Also true

In last night's dream, I told a friend about a dream.

True story

Last night I dreamed that I was sleeping.

incredible book

...unfortunately one of those things that make me despair of ever making something worthwhile myself! just LOOK at this!

Really, the only possible flaw is that the type is not embroidered, too.

separated at birth: music edition

Sometimes I mix up Jack Johnson and Jason Mraz. Am I a bad person?

Try this jewelry

http://jmnt.me/hGyfSR

(no commitment necessary)

(don't like it? no harm, no foul)

Spider Mating Dance

too funny -- how does evolution come up with these things??? Good stuff starts at around 2 minutes.

too lazy to look it up

Ordinals question: why are the ordinal forms of "one" and "two" "first" and "second"? (instead of, say Onth and Twain or whatever)

what are the roots of "first" and "second," I guess is my question.

books and TV

still loving John Adams -- and being entertained by hints of Jefferson, too:

Alone is his upstairs parlor at Seventh and Market, Jefferson went to work, seated in an unusual revolving Windsor chair and holding on his lap a portable writing box, a small folding desk of his own design which, like the chair, he had had specially made for him by a Philadelphia cabinetmaker.

At which point, of course, I had to put the book down and find this video:

and bless, again, Dame Maggie Smith.

music tastes: a taste

I still haven't gotten very far in sorting out my thoughts about good/bad music, etc., let alone writing them down.

But here's a quote from Tina Fey (she was responding to a man saying women aren't funny):

“It is an impressively arrogant move to conclude that just because you don’t like something, it is empirically not good. I don’t like Chinese food, but I don’t write articles trying to prove it doesn’t exist.”

So that's sort of my riff when it comes to music collections and value and time. More to come (honest).

I'm such a sap

but this is so awesome:

Surprise song trio

The wood song
Wooden ships
Woodstock


- BlogPress from my iPhone

morning bird report

Our juncos are still in town (yay! I love their coloring and spunk), the goldfinches joined us a week or two ago, and this morning we have house finches. I've heard the nuthatches in the neighborhood, but they may be mad at us for taking down the trees, I haven't seen them.

font decisions

this is awesome:


http://julianhansen.com/files/infographiclarge_v2.png

what he said

You know what interferes with my writing? Good writers.

Because I read something like this, from Ryan O'Connell (requoted by Andrew Sullivan, as usual):

Here’s what it comes down to: Any victim of sexual assault is in no way responsible for the attack. “Oh, I apologize that my super cute dress from Zara caused you to force yourself on me. Next time I’ll wear a burka!” As fucking if. How does anyone expect women to advance as a gender if we subscribe to these rules?

and I think, Ditto. Why come up with my own screed when someone has already done it so well? (I'm thinking of you, Tracy -- ditto to everything you write...)

I mean, really

I was just googling whether the post office will close if the govt shuts down.

WTF, if the govt SHUTS DOWN???

How is this something that any sane person will accept?

How are we not fomenting revolution a la Adams and Jefferson?

We have water treatment plants, roads, mail, hospitals, snow removal, police and fire -- all paid for by our taxes and set up long ago. The idiots don't need to even think about that stuff.

So they can use our money to bomb Libya and limit abortion rights, BUT THEY CAN'T BALANCE A FRICKING BUDGET?????

you know what else?

Why do we have such a bunch of idiots in our government that they can't just run something that's totally been set up for them for years? And why are we so blithely letting them stay there?

(and yes, I mean all of them. beloved obama is pissing me off)

what is opinion, what is truth, what is good, what is popular

Freddie Deboer, requoted by Andrew Sullivan (re-requoted by me):

I worry about the urge towards conformity. I worry about Twitter. I worry that all of those retweets and all of those "right on"s contribute to a kind of coarse postmodernism, where what the truth becomes what is most agreed on. I worry that dissent is confused with a lack of etiquette. And I particularly worry about the echo chamber effect, and the way that small groups of people who are just like each other can come to think of themselves as representing the opinions of everyone.

I'm thinking of a reply post to Tracy's "music machine" (http://bighipsopeneyes.blogspot.com/2011/04/music-machine.html), about changing tastes (through time, through our lives) and why we devalue things in our past. Whether music that is loved is good by definition. Whether someone (anyone, even a music connoisseur) is justified in throwing someone else's CD out the window.

Stay tuned... 

Snap Time!

I'm going to have to make a special snap category just for the new york times, they've been messing up so often! Is it budget cuts?

Today's online front page story:

"The United States Supreme Court on Tuesday morning granted a temporary stay of execution to Cleve Foster, a former Army recruiter convicted of killing a woman he met in a Fort Worth bar who was scheduled to be executed Tuesday evening in Texas. It is the second time he has been spared hours before his appointed death by the Supreme Court."

what a coincidence! he met a woman who was scheduled to be executed, too?!

good news in sunglasses

I just read on The Sartorialist that Wayfarers are back! They are my all-time favorite sunglasses style.


http://www.thesartorialist.com/photos/22511GDlaugh0468Web1.jpg

Snap Time!

I am disheartened to give a sad snap to David McCullough (and his copyeditors):

"...Adams was Jefferson's senior, both in years and political experience."

On the bright side, the book correctly spells the possessive of Adams.

book report

A year or two ago, I downloaded John Adams by David McCullough on my kindle-for-iphone. I knew I wasn't up to reading it right away, but that someday I would be.

This past weekend, I had lunch with my WONDERFUL dear friend Stephanie. We hadn't seen each other in a few years, and I was thrilled to spend a couple of hours with her over Turkish food.

