Thoor Ballylee and Coole Park

William Butler Yeats lived in this tower with his wife and children between 1918 and 1929.


Frenchclass: can you decipher this? Do not cheat with a translator! I could get the gist of it, except for certain vocabulary that we haven't covered, possibly from the "Norman castle of Thoor Ballylee" chapter, which is probably a second year topic. Perhaps Madame Professeur will decipher it in class next year. *



There are four levels, sort of, in the tower. This bridge was blown up during the civil war in Ireland, which began after the Easter Rising of 1916.

The civil war brought action to this part of County Galway. Look how close the bridge is to the house...

This is the first floor, with fireplace and living area.

The tower's origins are not known, but are said to be of Norman origin, built in the 16th century. It certainly looks like it was built for defense, with tiny windows all over the place just large enough to shoot arrows from.

The snug bedroom, again, with fireplace.


Adorable castle-y door.


This would have been a child's dream playhouse, with all of the miniature spaces and corridors that lead to windows and hiding places. It would not have been a dream for the parents of small children. Here is the spiralling stone staircase of dizzying, serious head injury potential:


I would hate to have been the one to haul firewood to each room, but I would have been first to volunteer to clean the roof. Check out the view:


These are my adorable friends. They are sweet and impossibly youthful.


What is Coole Park? It is the homesite of Lady Gregory, Yeats' patron and friend. It's just a few kilometers (and miles) from Thoor Ballylee. The home was torn down as a result of backlash against large landholders, but the site is still there. There is a giftshop and teashop in the old stables, and gardens to wander.



This is the autograph tree, where Lady Gregory encouraged her visitors to carve their initials in the bark of a Copper Beech, behind us.


Can you make out W...B...Y?

Yeah, me neither, from this photograph.

This is George Bernard Shaw's, and you can definitely see a large "G" and a "B" and kind of the "S". Luckily, he made these letters large.


The group of writers which passed in and through Lady Gregory's life read like a list of the greatest writers of the era: J.M. Synge, Sean O'Casey, George Moore, Shaw, Yeats, Tennyson, and the like. What an incredible gathering.

The experience of visiting the land where Yeats walked, where he wrote, was difficult to describe. Inspiring? Yes, but that is not even close.

Yeats came from a family that was Anglo-Irish, meaning Protestant. He established the Abbey Theater with Lady Gregory.

There is so much to read, so much to learn!

The Wild Swans at Coole

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold,
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still

----- Yeats

* The text reads as follows: "En Irlande, nombre histoires sont cachées dans les ruines conquises par le lierre, dans les châteaux effondrés, dans les tours décapitees, gris vestiges d'une grandeur passée parmi lesquels errent des chouettes inquiètes et des fontomes inapaisés. Thoor Ballylee résiste à la'assaut du temps, fière et orgueilleuse, préservant dans ses murs des souvenirs envoûtants. C'est au-delà d'un vieux pont traversant la rivière que le poete William Butler Yeats a connu etre 1918 et 1928 les moments les plus heureux de sa vie sentimentale et artistique. Thoor Ballylee devient pour le poète un lieu d'epanouissement, mais aussi le symbole puissant de son enracinement, de son amour irrévocable pour son..."

Baile na Coiribe

Student housing is located in a place called Corrib Village (Baile na Coiribe in Irish) on the edge of campus. There are dozens of buildings like this one, each group with a courtyard and painted in its very own pastel shade. These are available for self-catering over the summer. I've heard so many different languages while walking around through the village.


The walk up to the back gate is bordered by dense forest. You can see why the gates are closed at 11 pm and why you might not want to find yourself here alone at dark.


La Cuisine:


When I take a shower, this is what I see. I can look at the River Corrib and whoever happens to be walking by on the river path.


My room is small so I decided I could store my giganto suitcase here:


The river path heads north about a mile before it ends at a game field. Along the way there are put-in points for boats. I've gone for runs along this course and usually there are rowing teams out along with some people in a motorboat following behind, screaming at them with a bullhorn.

Tomorrow is the first field trip, to Coole Park, once the home of William Butler Yeats, and Thoor Ballylee, the tower home that Yeats bought and restored in order to live there from 1919 - 1929.



Under my window ledge the waters race,
Otters below and moor-hens on the top,
Run for a mile undimmed in Heaven's face,
Then darkening through 'dark' Raftery's 'cellar' drop,
Run underground, rise in a rocky place
In Coole demesne, and there to finish up
Spread to a lake and drop into a hole.
What's water but the generated soul?'


----- W.B. Yeats 'Coole Park and Ballylee, 1931'

Galway City

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present your American representative in Ireland:


I bought a coffee, checked out of the B&B in Salthill, and promptly spilled some coffee on my shirt. This was how I arrived in Galway city. Uncle Sam would be so proud.

I had several hours before I could check in to student housing in Corrib Village, so I decided to tourist it up and take pictures.

Eyre Square (pronounced "air" like Jane Eyre) is the center of the city. It has a park, Kennedy Park, so named because JFK gave a speech here only months before his assassination.


Walking around is easy. Galway is not too large so that you get lost, but leave it to me to get pretty close.

I wandered the streets near Eyre Square, slowly familiarizing myself concentrically. Streets are not so much laid in a grid system, rather, on an ancient behind-the-city-walls, whatever works kind of way.

These flags display the names of prominant western families of old.

I don't think anyone noticed my coffee shirt. At least, no one pointed and laughed. They might have been laughing on the inside, though.

I predict many Euros will be dropped here:


And, quite possibly sprinkled throughout the shops here:

Céad Mile Fáilte

I arrived in Shannon after a long day and night of flying. I don't think my excitement registers in the photo, but I'm all a-twitter.


This is an odd subject for a picture. I blame jet lag. I don't know what to blame for sharing it with you as I am, sober and fresh from sleep.


It was a quick hour and a half bus trip and ten-minute taxi ride to the bed and breakfast in Salthill. Mine's the third one from the left. It is as adorable inside as it is on the outside.


I took a shower, then a nap. Witness the restorative powers of these basic human activities.


Salthill is a seaside resort town whose heyday was in decades past, but has enjoyed a comeback as it became a suburb of Galway city. Here is Galway Bay, quite handily just across the street from the B&B.


