Minnesota vs. Everyone

A bit of silliness my mother e-mailed me:

Minnesota vs. ...Everyone

60 above zero:
Floridians turn on the heat.
People in Minnesota plant gardens.

50 above zero:
Californians shiver uncontrollably.
People in Minnesota sunbathe.

40 above zero:
Italian & English cars won't start.
People in Minnesota drive with the windows down.

20 above zero:
Floridians don coats, thermal underwear, gloves, wool hats.
People in Minnesota throw on a flannel shirt.

15 above zero:
New York landlords finally turn up the heat.
People in Minnesota have the last cookout before it gets cold.

Zero:
People in Miami all die.
Minnesotans close the windows.

10 below zero:
Californians fly away to Mexico.
People in Minnesota get out their winter coats.

25 below zero:
Hollywood disintegrates.
The Girl Scouts in Minnesota are selling cookies door to door.

40 below zero:
Washington DC runs out of hot air.
People in Minnesota let the dogs sleep indoors.

100 below zero:
Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
Minnesotans get upset because they can't start their Hummers.

460 below zero:
ALL atomic motion stops (absolute zero on the Kelvin scale.)
People in Minnesota start saying..."Cold 'nuff fer ya?"

500 below zero:
Hell freezes over.
Minnesota public schools will open 2 hours late.

The bit about driving with the car windows down made me laugh. I routinely do this when I'm alone in the car. As a matter of fact, I think my husband started plasticking the windows in the fall to keep me from opening all the windows in the house in the middle of January because I need the fresh air. Give it an hour to get that clean/cold smell all over the house, then shut the house back up and turn the heat back on. It's back to 68 degrees by the time he gets home from work, so what's the problem? Well, the boys do freak out a bit...

Random Musings

Between Christmas and my birthday, I usually make a pretty good haul in bookstore gift certificates. It's my favorite shopping trip of the year (OK, I do it online, so perhaps it's my favorite shopping "moment").

This year I bought a monster stack of John Constantine: Hellblazer trade paperbacks. I already had a few, but I had bought and read them out of chronological order. The day after Christmas I bought every single TPB out which I didn't already have (plus some Ursula K. LeGuin novels I didn't have yet - it wasn't all comic books). Last week I assembled the whole Helblazer stack, old and new, and read them all from start to finish.

Wow. I love the stories, and he's a singularly cool character, but the cumulative effect of all that John Constantine was a bit of a downer. At least I have something else to be thankful for: I'm not a member of the working class holding on by my fingernails during the Thatcher administration.

I finished the last one yesterday afternoon, and as I've mentioned I was a bit glum. The Constantine effect was made worse by the shadow of the upcoming Timberwolves game against the Phoenix Suns. Now granted, the Suns spanked us last time in large part because Kevin Garnett and Ricky Davis were both suspended (for acting like toddlers, frankly). But the Suns were on a 17 game winning streak, and the Timberwolves were on a 6 game losing streak. We didn't stand a chance. Well, at least it's always fun to watch Steve Nash play, I told myself. There's always that. (He must be psychic, he can always find the open guy even if he can't actually see him.)

I should have had more faith in my boys. Kevin Garnett's 44 points and 11 rebounds.... well, that's while they call him the Ticket. But it wasn't just him. I couldn't believe how well Mark Madsen was playing. He tried the sort of spin in midair and shoot move that's KG's signature move, and he nailed it!

If only Rashad McCants had been able to play, it would have been the perfect game. He's been suiting up the last two games, but only because Justin Reed is in Mississippi and we need the bodies on the bench as a technicality. They keep saying one more week, just one more week and he'll play.

But I suppose this is more frustrating for McCants than for me.

I'm Mr. Spock, that's all there is to it.

I took a "What sci-fi/fantasy character are you?" quiz. I am Mr. Spock. I tried it again, and changed some of the answers I was either/or on. I was Mr. Spock again. I guess I really am a Vulcan.

I was hoping I could be Galadriel...

It's called juvenilia

This whole bookshelf thing has had a trickle-down effect in terms of reorganizing things around here. I've gone through every closet in the house and decided what to keep and what to toss. *yawn* At any rate, I was quite pleased to find two immense folders stuffed with things I'd written in my schooldays. I had thought it all long ago thrown away.

I have for sometime tortured my husband with fond rememberings of an assignment I once did for Humanities. The assignment was to write the "missing scene" from Hamlet. You could do anything (my friend Kim had the ghosts of Polonius and Ophelia talking in the graveyard, which was quite good).

Mine had Dr. Who. Which is odd, as I never watched much Dr. Who in my younger days (I used to think it was an appallingly small amount until I started watching the new episodes with my husband, who was bragging up the many episodes he had seen until it came to light that he didn't know what a Dalek was. How much Dr. Who could he have possibly seen and not know what a Dalek was? Less than me, I'm guessing). In my memory, this Hamlet scene of mine was a work of brilliance, playing Hamlet's depression against The Doctor's joie de vivre.

I kind of regret finding it now. It was much better in my memory. First off, this is the incarnation of The Doctor I chose to work with:

Not the choice I'd make now, I tell you. And it had none of the clever playing off of world views I was remembering. It mainly involved The Doctor showing up to mess with Hamlet's head. I'm not sure what exactly I was going for. (I got an A on the paper, though, since it was mostly being graded for things like punctuation and having a plot, and my teacher surely had no idea how badly out of character The Doctor was behaving).

I did find something that holds up better, if only because I don't remember it as being a staggering work of genius in the first place. It was also for Humanities (all the cool assignments were for Humanities). Exactly what I was assigned to do I can't quite recall, but it was a play I remember performing before the class. I played Holmes; it was almost certainly Kim in the role of Watson. Here, for your delight or torture, it is:

THE SOLVING OF A CRIME - or - DR. JOHN WATSON BECOMES AN EASTERN THINKER

Set: The scene takes place on a path that leads up to a river in the distance.

NARRATOR: In another parallel dimension, a man very much like our ficitional character Sherlock Holmes existed. However his companion, Dr. John Watson, was a little bit different. The two of them are on their first case together when our story begins.

(enter Holmes and Watson)

HOLMES: Observe, Watson, as I gather the clues that shall solve this case. (Holmes produces a tape measure and begins to measure footprints).

WATSON: I say, Holmes, what are you doing?

HOLMES: I'm measuring the distance between these footprints. I shall be able to mathematically derive the height of the suspect. It is always my first step in cases with footprints available.

WATSON: But Holmes, don't you realize how subjective measuring is? It's a marvel you ever solve a case at all with such methods (scoffingly).

HOLMES: I am the world's finest detective! My methods are impeccable! I've successfully solved every case I've ever had. I assure you, my height predictions are flawless, whatever you may say about my measuring.

WATSON: Don't you realize how much human judgement is involved in measuring even the simplest of distances? Look, can we agree that human judgement always has a margin of error?

HOLMES: Mine being phenomenonally small, of course.

WATSON: But existent all the same?

HOLMES: I suppose so.

WATSON: I know you're a bit of a mathematician. Can we also agree that two points never lie in the exact same spot in space?

HOLMES: That's a commonly known fact.

WATSON: So the object of measuring is to get the points on your tape measure to be as near as possible to lying consecutive to the edges of the footprints?