She is perhaps the most constant reader I know, and when we were trading recommendations, I mentioned that I wasn't in a reading mood right now (a feeling foreign to her). But when she start talking about one book, discovery of witches, I thought it sounded good, and wrote it down...

but then she said, "and then she meets the vampire!"

so I just can't stomach another vampire book

found myself disappointed and started to get the reading craving again

but it was after bedtime and I didn't want to turn the light on and bother Bob

so I trolled my iphone for entertainment

took a deep breath, and started John Adams

No surprise—I love it. The story—so iconic, yet so foreign—of our years of struggling for independence should be revisited more often. (I find many parallels today, in my disagreements with our government.) But most riveting is the love story—the clear conclusion that Abigail's influence was vital to John's success, and that her intelligence and wit were of utmost allure.

McCullough, it hardly needs to be said, writes so wonderfully that I am gripped by every paragraph.

our pets, ourselves

A few weeks ago, I blogged about the death of my sister’s cat Leia. As kittens, Leia and her brother Luke were Christmas presents from me to my niece (Olivia) and my nephew (Andrew). After a long puzzling illness, Leia had a stroke and was euthanized. She was 10.

(Note to medical copy editors: “euthanized” is considered the verb of choice when discussing veterinary matters, unlike laboratory matters.)

Olivia was 5 when Leia joined the household, and because the kittens were a girl and a boy, they were generally regarded as belonging to the same-sex child—Luke was Andrew’s and Leia was Olivia’s. Of course, both were everyone’s, and have been loved by all, but the focus of grief after Leia’s death has to be on Olivia.

The night they went to the vet to put Leia to sleep, Olivia stayed with her mother and the cat through the whole process. Elizabeth was very proud of how Olivia handled herself and stuck it out. Although she is only 16, Olivia is wise in many ways, and Elizabeth and I agreed that although this scene was very difficult, it was good that Olivia witness it, that she was old enough to understand and handle it.

(When I was 16, my dog Black Jack had to be put to sleep—I declined to go with my mother that night, and I’ve always regretted it. I should have been there.)

Last week, it was my turn. After several years of declining health, Bella had a stroke on Tuesday. I came home to find her able to stand if I gave her a boost, but unable to swallow or walk. I’m not sure she could see, although she seemed to know when I was next to her.

I called Bob, who rushed home, and the vet. I took Bella outside in the sunshine while we waited for Bob. I told her what a beautiful girl she was, how much I loved my Bella, and I radiated as much gratitude as I could. She was confused and upset, but I felt her respond with my presence and attention. I was able to say goodbye.

me and Bella waiting for Bob to come home

The vet was great. Bob was great. The end was easy and peaceful. I am confident that I did the right thing. I have known for a long time that this day was near, and I had thought a lot about whether I would know for sure that it was time for Bella to die. These events were so clear that I just felt grateful to her and the universe for not making me guess.

I don’t want to give the impression that I was unaffected. I cried—a lot. I cried the most when the final IV was going into her leg. That surprised me, that last rush of emotion. The loss of my Bella, of her presence, her (?) soul.

And I miss her.

But I am okay, and I will be okay.

* * *

Olivia is a good writer, and a month or two ago, she started a blog. Then after Leia died, she did not write any posts for a while (understandably). Last week, she wrote a short paragraph saying how her outlook had changed, that her sense of hope and her view of the future had changed, that she had struggled with the idea of letting go (of Leia, I infer).

This post surprised me. I knew she was grieving over Leia, obviously, but I had forgotten what it’s like to be 16. I had forgotten that at one time, my views of life and death were not so codified (my own code, not someone else’s, but a code nonetheless). I had forgotten that every experience is new, when you are that young. And although Olivia is a wise 16, she remains an adolescent who is just learning about the ups and downs of these earthly days.

And so I turn back to myself—my 44-year-old self, not the enshrouded, scared 16-year-old I once was—and wonder how Bella’s life and death have changed me.

But first I keep coming back to one important difference that divides these experiences. Bella was 16 and had lived a full life; she still had good days, but mostly she was in pain with arthritis and could not hear or see well. Her life was, truly, over. I had given her all I could.

Bella and Smokey

Leia was still young, so the pain of her death is compounded by the unfairness of disease and fate. When a grandmother in her 80s dies, it is sad but within the norm. When an aunt in her 40s dies (as my Aunt Sarah did), it is sadness exponentially wrenched by unfairness.

Bella has been my companion, my child, and my responsibility; I had the primary role in optimizing her life and death. I am at peace.

Olivia’s role in Leia’s life and death was circumscribed by her age and position—she was Leia’s playmate, not parent, and responsibility for Leia’s care was not primarily hers. Can she view Leia’s death as anything other than tragedy, the loss of a friend too soon? I know that she will think about these things for many years.

How do we reconcile the love we have for our pets with the knowledge that their lives are so short compared with ours?

As much as I sift these thoughts around and around, I can’t get beyond the trite truth: I do it by knowing that when I had the chance, I gave of my time and love to make Bella’s stay here better.

grammar question

I guess I could look this up but instead I'm sending it out to you all for arbitration.

I just said to someone, "Can I entrust this with you?"

Leaving aside that the spoken word gets more leeway than the written, was my grammar correct? Or is only "Can I entrust you with this?" correct?

thanks

fear of AWK

As a teenager and young adult, I was terrified of people. People I knew, people I didn't know, people in my family -- all potential subjects for e-m-b-a-r-r-a-s-s-i-n-g.

I actually used to recite those letters in the moments after a perceived embarrassing encounter. Spelling it over and over to myself. I'm sure this helped my self-esteem.

Yeah. (I say again, thank you, prozac.)

My high school English teacher used to mark run-on or clunky phrases with "AWK." Too true.

The article linked below gave me one of those oh-so-rare "someone managed to put into words exactly what I feel all the time!"

http://www.theawl.com/2011/03/i-can-awkward

Less so these days, but still, fear of AWK applies.