Another view of the bay...


There is a promenade along the bay, along which people of all kinds were strolling and enjoying the pleasant afternoon. I came across a bachelorette party, decked out in "hen party" sashes and sparkly accoutrements, taking pictures of themselves beside the by before climbing back in their limo for more partying. They were adorable.


Maps can be deceiving, because distances look greater than they are. Salthill seemed a distance away from Galway, but it is actually a part of it.

Galway is a beautiful city. There is vibrance and activity, but it is entirely navigable due to its smaller size. It is not as overwhelming as, say, Dublin, but still full of ancient history.

My guidebook quite rightly relates, "The city of Galway is a delight, with its narrow streets, old stone and wooden shopfronts, good restaurants and bustling pubs."

The Future Looks Temperate

That is a-okay with me!

Across the Pond

I'm going to Ireland to study history this summer.



I don't know what it is about an old pile of stones that attracts me.


Galway is the third largest city in Ireland and home to the Lola Rose yarn shop.

“The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.” ----- Samuel Johnson


“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” ----- Mark Twain

Musings

How is your summer going? All ten days so far have been fantastic! It has to do with no homework, with time free for spending with my daughter in an unhurried fashion. This is a big change, a good change.

Also, I've been reading whatever I want to read. A neighbor gave me a book to read called Essential Writings by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk with a serious way with words.

"Practicing Buddhism is a clever way to enjoy life. Happiness is available. Please help yourself to it. All of us have the capacity of transforming neutral feelings into pleasant feelings, very pleasant feelings that can last a long time. This is what we practice during sitting and walking meditation. If you are happy, all of us will profit from it. Society will profit from it. All living beings will profit from it." (p.93)

Think about traffic for a moment. Not a pleasant thought, is it? But how about ways to transform the experience from unpleasant to, if not pleasant, than at least neutral? There are things we can do to make it so, instead of becoming enraged with something we cannot control.

I like to listen to books on cd, and that helps to give me something to look forward to when I'm in the car. Central Oregon is not the world's biggest traffic jam by any means, but there are still slow drivers and people who pull out in front of us. At times like these, I imagine that the driver has experienced loss. Maybe it's an illness or loss of a loved one, maybe they just lost their job and don't know what they're going to do. Whatever it is, I try to give them the benefit of the doubt, and in doing so, create compassion for their annoying driving. It is not a completely selfless act. In doing so, I notice that I release the feelings of anger that easily well inside. Instead of feeling anger, I choose to feel compassion. It is this that stops me from tailgating or from passing the offending car and then pulling in front to express my irritation. This is healthier for everyone, not to mention safer.

This is not to say I am so enlightened and better than you. I didn't used to think this way AT ALL. I used to get mad, and I got even. It was temporarily satisfying to cut off a car who had just cut me off, but it wasn't safe and the feelings didn't last. I remember being a mess after the rapid succession of my brother's death, my father's death, and my own divorce. My mind was not on my driving, and I probably drove too slowly and pulled out in front of people left and right. I was suffering but the rest of the world had no idea. Once I realized this, I expanded that to how I had no idea what other people are experiencing. Duh, but it was pretty profound. If I had no idea, why did I respond to others with aggression and anger? It began to make no sense, and I realized I was putting out negative energy on top of negative energy, and I was ashamed. I might have caused another person pain in the guise of road rage. It was all a great big, unnecessary misunderstanding.

At times of suffering, the last thing anyone needs is hatefulness. Getting flipped the bird in return for an unthinking lane change. I'm grateful for the forgiveness of strangers, and so I try to give back. There is no way to know what another person is going through. Maybe they are just a jerk, and if they are then your compassion at their jerkiness means they get away with it. But maybe they are suffering greatly, and your compassion was sent out and acted as a bit of soothing balm to their painful day, for just a few seconds they had a reprieve. I think they should have the benefit of the doubt. Philo of Alexandria, an ancient philosopher said, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

One of the most difficult things I have done is to realize how much time I have spent rushing my daughter instead of being with her. Going places - work, school, errands - are necessary to daily life. These are not bad things. What makes the difference is the way we handle each of these events. I have not always made the best use of patience.

I am grateful for the chance, every day, to try again; to get it right; to do better.
"Our lives are made of days and hours, and each hour is precious. Have we wasted our hours and our days? Are we wasting our lives? These are important questions. Practicing Buddhism is to be alive in each moment." (p.93)

I'm not a Buddhist, I'm Presbyterian (also known as the "frozen chosen"). I don't care much for rigid lines of categorization, so that if I define myself as a Protestant, that means that I do not study Catholic teachings, for example. I think there is much wisdom offered in our religious traditions and I don't see the point in fighting about it.

From road rage to religious tolerance, this blog defies definition!

I am also no optimistic, glass-half-full kind of pollyanna, but I do have hope for the best. Is this naive? Maybe. I used to care about that but I don't think it much matters. What matters more is that a little optimism is better than the alternative.

Unbelievable!

After fishing last weekend, I found two hooks that had been changed off of the line. These were still good, so I gave them to OH to put away. It was getting dark and he already had put away the tackle box, so he put them in his jacket pocket and said, "Don't let me forget these."

I washed his jacket yesterday, and only one hook was in the pocket. The other hook could be in the lawn where my husband walked, in the carpet where he took off his jacket, or in the laundry room stuck in some other piece of laundry. It could be anywhere.

This morning, I got up early to study. I needed to get the blood moving, so I went into the living room to do push-ups and sit-ups. I did ten sit-ups, then rolled over to start doing push-ups, when on the carpet right in front of my face was the other hook! Talk about your one in a million chances.


It was on a part of the floor that we walk every day in socked feet because we take off our shoes in the house. It had been there for TWO FULL DAYS and no one - not even a cat - had stepped on it.

The Longest Weekend

The time: Thursday, 9 pm. Place: An ordinary bathroom.

I was flossing my teeth, which I do occasionally, when a large chunk of white came out and rolled over my tongue. I spit it out into my hand. It was part of my tooth.