HOLMES: Of course. I see what you're saying. I have to judge between the marks on my tape and the points between which I'm measuring. It's impossible for them to occupy the same space, and therefore it is impossible to achieve an accurate measurement of the length between. However, this is irrelevant to the case at hand. The culprit is six foot one, plus or minur a half of an inch for your uncertainty factor, Watson. You'll note the wild patterns in the dirt here where the body first hit the ground. He was struggling and therefore was alive at this point.

WATSON: Alive? What do you mean, alive?

HOLMES: Are you daft? I mean he was alive, as in not dead. Sheesh!

WATSON: How do you know he was alive?

HOLMES (barely containing his annoyance): I just showed you. I think we can agree dead bodies don't generally put up much of a fight.

WATSON: My dear boy, I'm merely trying to tell you that you cannot decide if something is living or not because your decision would be too heavily based on your preconceived notions of what is living, which are most certainly wrong.

HOLMES: How do you know they are wrong?

WATSON: I don't. I only want to say that you should base your judgements on what you've experienced, not what has been inferred to you from teachers and other sources.

HOLMES: I was right; you are daft. Are you sure you're a doctor?

WATSON: Let me give you an example of the problems of language. How do you define life?

HOLMES: The qualities by which a plant or animal differes from stones or water or dirt. At least, according to Webster.

WATSON: How do you know this stone is not living? Maybe life to a stone is lying very quietly wherever they happen to fall.

HOLMES (cynically): Let me guess, their life's ambition is to be a paperweight?

WATSON: Possibly.

HOLMES: All living matter is contracted from carbon compounds.

WATSON: So coal is living? And diamonds?

HOLMES: No, coal and diamonds were once living, or so I've been told by countless geologists.

WATSON: This brings us back to the same point I made earlier. All of your famed decisions are based on your preconceived views of how things are. You yourself have stated many times that you owe most of your success to the repeating of patterns. You've read nearly every criminal record there is. This isn't your experience; it's someone else's. Therefore, your view is already going to be as biased as that of the records you've read, and then you add your own bias.

HOLMES: You are a singularly irritating man. As far as my biased views are concerned, this man was living at this point, okay?

WATSON: If you say so, although I must insist you quit bragging about your methods when they are so far off base.

HOLMES: Humph.

(they walk a little further down the trail.)

HOLMES: All right, here he quit struggling. He's dead now. The body must have been dumped in the river up ahead. If we can find the body, we'll be able to ascertain the cause of death.

WATSON: How?

HOLMES: Through the marvels of modern science. You claim to be a doctor; surely you know.

WATSON: "Modern science" is hardly what I'd call marvelous. It has many set backs.

HOLMES: Such as?

WATSON: It's much too left-brained to be accurate. Not everything can be explained by equations or fit into neat mathematical relationships. Some things just are.

HOLMES: Such as?

WATSON: Life.

HOLMES: Not that again.

WATSON: Where I was brought up, I was taught not to quantify and label everything I saw. If only I accepted it and let its essence flow through me, I would understand it. I can't explain it, but I Know it.

HOLMES: You mean to tell me you know the meaning of life, but you can't tell anyone about it?

WATSON: Precisely, Holmes.

HOLMES: Well, there's no need to go on with this, then.

NARRATOR: And so you see in this dimension, Sherlock Holmes gave up his life of crime-solving. He and Watson moved out of 221B Baker Street to the Mystic East and spen the rest of their lives never speaking, but understanding.

No, I can't remember what I was reading at the time, but it probably had "Tao" in it. The Tao of Physics or The Tao of Pooh or The Dancing Wu Li Masters (OK, there's no Tao in that title, but it's about Tao). I do recall really enjoying saying the line "You're a singularly irritating man."

(Aside to my fellow writers - can you appreciate how hard it was to copy-type that without trying to fix it?)

The post with all the pics of the bookcases - because you demanded it

Well, some of you did anyway. The bookcases are set up and the books are in place, but we can't use the word "done" just yet; the shelves need frontpieces to match the face frame, and the whole thing needs to be sanded and finished at some point when we don't have plastic on the windows. Still, I'm very happy with how they look:

Also, there will be doors on the bottom row to make cabinets, so we won't be looking at the puzzles and games and Playstation wires. Yes, the TV is huge, but the books still dominate. At least I figured out how to turn off the blue circle around the ON button so the TV isn't glowing at me all day.

The bookshelves which were formerly in the living room are now done in my office:

This is where I keep all those Heinlein, Clarke, and Niven books I fully intend to read sometime soon. It's also where I store Christmas presents for people I haven't seen since my birthday (*hint, hint*). I moved the tall bookcase from my bedroom down to the office as well since it matched the others and allowed me to have two whole walls of books in the house, so this is what my reading nook in my bedroom looks like now:

That bookshelf next to the rocking chair is my Backspacer bookshelf. The keen eye can pick out the Ally Carters, Mark Bastables, MJ Pearsons, Lynn Sinclairs, and a Jackie Kessler (I have some other Backspacer books as well; that's off the top of my head).

Now, part of our extensive pre-marital negotiations was a break-down of the big jobs we both like to do. Quin got furniture assembly (good thing too, now that we're out of the semidisposable stage of our furniture buying), I got electronics. So here's what I've been doing all week.

The keen eye will see that the computer desk in the living room is now on the other side of the piano; this was so I could hook the computer up to the stereo. Good-bye, 5-disc changer; hello, iTunes! Plus the new TV hooks up to the computer as well, so we can browse record covers from the couch (or anywhere in the room since we have a wireless keyboard and mouse). Every CD in our collection is now on there (even the stuff I can't stand like Joan Baez and Peter, Paul, and Mary). 7604 songs, it would take 20.7 days to listen to it all. Of course I can't complain about the folk music too much; to Quin's chagrin, even if he unchecks the songs so they won't play he can't make the album covers go away, and by virtue of staring with an apostrophe, this band is always on top:

I'm not sure how much we'll actually use this "see what's on the computer using the TV" feature. A hi-def plasma TV is very much overkill for your average YouTube video, but it is perfect for those episodes of Veronica Mars (season 3) I downloaded so I could be all caught up when the new episodes start up again next week. But I'm sure the most common function will surely become:

I'm so ashamed

I mentioned some months ago my intention to see the M. Night Shyamalan movie Lady in the Water at the first opportunity because the reviews were so scathingly bad, I just had to see it for myself. Quin, who just doesn't know how to enjoy bad movies, was out of town Sunday night so I took the opportunity to pop in the movie, kick back, and prepare to enjoy the badness.

.

Only...

.

I kept waiting for the badness, but somewhere in there I got swept in and forgot it was supposed to suck. I just really liked it.

.

Now, everything Roger Ebert said in his review is completely true. The "rules" are over explained, and it bothered me that the Korean woman who spoke no English was the authority on things called "narfs" and "scrunts". I don't speak Korean but I've heard it spoken, and those don't sound like Korean words to me. (I think it would have added an interesting twist if the Korean woman was telling a bedtime story she thought was American or European and none of the other people knew what she was talking about - a sourceless story that was foreign to everybody. But that's just me). The storyline involving the critic as the arrogant person who contributes nothing was really heavy-handed and makes M. Night seem like a bitter writer getting back at his "enemies".

.

But...

.

