Moving On

I've moved. This is the last entry you'll find on this blog. If you want to keep reading my scintillating stories and adventures and book reviews and everything else, you'll need to visit me at the new home of Chauceriangirl. If you link to this blog, please take a moment to update your links so we can keep in touch!

Faith Loves the Letter R....

Yes, it's another meme. But that's because I'm really busy and have been going back and forth between about 10 different things all at once. Amanda posted this today on her blog; it's one of those fun "get-to-know-you" memes that will probably teach you more about me than you all care to know, however it's fun for me to do! All I had to do was request a letter and once received, I tell you all 10 things I love that start with that letter. I was handed an "R," so here are my 10 items I just love, all beginning with R, in no particular order.

1. Reading. Well, that just had to come first. You know me. Reading, books, love to read, love to write, read read read read read. R. Reading. I read incessantly. If I'm in the bathroom for longer than I'd planned to be, I've been known to panic if I have nothing to read. In those sad little moments, I'll read the back of the shampoo bottle, the toilet bowl cleanser can, anything. I remember the bathroom at GTE had spare rolls of toilet paper in the stalls, and I'd read the French writing and the English writing, and marvel that the French took so many more words to say the same thing and yet sound so much better than the English. When I was a kid, I remember reading the cereal boxes at breakfast. I always have at least one or two books in my handbag that's really a briefcase, according to Sarah. (It's not. It's just a very large totebag with two binders [one for Gertrude Stein and one for the Juarez project] and a book or two and a bottle or two of water and my money and my iPod and anything else I feel like hauling around. But the most important thing are the books. And the money, of which there is never enough.) Anyway, the #1 R thing that I love is reading.
2. Red food. Assuming it's supposed to be red, anyway. Cherries, strawberries, watermelon, raspberries, red Kool-Aid, red Jell-O, red velvet cake, strawberry pie, cherries jubilee. . .. Those are the sweet red foods. And then there's medium-rare roast, which is a pinky-red, but I reserve the right to put it in the red food category. And red beans--I love red beans. And I don't know how I almost forgot, but I really like sweet red bell peppers.
3. Renaissance Festivals, like Scarborough Faire. Always fun. I like mocking the women who use them as an excuse to wear extremely tight corsets so that their breasts are two giant heaving mounds of flesh. They think they're sexy. They're not. It's just kind of gross. And I like heckling the guy pretending to be Shakespeare, by asking him why on earth he left his wife his second-best bed. Of course I have my own theories, but it's always fun to heckle. And I love watching the guys reenact Dante's Divine Comedy. And I like listening to the music and seeing the falcons and watching the jousting and eating sour pickles and being there with people I love.
4. The Renaissance. The Harlem Renaissance, to be more specific. I like the old European one, too, don't get me wrong. I'm an American, though, and I love seeing the art that came out of the Harlem Renaissance. I'm particularly fond of the poetry of Langston Hughes.
5. Redecorating. There's nothing like getting a room in your home exactly the way you want it, all beautiful, everything just so. And you enjoy it for a while. And then, well, it's time to do something different. That's why most of the tchockes in my house come from places like T.J. Maxx or Ross or garage sales or flea markets. I redecorate often enough that the accessories need to be inexpensive.
6. Roaring. Sometimes a girl just needs to roar aloud. "I am woman, hear me roar!" Or, alternately, "I am Reptar! Hear me roar!" Whichever. It's fun. I also like to bark at dogs while I'm taking walks, but that doesn't start with an R so I can't list that here.
7. Rolling my R's. When I was in junior high school and taking Spanish for the first time, I had the dickens of a time learning how to roll my R's. So my mother taught me this little rhyme: Erre con erre cigarro; Erre con erre barril. Rapidos corren los carros del ferrocarril. I practiced and practiced and practiced. And now I can roll my R's. And it's quite satisfying. Just roll your R's at someone you're annoyed at, and it gets you to feeling better right away. Of course, they'll be staring at you like you belong in a loony bin, and perhaps you do, but that's another matter. You'll still feel better after you've rolled those R's!
8. Road Trips! I really like taking road trips. Unless it's for something distinctly unfun and there's nothing I can do along the way to make it fun. You pack a combination of junk food and healthy food (apples and grapes and sandwiches in the cooler, and cashews and Doritos and chocolate). You pick out just the right music and books on CD. You plan out the route. You pack your stuff, making sure to leave enough room in the car for the stuff you're going to buy while you're road tripping. Then you go! And it's even more fun if you allow yourself time to do all the weird stuff along the way--stop off at the 50-foot high ball of yarn, or go visit Santaclausland in March. And you have to stop at Stuckey's and buy a pecan roll, even though it's so sticky sweet you can't stand to eat more than a bite or two. And you stop at all the tourist traps and look at all the junk, and get back in the car and laugh at the people who were buying the authentic Hopi souvenirs made in Taiwan.
9. Rose and roses. Rose is a really fantastic co-worker, and I love her madly. She's always thinking of others, and making sure everyone here is taken care of. And I love roses, too. They can be so prim and proper, and then they can be so wild and blowsy that you know they're just as wanton as could be in their hearts. And they smell good, unless it's rose perfume, in which case yuck.
10. Rock music, in all its incarnations--hard rock, punk, new wave, pop, southern rock, indie, indie folk rock, you name it. If it has a beat and I can dance to it, I'm happy. And if you can't see me dance, you're happy. Trust me on this one.