It was Thursday night, my daughter was in bed. The dentist's office is closed Friday through Sunday, but never fear, the emergency number will help. Except, it was answered by the babysitter who informed me that the doctors were away brushing up - ha - on their mad dental skillz at a conference out of town. I managed to control my mounting panic to state that I may require emergency care for the part of my tooth that was now in my hand. She laughed a little, and said that had happened to her. There I was, imagining imminent nerve exposure and crippling pain, but instead finding comfort in the babysitter (actually, the children's grandma) who told me it was likely not going to require immediate action but that I should call for an appointment on Monday.

Update: Monday, 9 am.

I have an appointment for a crown this week. I haven't had any pain associated with the cracked tooth, for which I am eternally grateful. And no, there will be no coronation ceremony to cap my falling apart, old teeth. At least I'm not an elephant. When their teeth are ground down to nothing, they die from starvation. I'm not saying I couldn't stand to lose a few pounds, but starvation is a slow way to go. I'm grateful for dentists.


And elephants. Merci.

Ignorant, Illiterate, Uncultured

Shakespeare wrote for the masses. Competition to attract a paying audience was fierce. The theater had to vie with other entertainment options including the horrifying bear-baiting bloodsport down the street.

The cheap seats were standing room only. The action on stage had better be enough to keep these groundlings' minds off their aching feet and instead on the characters in the play.



The terrible brutalities of human nature held their own against contrived animal fights. The Elizabethan era seamlessly accepted bloodthirsty ancient Roman themes as its onstage entertainment.

Shakespeare is not an elite literary tradition reserved for the educated. It is for everyone who breathes and feels and lives. Human nature is human nature. Some emotions are universal. Love, trust, betrayal, protectiveness, tradition, ritual, sacrifice, celebration.... it's all there. "Titus" and "Much Ado" are two of the more accessible plays, in my opinion.

Come to think of it, "Fiddler on the Roof" is pretty good, too.

Erudition

I've read seven Shakespeare plays in as many weeks, and I have to recommend two of them. "Titus Andronicus" and "Much Ado About Nothing" were my favorites. While not exactly beach books, they are fantastic reads you can get through in about two hours. I have the Pelican paperback versions. These are easier to carry around than a honkin' volume.

Lady Beatrice

I liked "Titus" a lot because it was the easiest to read. I understood it right away, which was not always the case with the other plays. I think the setting - ancient Rome - had a lot to do with my comfort level. I dig that era.

"Much Ado" was great because it was easily understood, and so I didn't have to work at reading it. One of the lovers was frustrating to read about because he was such a gullible ninny. Anyway. Check it out.

Southern Oregon is Shakespeare Country

Last summer for my husband's birthday, I presented him with tickets to two plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland. He was really not excited about it. I was patient with him because he had never been to the OSF, and therefore had no precedent upon which to base his silly emotional response.

Of the two plays in question, only one was Shakespeare: "Coriolanus". The other was Thornton Wilder's classic, "Our Town".

Since it was his birthday, it was his choice on how we spent our time when not otherwise engaged in culturally bettering ourselves. For my husband, that usually means going to unpopulated places for physical exercise. The more competitive, the better.

What else would you want to do in Southern Oregon in August, when the temperature tops 102 degrees??? We also had only a few extra hours.

Right. A hike it is! (was?)

View from the top, back to Ashland:

Can you feel the heat? Look at that sky! It was toasty.

We found a hike of reasonable distance and drove to the trailhead. It turned out to have been the location of a recent forest fire. I can imagine how quickly the fire swept over the top of the hill, pushed by winds. The clearing offered great views of Ashland, which is beautiful any time of year.

Does this man look 30???

It was a beautiful hike, through cool forests and open, grassy meadows until it reached the peak here, at (I forget the name of) this hill. It was open (as you can plainly see) and offered beautiful views of the valley below.

Here's the man...

"Do something funny! Strike a pose!" I requested, always looking to add interest to benign photographic situations. He complied, offering up a very 'Lewis & Clark discover the Pacific' kind of thing:


Might I add, if you haven't been to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, you are quite simply missing out on an amazing experience. It isn't hard to understand the language. Besides, you will be mesmerized by the set and costumes and acting that pulls you into the story without needing to be an English major.

Trust a man who, though skeptical at first, thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Forty Stone and Six Months Ago

Last year, OC turned eight years old. She wanted to have cupcakes, and she wanted to make them.

The mixer is carbon dated to be 1.2 million years old. It weighs just over forty stone. That would be, forty Stonehenge-sized stones.

Speaking of stone, this is Pampered Chef stoneware. VERY easy to crack, but cooks up a nice batch of cupcakes. You don't have to take my word for it. Let's ask a qualified expert...


"How are the cupcakes, OC?"


"These cupcakes – much like my mama – rock!!!"

Hey, I'm just the messenger.

Feline Psychology

This is Rum.


Note the greenish blob on the floor in front of her. This is an old sock filled with nepeta, commonly known as catnip. This herb makes Rum behave in very un-Rum behavior, such as exhibit mirth, joy, and playfulness.

Run has earned the nickname "Crabby Patty", and through a careful program of desensitization, she now receives kisses to the top of her head without vocal protestation. She has her limits, but this is considered progress within the context of the Rum/human relationship.

A Person Who Knits

I learned to knit about three years ago. In that time, I've made several scarves and many, many hats. I've even made a wrap.


But this, this is an Alice Starmore sweater pattern. It was begun six months ago, and it still looks like this:


When a pattern is so complicated and with new stitches I've never done before, it requires my undivided attention. I have ripped out many times. That's okay, but what is problematic is the rate of growth of my daughter. It's not her fault, but she is putting the pressure on to get this done before she grows out of it before it exists.

I aspire to be a knitter of sweaters and socks. These, to me, will be the pinnacle of knitting accomplishment.

From January

If there is one good thing about being sick, it's the quality storytelling by certain members of this household.

High Art

It's a pancake...........


.......shaped like a heart. At one time, this was awesome, but I have since forgotten why that was.

Here is another way I spend my time:



It is easy to see the awesome in this photo, sans explanation.

What Blog? Where???

I have neglected the blog again, not for lack of subject matter but time to steal away and write. School, taxes, paperwork, sick cats, LIFE!!!! Good gravy.

