and shrubs to regrow. Many times fire prunes the dead branches, undergrowth, etc. that prevent new life. In that sense, it's necessary.

So, these are the thoughts running through my mind Sunday night as I stare at the fire and contemplate the state of things around here. Then the idea came to me, "People are scared of fire because of its destructive property. It *changes* things, and many people are scared of that." Of course, I would be too in some cases.

But, metaphorically speaking, there are times when fire purges, when it cleans - when it's good. I think the scary part comes in because people don't know if it's a good (purifying) fire or bad (destroying) fire. Say, for example, someone wants to leave their marriage. They know, despite their reasons, that by filing for separation or divorce would start a fire of some kind - and it could go one of two ways.

a. While painful at first, the fire of divorce would prove to be good, as both parties would eventually end up fine, and able to lead their own lives and pursue their own happiness. So the fire did destroy, yes, but in the end, allowed new growth and change.

b. The fire actually opens up the door to new issues (custody arrangements, property/title changes, etc.). The one who originally wanted the split in the first place is more miserable and realizes it maybe wasn't so bad to be married. S/he was suffering from a case of "the grass is greener on the other side of the fence" and finally realizes "you don't know what you got till it's gone."

Now I think I see why many people choose to do what Garth Brooks sung about. He sang "Life is not tried, it is merely survived if you're standing outside the fire." It's safer and easier to not play with fire, most of the time.

But dang, what if starting that fire led to great and wonderful things? A new start? New growth?

It's pretty monumental to think about, considering we're only on this planet for a short number of years.

31 May 2009

I Saved My Son's Life!

OK, theoretically speaking.

Capt and Mrs. Tiki took Brent and I to the shooting range again today.

This time, though, Capt. shook things up for us.

After doing a few practice rounds on a cardboard target, we discovered Capt. had set up a scenario for us. Using a few barrels and wooden structures, he constructed a set up of the hallway leading from our bedroom to the kitchen. The idea was for us not only practice on stationary targets, but also in a "real-life" situation. Suppose we had an intruder? Suppose there was more than one? Suppose they took one of my children hostage?

In a situation like this, what good would shooting at inanimate targets do?

Capt. taught us some special new skills and terminology.

For example:

*clearing the house: making sure all areas are intruder-free

*pieing: clearing all unknown corners/hidden areas en route to the danger (a skill seen the world over in Hollywood action films)

*in a hostage situation, go for the head...otherwise, chest shots will neutralize the threat

*getting low (i.e. kneeling, crouching) is probably pointless because it reduces accuracy

All in all, it was a pretty intense time. Shooting a handgun is fun, but it gets a bit more serious when you throw in the possibility that one of your children is involved (albeit pretend). Anyway, Capt. had us run the gamut of the course, first pieing the bedroom-to-the-hallway corner, where there was an intruder. Two shots to the chest to neutralize the threat. Moving quickly down the hallway to the second corner in living room, pieing the unseen corner housing the front door and hall closet. Moving to the opening unto the kitchen, where two intruders awaited with a hostage (our son, Spencer). Two head shots to the main perpetrator, and two shots to the chest of the other.

Amazingly, between roughly five to six run throughs between Brent and I, Spencer was never touched. WE SAVED OUR SON'S LIFE! However, the dastardly intruders are unable to say the same - we pretty much drilled their asses.

Mrs. Tiki also ran the course too...and I gotta say, I wouldn't eff with her in a dark alley.

Other highlights:

1. Gun jammage.

2. Gun jammage during course run which led to Brent exclaiming, "Shit! Shit!" and him jumping back into cover (a very good thing to do, said Capt.)

3. Gun jammage in consequent runs by others leading to the exclaiming of "Shit! Shit!" followed by jumping back into cover.

4. Brent running the first time and jumping out into the hallway a la a cheesy, poorly-made action film with a gun in his hand (Think Kurt Russell in "Big Trouble in Little China").

Despite all this fun, another successful shooting session was accomplished. Funny thing, though, I was telling my mother about it - and she expressed an interest in trying to shoot sometime as well. Hmmmm....

My mom. With a gun. Film at eleven.

23 April 2009

One Decade Ago

Picture it. April 22, 1999.

I am nine-plus months pregnant. It's my first child, and I know it's a boy, and I know his name will be Spencer James.