Well, this was fun, and harder than it may seem. But if you want to join in the fun, let me know and I'll give you a letter!

The 91,436th Reason I Love My Sister

In case you can't tell, by reading my posts over the last few weeks, I've been really uncomfortable with my own self image as opposed to what I see when photographs are taken of me. Particularly after yesterday, I started questioning whether I'd made the right choice of costume. So I've been bugging everyone who saw me, my husband, my sister, the director, etc. And they've all been totally awesome.

S. (the director) said that she thought I looked great, but if I want to keep working on my look, to feel free to do so.

My husband said that I looked good. He also recognizes, I think, part of what's troubling me. I've lost 42 pounds now, but my body's not changing as quickly outside as I am inside. And that's part of the problem. I see in the mirror and in the clothes I'm wearing now how much smaller I am than I was 7 or 8 months ago, but when I see a photograph of myself, all I see is everything I still need to lose. I also see the problem areas that I can already tell you I'm going to get plastic surgery to correct. I think he's right about that. I also told him that I was trying to let out my inner rebel with my costume for the show. He said that my inner rebel isn't a goth punk rocker, but that it's more like Chaucer in the movie "A Knight's Tale"--me walking down the road bare-assed and mooning the world. Of course, I wouldn't do that either, but you get the idea.

And my sister said the last thing I needed to finish feeling secure about my costume. I'm pasting it right from her e-mail, because it made me feel so good that I wanted to keep it where I can find it again when I'm feeling insecure again. Because trust me, I will. Here's what she said: You didn't look horrible. I just saw your blog, but haven't responded yet. You looked--I'm looking for the right word here. Hard? I think that's a good word. You looked hard, which is quite unlike how you usually look. And while I do think you are being hyper self-critical, I also think you are prettier in person than you are on film. You have a spark (crossed with a softness, which is interesting) to your face that the camera doesn't quite know how to catch. Don't know if that makes sense or not. But you didn't look horrible.

I've got the bestest sister in the world.


P.S. What I wrote about the glitter earlier, trust me when I say it won't come off your contacts. I thought I'd gotten it off, and wore my contacts to work today. I've spent the day today blinking in an effort to see, taking them out and rinsing them off again, putting saline in my eyes, etc. OW!!! I'm going to go home, throw this pair of contacts away, and wear glasses for the rest of the week to give my eyelids time to heal. They've got to be scratched from the glitter, because when I put saline in, even though I can temporarily (as in for about 5 minutes) see clearly, it burns like a sonuvagun. So just for emphasis, I'm going to repeat this admonition: If you wear glitter eyeliner or eyeshadow, take your contacts out before you wash your face. The glitter will get on your contacts and will not come off. It will scratch your eyelids. It will make it hard for you to see clearly. It will hurt like you can't imagine. And you'll have to throw your contacts away, which is a sad waste of a perfectly good pair of contacts!