I can't help it, I liked it. I blame the actors. Paul Giamatti was charming, and the other inhabitants of the apartment compex made a distinctive, interesting bunch. M. Night casting himself as the writer felt more logical than egotistical (I think it's true of most writers; we secretly hope to inspire someone else to greatness).

.

Now this isn't a recommendation. I'm not surprised most people hate this movie. As I see it, there are two kinds of fairy tale movies these days: movies like Shrek or Ever After that put modern attitudes into fairy tale times, and movies like this one or The Lake House that put fairy tale attitudes into modern times. The latter tend not to succeed as well as the first category, I think because they require you to suspend all disbelief to enjoy them. No one is going to explain how the time travel works or where the Blue Lands are. You either buy it or you don't.

.

Me, I have no disbelief to suspend. This is probably not a good thing. But what can I tell you? I love a fairy tale.

"Seagull and Raven" is now up at Allegory e-zine.

Here's the link: http://www.allegoryezine.com/ and it's free to read!

RIP 1-2-3-4 Jackson

Our fish jumped out of the net when I was moving him into his newly-cleaned bowl. I picked him up off the floor and got him back in the water before Spike could eat him, and he seemed OK for a week, then not so good for a week, and then stopped moving yesterday. It would be more of a loss if the rest of the family hadn't forgotten he existed months ago (all except me, who fed him and kept his bowl clean, and Spike, who desperately wanted to play with him).

Farewell, 1-2-3-4 Jackson. You were a good fish, as fish go.

On a completely unrelated quote, I found a new internet toy. Not a quiz this time, a generator that puts words you choose (like your name) into movie quotes. This is what I got:

Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the Kate.

Which movie was this quote from?

Get your own quotes:

Which science fiction writer are you?

I suspect being a female science fiction writer wasn't an option no matter which answers I picked, but other than that, I'm quite pleased to be:

I am: William Gibson The chief instigator of the "cyberpunk" wave of the 1980s, his razzle-dazzle futuristic intrigues were, for a while, the most imitated work in science fiction.

Which science fiction writer are you?

(Dude, how old is that picture? He's just a pup!)

Who put me in the Kobe Bryant section?

I got to go to my yearly live Timberwolves game last night. My husband got the tickets from work; his company has season tickets in the lower deck behind one of the hoops - pretty close to where Jesse Ventura used to sit, so nice seats. It's kept hush-hush when they let employees use the tickets so there's no keeping score and finding out who's the boss's pet or whatever, but I think Quin gets the best tickets. I mean, last night we played the Kobe and the L.A. Lakers, last year we saw Shaquille O'Neil and the Miami Heat (although Shaq didn't play), and the year before that it was Steve Nash and the Phoenix Suns (the single most painful sporting event I've ever witnessed, hands down). All good opponents. Now if he could just score tix again in March when we play the Celtics so I can see Wally play again...

Well, the first three quarters were fun. Ricky Davis made some amazing shots, including an across the court 3-pointer at the buzzer at the end of the first quarter, but they choked in the fourth. If you follow the Wolves at all, this is hardly surprising; it's their M.O. They didn't completely buckle like they did in the Suns game, but they got beat 34-7 in the last quarter with Kobe on the bench the entire time (I think he got in and scored one point in a free throw). I think Casey waited too long to put the A squad back in, and Mark Blount in particular. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is when no one is getting any rebounds? Keep the tall guy in the game! He gets the rebounds and as a bonus, he makes a few baskets too! But what do I know?

The most painful thing was that I was completely surrounded by Kobe fans. And these weren't casual Kobe fans; they had all already ponied up for new "24" jerseys; not an "8" among them. Lots of cheering at the wrong moments, frankly. And the three in front of us had brought cameras with enormous telephoto lenses... to shoot the scoreboard. Honest; they were digital cameras and I could see the screen on the back. What is that all about? How many shots of a scoreboard does one need?

Well, at least I got a cute Santa hat with a Timberwolves logo on it. The night wasn't a total loss.

Still my favorite band ever

And thanks to the internet, the fact that they don't have US distribution no longer matters so very much.

For fans of Avatar, the Last Airbender only!

Because I love these little quizes, here's another. I'm Uncle Iroh mainly for my love of tea, but any character voiced by Mako is inherently cool. (see also, Aku from Samurai Jack and of course the chronicler from Conan the Barbarian)

Which Avatar Character are You?

Find out @ Distant Horizon.

A post five days in the making...

Blogger has been grumpy about uploading pictures again, and when one only gets a few minutes a day to do things on the computer, that can be very, very frustrating.

At any rate, this pic is a picture which is not of my new built-in bookcases. They won't be done until after Christmas (but I've been assured they will be very nice when they finally turn up). Never get two perfectionists working on a project together, that's what I'm thinking.

I have asked why we absolutely had to move the old bookshelves out, and dismantle the entertainment center, and paint the wall before the wood was cut and ready to install. Strangely, I don't quite get an answer to that. I'm reminded of one of my favorite scenes from Mad About You when Helen Hunt is trying to get Paul Reiser to say he was wrong about something and all he'll admit to is "It's not the most right I've ever been." So the tree went up against the lovely brown wall and the echo is distracting, but it's just for a few more weeks.

(My other favorite scene from that show was when her sister was begging her to make some gravy. "But what are you going to eat it on?" "A plate.")

The boys in the pic are being hypnotized by this new show on Noggin called The Upside Down Show. It's technically for preschoolers, but it really is hypnotic. These two Australian guys pretend to do things, pantomiming and making their own sound effects, and pretend like they are being controlled by a remote control you're holding. They'll both fall down and say "Please don't press the stumble button." Oliver laughs and laughs. For a preschool show, it's surprisingly watchable. It's not as hypnotic as this, however:




I found a few other pics on the camera when I was downloading that shot of the not-bookcases, pretty old ones, too. I've been camera-neglectful. At any rate, my kids are both Lego Maniacs. If they had no other toys than Legos they'd be perfectly content. My eldest can build anything out of Legos. I've shown a few of his previous constructions before (and now I'm not digging up the links now, no time!). This one is an ATST. This is not a kit, this is his own design (the pieces come from other Star Wars sets, which is why the colors are mostly correct).

This one is Luke Skywalker on a speeder bike. Some of the colors are off, but the overall design I think you'd have to admit is very nearly spot-on.

And here is the boy in question, on his ninth birthday, with the pumpkin pie he asked for rather than a cake.

Also known as lazy blogging

I took another quiz, on what Tarot card I am:

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Is it just me, or does it sound like if I take drugs or alcohol, I will cause irereparable damage to the drugs and alcohol? Maybe the "them" is my past mental problems; I wouldn't want to damage those.