My original due date was April 15, and that day has come and gone without so much as a water breaking, a single contraction, not even a mucous plug loss (tmi).

Without wanting to go ballistic too badly and rip my hair out, I barely can keep from screaming out loud, "Child! Come out! Why don't you want to meet us as much as we want to meet you?"

A week past the due date had gone by, and I was back at the doctor's for a postdate check. Everything was fine, but my anxiety must have been surely evident, as the doctor decided to schedule an induction the next morning.

I cannot remember what Brent and I did on our last "just us" night, or if we slept well or not , but I remember checking in to the hospital promptly at nine o'clock the next morning. Within a half hour, I was tucked into my own room, decked out in a hospital shift and a terry cloth robe (brought from home). Various tests were administered, IVs were hooked up, and an ointment whose name escapes me was applied to my cervix (to "ripen" it, according to the doctor, like I was a piece of fruit). The medical team could have probably taken out all my major organs and I could have cared less...I was meeting my son today!

The first few hours were spent excitedly playing board games with Brent, reading books, doing crossword puzzles...after all, I wasn't feeling anything yet, so needed some activity to pass the time. Even around dinnertime, nothing seemed to be happening. It was probably somewhere in the early evening when the Pitocin drip was administered, since obviously my body was not responding to the gentler methods of labor induction. Well, that little drug seemed to be the ticket, because the contractions started shortly afterwards. At first they were mild, and I nearly scoffed with laughter at those who said labor was scary and painful. Brent and I were able to get up, stroll the hallways, and I'd stop every now and then to wait for a nice, rolling contraction to pass.

Then, the fun began. Late in the evening, the pain kicked in and soon, I was leaning heavily on the wall to help the contraction pass. Brent applied pressure to my lower back in earnest to ease the hurt, but before long, that became an exercise in futility as well. I was crying, breathing, panting, and Brent flailed helplessly, doing the best he could to alleviate my suffering.

The worst news came at three in the morning, after I'd been in hard labor for about four hours: I was only dilated to 2 centimeters. All that work (it felt like to me), so little had been accomplished. I was ready to give up, and so I did something to this day I do not regret - I asked for the drugs.

The anesthesiologist became my new best friend. Shortly after the spinal injection, I blissfully fell asleep. Four hours of sleep did the trick. I woke at eight a.m., still feeling fine, but the nurses had news for me - I was fully dilated and ready to begin pushing. Bring it on, I thought.

I felt no sensation in my legs and lower body (that was some epidural!), which hindered my pushing, something I did not know at the time. The one step forward-two steps back cycle went on for about two and a half hours, and at 10:43 a.m. on April 23, Spencer James Nelson finally arrived in this world, much to his father's delight and mother's sheer exhaustion.

And it has been ten years since that day, and that little infant who, for several months, would only fall asleep if he were swaddled burrito-style, has now entered the double digits, and is well on his way to becoming a young man.

He is our eldest, our easy baby, our rough-and-tumble toddler, and the child whom I continue to be proud of every day. I watch him and marvel at what he can do, and count myself very lucky that he is part of my world.

Happy 10th Birthday, Spencer.

One Decade Ago

Picture it. April 22, 1999.

I am nine-plus months pregnant. It's my first child, and I know it's a boy, and I know its name will be Spencer James.

My original due date was April 15, and that day has come and gone without so much as a water breaking, a single contraction, not even a mucous plug loss (tmi).

Without wanting to go ballistic too badly and rip my hair out, I barely can keep from screaming out loud, "Child! Come out! Why don't you want to meet us as much as we want to meet you?"

A week past the due date had gone by, and I was back at the doctor's for a postdate check. Everything was fine, but my anxiety must have been surely evident, as the doctor decided to schedule an induction the next morning.

I cannot remember what Brent and I did on our last "just us" night, or if we slept well or not , but I remember checking in to the hospital promptly at nine o'clock the next morning. Within a half hour, I was tucked into my own room, decked out in a hospital shift and a terry cloth robe (brought from home). Various tests were administered, IVs were hooked up, and an ointment whose name escapes me was applied to my cervix (to "ripen" it, according to the doctor, like I was a piece of fruit). The medical team could have probably taken out all my major organs and I could have cared less...I was meeting my son today!