Trying to Declutter my Mind

1. Some (obviously not all) men can be incredibly vile and vulgar with women they don't know. Yesterday I learned the meaning of a signal that I never would have even noticed before, and I'm completely disgusted that a man would do that to four women who are obviously out in costume for a purpose beyond hooking. And even if we had been hookers, that's still disgusting. It's the kind of thoughts that leads to the behavior of the men who have so horrifically abused and murdered the women of Juarez (and elsewhere obviously, but Juarez is what's on my mind). I know some would probably argue with me that making an obscene gesture to strange women doesn't lead to rape, mutilation, torture, and murder. Obviously it doesn't in every case. But I believe that it's the thought that another human being is less than human, is an object for one's amusement and gratification.
2. It is very easy for me to start performing on the sidewalk with the other cast members in the play. It is very difficult for me to walk down the sidewalk, in costume, and interact with people on the street. While we were performing, I was so engrossed with the performance and the other cast members that I couldn't even tell you whether anyone even stopped to watch.
3. It can be very difficult to stay in character and in the moment sometimes, though. A man came up to V. and me, holding up a card that indicated he could not speak nor hear, and asking for money. We couldn't break, and continued. V. was trying to signal her husband to get out his wallet, but he didn't get the message. I think that poor man thought we were making fun of him, and it broke our hearts.
4. There is a reason there are wide umbrellas over the tables in the courtyard. The four of us were seated at a table while photographs were being taken. Suddenly a huge plop of liquid bird crap landed on the table with a splat as we all hastily pushed our chairs away and got up. So the umbrellas are there for more than decoration.
5. When you have mousse, texturizer, scrunch spray, hairspray, and 5 colors of hair paint in your hair, it feels really nasty. And if you decide to take a hot soak in the tub instead of a shower, know that you're going to have to change the bathwater before you can get clean. Because all that nasty goop comes off into the bathwater and gets it really nasty. So it's smart to take a quick shower first to rinse the goop off before taking the long hot soak in the tub.
6. If you use eyeliner with glitter, take your contacts out BEFORE you wash your face. Because if you get glitter on your contacts it's almost impossible to get the glitter off. And it will hurt your eyes. And if you get glitter and soap in your eyes, it burns.
7. Joe and I went to see "Wild Hogs" Saturday. It's a very funny movie. William H. Macy, IMNSHO, completely stole the show. When I laugh so hard that I can't breathe, I do this funny squeaking thing with my throat until I can catch my breath. Well, I squeaked through at least a third of the movie. And if you go see it, make sure you wait for the end after the credits start rolling. There's a very funny bit that ties everything up at the end.
8. I wonder if I'll ever see a photograph of myself that I actually like. Joe took a few of me yesterday in my costume and makeup, and I think they're absolutely hideous. I don't look anything like that! I continue to wonder if I'm completely delusional about my appearance, because I think I'm pretty good looking most of the time. But I've almost never seen a picture of myself that looks anything but ghastly.
9. There is no such thing as too many books. Unless you're a professor assigning textbooks, in which case the fewer the better because textbook companies rob students. Otherwise, though, books are like chocolate: the more the better. There is nothing chocolate can't cure; there is nothing that books can't cure. Yesterday I started reading a really good book at S's place, one that she recommended, and got about 75 pages into it before we had to leave. Page 66 made me cry. As soon as I hear back from her about the name and author, I'll post it here so y'all can read it. And I'll also go buy it. Because there is no such thing as too many books.
10. Sometimes what you're doing is so interesting and fun that you don't realize you're exhausted until it's completely over and you sit down. And then it hits you. Yesterday was like that for me. I didn't feel like I did anything physically exerting, and for that matter didn't really. And I called my sister, who wanted to hang for a while, but she kept telling me she knew I was tired and I could just go home. But I kept insisting I wasn't tired, and wanted to hang with her for a while. So I went by there and lay on her bed while she put her laundry away, and realized that I was exhausted. Hence the hour-long soak in the bathtub that I mentioned earlier.
11. I'm having a grand and glorious time participating in this play. I've made some new friends; I've learned a lot; and best of all, I'm doing something I've dreamed of for a long time. It's fun. If any of you are going to be in Dallas the weekend of 3/23 or 3/30, come see our play!!

There's a lot more clutter in my mind, but I figure this is enough for one post.

Banned Book Review #1

The Figure in the Shadows
John Bellairs

John Bellairs' books are very dark, gothic, and spooky. I remember reading them when I was a kid, and finding them incredibly terrifying. They no longer terrify me, as I've seen enough of the real world to be terrified by it, but the atmosphere is still as dark and spooky as I remember.

Lewis Barnavelt is an orphan, and is living with his Uncle Jonathan in New Zebedee, Michigan. His Uncle Jonathan is a wizard and the best friend of an even more powerful magician, Mrs. Zimmerman, their next-door neighbor. Lewis is chubby and very insecure; he spends his lunch hours hiding out at home because he doesn't want to be picked on by the tough kids at school. His best--and only, other than Uncle Jonathan and Mrs. Zimmerman--friend is Rose Rita Pottinger.

We quickly realize how insecure Lewis is at the beginning of the book, when he sneaks his Sherlock Holmes hat out of the house in a bag. He wants to wear it on Main Street, only for a few blocks. Rose Rita doesn't understand why he doesn't have the self confidence to just wear it whenever and wherever he wants to. But Lewis's fears prove correct: bully Woody Mingo steals it from him and saunters off nonchalantly.