I also have a list of the 50 Most Significant SFF books (1953-2002, according to the Science Fiction Book Club). I'm supposed to bold what I've read, strike-through anything I hated, italicize anything I've started but never finished, and asterisk anything I loved. So here we go:

1. The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien.*** I've read this book at least every five years since I first read it at 14. I don't know if I'll keep that up in my 90s, but it's been about five years and I've been hankering to dig into it again.
2. The Foundation Trilogy, Isaac Asimov. But in all honest, I liked his robot series with Elijah Baley and R. Daneel Olivaw better. I know, I'm a heretic.
3. Dune, Frank Herbert. I've even managed to stay awake through the movie version once!
4. Stranger in a Strange Land, Robert A. Heinlein.*** 4 times. I keep intending to read all of Heinlein's books, and I keep getting sidetracked reading this one over and over again. My husband's cat is named Valentine after Valentine Michael Smith.
5. A Wizard of Earthsea, Ursula K. Le Guin.*** I would love to see a Peter Jackson version of this. I didn't bother with the Sci-Fi channel disaster.
6. Neuromancer, William Gibson.*** 4 times on this one as well. Our second cat is named Molly, which is a shared reference to the Molly in this book and Molly Bloom from Ulysses. (The third cat is Spike, a shared reference to Cowboy Bebop and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is totally not literary. I should be ashamed).
7. Childhood's End, Arthur C. Clarke. Eep. Actually, I have a list of authors whose work I plan to dive into next, and his name is on it. Honest, I fully intend to read this.
8. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Philip K. Dick. And this too. I actually already own this, I've just never read it.
9. The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley***. When I first read it, it absolutely blew me away. The sequels haven't come close to Mists, but frankly that bar may be set too high. This book is brilliant.
10. Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
11. The Book of the New Sun, Gene Wolfe. Wolfe is also on that list. I've read a lot of his short fiction and a couple of his novels, but not this one.
12. A Canticle for Leibowitz, Walter M. Miller, Jr. I've read this at least twice. The first time was when I was in junior high; I'm fairly certain this was the first straight-up sci-fi I ever read (although I was a fiend for sci-fi movies, even the crappy ones).
13. The Caves of Steel, Isaac Asimov. Oh there you are, Caves of Steel.
14. Children of the Atom, Wilmar Shiras
15. Cities in Flight, James Blish
16. The Colour of Magic, Terry Pratchett. Pratchett's name is on the list (I'm telling you, it's a mighty long list. I started with the women writers, most of whom don't even appear on this list. I'll get to the list-making men someday).
17. Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison . No, but this one is on my list for Christmas (a large portion of my gifts received are in bookstore gift certificates, so I start making my lists now. I don't want until Dec. 26 to spend those gift certificates!).
18. Deathbird Stories, Harlan Ellison.
19. The Demolished Man, Alfred Bester. Another one I own but have not yet read.
20. Dhalgren, Samuel R. Delany
21. Dragonflight, Anne McCaffrey
22. Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card. Italics for this one, although I still intend to finish it someday.
23. The First Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever, Stephen R. Donaldson
24. The Forever War, Joe Haldeman
25. Gateway, Frederik Pohl
26. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, J.K. Rowling.*** It's probably best if I don't tell you how many times I've read this one. Everytime a new one is coming out, I re-read all the previous ones back-to-back. I read them all again everytime a movie is coming out. Since this is the first book in the series, I'll let you do the math.
27. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams.*** Second after Canticle in my sci-fi reading. I was quite popular in junior high for being the only girl anyone knew who'd read this and could quote it like it was Python (I was going to say "Shakespeare", but I'm pretty sure I was the only one also quoting Shakespeare) (also, the word "popular" here refers to a very restricted social circle. I was popular with the geeks).
28. I Am Legend, Richard Matheson
29. Interview with the Vampire, Anne Rice.*** 3 or 4 times with that one as well. To be honest, I like her Mayfair Witches books better. (yeah, heretic again).
30. The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Le Guin.**** Quite possibly my favorite LeGuin, and that's saying something. Love is not strong enough a word.
31. Little, Big, John Crowley
32. Lord of Light, Roger Zelazny
33. The Man in the High Castle, Philip K. Dick
34. Mission of Gravity, Hal Clement
35. More Than Human, Theodore Sturgeon
36. The Rediscovery of Man, Cordwainer Smith
37. On the Beach, Nevil Shute
38. Rendezvous with Rama, Arthur C. Clarke. Yes, I'm ashamed not to have read this one. It's on the list!
39. Ringworld, Larry Niven. I own this but haven't read it yet. I've read 6 other Niven books, though.
40. Rogue Moon, Algis Budrys
41. The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien. I don't know anyone who's finished this. How did it make the list and no The Hobbit?
42. Slaughterhouse-5, Kurt Vonnegut
43. Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson
44. Stand on Zanzibar, John Brunner
45. The Stars My Destination, Alfred Bester. Another one I own but haven't read yet.
46. Starship Troopers, Robert A. Heinlein. 3 times. I could get a lot more reading done if I could stop reading the same books over and over, eh?

47. Stormbringer, Michael Moorcock. Own it, haven't read it.
48. The Sword of Shannara, Terry Brooks. I've never seen the appeal. Dragonlance gets sneered at, but those books are nowhere near as badly written as the Shannara books. Sometimes I just don't understand human behavior.
49. Timescape, Gregory Benford
50. To Your Scattered Bodies Go, Philip Jose Farmer

16 out of 50, plus 3 I've never finished. Better hit the books!

My Very First Sale!

My short story "Seagull and Raven" was just bought by Allegory e-zine! This ends it reign as my most rejected story; that title now passes down to "Cold Water Drowning". This is a particularly exciting first sale, as "Seagull and Raven" is part of the backstory for the novel in progress, Tao of Troth. Nah, really it's just exciting because someone bought something I wrote! It will be up on the Allegory site in January 2007; I'll post again when it's live so you can all check it out and recommended it to all your friends (wink wink, nudge nudge).

Oh how I love this record

As some among you may know, I adore Cat Stevens. I've loved his music since I saw the movie Harold and Maude way back in high school (I of course knew "Peace Train" before that, but to be honest, that's not in my top 10 Cat tracks). I loved the songs in that movie and had to hear more. Sadly, my entire Cat collection was on LP and I no longer have a turntable (or even the records, actually; there is no room in this house to store stuff. I'd kill for a house with an attic). But a few years back my husband got the Cat Stevens boxed set for me for Christmas, and that has almost all of the good stuff on it. (and "Peace Train").

So anyway, Cat, who is now Yusuf Islam, has a new record out this week. It took me a while to find it on itunes, as he is going just by "Yusuf" for this one, and the sucky itunes search engine didn't realize that this record could in any way be what someone typing the keywords "Yusuf Islam" or "Cat Stevens" might be looking for. I presume the one name thing isn't a bid at Prince or Madonna hipness, and I sincerely hope it's not a political thing. I imagine it has to do with why he hasn't done any new music until now: he wants to separate the spiritual and secular sides of his life, and this record is meant to be secular.

I say "meant to be" not because it's secretly meant to proselytze you. Cat is like George Harrison; his spiritual journey is too much of who he is for that not be what the music is really all about. (See: it's about the journey, not the destination. If it were about the destination, that would be proselytzing).

Now I liked his single from a few years back "Indian Ocean", but I was doubtful whether a whole new record would manage to strike a chord with me. It's been decades since he's recorded, it might have sucked. Happily, it doesn't. It's not quite Tea for the Tillerman, but it can stand next to it without shame. And he still has the most amazing voice. I've only had this record for a couple of days, but I can already tell I'm going to be playing this one a lot. If you like Cat, definitely pick this one up.

(You know, I just can't bring myself to call these things "CDs". I don't know why. It just doesn't seem to encapsulate the creative product like "record" does. Maybe it's like with writing. I don't think of myself as writing a "book", I'm writing a "novel". I dunno, just a ponder.)

What Buffy character am I?