The first few hours were spent excitedly playing board games with Brent, reading books, doing crossword puzzles...after all, I wasn't feeling anything yet, so needed some activity to pass the time. Even around dinnertime, nothing seemed to be happening. It was probably somewhere in the early evening when the Pitocin drip was administered, since obviously my body was not responding to the gentler methods of labor induction. Well, that little drug seemed to be the ticket, because the contractions started shortly afterwards. At first they were mild, and I nearly scoffed with laughter at those who said labor was scary and painful. Brent and I were able to get up, stroll the hallways, and I'd stop every now and then to wait for a nice, rolling contraction to pass.

Then, the fun began. Late in the evening, the pain kicked in and soon, I was leaning heavily on the wall to help the contraction pass. Brent applied pressure to my lower back in earnest to ease the hurt, but before long, that became an exercise in futility as well. I was crying, breathing, panting, and Brent flailed helplessly, doing the best he could to alleviate my suffering.

The worst news came at three in the morning, after I'd been in hard labor for about four hours: I was only dilated to 2 centimeters. All that work (it felt like to me), so little had been accomplished. I was ready to give up, and so I did something to this day I do not regret - I asked for the drugs.

The anesthesiologist became my new best friend. Shortly after the spinal injection, I blissfully fell asleep. Four hours of sleep did the trick. I woke at eight a.m., still feeling fine, but the nurses had news for me - I was fully dilated and ready to begin pushing. Bring it on, I thought.

I felt no sensation in my legs and lower body (that was some epidural!), which hindered my pushing, something I did not know at the time. The one step forward-two steps back cycle went on for about two and a half hours, and at 10:43 a.m. on April 23, Spencer James Nelson finally arrived in this world, much to his father's delight and mother's sheer exhaustion.

And it has been ten years since that day, and that little infant who, for several months, would only fall asleep if he were swaddled burrito-style, has now entered the double digits, and is well on his way to becoming a young man.

He is our eldest, our easy baby, our rough-and-tumble toddler, and the child whom I continue to be proud of every day. I watch him and marvel at what he can do, and count myself very lucky that he is part of my world.

Happy 10th Birthday, Spencer.

21 April 2009

My Two-Day Birthday Celebration!

I've lived on this planet for thirty-four birthdays now, and so far, there are only about two of them I will remember on my deathbed.

I know I can't really be held accountable for my first five or so birthdays, and I'm sure they were really good, but there's no amount of clowns or puppets or Wonder Woman underwear that can really replace the memories of birthdays WHEN YOU'RE OLDER. I really can't explain my reasoning here, but I'm going to give up trying.

Anyway...the first one I remember was my 30th. My husband, who is not much of a liar, was able to keep from me a surprise party featuring not only several of our friends, but also my parents, who'd made the four-hour drive to surprise me as well. My entire dining room was done in red and yellow balloons, Brent had excellent party games for all of us to play, and he'd burned me a CD of my favorite songs.

The second one I will remember is my 34th. I know, I know...hardy har har har. You're thinking, of course, you'll remember it, it was just yesterday. Well, naturally. Like I said earlier though, I'll remember it on my deathbed as well. Shall I recap?

Sunday

1. First of all, it was my husband's idea to skip church. Absolutely decadent.

2. We took the kids out on the bike trail near our house for a 40 minute walk. Good weather, good exercise, good conversation time with my husband.

3. My in-laws took us out to lunch (their idea ).

4. My mom and I did another two miles of trail walking.

5. I opened my presents and I got a juicer!!! So we spent some time playing around with that (only orange juice...that was the only fruit our fridge had at the time).

6. I went over to the school and did my substitute plans for Monday.

7. When I got home, a couple of our friends had come over for DnD, and they brought tons of fruit with them...as a birthday present to me (Brent and pre-infomed them about the juicer).

8. We began a kick-ass session of Dungeons and Dragons. In the middle of this, we ate sloppy joes, and I opened my presents from my friends. Mrs. Jones knitted my a scarf (OMG! So beautiful!) and Kimba got me a book "101 Things You Didn't Know About Jane Austen" ) I love my friends.

9. In bed by ten o clock.

Monday

1. I took a personal day to keep on celebrating. Woke up as usual, had usual breakfast, took dog for usual walk, got kids up per usual routine. But then, instead of hustling off to work, I drove the Kia to Grimes (an hour+ away) to be serviced.