That evening, in an effort to cheer Lewis up, Uncle Jonathan proposes a diversion. Lewis' great-grandfather Barnavelt's trunk is still in the house, and it seems like a good night to unpack the trunk. The diversion works. Lewis is admittedly dismayed to learn that his great-grandfather never actually saw any action in the Civil War, having been shot in the leg after a poker game. But the stories are fascinating, and when Lewis is given his great-grandfather's lucky coin, he hopes that perhaps things will change. Mrs. Zimmerman quickly dashes that hope, however, as she quickly tests the coin and proclaims that it is, unfortunately, not a magic amulet.

Lewis keeps it anyway. At school things get rougher. He catches Rose Rita fighting with Woody Mingo, and is devastated that his best friend--a gu-url--is fighting his battles. He dreams of being strong, brave, of beating the living daylights out of Woody Mingo. He and Rose Rita continue building their balsa galley in their spare time. One night they decide they need to find a Latin motto to decorate the flag, and check out the books in Uncle Jonathan's library. Most of Uncle Jonathan's books on magic have been put away, as he was concerned about Lewis's unhealthy interest in them. But he missed one, and the children find Mrs. Zimmerman's dissertation. They're scanning through it when Lewis finds a passage about testing amulets in another way, a method that will detect extremely rare and powerful amulets. Rose Rita is bored, but Lewis insists they test his lucky coin. Rose Rita holds the books while Lewis performs the ritual. The elements respond to the ritual, and Rose Rita is shaken as she asks Lewis if anything happened. Lewis impassively says no, and they get back to work on their galley.

But Lewis is lying.

The rest of the book carries us along with Lewis as things really begin to change for him. He gets into a fight with Woody Mingo, and a force outside of himself propels his fist into Woody's nose at the moment when he himself was hesitant. It worked; Woody began to leave him alone. Lewis' friends notice that he is different, but chalk it up to his abortive attempts to diet and get into shape. Finally Lewis gets the courage to tell Rose Rita the truth: the amulet did respond to the ritual. She takes it from him and tells him that she dropped it into the sewer. In reality, however, she keeps it, thinking that perhaps it will be of benefit to him when he is an adult.

Bereft of his talisman, Lewis is tormented once more by Woody Mingo who senses that Lewis is his normal cowardly self again. One day Lewis has the sudden thought that perhaps Rose Rita didn't destroy his amulet. He searches for it, and the series of events that follows nearly culminates in Lewis' death. Fortunately, Uncle Jonathan, Mrs. Zimmerman, and Rose Rita save the day.

John Bellairs wrote three separate series of middle-grade stories: the Lewis Barnavelt series(with Uncle Jonathan, Mrs. Zimmerman, and Rose Rita); the Anthony Monday series(with Miss Eels and her brother, Emerson Eels); and my favorites, the Johnny Dixon series(with Professor Roderick Childermass, Fergie, Father Higgins, and some othre assorted characters). There is no question that the stories are dark and frightening, but there is also no question as to where Mr. Bellairs aligned himself. The stories always end with good triumphing over evil. There is a lot of occult mythology in the stories, and perhaps it is this that gets them challenged or banned. It is a pity, though, because the characters are compelling and the stories fascinating. It doesn't matter how many times I've read these stories; I still enjoy them each time.

Mr. Bellairs is dead, and the series was continued by Brad Strickland. The books are available in bookstores such as Barnes and Noble and Amazon in new editions. If you haven't read any, I'd recommend starting with A House With a Clock in the Walls, which is the first book in the Lewis Barnavelt series. Go! Read! Rebel!

The Banned Books Challenge

Go sign up. You can do it right here. Go ahead; I'll wait.

I signed up to read 10 banned books during the challenge, although knowing myself I'll read quite a few more.

If you know me at all, even a little bit, you know how much I loathe and detest censorship. I could probably find you dozens of quotations to illustrate my point, but I don't have time. So I'm just going to do a quick meme. I don't know if it's already out there, or if it's my own invention, but whichever, it's a fun one. It's like the 100 Books meme I did the other day, but with a twist.

Out of the 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of 1990-2000 list, which ones have you read? Bold them. Which ones are in your library? Place a + in front of them. Which ones do you want to read? Italicize them. Which ones will you read for the Banned Books Challenge? Make them large. And which ones are you just not interested in reading? Make them tiny. It's okay if you don't want to read a book. Just don't try to take it away from others who do want to read it! And, because I always have to, there will be comments for some of the books.

Scary Stories (Series) by Alvin Schwartz

Daddy's Roommate by Michael Willhoite

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. That this book gets challenged just seems ridiculous to me. She's writing about her very painful and difficult life. "Gee, lady, your childhood just sucked. You don't have the right to share your lessons with anyone else who might be going through them. And, sorry kids, but I don't care how much you have in common with this woman, you may not read her book to see if you can learn anything from her. So what if she's an allegedly great poet? Have you read her poems? Why, they're just as immoral as they can be!"