I thought for sure I'd be Andrew, as no one ever remembers my name, but as it turns out I'm....

(And no, there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about these great huge spaces and empty lines. I've tried, but I can't fix it. If only I actually knew something about HTML!)

Tara Maclay 45% amorality, 36% passion, 63% spirituality, 63% selflessness

What a woman! (Or man, as it may be...) Tara is a moral, centered, spiritual and selfless person... rather, I suspect, like you. People like this make those around them love them. Congratulations! (and stay away from windows, just in case) THE 4-VARIABLE BUFFY PERSONALITY TEST

Cautiously optimistic

That pretty much sums up my feelings for the Timberwolves this year. I like how the Boston boys have been playing. Ricky Davis exemplifies team spirit - is there a player who's less selfish with the ball? - and Mark Blount has turned out to be the polar opposite of Olowakandi. He's much better than we were told he would be when that trade went down, and I'm very pleased with his blocking, rebounding, and scoring (although being such a tall fellow he can't run and dribble at the same time. My husband keeps insisting that Kevin Garnett is a freak in his ability to do this at his height. I guess it's true). Our first round draft pick Randy Foye seems like a slow starter, but he did manage to nail a few last night. He'll be worth the effort if Casey gives him the time to develop, I think. But I'm blown away by Craig Smith, our other rookie who plays like an NBA veteran. 20 points against Denver? Didn't see that one coming.

Team-wide, turnovers are still a problem, and I don't think Marko Jaric has quite found his place yet. It's better since he knows he's not a point guard now, but I think he's still trying to find his niche. He's mean on the steal, though. I'm liking Mike James as our point guard; I'm so glad they scared up some veterans to complement Kevin Garnett. This is a team built around KG, and if they can't make it happen for him I'm afraid MN is going to have to let KG go. He wants that ring, man, and who can blame him?

But my fave to watch is still Troy Hudson (when he's not hurt). Yes, he takes a while to prime up. You have to let him biff a bunch of big shots, but just when you're ready to tear your hair out, he'll start nailing 3-pointers. And nailing them. And nailing them. Plus, I like his hair. I liked it better last year when he was doing the pigtail thing. I tried to find a pic, but the internet let me down. I did find this one of T-Hud and Shaq which I find amusing:

On a final basketball note, my heart goes out to Wally Szczerbiak, who's been playing his butt off in Boston, but to no avail. 33 points he scored last night - 33 points! - and they still lost. That's gotta suck.

Follow-up to previous

So I just switched over the Blogger Beta; we'll see how this goes. It offered all sorts of new templates, which I anxiously browsed... and then decided I still like what I have the best. All the others are boxy. The header, the links, the archives, all get their own box. I guess that could be considered a neat, clean style, but I find it cold and business-like. I rather like this brown parchment look with no dividers. On the upside, Blogger Beta uploads images without locking up, a huge plus!

At any rate, part of the regrouping I was talking about was taking a week off to do nothing. Since we homeschool year-round, we alternate a week of vacation after every three weeks of school (with two weeks off twice a year). Usually these weeks off are busier than school weeks, especially when trips to Chicago are involved. So last week for vacation I determined we would do nothing at all. We would stay home and just hang out. Because lately the only time I spend with them is school time, and I'm in danger of being more teacher than Mom.

The boys had been bugging me for a while to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender with them. I've gotten to see an episode here or there, but they wanted me to watch all of season one. So that's what we did first. It really is a very good show; I would have absolutely adored it if it had been on when I was a kid. The "benders" are people who use magic based on the four elements: air, fire, water, and earth. The way they use this magic is by doing kung fu forms (different styles for each element; there's a special feature on the DVD where the master who does their choreography breaks down which is which, very cool if you're into martial arts). That would be enough to get me interested, but it also has some of my favorite features of TV shows: a running story line in which characters undergo permanent changes (watch as they learn skills, there's a definite arc in their abilities), characters that don't fit neatly into "good" and "evil" boxes, and strong female characters. The animation is top-notch too. (And the fact that season one ends with a big fight at the North Pole... well, you know I'm into that).

So that's what they shared with me. For my part, I picked movies from my childhood which they've never seen (although we've owned the DVDs for donkey years; they tend to pick the same things over and over again).

I started out with UHF starring "Weird Al" Yankovic. They're big fans of his music and especially his videos, but they didn't really care for the movie. Odd, since I still think it's hilarious. "Badgers? Badgers? We don't need no stinkin' badgers?!?'

On second thought, it's possible that most of the pop culture references went over their heads. They've never even seen the Beverly Hillbillies.

I also tried Legend on them, but they didn't care for it much either. I love it, flying pollen and all, but it is a bit slow. They didn't hate it, but their response was definitely tepid.



Next up was The Never-Ending Story. I confess, I've never been wildly enthusiastic about this movie. The racing snail is the only element I find cool in any way (and the only female character spends the entire movie up in a tower waiting for other people to do things for her - ugh). But I can see what draws other people to it. This was their favorite of everything we watched. Oliver in particular scarcely paused for breath when he was telling Dad all about it.

I find it a bit ironic, the bookstore owner who gives the book to Bastien is very disdainful of videogames. I wonder what he'd think about games like Final Fantasy, which are really like novels you inhabit with story lines (and alternate story lines depending upon how you choose to respond to the other characters). We've come a long way since Space Invaders.

We rounded out the week with a movie I still love: The Goonies. That first novel I wrote when I was 16 was influenced as much by this movie as by The Lord of the Rings (and if you think the two can't mix... well, there's a reason that novel is in the basement now). The female characters are subpar (and not really part of the group anyway), but the booby traps and pirate treasure are so cool I can forgive the film makers for not making any girl Goonies. Plus I love that Cyndi Lauper song. Something I noticed for the first time, the older brother sounds just like John C. Reilly. He clearly isn't, but particularly when he was off frame or had his back to the camera it was uncanny.

We did have a day where whatever we were watching wrapped up short of nap time, so we watched a little SpongeBob on TV. With commercials, which we almost never do (not with me in the room, anyway). We saw one for a talking baby doll which says, "I love you more than bunnies!"

"What did that baby say?" I ask.
"I love you more than bunnies," Adain says.
"What does that mean? Does it mean I love you more than I love bunnies, or does it mean I love you more than bunnies love you?"
"Mom, you're just weird."

(This has become our new good night ritual for Oliver and me. It used to be "Boba Fett fits in this spaceship right here", which came from a conversation like this:

"Good night, Oliver."
"Do you see this? This is Boba Fett's backpack. And this is his gun..."
"I'll see you in the morning."
"...and he can fly with his jetpack..."
"I love you."
"...and Boba Fett fits in this spaceship right here!"

So at the end of the night instead of "I love you" I'd say "Boba Fett fits in this spaceship right here!"since apparently it means the same thing, right? But Oliver has sworn he will always listen to what I'm saying and give appropriate responses if I would please, please stop saying that. So now I say, "Good night, Oliver. I love you more than bunnies". We can work it up to an hysterical pitch. "Don't trust the bunnies! Don't listen to them! They say they love you, but I love you more than bunnies!!!"

I wonder what that doll is trying to say. Maybe it's spy code.)