2. Waited in Grimes for an hour and a half. Read some of my book club book.

3. Went to lunch at Jimmy John's...an excellent sub shop.

4. Spent a very memorable afternoon, including a browsing at Borders, puppy shopping at PetSmart, and other heres and theres.

5. Stopped by ice cream, drove home, had a quick supper, and waved goodbye to my children as they joined their dad at a Parent-Teacher meeting (they love playing in the gym).

6. I got my nails done to go with my pedicure from Saturday.

All in all, a two-day birthday celebration, and it was all very good. To all of you involved, you made my day(s) very special and one I will not forget for a very, very long time...like the day I die, and even that's negotiable.

Thank you.

02 April 2009

Have Watched 'Twilight'


I've read two of the four books, and now have watched the movie.

I definitely get it. I see why teenage girls (and maybe even some moms) across the world have 'Edward' posters pasted all over their rooms and why they've watched the movie about 25 times already. Edward is hot, there is a lot of heavy breathing and meaningful glances and excellently timed music; it is, no doubt, the stuff young girls' romantic dreams are made of.

As for me, I will maybe watch it one more time, to pick up anything new that I missed while I was making fun of it last night.

The Joneses, Kimba, and Pam came over to watch as well, and I will safely say that it is near impossible to watch a movie with those ladies without morphing into the hosts from MST 3000. And I loved every moment!

Considering the book is a lot of deep conversation and charged stares, the movie does a decent job of cutting some of this out. So, in exchange for the truth of the book, the director/producer felt the need to insert some other extras that were not true to the book, such as: a disturbing little "taunt the guy in the wheelchair" scene and a completely unnecessary field trip to a compost(?) site.

On top of this, Edward was not as compelling in the movie as he was in the book. The book did a great job of gradually (sort of) developing the Bella-Edward relationship. The movie: not as well. Here's the nutshell.

B: Who's that?
Friends: Edward Cullen - hot, but weird.
B: OK, I'll stay away but I can't help staring.

...

E: Stares and grimaces at her during Bio class. Appears to hate her guts.
B: WTF?

...

B: How did you save me?
E: I'm not telling, get used to disappointment.

E: I'm the bad guy, I'm a monster.
B: So? You're still hot.

...

B: I know what you are.
E: Say it. (Weird, he forces her verbally acknowledge his condition)
B: Vampire. I'm not afraid, though.
E: You have no idea how much I want your blood.
B:

Not that any of this is realistic, but of course, the book did it better.

But, naturally, you all know that goes.

17 March 2009

Parents: Peruse This Primer

Went a-visiting with some friends in Minnesota this weekend. Found this gem among some professional training papers...it is totally everything parents (new and old) need to know.

Children Learn What They Live

If children live with criticism,
they learn to condemn.

If children live with hostility,
they learn to fight.

If children live with ridicule,
they learn to be shy.

If children live with shame,
they learn to feel guilty.

If children live with tolerance,
they learn to be patient.

If children live with encouragement,
they learn confidence.

If children live with praise,
they learn to appreciate.

If children live with fairness,
they learn justice.

If children live with security,
they learn to have faith.

If children live with approval,
they learn to like themselves.

If children live with acceptance and friendship,
they learn to find love in the world.

Dorothy Law Nolte

28 February 2009

Super. Market. Saturday.

Indeed.

For over a month now, I've had my sights set on visiting the year-round Farmer's Market in Ames, Iowa. This plan agreed with me in many ways...first of all, it's our old stomping grounds and full of great memories, second of all, Brent was going anyways for his Master's classes, and third of all, it would provide a chance to visit Wheatsfield Grocery Store (a co-op). There were numerous other reasons, but there is only so much time and space in this world.

The outdoor portion of the FM has been in existence since 1973, but the indoor part (the only part open this time of year) has only been available since November 2007. The space was small and cozy, and plenty of people available to ask questions. There were a multitude of products available, including soups and dips, meats (duck, goat, pork, beef), eggs, mushrooms, a veritable selection of breads, rolls, buns, jams, jellies, sauces, and seasonings. All of these things were homegrown, handmade, free-range, antibiotic-free, natural, and LOCAL! In addition, there was some beautiful handmade jewelry, trinkets, and crafts. Glorious!