The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier. Read it, didn't particularly like it, but found it very chilling.

+The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. This is one of those books I "should" read, and have thus refused to do so. I'm sure I'll read it, but probably not until I'm 86.

+Harry Potter (Series) by J.K. Rowling Gosh, rereading this for the Challenge is going to suck. Seriously.

Forever by Judy Blume. I read everything I could find by Judy Blume when I was an angst-ridden teenager.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson.

Alice (Series) by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Heather Has Two Mommies by Leslea Newman

My Brother Sam is Dead by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger I know this book was supposed to be THE book for disenchanted teenagers, but I hated it. I hated it as a teenager, and I hated it as an adult. I haven't read it in a long time, but I would not be surprised to find that I still hate it.

+The Giver by Lois Lowry This is just a marvelous book, as are the two sequels to it that I have read. I can't understand why this would be on a challenged/banned book list.

It's Perfectly Normal by Robie Harris

Goosebumps (Series) by R.L. Stine These are silly little scary stories. Nonsensical bosh.

A Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Newton Peck

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

Sex by Madonna I'm not a Madonna fan.

Earth's Children (Series) by Jean M. Auel

The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson

+A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle Why does this book get challenged? Some kids who have a lot of trouble fitting in manage to save the father of two of the children and, not so coincidentally, find a place for themselves. Gosh, that's just terrible! Better get that book off the shelves, Jed!

Go Ask Alice by Anonymous A dreadful little book, but it scared the stink out of me when I was a teenager.

Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers I read this for a YA Lit class in college. It's an outstanding book!!

In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak

The Stupids (Series) by Harry Allard

+The Witches by Roald Dahl This is a great book! What's wrong with it? Does it promote Satanism and the occult? No, a little boy and his grandmother fight the Grand High Witch and kick her butt!

The New Joy of Gay Sex by Charles Silverstein

Anastasia Krupnik (Series) by Lois Lowry Another one I just don't get the banning of. This series is hysterical. There's one book that's actually about Sam, Anastasia's little brother, and he's trying to make a special perfume for his mother's birthday. He collects all the smells she says she likes, and the result is so funny that I literally was rolling on the floor laughing my ass off.

The Goats by Brock Cole

Kaffir Boy by Mark Mathabane

Blubber by Judy Blume

Killing Mr. Griffin by Lois Duncan

Halloween ABC by Eve Merriam

We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier

Final Exit by Derek Humphry

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

What's Happening to my Body? Book for Girls: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents & Daughters by Lynda Madaras

+To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee I wonder why this one gets banned and challenged so much. Is it the unflattering depictions of the whites in this small town in Alabama? Is it the perceived servile attitude of Calpurnia? Becuase if you think Calpurnia's servile, you've got another think coming! This is an awesome book, with some of the greatest characters ever created.

Beloved by Toni Morrison

The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

The Pigman by Paul Zindel I liked this book quite a bit when I was a teenager, and had it and all of Paul Zindel's other books. I read them ragged. I don't care so much for them now, but they moved me at a time in my life when I needed what they had to say. Their characters aren't plastic dolls who move and act in a way no human would. They're flawed. Just like we are.

Bumps in the Night by Harry Allard

Deenie by Judy Blume

+Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes This is a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. When I talk to book people who haven't read this one, I always either get it for them or encourage them to read it.

Annie on my Mind by Nancy Garden

The Boy Who Lost His Face by Louis Sachar

Cross Your Fingers, Spit in Your Hat by Alvin Schwartz

+A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein That this book is banned or challenged just tells me that some people have no sense of humor whatsoever, and have never learned to laugh at themselves. That is a very sad thing.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

Sleeping Beauty Trilogy by A.N. Roquelaure (Anne Rice) I actually only read the first book in this trilogy. It was disgusting. I felt filthy, and hated it so much that instead of taking it back to Half Price Books to sell, I threw it away. I can completely understand why someone wouldn't want their kids reading it, but no responsible librarian would place it in a school library anyway. So banning it is pointless. If you don't want to read it, don't read it.

Asking About Sex and Growing Up by Joanna Cole You'll notice that I've skipped over a lot of these sex and growing up type books. Well, I know about sex. And I don't have any kids that I need to share these kinds of things with. I'm not being a frigid person who refuses to admit that sex exists. I just don't have any need or desire to read these.

Cujo by Stephen King There are plenty of Stephen King books I like. There are plenty I don't. This is one that I'm just not interested in. So I'm not going to read it. If you want to, please, feel free.