The tax news is not as bad as last year, that is the good news. We were good boy scouts and were better prepared, and it has paid off, kind of.

OC is playing softball again this spring, but she is in the minors! I don't know what that means, but I think it is good. She's become very coordinated and strong, likely due to attending regular gymnastics classes. She advanced to Level 2 before we pulled her out to concentrate on softball. Two practices per week and one or two games per week is going to be plenty. We don't need gymnastics on top of it, thank you.

OH is coaching her team. They are peas in a pod.

Life for me rolls along. This term, I have ancient Roman history, Shakespeare, and French 103. Spring break felt very short.

Spring Break Survival Tips

I'm up to my armpits in recycling because I'm spending my valuable free, spring break- time getting to things I don't normally have time to do (nor do I want to do). Going through junk mail is one of those things.

I have a system that looks like this: on a daily basis, pay attention to mail that looks like a bill or otherwise significant correspondence; make a neat pile of everything else for later. It's a good thing I open all the mail eventually because I've found things (like checks) that looked like junk but actually weren't.

I'm also organizing the file cabinet. You know, cleaning out old bank statements and making new folders for papers that have lain about long enough to deserve a file folder of their very own. This is not an interesting topic, but when I read of the mundane tasks that other people do, it makes me feel better. I am sharing this with you by way of a public service. I hope you feel better now.

In order to survive this time of need, the grocery store has mercifully put Ben & Jerry's on sale. It's like they knew what I needed. There is nothing like a roaring fire on a cold spring evening to take the chill off of a bowl of Dublin Mudslide. Who needs Cancun?

Returning to my Cromagnon Roots

I've been in my pajamas all morning. I am enjoying not being under deadline to produce a paper. Last week? I had six papers to complete. S.I.X. I stayed up late, got up early, and got them all done.

My 4.0 GPA hangs in the balance with two upcoming finals, economics on Monday and French Tuesday night. Right now, they seem so far away. It's tempting to watch one of the movies that Netflix has sent (they always know what I'm in the mood to watch!) and catch up on knitting projects that had to be ignored last week. But I've never had a 4.0 GPA before, and I don't want to lose it. Remember how nutty I was over my math classes last year? I still am. I have not evolved.

At least I can study in my pajamas. I don't have to go anywhere today. It's just me, my daughter, two ancient cats, one less-ancient cat, six baby chicks, and one McConnell + Brue.

Hilarity

You might have guessed that school has gotten the better of me for the past couple of weeks. School, and illness, and getting behind.

You shouldn't suffer from my schedule, so enjoy the following:


Two sodium atoms are walking down the road chatting. All of a sudden, one stops and turns to its friend looking worried:

Na#1: “Oh, no...I think I’ve lost an electron!”

Na#2: “What, are you sure?”

Na#1: “Yes, I’m positive!”

House of Ill Ness

They are sick. My husband and daughter are coughing up mucous and heating the house with their fevers.

So far, I have escaped infection, but I don't know how long I can hold out.....

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

BARACK OBAMA: The chicken crossed the road because it was time for a change! The chicken wanted change!

JOHN MC CAIN: My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he recognized the need to engage in cooperation and dialogue with all the chickens on the other side of the road......ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

SARAH PALIN: BECAUSE, PRAISE JESUS, I WAS GONNA SHOOT HIS SORRY LIBERAL ASS OFF FOR BLOCKING MY VIEW OF RUSSIA!

HILLARY CLINTON: When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely qualified to ensure right from Day One that every chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross the road. But then, this really isn't about me.

GEORGE W. BUSH: We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.

DICK CHENEY: Where's my gun?

COLIN POWELL: Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road.

BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with that chicken. What is your definition of crossing?

AL GORE: I invented the chicken.

JOHN KERRY: Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it now, and will remain against it.

AL SHARPTON: Why are all the chickens white? We need some black chickens.

DR. PHIL: The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the problem on this side of the road before it goes after the problem on the other side of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his current problems before adding new problems.

OPRAH: Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

ANDERSON COOPER, CNN: We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.

NANCY GRACE: That chicken crossed the road because he's guilty! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN: To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

JERRY FALWELL: Because the chicken was gay! Can't you people see the plain truth? That's why they call it the other side. Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay, too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like the other side. That chicken should not be crossing the road. It's as plain and as simple as that.

BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heartwarming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die in the rain, alone.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

JOHN LENNON: Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together, in peace.

BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken2008, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook. Internet Explorer is an integral part of eChicken2008. This new platform is much more stable and will never crash.

ALBERT EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

GRANDPA: In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.

COLONEL SANDERS: Did I miss one?

Things My Husband Has Learned Because of Me

1. I've saved us hundreds of dollars because of the thousands of dollars I've spent (over the years) buying things when they are on sale.*

2. Ice cream really does make you heal faster. Period.


We didn't go skiing (downhill) on Saturday because Natalie wasn't quite over the sniffles. I didn't want her out in the cold air all day long because I thought it would make her cold worse.

My husband went XC skiing instead, for miles and miles. He woke up this morning with a cough and cold. When I told him that skiing had made him sick, he was so insulted he made me take it back.


* To be honest, he's not so sure about this one yet.

Animated Map

Every Once in a While, Economics Offers a Universal Truth

The relationship between productivity and costs is inverse. In other words, the higher the productivity of workers, the lower the cost to produce the thing, whatever it is. Economies of scale are the consequences of specialization of labor and management, more efficient capital, and spreading costs among units of output. The minimum efficient scale is the lowest level of output at which a firm's long run average total cost is at a minimum.

There is a point, however, when a company can get so large as to become ineffient, disorganized and uncoordinated. This is called diseconomy of scale.

The conclusion?

SIZE MATTERS.

I don't know about you, but I've been saying THAT for YEARS!

Extractive Personality

Most people change their phone's generic voicemail message to a personalized greeting. I appreciate that. I would like someone to produce an accounting for how much time is lost listening to the infernal standard greeting, the one which gives 45 options of things you might want to do instead of leaving a message. My guess would be that the number would be so high we would all be in danger of falling into a deep depression over it. The economy could turn around if only it weren't for the lost productivity and entrepreneurship.