I simply was unable to help myself. I purchased an whole duck, four pounds of ground pork, sausage seasonings, two goat sticks, a nice, round loaf of Italian herb bread, a bar of homemade soap, a sampling of reduced-sugar fudge, a package of sandwich sprouts, and some bracelets. All of this treasure - and I still came in under sixty dollars. The payout is much more for me, though. I bought healthier, simpler, and I boosted the local economy.

I walked out of there feeling positively giddy. It's too bad this place is an hour and forty five minutes away...I'd go every weekend if I could. I especially enjoyed talking to the ladies who run the place, and who, incidentally, provide all of the goods. They were knowledgeable, friendly, and full of suggestions. How often do you run across clerks or shelf stockers who have that kind of relationship with their products?

Like I'd be able to go Walmart or HyVee and buy "Twin Girls' Garden" ground pork, and actually be able to talk to one of the "Twin Girls." Like I'd be able to go to either one of those places and take a suggestion about growing my own sandwich sprouts from the lady who raised the ground pork I'll fix for my family later this week.

Gives a new meaning to "helpful smile in every aisle."

19 February 2009

Childhood Movie Memories Come Full Circle

Remember the first time you watched The Karate Kid?

Boy, I sure do.

This was a few months before I started really liking boys, so the Ralph Macchio appeal was not there yet. What I loved most about that movie was the fact that, after watching it, I innately KNEW karate. If I simply copied Danielsan's "paint the fence" or "sand the floor", I too would be able to compete in the All-Valley Karate Tournament.

Not only that, though, I also would face my nemesis, Johnny of the Cobra Kais, and defeat him despite having an injured leg. In the end, I would get the girl and the respect of my archenemy.

(And of course, after that, my mentor would choose me to accompany him to Okinawa, where I would learn "beat the drum" and defeat an authentic karate guy, as opposed to a Californian wannabe.)

Ahh, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. Who can forget the bitter disappointment when "wax the car" actually was useless in combat? Or when the sublime "crane technique" was way harder than it looked? That was probably my first disillusionment with Hollywood. Alas...

And now, history repeats itself. My nine-year-old has just finished reading "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" and is now frolicking about the house, screaming "Expecto Patronum" and "Expelliarmus" and "Riddikulus" at top volume. While brandishing a ball-point "wand", I might add here. And the kid fully expects these spells to manifest. It's sad, yes, and yet, I am filled with a sense of deja vu.

So while his spell-yellings have not produced a Patronus, Spencer is learning this morning that it immensely annoys his brother and sister (working a special kind of magic, I guess), and that he is one spell away from a kick to the goolies.

The magic of childhood.

15 February 2009

Censorship

I have wanted to watch the movie "Quills" for a long time. So, a couple of months back I put it on my Netflix queue and waited. Until this weekend.

Brief Synopsis: Geoffrey Rush plays the Marquis de Sade, an author who is somehow penning and publishing smut novels from inside the walls of Charenton Insane Asylum. Kate Winslet is the innocent laundrymaid who is friends with the Marquis and smuggles his manuscripts to the outside world. Joaquin ( ) Phoenix is the benevolent Abbe to Coulmier, who runs the place, and actually treats his patients with compassion, and is secretly in love with Kate Winslet. Michael Caine is the bad guy, Dr. Royer-Collard, who's come in to shut de Sade down on behalf of The Emperor (Napoleon), who feels France should not be subject to the evils that pour from de Sade's pen.

Throughout the story, de Sade's means of writing are slowly stripped away. First, his quills and ink are removed, so he uses a chicken bone and wine, blood and glass shards, and at the end, his own feces. His last tale is telegraphed through the inmates, and transcribed by Winslet. However, the tale is so evocative, and several of the inmates are incited to acts of destruction and violence (ending in Winslet's death). de Sade's tongue is cut out, and he dies soon after that. Phoenix eventually goes nuts, and becomes an resident of his own institution. Caine then runs the asylum with a free, and cruel, hand.

This story was sad on so many levels. First of all, how those in power obviously underestimate the common people. Because of a fear of who-knows-what, the French government sought to keep de Sade's "filth" out of the hands of the masses, fearing just what exactly?

Second, the development of Phoenix's character. In the beginning, he was an optimistic young Abbe who actually cared about his patients' well-being. In the end, his compassion led to his undoing. Moral: Being a good person doesn't always pay off, and sometimes really good people can get really screwed over.

