I am in Arizona.
I got to see my Lizzy friend for not nearly long enough, and then met up with family.
It is my grandpa's 79th birthday. We are 50 years apart, almost to the day. I was lucky enough to be his neighbor for fourteen years. I consider myself the favorite grandchild. :)
For his birthday, we went to a celebration for Arizona's 100th birthday. Granted, Arizona does not turn 100 till the 14 Feb, but still.
The celebration was a concert by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, which was pretty cool. Favorite part: Sandra Day O'Connor made an appearance as guest conductor. Do they even teach about her in school anymore? I remember thinking it was so cool that I was from the place she was from. Even though she has grown older, and perhaps a bit frail, she in many ways has not changed much over the years; I still recognized her from across the way, and got really excited.
I guess you could say, as much as I had a hero growing up, she was one of them. I didn't realize it, though, until tonight when I got super excited to see her!
In short, today was a good day of celebrating.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
who...me??
Do you have those things in life, perhaps a little checklist, that says, when I do these things, I will be a grown-up?
You know, like have a job with health insurance. Or a Retirement plan.
Have babies. Find my truelove.
Get a dog with a house and a picket fence.
Well, I haven't managed to check off many of those examples. But, today I managed to donate blood! I'm pretty sure I have O- so this is good, too.
Last time I tried, was over ten years ago. I answered all the , and was strapped in the chair, and they could not find my vein. Not only was it small, but rolly too. I habe not been back since.
But in the intervening years, I've had tb tests and even an iv so I figured it was time to try again.
No luck on the left side, but the vein whisperer was called in and had luck on my right arm.
I can now check one thing off my 'I'm a grown-up when' list. Hoorah for me!
[Editor's note: Apparently my blood can go to everyone, but I can only revceive blood from the O family. Umm, that's not fair!]
You know, like have a job with health insurance. Or a Retirement plan.
Have babies. Find my truelove.
Get a dog with a house and a picket fence.
Well, I haven't managed to check off many of those examples. But, today I managed to donate blood! I'm pretty sure I have O- so this is good, too.
Last time I tried, was over ten years ago. I answered all the , and was strapped in the chair, and they could not find my vein. Not only was it small, but rolly too. I habe not been back since.
But in the intervening years, I've had tb tests and even an iv so I figured it was time to try again.
No luck on the left side, but the vein whisperer was called in and had luck on my right arm.
I can now check one thing off my 'I'm a grown-up when' list. Hoorah for me!
[Editor's note: Apparently my blood can go to everyone, but I can only revceive blood from the O family. Umm, that's not fair!]
Friday, February 10, 2012
dun dun dunnnn
Please forgive me if I've told you this story before.
My friends and I would often play ultimate frisbee in the city park. The games were fun, but I always preferred what I dubbed, 'the lazy bum circle'. You know, the post game chat?
Anyhoo, sometimes they would go till dark.
One night, we chatted till dark, which normally wasn't a problem, but this time I had walked to the park. It really was not far away, but the gentlemen being gentlemen, several offered a ride, but I refused, as no one was going that way.
So I started off home, humming Eponine's 'On My Own'. Seriously.
As I was walking down 600 E, I realized there was a car driving really slowly, behind me on the road. No, it was not a car. It was a van. An old dodge van. And the sliding door was open.
Don't Panic, I told myself.
It was hard, but my Self listened.
That is, until I noticed the van stopped when I stopped.
And then, it started when I started again.
About the time the van was going to overtake me, I was bear a yard that had a knee high chain-link fence, with rose bushes behind. I thought, well, that's going to hurt.
Just as I was about to leap the fence, and the car was overtaking me... I realized it was a newspaper delivery person.
This is a true story.
The end.
My friends and I would often play ultimate frisbee in the city park. The games were fun, but I always preferred what I dubbed, 'the lazy bum circle'. You know, the post game chat?
Anyhoo, sometimes they would go till dark.
One night, we chatted till dark, which normally wasn't a problem, but this time I had walked to the park. It really was not far away, but the gentlemen being gentlemen, several offered a ride, but I refused, as no one was going that way.
So I started off home, humming Eponine's 'On My Own'. Seriously.
As I was walking down 600 E, I realized there was a car driving really slowly, behind me on the road. No, it was not a car. It was a van. An old dodge van. And the sliding door was open.
Don't Panic, I told myself.
It was hard, but my Self listened.
That is, until I noticed the van stopped when I stopped.
And then, it started when I started again.
About the time the van was going to overtake me, I was bear a yard that had a knee high chain-link fence, with rose bushes behind. I thought, well, that's going to hurt.
Just as I was about to leap the fence, and the car was overtaking me... I realized it was a newspaper delivery person.
This is a true story.
The end.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
and now for something completely different
I love stories. My preferred method of story consumption is either print, or aural. Movies are ok, but not my top.
One thing about stories, is I can get really caught up! Case and point: I was required to read Fellowship of the Ring for my freshman college English class. I had avoided it until then, as my brother liked it. And I'd be derned if I liked what he liked!!
But, to my horror, I loved it! Tom Bombadil, and all.