No matter how soothing the voice, my veins shrink to half their original circumference and years come off my life as atherosclerosis sets in my cardiopulminary system every time I hear, "If you want to send a fax, press star. If you want to leave a callback number, press 45." Calls have been dropped from cell phones while drivers cross states, waiting to get through the endless options. "If you want to leave a number but not a message, press 17. If you want to hear an impression of your favorite Jewish comedian, press 18. If you want to hear an impression of your favorite gentile comedian, press 19...." There is relief when the beep finally does give way to expression. I'm calling someone on the phone! If they can't answer, I want to leave a message! What I don't want is to have other options. The only other option is to hang up and then have that aneurysm in private, because that is the only possible conclusion to what is a grandly stultifying experience. Type A personalities do not have an easy life.

These are the moments the zen Buddhist tradition was made to counteract. I wish I knew something about the zen Buddhist tradition.

Something that was extremely satisfying to me was when I cleaned my keyboard. I spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone today, mostly catching up with friends I have, through no fault of their own, ignored for months. I didn't mean to ignore them, it was completely something I was going through. Call it a hedgehog phase, where all I wanted was to curl up on a ball an be left alone. The requirement of such mature behavior is to call people you care about and explain yourself, so that hopefully they won't give up on being your friend.

While I was on the phone - this is the extraction part - I noticed my keyboard had cat hairs here and there. I pulled those away and looked more closely. The cat hair was only the tip of the iceberg. Underneath the cat hair was a layer of lint, lintberg? tiny little lint bunnies hanging out behind the "d" and "v" and most of the keys. I tried to get at them with a pencil, but the tip wasn't long enough. Using the pencil was like popping a zit that you just KNOW goes much deeper than the initial bloop of release yielded. There was more lint, and I could see it but not reach it. I found a sewing needle and used the blunt end to poke around and pull out little balls of lint and cathair. I do not have words for the way it made me feel, but suffice it to say that "orgasmic" would not be an overstatement. "Satisfying" is too benign, although it was satisfying. I am having trouble finding the exact adjective. What comes to mind is that it might be like the experience of a dermatologist, excising the bacteria fouling a tiny pore, and then performing the excision one at a time, over and over, until the entire visage is free of contaminants.

Well, that was a whole paragraph of writing which will not go into the writing portfolio. I'd like to say I could attribute it to drunkenness, but no. I don't think blogging sober is very zen, but it was the best I could come up with.

You Got a Problem With That?

Yeah, I said "buttery prose". Robert DeNiro was on "Sesame Street" the other day talking with Elmo. It's just that kind of a world.

Has anyone watched any good movies lately? Or is there no one reading this anymore?

I ask a lot, I know. To write whatever I want, publish them for the world to see, and then demand feedback after not posting for weeks and weeks.

The new year's going allright. Everyone's healthy and not missing a limb and for that I am grateful. By other standards, it's okay. School is going well for my daughter, work is changing a bit for my husband, and both are good. For me, I'm a bit disappointed with one of my classes and therefore have lost some motivation to work hard. That is a bad thing. I am working on it.

I have a paper due tomorrow and I feel as though I (or anyone) could throw a few words on a page and get an A. The class is supposed to be about the methods of studying a particular subject, but we spend an awful lot of time in class listening to anecdotes. We listen to the nuts and bolts of history, then are supposed to write about a particular force - continuity, change, etc. - that it feels disconnected. It feels like something is missing. That drive me nuts. When I feel as though I could teach the class better than the instructor, that is not a good thing. I felt that way in Math 111 last year. Focused class lectures with clear learning objectives help students immensely. I don't like paying to teach myself.

The snow is piling up. We have 5 inches. I'm planning to cross country ski today for a workout. I am going to imagine my frustration evaporating in that wintery forestland and come back with nothing to complain about.

Quote: Creativity

"Very few creative events flow as effortlessly and regularly as one of Johann Sebastian Bach's Brandenburg concertos. More often, they are characterized by the stops and starts, triumphs, reversals, sacrifices, and innovative choices, as the story of Rachel the shepherdess [from the Old Testament]. The story remorselessly clocks the ups and downs of any creative process, which characteristically contain stages of ambiguity, imperfection, discomfort, and sacrifice. It quietly demonstrates how the experience of creative achievement does not have to occur consistently through a project or process in order to achieve a desired result. Constant satisfaction is not an indicator of an ultimately satisfactory result. More usually, our most cherished creations withstand and even benefit from a little weathering.

In the first impulse to [begin a project] we are lightening and honey happy; madly in love. We have the strength to move any stone tablet from the top of a well single-handed. When the first flush fades, the reality sets in, and reversals of fortune, and inexplicable sacrifices and compromises, frustrations, disappointments, realizations of our own shortcomings and inadequacies, long lulls, patience, serenity, become almost routine...Having the courage to dispatch stop-and-go circumstances such as these with a soft yet measured heart is a formula that more realistically expresses the optimal progress of creativity and love...

And the setbacks temper the love, and the creativity, and the final product, rather than destroying it. The softness and the ability to be both gentle and bold yields fertile results. When we knit we can access some of these feelings. We work slowly while, to the untrained eye, life apparently passes us by. But we know better."

-----The Knitting Goddess, by Deborah Bergman

The book is full of stories, myths, and wisdom. Oh, and there are knitting patterns, but the real joy is the writing. If you're in the mood, it washes over you in the way only some books can, filling the dry cracks of your soul in a smoothing, buttery prose.

Cinema

I sometimes cannot believe the things I feel compelled to share. The last post, for instance. Why? Why must I write such things? I do not have any idea. In order that it may be pushed down the page and therefore out of mind, I offer to share, as change of pace, recent movie rentals you might consider.

It seems I am in my Kryzystof Kieslowski phase, because this director has made all of these I am going to list here now:

"Blue"

"White"

"Red"

(see them in that order, it's a trilogy)

"The Double Life of Veronique"

The cinematography for "Blue" and "Veronique" are absolutely exquisite. If you like color and interesting camera angles, these are especially good. Maybe you are like me: you like them but you didn't know you did. I understand.