Ultimately, I think censorship is a no-win situation. It gives a inflated sense of authority to those in power, and it undermines the power of the human mind. I think people have an innate right to ideas, and people should have the right to express themselves (in the case of de Sade, the more his right was stripped, the more violent his stories became). That's not to say free speech should go unchecked..I don't believe that either.

There's got to be the free circulation of words and ideas, as well as the education and teaching of prudence and moderation. When it is wise to speak your mind? When is it appropriate to express yourself? When will doing so help you achieve your goal? That is what society needs to learn.

A couple of sayings come to mind when I watched this film: Reap what you sow, and evil sows its own seeds of destruction. So true. I would recommend this film, although it is not for the weak-constituted. It's been a long time since I've watched a film that I couldn't stop thinking about afterwards.

11 February 2009

What Does One Feed The AntiChrist?

This week's dilemma: Snacks for the Antichrist.

I host my Universal Khaki book club this coming Sunday, and we are wrapping up discussion on Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's "Good Omens." When I host, I like going with a book-related theme when it comes to the food. You should have seen what I served when we read "Just Do It: How One Couple Turned Off the TV and Turned On Their Sex Lives for 101 Days".

As I peruse through my collection of cookbooks, here are the recipes which come to mind as food suitable (or not, maybe) for the Great Adversary.

1. Deviled Eggs
2. Angel Food Cake
3. Devil's Food Cake
4. Heavenly Cake
5. Ambrosia
6. Witches' Brew
7. Heavenly Hash Browns
8. Divinity
9. Angel Pie
10. Angel Dessert
11. Angel's Delight

To be honest, though, serving the Antichrist a dessert titled "Angel Pie" is quite ironic, bordering sacreligious. Some of the recipe names need changing, I think. Here we go...

1. Deviled Eggs
2. Angel Food Cake = Great Beast Cake
3. Devil's Food Cake
4. Heavenly Cake = Armageddon Cake
5. Ambrosia = Ambrosia
6. Witches' Brew
7. Heavenly Hash Browns = Revelations 6:6 Hash Browns
8. Divinity = Evil-inty
9. Angel Pie = Spawn of Satan Pie
10. Angel Dessert = Beelzebub's Favorite
11. Angel's Delight = Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse's Delight

Cool.

31 January 2009

If You Want To View Paradise

simply look around and view it.

Most of you, I'm sure, are familiar with the Gene Wilder version of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". I love the scene when the kids first enter the factory's main room...when I was a kid, I was enamored by the giant gummy bears, lollipops, and edible cream mushrooms. I wanted to be Veruca Salt or Violet Beauregarde...I certainly would have been more appreciative.

Anyway, as you get older, and the love handles get more pronounced, you don't think so much about the candy anymore (much). Instead, you listen to Gene, singing about paradise, and chuckling as the man ever-so-nonchalantly takes a bite out of a edible daffodil/teacup.

And then, on a day like today, you think maybe you know what old Gene was talking about. Or least his songwriters.

Today is the last day in January here in Iowa. It's cold and the snow is still several inches evident. However, the skies are blue, the sun is shining brightly, and the roads are mostly clear. While yes, we are still bundled up very tightly in our coats and scarves, there is a hint of Spring in the air. The air has changed; I can feel it. Maybe the moisture has returned. I don't know meteorology, but change is coming. It is imminent.

So, while the outside environment is unfolding as it should, so is the inside. My house right now has the quiet hum that indicates everything is doing the things they should. The laundry machine, the furnace, and the children's downstairs chatter all lend to that happy household harmonic symphony. After I finish this post, I will recline on my couch and complete my reading before Universal Khaki tonight (an activity I haven't done for some time). Later this afternoon, the family and I will trek over to the Joneses' house and discuss the book, while making bread together, while learning about handguns.

Right now, I live in paradise, and I'm simply looking around to view it. I can't explain how big my heart is.

It's one of those moments when my blog title truly has meaning.

20 January 2009

Thoughts On The 44th President

Mr Barack Obama was sworn in today as our 44th President, and I think I'm not alone when I say that he carries, for me, hope for the future.

I pray that he is able to fulfill everything he intends and doesn't disappoint us.

I pray that he can lift this country out of its economic funk and create promising futures for Americans.