Needless to say, by Thanksgiving, I was finishing the appendices in Return of the King. Hobbitses were regular guests in my dreams. I even began the Silmarillion.
[Reader's start moving their mouse, begin to close window on this crazy woman....]
Perhaps that was an extreme example, but you get the idea.
As I was driving to work today, I thought, wouldn't it be kinda neat, to continue a story line, from one of your favorite books? Not an important line, mind you. So none of this, rewriting an entire novel from some other main character's point of view. I'm talking, more along the lines of some minor character, that plays a part of minor importance. In fact, they weren't even really necessary. Think more, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner and less Midnight Sun. (Give me some credit: I had to verify the names at least....)
What would I write about? I would do a serial about the Distressed Gentlewomen in Ye Cosy Nooke, from PG Wodehouse's, A Damsel in Distress.
What or better yet, who would you right about?
One thing about stories, is I can get really caught up! Case and point: I was required to read Fellowship of the Ring for my freshman college English class. I had avoided it until then, as my brother liked it. And I'd be derned if I liked what he liked!!
But, to my horror, I loved it! Tom Bombadil, and all.
Needless to say, by Thanksgiving, I was finishing the appendices in Return of the King. Hobbitses were regular guests in my dreams. I even began the Silmarillion.
[Reader's start moving their mouse, begin to close window on this crazy woman....]
Perhaps that was an extreme example, but you get the idea.
As I was driving to work today, I thought, wouldn't it be kinda neat, to continue a story line, from one of your favorite books? Not an important line, mind you. So none of this, rewriting an entire novel from some other main character's point of view. I'm talking, more along the lines of some minor character, that plays a part of minor importance. In fact, they weren't even really necessary. Think more, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner and less Midnight Sun. (Give me some credit: I had to verify the names at least....)
What would I write about? I would do a serial about the Distressed Gentlewomen in Ye Cosy Nooke, from PG Wodehouse's, A Damsel in Distress.
What or better yet, who would you right about?
the miserable
[Editor's note: This was my post from yesterday, started right before midnight. I was having problems keeping the post from being too heavy handed. It was not my intent to be all 'change the world, feed the poor' etc. Not that that is a bad thing! I just am not so good at that myself, and I didn't want it to appear as if I was. I've left the post unfinished, as my thoughts are, too, still unfinished. I have a nagging suspicion that the reading of Les Mis shall inspire more heavy handed ponderings, though. You have been warned!]
Do you ever not read on in a book, because you have a pretty good idea what is going to happen? And, perhaps, if you don't carry on with the story, it never happened?
Jean Valjean just stole from the little boy; Fantine is about to believe she must do whatever her 'lover' says.
GAH.
Don't they know that their one choice will badly effect the rest if their lives?
I was chatting about the book today, and mention Victor Hugo's introduction:
I badly paraphrased it, saying, as long as there is inequality, books like[Les Miserables] must exist. Hugo puts it much more eloquently.
Perhaps someday Les Miserables will be not be needed. At least as nothing more than a reminder of what used to be. In this someday, we will be judged for the entirety of our self, instead small individual moments of our lives. That others will give us time to change, and grow. To accept the consequences of our actions, without being defined by our actions.
Such change as Hugo demands, seems quite daunting.
I have this theory. If everyone were to pray for world peace, no one would know if their prayer was answered. We are not aware of the neighbors across the world that have decided to stop quarreling! We never see the results of our actions. And we give up.
Instead, we should look at the Bishop of Digne. Through the simple act of calling the man Valjean, Monsiuer, Valjean began to believe he was more than his yellow passport.
Do you ever not read on in a book, because you have a pretty good idea what is going to happen? And, perhaps, if you don't carry on with the story, it never happened?
Jean Valjean just stole from the little boy; Fantine is about to believe she must do whatever her 'lover' says.
GAH.
Don't they know that their one choice will badly effect the rest if their lives?
I was chatting about the book today, and mention Victor Hugo's introduction:
I badly paraphrased it, saying, as long as there is inequality, books like[Les Miserables] must exist. Hugo puts it much more eloquently.
So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth, and complicates with human fatality a destiny that is divine; so long as the three problems of the century - the degredation of man by the exploitation of his labor, the ruin of woman by starvation, and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual night - are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible; in other words, and from a still broader point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on the earth, there should be need for books such as this. Victor Hugo; Hauteville House, 1862
Perhaps someday Les Miserables will be not be needed. At least as nothing more than a reminder of what used to be. In this someday, we will be judged for the entirety of our self, instead small individual moments of our lives. That others will give us time to change, and grow. To accept the consequences of our actions, without being defined by our actions.
Such change as Hugo demands, seems quite daunting.
I have this theory. If everyone were to pray for world peace, no one would know if their prayer was answered. We are not aware of the neighbors across the world that have decided to stop quarreling! We never see the results of our actions. And we give up.
Instead, we should look at the Bishop of Digne. Through the simple act of calling the man Valjean, Monsiuer, Valjean began to believe he was more than his yellow passport.
'Monsieur Curé,' said the man, 'you are truly good. You don't despise me. You take me into your house. You light your candles for me, and I haven't hidden from you where I come from, and bow miserable I am.' (76)
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