Back to watching SpongeBob. Since I'm incapable of watching TV without doing something productive at the same time, I was working on their Christmas sweaters. I was counting stitches (tends to absorb my attention) when Oliver suddenly shouts (clearly upset): "GIVE IT BACK TO THE WITCH!!!" It made me jump.

"Oliver! What are you talking about?"
"He's talking to the TV," Aidan says (with that big brother, I-always-have-to-put-up-with-this-behaviour air). I glance up at the TV. We're watching a Lucky Charms commercial.
"Dude? That's a leprechaun. Not a witch."

But that pretty much sums up why we own so many DVDs. Commercials are just too disturbing.

I'm not wigging. What, you think I'm wigging? This is hang time. I'm just... I'm just regrouping.

For some time now I've been letting a lot of things slide, promising myself to take care of it when I wasn't doing so many extra hours for work. I've finally had to admit to myself that I'm not going to not be busy until I'm replaced by a machine. I haven't blogged much lately because I've been regrouping.

Most of the changes were how I homeschool. There are as many ways to homeschool your kids as there are people homeschooling; everything from buying a boxed curriculum that covers all subjects with teachers you mail assignments and tests to for grading (way too constrictive for me) to "unschoolers" who spend the day finding "teachable moments" and have no curriculum at all (definitely not for me). I fall somewhere in the middle: we use Saxon for math, and that comes in a box (it even has a script for what I'm supposed to say, but I've never used that). I've picked and choosed the books I use for spelling and grammar and writing. But up until this point I've been creating Aidan's history and science curriculum myself. We have encylopedias and tons of books, of course, but I've been writing up lesson plans, deciding when we are going to study what topics, what activities we're going to do, etc.

Guess what I gave up for the sake of regrouping? It was a tough decision; I enjoy doing these planning things. I've finally had to admit after four months of no history and very little science that I just don't have the time and won't have the time as far into the future as I can see. So I broke down and bought a history curriculum. It's not really school-in-a-box, it actually uses the encyclopedias and books I already have. It just does the coordinating and sequencing of lessons for me, and each unit has a list of recommended books we can find at the library, which saves me the searching. Plus it comes with maps to color in, so it ties geography in with the history. I am, however, still doing the science myself. I can't give up all control.

The other thing I had to admit was there was never going to be a convenient time for Aidan to take piano lessons; our days are too packed with activities. I had intended for him to start at 7; he's nearly 9. Plus, they're really expensive. I've mentioned his love of Rosetta Stone for Latin; learning on the computer without Mom is the coolest (apparently), so I got on Ebay and bid my little heart out until I managed to win a MIDI keyboard and piano software. Not the same as a real teacher, certainly, but if he likes it and commits to practicing everyday we'll revisit the whole lessons thing.

I haven't written a word in the WIP since August. I read this post on Jane Espenson's blog about a cardigan and an echidna (this will make more sense if you read Jane's blog), and it occurred to me that that is my problem. Except I'm not sure which is my cardigan and which is my echidna. I came *this close* to taking the scissors to the whole thing when my husband suggested I try working on something else for a while and see if I still felt the same way later (what I'm thinking is that the story needs to be nonlinear: whether it starts in the middle, flashes back, and flashes forward, or alternate past and future chapters, or even (ugh) has a prologue, something along those lines is what I'm thinking).

So I'm working on a story for an anthology, Sails and Sorcery. I had the beginning and the ending, but no middle (which, for the theme, would have to involve ships). Somehow (I'm honestly not sure how, I think I was writing in a fugue state. Did I mention the chronic exhaustion?) the middle of the story ended up in the Arctic. I think I'm in danger of self-parody. And yet I'm in love with it, it all just flows. I haven't written anything I've liked this much since "Tale of a Fox". I haven't written anything that was so slow in the writing since Fox either; I've been lucky to eek out 300 words a day. But I've been dreaming of my own scenes. I've never had that happen before; I hope that means it's good (and not that I'm, you know, going nuts).

Man vs. Nature?

Jean-Michel, who is the eldest son of sea-explorer legend Jacques Cousteau, told reporters that he thought Irwin, in his "Crocodile Hunter" shows and beyond, would "interfere with nature, jump on animals, grab them...It appeals to a lot of people, but I think it's very misleading. You don't touch nature, you just look at it. And that's why I'm still alive." (Jean-Michel also said that he found the death "unfortunate" and said he had "a lot of respect" for Irwin.)*

Well, I have a lot of respect for Cousteau (really, that's not sarcastic), but that statement of his is really a piece of work. Honestly, how do you not touch nature?

OK, obviously he did not mean that literally. I'm sure the man walks on grass just like the rest of us; he doesn't just look at it. But he does invoke an idea that I've always had a problem with: that "man" is separate from "nature". That "nature" is this pristine, holy thing that is sullied by any contact with "man".

Of course the reason Steve Irwin was so popular was that he did jump on animals and wrestle with them. I hate nature shows as a general rule; I find them unbelievably dull. Voice-over and a locked down camera, ugh. But Irwin got in there, got involved. (To be honest, I enjoy the Kratt brothers as well. They don't get in there as much as Steve, but they do get genuinely excited when they find cool animals. And genuine excitement is quite infectious). Man and animal, both part of nature, working out a way to live together and share the same space. That was Irwin's mission statement, wasn't it? It wasn't look from a distance, admire the untouched beauty, feel guilt for how you've sullied it with your need for civilization. It was working for a compromise, looking for ways to keep sharks off of beaches so that people could swim without getting bitten, but that didn't kill the sharks in the process. It was forward-looking and always positive. Which was why I liked Steve.

I think this idea of not touching nature is a really bad one. I think it's one of the reasons so many people actively hate environmentalists. They tend to treat humans as intruders when we are, after all, a part of the ecosystem too. Yes, we've been given the gift of reason, and we should use it to find ways to meet our needs that cause the least amount of damage to the world around us, but the idea that we shouldn't touch stuff.... well clearly, it rubs me the wrong way.

My vote for the worst book ever: Ishmael by Daniel Quinn, in which a talking gorilla (ugh) advocates a return to hunting/gathering over agriculture. Because what would make the world a better place is high infant mortality and getting rid of those artists and scientists and all the other specialized careers that come from one man acquiring enough food to support more than just himself.

What the environmental movement needs, in my opinion, is more guys like Jared Diamond, who are looking for ways to balance the needs of the environment with the needs of industry. He has his critics, some feel he compromises too much, but I like him. He is not a zealot, and that's sadly all too rare. His books are well worth the read.

Another book I just read also touches on this man and nature debate. It's this one:



It's about what the Western Hemisphere was really like before Columbus came. History is one of those areas where I feel my public school education really let me down, so I've been digging up interesting books like this when I can find them so I can fill in the gaps. My impression from my school days was that North America was sparsely populated, no real cities, and was all wild, only lightly touched or untouched by man. (I also thought Squanto was a fictional character. I'm a bit ashamed about that one. In my defense, he is a highly fictionalized historical figure; I think I can be forgiven).

This book is well worth reading in its entirety. Suffice it to say my school days' assumptions were wrong in all respects (although I did actually know some of this before reading 1491, because I've been reading Jared Diamond's books which make a lot of the same points). The book goes into depth on what different Indian groups were doing to use nature to meet their needs. Most interesting for me were those in Amazonia, who couldn't grow fields of grain so they cultivated groves of nut and fruit trees. Once they were all wiped out by smallpox, nothing was left but the trees. Which in the middle of a rain forest don't really scream "civilization" to the casual observer, such as the first white explorers.