James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl

The Anarchist Cookbook by William Powell

Boys and Sex by Wardell Pomeroy

Ordinary People by Judith Guest

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

What's Happening to my Body? Book for Boys: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents & Sons by Lynda Madaras

Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume A girl explores her identity in reference to her faith. Gosh, better get that one off the shelves!

Crazy Lady by Jane Conly

Athletic Shorts by Chris Crutcher

Fade by Robert Cormier

Guess What? by Mem Fox

The House of Spirits by Isabel Allende

The Face on the Milk Carton by Caroline Cooney

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

+Lord of the Flies by William Golding

Native Son by Richard Wright

Women on Top: How Real Life Has Changed Women's Fantasies by Nancy Friday

Curses, Hexes and Spells by Daniel Cohen

Jack by A.M. Homes

Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo A. Anaya

Where Did I Come From? by Peter Mayle

Carrie by Stephen King

Tiger Eyes by Judy Blume

On My Honor by Marion Dane Bauer

Arizona Kid by Ron Koertge

Family Secrets by Norma Klein

Mommy Laid An Egg by Babette Cole

The Dead Zone by Stephen King

+The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain

Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison

Always Running by Luis Rodriguez

Private Parts by Howard Stern

Where's Waldo? by Martin Hanford

Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene

Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman

Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett

Running Loose by Chris Crutcher

Sex Education by Jenny Davis

The Drowning of Stephen Jones by Bette Greene

Girls and Sex by Wardell Pomeroy

How to Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell

View from the Cherry Tree by Willo Davis Roberts

The Headless Cupid by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

The Terrorist by Caroline Cooney

Jump Ship to Freedom by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier

The other books I plan to read for the challenge I found at some other Banned Book sites and are:

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. I've read this many times, and welcome the opportunity to enjoy Silverstein's nonsense and rebel against narrow-mindedness at the same time!

Ulysses by James Joyce. I've never read this one. It seems that I've tried it once or twice, but this is as good a time as any to give it another go.

The Crucible by Arthur Miller. Another one that I completely adore.

The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel. This has been on my to-be-read list for quite some time. It's time to get it off that list and onto the list of books I have read.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl. This is another one that I've read and reread. It never fails to charm and delight.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. I have read this one so many times it's ridiculous. I've given away copies of it during Banned Book Week. This is the best! And what sublime irony that expurgated copies of it were passed out to students!

Figure in the Shadows by John Bellairs. I love John Bellairs, and have everything he published. His books scared the crap out of me when I was a kid. I find them less scary now, but they are no less enthralling.

1984 by George Orwell. When I read that this was challenged/banned due to "pro-Communist sentiments," my first response was WTF? To the people who think that, I have this to say, "Better to say nothing and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."

So what about you? What are your plans? C'mon--be a rebel!

My Deadly Sins

Greed:	Very Low
Gluttony:	Low
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	Low
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	Very Low
Pride:	Very Low

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

Ow!

Okay. Well, I didn't really like the look with the funky colors. And I wasn't so sure I liked the black crap going down my face. And after waking up this morning with puffy and extremely tender skin beneath my eyes, after wearing that black crap for what, half an hour?, it's obvious that I'm not going to be going with that look.

So----back to the drawing board.

Playing with Makeup

I look absolutely ghastly in these photos, and that honestly wasn't the intention. I should've smiled. Maybe that would have helped. And my hair wasn't styled until near the end of my playtime, so having normalish hair with seriously abnormal makeup probably didn't help matters either.

The ones with that show my full face are too ghastly to post. I've got to play some more with the make-up and hair. But I'll finish you off with a fine shot of the back of my hair after M-A and V finished playing with it.

.

.

.

No, I won't. On second thought, that photo looks pretty awful as well. I'm way better-looking than you can tell from my photographs. (Or else I'm extremely delusional!) But I look at these pictures and I look so damned ugly in them that it makes me want to kick something. Do I really look that awful?

I know. You're going to say that there's no way to tell unless I post the photos. Well, ain't happening. But maybe when I get new batteries for my camera, and I'm dressed and made-up normally (no stage makeup), I'll get S. or L. or someone to take my picture. And I'll smile. But if that picture makes me look as--I was going to say homely, but downright ugly is closer to what I feel about them--unappealing as the pictures I took tonight, trust me--no one's going to see them!

100 Books

I stole this from Amanda. But she seems really nice, so I highly doubt she'll mind. Yes, I have done a few memes lately. It's because I'm a little hyper right now, and my mind's doing 50 things at once. Somehow this seems to help it slow down, at least for a moment or two. Yes, I have ADD; you've asked me that before.