I pray he doesn't get lost in the undertow of shady politics and sneaky Capitol Hill dealings.

I pray he gives America faith in itself again.

I fully realize the important historical time for us in this country, and it is a very exciting thing to be here at this moment. I feel as if we are standing at the edge of an enormous precipice...one false move and we damage ourselves beyond repair. So, I will end the serious portion of my entry with a message for my fellow Americans: don't mess it up for Obama. Let him do his job. OK?

Let's all play in the sandbox nicely.

Now, for the more important bits of discussion. The Inaugural Lunch. What does one serve the first African-American President and his wife? I've included here a list of the Top Five No-no Foods.

1. Crab Legs: Tasty, yes. Elegant, no. There is no way to eat this food and look sophisticated.

2. Fried Chicken: Again, similar reasoning to #1. Fried chicken is a bone-sucking finger food. Mr. President would look idiotic trying to eat fried chicken with his fancy Mikasa cutlery.

3. Peanut Butter: Too common, and yes, we really don't want to risk salmonella poisoning the President.

4. Soup of any kind: If President and First Lady Obama are anything like my friend Molly, they won't be able to avoid soup dribblage somewhere on their nice outfit. I do suppose, however, the problem could be solved with a Tide-to-Go pen...

5. Beets. As having been recorded as a staunch dislike of the President, it would behoove the chef to not serve these vegetables. Just a thought...

Second, in between the Swearing In, the Lunch, and the Ball tonight, Mr. President had a few hours at his disposal. What do you suppose he did? Did he go arrange his desk in the Oval Office? Did he hold a staff meeting? Or, did he tell everyone to sod off and go take a nap?

Hopefully, if he's smart, he did number three. I mean, I would. He's got a big job, might as well get all the sleep he can.

17 January 2009

Date Movie Of 1991

1991 - I was a mere sophomore in high school. My dad was just letting me ride in cars with boys, and spend time with them in darkened movie theaters.

The big date movie of 1991 was "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves." Guys who wanted to score serious boyfriend points took their significant others to this one. And...it was a win-win situation all around. There was enough intrigue for guys and girls. Of course, girls loved the romance of Robin Hood and Maid Marian. Guys gravitated to all the fighting and bow-twanging. There was something for everyone - all parties were happy. And let's not forget the song! Bryan Adams' "Everything I do, I do it for you." The theme song of proms the entire world over.

Oh, and the single most important reason to love this movie? Early 1990's Christian Slater. The hottest guy on the planet at that time. Mmmmmm...

****Excuse me...did it just get really warm in here all of a sudden?

Anyway...

However, I did not care for Kevin Costner in the lead role. First of all, he's not manly enough for me. Second, he's supposed to be English, so why did he not once speak with a British accent?

Fast-forward eighteen years. This movie still rocks. Why, you ask?

1. First of all, the song is still good.

2. Kevin Costner still sucks.

3. Morgan Freeman is one of my favorite actors, and to see him in this early piece is just freakin' awesome.

4. OK, so my Christian Slater phase has passed since 1991, but he's still precious.

5. Severus Snape plays the Sheriff of Nottingham. Sweet!

6. Maid Marian's hair is still gorgeous.

7. The battle scenes are still cool.

8. My kids liked it.

Go out and rent it right now. Or download it and watch it. Or put in your Netflix queue. Or YouTube it. Whatever it is that we didn't have back in 1991.

11 January 2009

January Full Moon

The first full moon of the year goes by many names: Winter Moon, Cold Moon, Moon of the Terrible, Quiet Moon, Wolf Moon, and Ice Moon.

Without a doubt, us four witches were feeling that last night. Especially the cold part. Like troopers, we met last night to honor the Goddess, during her time of rest and rejuvenation. In addition, last night was book club, and so Universal Khaki (plus my seven-year-old daughter) celebrated both. Handwarmers and space heaters were in abundance.

The moon was at its perigee last night, making it the biggest and brightest of the year. We certainly marveled at the luminescence she cast on the new-fallen snow, and I especially was awed by the sublime beauty of the stark, white snow and dark, bleak shapes of the bare trees.