Otherwise, still there is school and cold and kitty poop. Skiing at Hoodoo has been a lot more fun since we discovered the "other" side, where there are not a million people in line and there are easy runs.

Watch those and tell me what you thought.

Bellevue Isn't Just For Santy Claus

Remember the scene in "Indecent Proposal" when Demi Moore's character rolls around naked on the bed with her million dollars? I was in the college library yesterday when the same urge overwhelmed me. All of those titles! All of that ancient history! To be surrounded by knowledge, skin-to-page with good writing, absorbing it by osmosis...

Now you know I am certifiably nutso.

I love my history class. It is historiography, or, the study of history. What the heck? Does it sound like a lot of liberal arts, social science clap-trap designed to get more tuition money without really teaching anything? Au contraire mon rossignol! It's fantastic. We get to read articles about entirely different subjects in history and then write a response paper based on an aspect of historical study. Is it a reconstruction? Is it about unexpected developments? What about causation? How does new technology affect life and society? This is the kind of thing that floats my canoe.

Happy New Year!

2009 already? I expected to kiss my sweetie and ring in the new year properly. Except, I fell alseep watching a movie and so I went to bed for what was to be a two-hour nap. What really happened was, I hauled my aching behind to bed at 9:30 and did not stir until 2009 had been here for seven hours.

We're up in McCall, Idaho with my mom. Winter is a great time to get away, even though the travel can suck. We drove, in order to bring all of our skis and to have a four-wheel drive vehicle here, and had compliant weather to do so. After an afternoon and overnight in Boise, we are in McCall for the duration of the week.

It's beautiful here! The edges of the lake are snow-covered, the dock is piled high with snow. Four or five deer have been in the yard, where there is a pine tree under which they've taken shelter. I'll have pictures after I get home and download them, blahblahblah, technical claptrap.

Yesterday, we skiied at Brundage. It took me most of the day to get confident on the Bear run, but I finally did. We started at 9:30 am, and finished at 4 pm. We were all exhausted after that. My husband has found renewed energy with the new year, and has headed out to cross country ski with the sunrise this morning. He is nuts! But I love him.

The Occidental Tourist soldiers on.

Happy New Year!

My Daughter, the Card

(Sound of back door opening)

ME: "Natalie? Where are you?"

HER: "I'm over here."

(sound of back door closing.)

ME: "What are you doing?"

HER: "Giving the kitty an outdoor recess."

Monday, Monday

It's happened again. Remember this? I couldn't find the other entry, but it happened TWICE, in two short years. Time number three happened last Friday. I cannot believe my coffeepot is broken....AGAIN!!!

Anyway. Finals week this week. I'm studying madly and also, knitting. Too bad I'm not enrolled in a college class called, "Hand-knit hats" because I'd be doing very, very well in it.

Did you take the American History test? It's more fun than a two-hour Swedish massage. Not buying it? It is more fun than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, but it also depends upon your feelings toward history. With that, I take my leave. I gots ta study sum more.

American History

Are you more knowledgeable than the average citizen? After being forwarded one of those ubiquitous internet quizzes, I found this one to be more substantial than most. Instead of discovering whether I was more like a cinnamon raisin bagel or sesame seed, this one is designed to discover how ignorant I am (or am not) to the construct and governance in my own country. More information here.

The quiz contains 33 questions designed to measure knowledge of America’s founding principles, political history, international relations, and market economy. Americans from all age groups, income brackets, and political ideologies fail the test of civic literacy.

• Americans age 25 to 34 score an average of 46% on the exam; Americans age 65 and over score 46%.
  
  
• Americans earning an annual income between $30,000 and $50,000 score an average of 46%; Americans earning over $100,000 score 55%.
  
  
• Liberals score an average of 49%; conservatives score 48%.
  
  
• Americans who go to church once a week score an average of 48%; Americans who never go to church score 50%.
  

The average score for all 2,508 Americans taking the following test was 49%; college educators scored 55%.

I know those are a lot of percentages and measures, but here is one more: I personally answered 26 out of 33 correctly — 78.79 %. It's a good thing I am in college, then. Can you do better?

TAKE THE QUIZ

There Are Advantages To Being An Adult, and Wisdom is One of Them

Regret is the other. HAHAHAHA! This is not a lament. I want to talk to those of you that are in high school right now. If you are older than that, disregard. You already know what I'm about to say.

My daughter is seven years old with her whole life ahead of her (a condition we all enjoy, actually). It is easy to look at someone so young and see possibilities that somehow didn't show themselves or that we missed when we were young. My wisdom, in advice form, is this:

Go to college when you are young. It doesn't matter that you don't know what you want to study, that you don't have the money, or other excuses. The truth is, college will never be cheaper than it is right now. Scholarships, grants and loans are available. If you want to go to college, don't let anything stand in your way. GO NOW. If you think it's hard now, wait until you are older, with kids, a job, a spouse, a house, pets, what else? Life is full of responsibilities, but make it a bit easier on yourself and don't put off college for tomorrow when you can go today. You won't regret it.

Thirty Five

It's not official until 11:06 am, but, I'm thirty five.

Thirty-fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive.

My daughter is walking around in a tank top, long john pants, and ski boots. We may presume she is excited to go skiing. The fashionista wanted pancakes for breakfast, no! Scones! But that will have to wait until tomorrow. It's my birthday and I'll not cook if I want to.

My husband is taking me out for coffee this morning, after the ski bunny is off to school. I wonder if I should wear the big tiara or the small?*

That's all that's happened so far.


*I don't own a tiara, but I'm beginning to wonder why not.

Birthday Eve

Ce soir, j'ai trente-quatre ans. Mon anniversaire c'est 14 novembre.

This is what I did today:

1. Language lessons with OC. It's school before she goes to school. I am a waaaay fun mom.

2. Laundry. Hmm, you would think I would have a more glamourous day planned. Wait! It gets better.

3. Three mile run. Makes me sweaty and smelly, also muscle-y and hungry.

4. Ate breakfast: bagel with butter and honey, lotsa coffee.

5. Studied French.

6. Picked up OC from school.

7. Cooked vegetable rice dish with Swiss chard which turned rice purple. And, it was good.

8. French class.

9. Picked up OC's skis from GI Joe's. Girl is going to have a good season with her own used boots and skis. Mama will have to look away as she flies past trees which look to me as deathtraps, but to her are merely scenery on her way smoking her parents down the hill.