OFFICIAL INSTRUCTIONS: Bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you want to read, make the ones you wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole tiny, put a + in front of the ones on your bookshelf, and put an * by the ones you've never heard of. (Note that the instructions I saw were to make the ones you wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole red, but I don't know how to do that. So I made them tiny. Because I don't want to read them anyway, I crush them beneath my feet. Much like the fear demon in the Buffy Season 4 Halloween episode.)

And, because it's me and I can't resist, there will be comments. Be prepared.

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown). The book was better than the movie. That's not saying much.
2. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown). I actually thought this one was better than Da Vinci Code.
3. +Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen). What's not to love about this one? I've read it many times.
4. +To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee). Another one I've read many times. I wanted to be Scout when I was younger. I think I wanted Atticus for my father, but I'm happy with my own dads.
5. +Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell). I'll never forget the first time I read this book. I think I was 11 or 12, and was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office when I finally finished it. I closed the book and said something to the effect that there would never be another book that good. Hey! I was young then, okay? Gimme a break! It is a good book, but I loathe most of the characters in it, so I don't read it very often anymore.
6. +The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien)
7. +The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (J.R.R. Tolkien). This is where I decided I didn't want to read LOTR anymore. And frankly, had it not been for Peter Jackson, I'm not sure I'd have managed to wade my way through the first two LOTR books!
8. +The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (J.R.R. Tolkien)
9. +The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (J.R.R. Tolkien)
10. +Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery). Another person I wanted to be while I was growing up. I never had any doubt as to her existence.
11. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
12. *A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
13. + Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J.K. Rowling). I've read these books more than any other book on this list save one. Keep reading if you want to know which!
14. + Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (J.K. Rowling)
15. + Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (J.K. Rowling)
16. + Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J.K. Rowling)
17. + Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J.K. Rowling)
18. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
19. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
20. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
21. The Stand (Stephen King)
22. +Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte). This is the one. I could not even begin to tell you how many times I've read this book. It's the book that I may go months without reading, but if I wake up at 2:30 a.m. and want it, I have to have it right then. I love this book.
23. +The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
24. +Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
25. +The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
26. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
27. +The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
28. +Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte). Not nearly as good as Jane Eyre. But good.
29. +The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
30. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
31. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
32. Dune (Frank Herbert) Did you see that awful feature film they made, seems like it was in the 80s or early 90s? Yecch.
33. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
34. +1984 (James Orwell). Magnus Frater Te Spectat!
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. * The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. Ulysses (James Joyce). I tried to read this once or twice, but got bored.
41. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
42. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
43. *The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
44. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
45. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
46. + Bible
47. +Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy). I read a few pages, but again, got bored.
48. +The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
49. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
50. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
51. *She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
52. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
53. +A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens)
54. +Great Expectations (Charles Dickens) I prefer Dickens' shorter novels.
55. +Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
56. +The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald) When I was in 10th grade, I fell in love with F. Scott Fitzgerald. I read everything he wrote. I even had a pair of statues I named Scott and Zelda. I hung on to them long after my passion for Fitzgerald had waned, but eventually gave them to a roommate who really liked them. I really liked her, and by then it caused me no pain to give them up.
57. * The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
61. +Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. +Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
63. +The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
64. War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy). I think I read about two pages of this one. Got bored. I'm sure it's a masterful book, but I'm no longer in university and no longer feel the need to read a book just because I "should," even if I did major in English!
65. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
66. * Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
67. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
68. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brasheares)
69. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
70. +Les Miserables (Victor Hugo). I still can't believe I read the unabridged version of this when I was 12! It's a fantastic story, but yikes, the man blathered on for pages and pages and pages and pages and pages about things that didn't progress the story. And people complain about J.K. Rowling needing to tighten things up. Puh-leeze!
71. +The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery). I've read this in English and French. This is a fantastic book.
72. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Helen Fielding). One of my few forays into the field of chick-lit. I'm not a huge fan of the genre.
73. Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
74. Shogun (James Clavell)
75. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
76. + The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett). I've read this one many, many times. I wanted to be Mary and help the garden wake up.
77. *The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
78. +A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith). Another one I've read many times. It has such beauty and pathos and strong, strong women.
79. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
80. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
81. +Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
82. * Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
83. Of Mice And Men (John Steinbeck)
84. +Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier). My nomination for the best opening sentence ever: "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
85. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
86. +Emma (Jane Austen). I love Emma. Love it, love it, love it.
87. Watership Down (Richard Adams)
88. +Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
89. *The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
90. * Blindness (Jose Saramago)
91. *Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
92. *In The Skin Of A Lion (Michael Ondaatje)
93. +Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
94. +The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
95. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
96. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
97. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
98. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
99. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
100. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)

A Voice

Do any of these names sound familiar to you?