My point is, popular imagery aside, the Indians did not see themselves as apart from nature, and they didn't think nature was just for looking at. They touched it and used it. Because that's what people do.

* Disclaimer: From what I've read, it seems Jean Michel's problem wasn't with Irwin so much as it was with his nephew Philippe Cousteau, who worked with Irwin. Apparently the Cousteau family is quite a divisive and combative bunch. Someone should make a sitcom. Nah, it could never be as good as The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.

Still no joy for Duckie

I already own this movie, but I was tricked into buying it again.

Let's back up a bit. Like many of my generation, I adore John Hughes movies, and Pretty in Pink is the best of the lot as far as I'm concerned. Everytime I slept over at my best friend's house, we would rent this movie. Honestly, every single time. I still know it by heart (you'd think it was The Empire Strikes Back or something). My friend was a compulsive magazine reader; she read all the entertainment magazines and was always my friend-in-the-know. She was the one who told me that originally the movie ended with Andie and Duckie together, and the book tie-in, the crappy novelization had this original Duckie gets the girl ending. This was back in the days before the Internet, of course. This sort of info is readily available on any movie with two clicks and a Google, but back then it was like she told me she knew where the Holy Grail was.

I was in my 20s before I found a copy of the crappy novelization in a used book store (and even a decade later it was still like I'd found the Holy Grail, I'm sad to say. I was embarrassingly excited).

So it's been 20 years now that I've been longing to see this ending. I know it exists, I've read the novel version but I want to see the actual celluloid! So when I was at the Best Buy last week (buying Stars Wars Lego II for the boys) and I saw a new release of Pretty in Pink called the "Everything's Duckie Edition" which promised "The Original Ending: The Last Dance". At last! At last I would see the Duckie ending!

Or not. It's not actually there. It's just the cast reminiscing about shooting that first ending and then going back for reshoots. I was robbed!

To be honest, though, Andie ending up with Duckie doesn't work. The Blane ending was definitely the way to go. I think I felt as strongly as I did about it back in the day because it wasn't the Andie character I identified with in the movie; it was Duckie. Andie was cold and aloof (and into fashion, something I've never carried much about myself). Duckie was just Duckie, himself take it or leave it. I didn't want them to end up together because it was the right choice for Andie; I just wanted Duckie to get the girl. But like I said, it doesn't work. And it's all in that little scene between Duckie and Andie's dad. Andie and Duckie together would just be her parents all over again; one person feeling all of the love and affection for two.

The ending from the theatrical release is better for Duckie anyway. He makes the choice to step back and let Andie go. I wished it could have ended there. But someone felt they had to throw him a bone, so we get the ridiculous Kristy Swanson cameo (called "Duckette" in the credits). Is this the sort of girl Duckie would be attracted to, Duckie the pathological individualist? This is his follow-up for Andie? A richie? No way. He needs a girl with flare, with a sense of self.

Of course it helps to imagine her in her other theatrical persona: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Now there's a girl for Duckie.

My Summer Vacation...

...thank god it's over. OK, it wasn't that bad, considering not a single thing went off as planned. The boys, for instance, we're very well behaved on their first long trip in the car.

The drive from Minneapolis to Chicago was nice - at first. We left after rush hour and stopped at our favorite rest stop in Menomonie, WI for sandwiches (it's on the way to Chippewa Falls, which we are compelled to visit the last weekend of every July). It started spitting rain while we ate, which was OK since the picnic tables were under little pavilions. Not an hour later the rain had increased to the point where seeing the car in front of us was a challenge, particularly if it was actually a truck in front of us, spraying up a dense curtain of water. Did I mention the freeway was down to one lane for road construction? Well, it was.

Still, we got to Chicago without incident and found our hotel. I had made the reservations over the internet, and not being familiar with Chicago, I picked the hotel pretty much at random (as close to the Field Museum as we could get so we wouldn't have to drive on the freeway to get there, then the cheapest I could find). We were in a little cluster of hotels that service the Midway Airport. A nice little oasis, and our hotel was very well run, clean with very friendly and helpful staff. But to get there we had to drive through what I can only hope is the pit of Chicago. (It actually wasn't until we were leaving on Thursday morning that I actually saw parts of Chicago that were clean and well kept).

The next day was Field Museum Day. Our non-refundable, non-exchangable tickets were only good between 9:30-10 a.m. Mapquest directions said it'd take about 12 minutes to get there from our hotel. We gave ourselves an hour so we could get there early, no stress. It took almost exactly an hour to get there, and it was the very opposite of no stress, as my eldest puked all over himself in the back seat (whether from nerves or a side effect of my husband's techniques for driving stick in stop-and-go traffic, who can say?)

So now it's already 9:30, we don't know where we are or where we can get a pair of pants and be back in less than 30 minutes (because he didn't lean forward to aim for the floor: it was all over his jacket and his pants and his seat. And by the way hotel laundry service for a pair of pants and a jacket is $20, FYI). So we cleaned him up as best we could in the restroom and got in line. Because those tickets were 100 nonrefundable dollars.

Now it could just be my pathological optimism talking, but this actually worked out well for us. It was very crowded throughout the entire exhibit, but when someone in your party still smells a bit like vomit, people generally choose to give you a bit more room. So we got to see everything, and it was very, very cool. Egypt, and specifically Egypt circa the time Akhenaten was in power (Tut's predecessor) was one of the settings for novel #2, so I've done a lot of reading on this time period. Enough to where I actually recognized a lot of the artifacts. Aidan and Oliver were interested as well, which is cool since it wasn't really geared for children. Oliver did, however, get freaked out by a massive stone head, part of a long-lost statue of Akhenaten, which was set up high so it sort of loomed over you in one room. I can't hardly blame him, he was one scary guy (and his daughters are even more alien-looking; the theory is that the whole family had some bizarre inbreeding-related disease). This isn't a picture of that head, but just to give you an idea:

I can definitely see why he was freaked out. But then he was also freaked out by Sue the T. Rex in the lobby. And the stuffed gorillas. And the animatronic bugs in the Underground Adventure...

They were both very good in the clearly not-meant-for-kids Tut exhibit. And the Field Museum had other exhibits on Egypt that were kid-oriented. You could touch stuff and interact with things (like using a shaduf to pour water into an irrigation canal, or trying to pull a massive block of stone using ropes and a wood sledge). It was a nice museum, but we didn't stay long on account of the puke smell one of us was still stewing in. We did get a big Tut T-shirt that covered most of the big spots. And I, of course, bought the museum book with photos of all the artifacts (plus a CD of the audio tour narrated by Omar Sharif, a nice bonus since we hadn't paid for that option with our exhibit tickets). And the book was written by Zahi Hawass. Not "foreword by" not "introduction by", written by. (Completely off topic, but my similar book on the Viking exhibit which spawned the ideas for my WIP has a foreword by Hillary Rodham Clinton. I have no idea why. That book has some terrific contributors, especially in the Greenland section, which of course is the most-referenced part of my book. But who hears "Viking" and thinks "Hillary"? It's just bizarre).