10. Home, to clean up after dinner. (???)

11. Salute to French wine with bottle of red. Excuse me, I mean, rouge.

Bon nuit!

Atomic Cocktail

Autumn is a welcome season when you've got a bee in your bonnet to roast something. I like to bake chicken or roast some beef and vegetables, but who wants to do that in the hot summer?

An added benefit is extra heat in the kitchen. "No, honey, I didn't turn on the heat. It's from the housewife's dream: the oven!"

Pardon me, I've just watched "Atomic Cafe" and I have 1950's-itis. It's a documentary made from film reels of the era put out from different sources. There are government information films, army training films, news reports, interviews....all kinds of things. The decade was that of the American dream, freedom and independence, but it was clouded by the real threat of nuclear attack during the Cold War. No wonder one man advises the public to stock their fallout shelters with tranquilizers! Non-narcotic, if you please, and about 100 for a family of four oughtta do.

Speaking of which, my history paper's due date was pushed back one week. Let's all put on our pearls and have a martini to celebrate, shall we?

One Expensive Book Club

Woe to my savings account: I think I could go to college forever!

I have always loved school. I was the pig-tailed girl who skipped to class, followed the rules for the classroom (except for that bullshit, no-talking one) and got started on homework as soon as I got home in the afternoon. I liked most subjects, except for diagramming sentences, which completely sucked the fun out of the English language.

The ten-year hiatus from college was, in hindsight, regrettable. The costs have only increased and I am not getting any younger. It is hard to find the time to get all of my studying done, with a house, two geriatric cats, a daughter, and a husband.

I heard a wise man say once that if a certain something wonderful had happened any earlier in his life, he knew he wouldn't have been ready for it. That "wise man" was my uncle, and the "certain something wonderful" was meeting his biological brothers for the first time after 50 years of not knowing his brothers existed. He told me that if it had happened any earlier in his life, he would likely have refused the offer to meet them. As it happened, he enjoyed a happy reunion with them and a particularly close relationship with my dad for two years before my dad died.

A little perspective is in order when we go around regretting things we did or did not do. I love the movie "Chasing Amy" because it is a reminder that choices we made in the past do not define us today, but they can stand for where we were at the time. Looking back serves as proof for how far we've progressed. We can leave them in the past and go on to be who we are supposed to be.

I am in college now, and that is what is important. I had a wonderful career as a graphic designer which is not necessarily over. I will go on to be a teacher one day, and I will have the chance to bring all of my experiences and skills together at what I trust to be the exact right time. In the meantime, I get to do something I love to do: read books and discuss them with interesting people. It's a hell of an expensive book club, but I am having a great time.

Voulez-vous biore quelque chose?*

My French teacher begins class by asking, What is the date today? (Quel est la date aujourd'huit?) And, What is the day? (Quel est le jour?) I honestly don't know the date most of the time. Day, yes (I am not a pothead), but date as in, number, not necessarily.

I mark time by what is due in each class. Next Monday, for instance, I have a paper due in history class, then I get to go take an economics test. Tomorrow is a day off for Veteran's Day, which is how I know it will be November 11th. Which must mean that today is November 10th. I planned ahead and picked up some non-fiction dvds at the library for OC. Yes, I plan to plunk my kid in front of the tv for a good part of the morning so I can write in uninterrupted silence. So sue me, you litigious recalcitrant! Besides, the non-fiction aspect of the shows will be a learning experience. Neener, neener.

I mentioned that I've been driving more slowly in an effort to conserve gas. I might add that I stay in the right lane. This morning, I was in the right lane and flying down the road a steady, cruise-controlled speed of 59 mph when a car behind me flashed their lights as if to request to pass. I could have understood this and responded if I was in the left lane, but I was on a four-lane highway, squarely in the right, slower-vehicles-only lane.

(pause for emphasis)

There was a truck matching my speed in the left lane, and that truck clearly should have passed post haste. Inappropriate Lightflasher guy should have been doing so to the truck! I avoided road rage because I am all about level-headedness, but I did not adjust my speed. Eventually the truck passed and Inappropriate Lightflasher passed on the left.

When we arrived in Bend, Inappropriate Lightflasher turned into the SHOPPING MALL. I may not know the specific date each and every day, but I do know that Christmas is a good six weeks away. I could not understand the shopping emergency that necessitated such an insistent need to pass, and believe me, I can understand the concept of a shopping emergency with the best of them. I think I AM the best of them when it comes to a therapeutic retail experience. Just, could you get off my back about it? I was SO NOT IN YOUR WAY.

* Oui. Un verre du vin, s'il vous plait.

I Like School

It's an interesting time to be in a macroeconomics class. Even on a Friday afternoon, I want to go even when it's the only class and therefore the only reason I need to drive all the way to Bend (all 15 miles....whew!).

Everyday we listen to a lecture which follows the book, but inevitably the current economic situation comes up. I like having a professor to interpret certain news reports, government policy, because of the way he puts it into historical perspective. Sort of makes up for having to learn some pretty dry, technical material. I don't want to go into more detail here, because I fear stirring up some heartfelt controversy, or devolving into politics - blech - but I did want to mention it. There, I said it. I like economics! Not the current times, but in general.

Tonight is movie night. On deck is "Ice Princess" for OC, and "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day" and "Russian Dolls" for moi. The last title is a foreign film, a follow up to the very good "L'auberge Espagnol" (The Spanish Apartment).

There's something about being in college as an adult. You are supposed to be more responsible, to know how to study, to get better grades. I definitely feel this pressure and most of it comes from myself, to myself. School takes up a large amount of time, and I really look forward to downtime now. I am failing at coming up with a neat ending to this post.....so.....have a good weekend.

Quickie

It has snowed. I left history class yesterday and walked out into it.

School is keeping me very busy. I love it, but there is so much to do. The last paper I wrote took forever because I fiddled with the format for so long before finally settling and getting it done.