We all agreed that this is a good month for reflection and introspection, and Her light reminds us that warmer weather is on its way. We, little by little, begin the climb out of the dark half of the year. And that is comforting. We wistfully spoke of warmer weather and the non-need for coats, gloves, boots, scarves, hats, and totally unsexy coveralls. We also reread our December goals, discussed if they had come to fruition or not (mine had), burned them, and wrote new goals for January.

Book club discussion was short and terse, having just finished Frewin Jones's "The Faerie Path." After two hours, we agreed to adjourn somewhere warmer...somewhere Kimba could demonstrate the awesomeness of her new Tarot cards (Celtic - in the shape of circles!).

The reading she did for me, which was very interesting, will be the topic of the next entry.


Tarot - The Triskele

Last night's reading was done by my friend, Kimba, who used her new Celtic cards. The seven-card spread was called a Triskele, which can be used for guidance, discovering inner desires, etc.

Position 1: You at the moment. Card: Torc - symbolizes wealth, money matters, and status. This was a fitting card since money has been on my mind so much, and we have done a lot of number crunching around here to make sure we'll survive as an one-income family next fall.

Position 2: Your Heart's Desire. Card: The Bear - symbolizes strength and hard work. Things will be tough going, but will end in success. Essentially, my heart's desire is that this change I'm making in my life will be worth it in the end. Since the Bear also represents rest and hibernation, I also desire sleep.

Position 3: First Step to Realizing the Dream. Card: Solar Wheel - which represents change and the turning of the sun, the seasons, and life itself. Change is inevitable and not to be feared. I need to forgive my own flaws, embrace change, stay positive, and be patient with the ups and downs of life.

Position 4: Possible hindrances. Card: Blodeuwedd - she is the intimate soulmate who acts as guardian of secrets. This was a tough one to decipher, but the best interpretation I came up with is that maybe the hindrance is myself, since who's more intimate with me than me? Maybe the hindrance comes from my own hangups and issues, and I need to resolve them to be successful.

Position 5: Possible Help. Card: Cuchulain - the warrior. This card acts as the old-fashioned hero to chivalrously steps to fight battles and take over. I definitely see this as my husband, who may (subconsciously) demand more "wifely" behaviors when I stay home with Elliot next fall. The card reminds me to also be the warrior and stand up to him if I feel I'm being trod upon. I figure this card will help me figure out my true calling, while allowing me to still be me.

Position 6: Future Prospects. Card: The Stag - the male deer symbolizes elusiveness, escape. He reminds me that my own safety is important and that it's OK to run away. I personally understood this to mean that it's all right to run away from jobs I don't feel called to do...if and when I return to the workforce.

Position 7: Result. Card: The Spring - symbolizing the deep reaches of the inner self, renewal, insight, reflection. This card advised me to keep track of all my ideas, insights, and impressions...contributing to a positive, inspirational life outlook. Again, this card mentions getting enough sleep.

So...yeah, an interesting read for sure. It seems to validate and encourage the decisions I'm making. Cool!

03 January 2009

Page Of Wands

OK, I believe that the universe tries to communicate with us in different ways. Some of those ways like tarot, palm reading, chakras, and divination get dismissed as too New Age and artsy-fartsy. That's too bad, because a majority of the planet is missing out on what could be some important information.

Mrs. Jones was kind enough to lend me her Rider-Waite tarot cards and her tarot interp book (a friend who lends is a friend indeed). With a little free time today, I flipped through the book. A few moments ago, I thought I'd attempt to do a "reading." So I shuffled the cards, and through my clumsy fingers, a lone card fell. Following the advice of the book, I decided to check out the significance of that card. Very interesting stuff.

Page of Wands

Person Type: Outspoken, direct, charismatic, high-strung, blunt, instinctive, easily bored, sexual, progressive, future-oriented, sportive, subject to wandering, and sometimes edgy or lackadaisical.

***OK, easily eight of those adjectives could be me.

The author then breaks the tarot's meaning down into 32 different category, like love, finances, home, travel, etc. Here was the big eye-opener!

Desire: You want things to change and to break free of oppression or stagnation in business/job or a find a solution to problems.

***Wow. Is this the topic looming at the forefront of my mind recently or what?

Other points of interest...

Papers: You will promote a new enterprise that involved papers and it should be successful because the public will readily accept or purchase your product.

Special Guidance: Change is in the air, and new approach is at hand. This could come through a friend who will help you "see the light" or attain a new perspective.

Pretty cool, huh?