In case some of you are saying, "Who the hell is Zahi Hawass?", I assure you if you've ever watched a doc about Egypt on the Discovery Channel, or the History Channel, or any other channel, I guarantee you've seen Zahi Hawass:

So that covers day one of our vacation. Day two was less eventful. The Shedd Aquarium was amazing (no one puked, but Oliver was freaked out by the giant sperm whales that hung from the ceiling in the food court and the giant octopus on the ceiling of the gift shop). It still rained all day, so we never got to go to the sculpture garden or any parks or even just walk along Lake Michigan. When you're travelling with a high-energy 5-year-old, this is more than a little disappointing. We resorted to letting them watch Pokeman because it was the only kid's show on the hotel TV (formerly a forbidden show, but all their friends watch it). They were both very excited and sat quietly and colored in their notebooks while they watched it (our hotel room was actually one big bed plus a fold-out couch, which was cool because that meant during the long evenings stuck in doors we could sit on a couch and had a coffee table to draw and play on rather than trying to make do with two beds). (We also had a microwave and a little fridge, so we could cook frozen dinners rather than eat out. Did I mention the hotel was great?).

It quit raining on Thursday, the day we drove back. We decided to take the highways through downtown so they could see the Sears Tower (or as Oliver calls it, the Serious Tower, which is taller than the Vampire State Building). They got a lot of looks at it; there was road construction and it took over an hour to get from one freeway to the next. But they were really geeked to see it since it had been in clouds, mist, and fog every other time we'd come downtown. They never did get a good look at Lake Michigan, though. There wasn't enough cash left to park anywhere, so we had to let it go.

The drive back through Wisconsin was beautiful. The leaves were just starting to turn (in a few more weeks they'll be spectacular; memo to self, next trip to Chicago will be in October).

But we had to make one last stop on the way home, at Best Buy. The Star Wars: Lego Game II just came out. If you've spoken to my sons recently, this is a fact you are already very well aware of.

That's why they were so well behaved on vacation and during the long car rides. Bribery.

On pottery

I love a good DVD commentary track. Most are a waste of time, but a few are full of insights into the storytelling process. Robert Rodriguez consistently gives good audio. On one DVD (one of the Spy Kids movies, but I'm not sure which), he told this story:

On the first day of a college pottery class, the professor announced that half the class would be graded on quantity while the other half would be graded on quality. Some of the students would be required to make fifty clay pots by the end of the semester. Students who made all fifty would receive an A, those who made forty would receive a B, and so on. The other students only had to make one clay pot, but everything about it had to be perfect. The lesson lay in the fact that the highest quality pots inevitably came from the students who were to be graded on quantity. These students learned from their mistakes, and had enough practical experience that the pots they made kept getting better and better. The students who were graded on quality tended to over-think their designs, and without the practice required to gain the skill, could not produce a high quality pot.

I've thought about that story a lot since I first heard it. I suspect he's right, and yet I'm very bad with letting things go. I'm very much the type to fuss with one pot endlessly rather than make a bunch of pots. Lots of writers advise writing a short story or novel chapter a week (which frankly blows me a way; I could never be that prolific. Not with the paying job and the homescholing, anyway). These writers have various ways of saying why one should do this, but it boils down to what Rodriguez says: it's all about the practical experience and skills that are only gained from output. The bigger your output, the more you learn.

The way I figure it, the slow workers might learn in 40 pots what the fast ones learn in 50 (maybe), but the fast ones do those 50 in less than half the time the slow ones spend on 40. I know some writers who were devestated when their first novel didn't sell. It's tough, because you put so much into it, but at the same time, it's tough - how can you expect to get it right on the very first try?

I spent 5 years on my last novel, which I've never tried to sell (or the one that came before it, for that matter). It was a great learning experience, and the novel I'm working on now is going much faster because of what I learned from writing that one. I had originally intended to revisit that old one when the new one was done, but the more distant I get from it the less I want to. So I'm scrapping it for parts (the characters were cool, if I say so myself).

So yeah, I think Rodriquez is right, but I'm still a futzer. What are you gonna do?

Good-bye, Steve Irwin

You've probably already heard the news, that Steve is gone. It doesn't seem quite right, with all the dangerous animals he's handled (or wrestled), that he was brought low by a stingray. This is not an aggressive animal; it only has that stinger to avoid being stepped on. If it had stung him anywhere else, he'd still be with us. Just an inch either way would have hit a rib (I'm sure it was the actual puncturing of his heart more than the venom that killed him).

The world of wildlife conservation has lost a great hero, but I don't think that matters as much as his kids losing their father. Anyone who's ever watched his shows can tell you: he loved animals, but nowhere near as much as he loved his family.

He will be missed. Heck, I miss him already.

Arrested Development

When I say I never watch television, this is of course not entirely true. During the (all too) few hours a week I get to spend with my husband when neither of us are working and the boys are in bed, we usually watch something together. It's a bit more social than reading in the same room (mostly because someone won't stop talking, and the constant interruptions make me.... well, let's just say anti-social).

But we never really watch shows on TV. Mostly this is because we have vastly different tastes, but my work schedule in particular is too erratic to ever be able to be there same night, same time to catch the next episode of anything.

Then God created TV on DVD. This is in fact where I discovered Buffy and Angel. Firefly I did watch live. Which brings me to the other reason I don't watch TV - the shows I like always get axed. Which brings me to the show I wanted to discuss: the also-axed ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT.

This show is brilliant. I'm impressed with the casting, for crying out loud. Henry Winkler as a closeted gay lawyer? Brilliant. Liza Minelli as a woman suffering from vertigo? I don't think I've ever liked her in anything, but she's brilliant in this. And Ron Howard as the narrator? Who doesn't love little Opie Cunningham?

But of course, being me, what I love most is the writing. Yeah, it's funny, but what slays me is the structure of the thing. It's clearly guided by one man's vision, plotted out with season-long and series-long arcs, complete with foreshadowing, set-up, and closure.

Most sit-coms fail to do any of those things. Stuff happens. Next week, more stuff happens, but it's like last week is already forgotten. As much as I loved FRIENDS, it always bugged me how Chandler and Ross could still be portrayed as geeks/losers when they were bedding a different woman every other episode. Any real geek can tell you, they don't get laid quite that much. In defense of FRIENDS, they did near the end use the absurdness of their collective history for humor. I loved FRIENDS, the jokes were great. But there was never any arc there, any grand plan for where it was all going.

Of course that's the point of a sit-com. You're supposed to catch this or that episode, and everything you need to know about the characters is contained in the theme song to catch the new viewers up. I'm sure part of why ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT never caught on was that you really had to see every episode in order to appreciate it (which brings us back to TV on DVD, the perfect format).

One of the longest-running arguments in writing circles is whether or not one should write an outline before starting to write a novel. Writers arguing for one point of view or another can come up with all sorts of arguments for why there way is the right way (and in the case of some egos, the only way). But I think whichever way the writer writes, with or without an outline, reflects their feelings about structure in what they take in, reading or TV or movies. I happen to like highly-structured things. Have you ever seen the outlines Joyce used to write ULYSSES? Good God, on my best day nothing I do will ever approach that level of structure. One of the argument against outlining is it's more "realistic" to write without one. When you get up in the morning, you don't know what's going to happen. A writer shouldn't know what's going to happen either.

This is half a thought, I'm afraid, as dinner must be made. Suffice it to say, I don't like the word "realistic" applied to my writing style or my reading preferences.