The weather has me way into creation mode. It's cold, must...make...hats!

Exposition

I am still running a few days a week, but that's been easy with relatively mild weather. I wonder how long it will be before I find enough excuses to stay inside?

Being self-motivated is great, but it won't last. I'll have to find a friend to either run with, or to go on a hike with once a week to break up the routine. I hear Pilot Butte is quite the haul.

I love to run, but I don't love it enough to want to do it every day. There are too many books and movies to read and watch, and it all takes time. I want to stay in shape and fit into my clothes, and I want to be healthy. I also want to improve my Butte-to-Butte times, if you please, but there are no marathon plans in my future.

I went running today, a 26-minute tempo run. Tomorrow, I may hike at Smith Rock in the morning, or maybe go to Pilot Butte in Bend. I may not do either, as I have to get ready to attend a wedding out of town where my husband is in the wedding party, so we have to show up early for the rehearsal dinner. Oh, darn, that means I'll have to get new boots! Life is hard.

These Are The Things That Row My Boat

My car has this feature to do with gas mileage. You can switch between viewing your current gas mileage, how many miles you have left to drive on the tank of gas, see the last average mpg you achieved, and one other that I can't remember. I usually use the setting to see how many miles I have left on the tank of gas, mostly because it doesn't shift crazily like the setting for current gas mileage. Although that's a fun one, too, because when you let off the gas and coast you can get 99 mpg until the readout shows ----. Score! Now, if only I could coast everywhere I had to go....no more gas price crisis!

I've been experimenting a bit. It might not even work, but I've been driving back and forth to Bend every day and I set my cruise control at about 2,000 rpms. That's usually about 54 - 57 mph. I like to watch the gauge go up as I drive. Last night, after I'd driven up that monster hill to the college, the gauge read 320 miles left on the tank. When I'd reached the parkway, I drove 45 mph until I got out of town and upped it to about 56 mph. I listened to French language cd's and by the time I reached Redmond, the gauge had climbed to 345 miles left on the tank.

I also like to return library books and then go home and log on to my account to see if they've been received.

I know. Fun, right?

Bad Times

The Redmond Maui Wowi coffee shop has closed its doors. The Eugene classical music station is having their fundraiser this week and still needs to raise $30,000 by tomorrow evening. Parking at the COCC/OSU-Cascades campus is difficult because enrollment is off the charts. When economic times are hard, people tend to go to school. With all of these indicators, it's easy to see the times are really hard. It's not Great Depression hard, but still.

I listen to the classical music station because it's great music to read by since there is usually not a lot of talking. The exception is during pledge week when the announcers tell us sadly, and somewhat chidingly, that the phone lines are not ringing. I had to call earlier this week after an announcer kept saying this, so I guess it's a strategy that works. He'd play another music selection, then come back on air to talk about how much money they still needed, give the phone numbers, and then sadly report that no phones were ringing. He went on to say that volunteers were not eating the donated pastries because they felt bad that they weren't taking phone calls for pledges. It wasn't a box of homeless kittens, but it made me nearly as sad.

My school schedule is not too tough, except when things coincide. I've had a French quiz and an economics test back to back. Next week (I think) will be our comparative analysis papers in history class. I don't know exactly what that involves, but I'll find out soon enough. I keep waiting for people to point at me and say, "You don't belong in a 400-level class, you mere Associate's Degree-haver!" What is with me?

Or Maybe I'm Good For More Like, Two Posts Per Week

Next month I will have to check a new box, the one that says 35-40. Obviously this means I can't stay up past 10 pm anymore. That would make me too hungry since I eat dinner at 4 pm. Anyway. While I wait for my AARP paperwork to arrive in the mail, please enjoy this video. May you also laugh off your ass.

This Will Probably Give Away What You Are Getting For Christmas

I have been caught in a knitting frenzy these past couple of weeks. We had a day where the weather was cloudy and, I think, even rainy. That's all it took for me to get the cozy up for winter bug.

I learned to knit about three years ago, and I'm still a beginner. I can do a cable, but I've not done much with more advanced maneuvers. I could be farther along, but I have worked with one particular book in which the instructions were confusing. So confusing for my poor, algebra-filled head to comprehend. After getting stuck for weeks and weeks, I was able to get through my first non-scarf project: a hat for OC. From the same book, I wanted to make a mother's day present for my mom in one of the other hat patterns, but I got stuck. Again. It turned out to be an early September mother's day present by the time I finished.

But now! I have cracked the code of that stupid book. Let's just say a little graphic design goes a long way. For instance CAPITAL LETTERS and bold work wonders when you want to convey information in a comprehensive way. In lieu of either of those fancy tricks, a little line spacing can be wonderfully illuminating in separating lines of instruction for the reader. Or knitter. WHO KNEW???

I'm sick of this sun, sun, sun, hot, hot, hot, all the damn time. Today's clouds are a welcome relief. We might even get rain in the next two days! It is perfect for my latest obsession.

School Days

So, I'm back. I think I needed a little break from the daily blog entries. I'll be good for at least four per week. Hey, not that much happens in my life, folks!

Speaking of back, I'm also back in school. My schedule looks like this:

- French 101
- Economics 202
- History 473

It's going to be a challenge, especially that 400-level class.

Summer went by quickly. In August, my husband FINALLY turned 30 (I am five years older), and so I took him to Ashland and we saw a couple of plays and did some hiking.

Here is us on a beautiful hike up Grizzy Mountain east of Ashland:

Someday we'll look back on this picture and I will ask, "Remember that hot day in southern Oregon when we went on that lovely hike through the woods?" And he will say, "No." That is why I blog.

This is the gorgeous view of the valley on that hot day, as pointed out by the Birthday Boy, Formerly Known as Merriwether Lewis:


The plays we saw were good. "Our Town" wasn't what I expected, was kind of slow, but I'm glad I've seen this classic American play. "Coriolanus" was thrilling and well done. Husband liked it a lot and that was good because it was his birthday present.

Au revoir, mes amis.

If Stuart Smalley Goes Mainstream, it Might Look Like This

I really feel for affirmation girl. I was a lot like her - sans affirmations - in high school.

Sad!