Gloria Rivas . . . Juana Sandoval Reyna . . . Esmeralda Juarez Alarcon . . . Violeta Barrios . . . Alma Chavira Farel . . . Elizabeth Castro Garcia . . . Rosario Garcia Leal . . . Rocio Barrazza Gallegos . . . Rosalina Veloz Vasquez . . . Maria Acosta . . . Claudia Gonzales . . . Esmerelda Herrera . . . Guadalupe Luna . . . Barbara Martinez . . . Laura Ramos Monarrez . . . Mayra Reyes Solis . . . Veronica Martinez . . . Silvia Arce . . . Griselda Mares . . . Elizabeth Gomez . . . Laura Inere . . . Lilia Garcia

Twenty-two women. Girls, some of them, barely into young womanhood.

Twenty-two lives cut short in a horrifyingly brutal way.

Twenty-two voices silenced.

Twenty-two people out of the hundreds murdered. Twenty-two people out of a vastly larger number of missing people.

I found those twenty-two names in mere minutes of searching. What will I have found after I have spent hours searching? More names. More faces. More sorrow. More heartbreak.

First come the tears. Then the anger. Then determination.

I am determined to give a voice to some of these women. I appreciate MoMentuM for letting me be a part of its Women of Juarez project.

If you want to learn more about the femicides that have been taking place in Ciudad Juarez and Chihuahua City, you can start by exploring some of the links I've posted to the left.

Whatever you do, don't just look away.

Character Meme

I stole this from Erin. She didn't tag me or anything, because our meeting was done through comments in Sarah's blog. But I like her Character Meme. I will state categorically, however, that trying to pick just one is almost impossible. I will do my best. But if I have to pick two, that's just the way it is. Okey-dokey? Now that we've got that established, on to the meme:

Character you'd most like to have over for tea? Jane Rochester, nee Eyre, I think. I'd love to have a nice long tete-a-tete with her, see if Mr. Rochester is really as pompous as he comes across at times ("Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative tonight."). I'd like to see if she's still happy with the choices and decisions she made in life. And, while most definitely NOT at the same tea, I'd also like to have tea with Bertha Mason one day. Preferably before she went completely off the deep end. It would be interesting to compare notes, you know?

Character you'd most like to have as a sibling? Mr. Darcy. I think it would be nice to have an intelligent, protective older brother to look out for me. And if he were my brother, then I would have Elizabeth Bennett for a sister. See? "Though this be madness, yet there is method in it."

Character you'd most like to be friends with? You won't know her, because I think only one or two people have bought the book. But her name is Celia Pryce, and she's a major character in The Treehouse, a book my sister and I wrote together. Celia was originally supposed to be a not-very-nice girl. But she actually is extremely nice, and extremely cool, and just exactly the sort of person you'd want to be friends with if you're into books and drama, and into not fitting in. Not fitting in has been my theme through much of my life, so it was really fun to help create this person who, on the surface, fits in beautifully, but who really feels as much a misfit in her life as the rest of us tend to do. I know it may seem a little vain to pick one of my own characters, but I don't care. One of the best bits of writing I've ever done was for Celia, and she's very dear to my heart.

Character you'd most like to have as a cousin? Fred and George Weasley. It's been fascinating to watch them grow and develop. They started off wise-cracking funny guys, with a tinge of mean-spiritedness. They are still wise-cracking funny guys, but they've carved out a really respectable niche in the jokes industry, as well as providing a very valuable array of support equipment for the good guys. They'd be fun to hang around with from time to time, most definitely.

Character you'd most like to have an adventure with? Charles Wallace Murry. He has good adventures. And he is another character who just gets more and more interesting as he grows up. I particularly enjoyed him in A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

Favorite quirky character? I'm with Erin. Luna Lovegood. She is either wholly unaware or serenely indifferent to what everyone around her thinks of her. I personally think it's the latter, and admire her indifference. It's something I could never have done as a teenager, and am only now beginning to learn. She has shown herself to be exceptionally quick-witted and a true friend. I was very touched at the end of Half-Blood Prince to learn that she and Neville were the only members of the DADA to show up when called, because they were the ones presumably to whom it had meant the most, and were therefore the ones who would have been paying attention to their fake galleon that Hermione charmed. And now that I've mentioned Neville Longbottom, I have to add that he is one of my very favorite characters in the Potterverse. I've been delighted to see him bloom so beautifully, and continue to look to greatness from him. I'm firmly convinced he will one day be head of Gryffindor House!

Favorite love-to-hate character? Y'know, I think I'm going to have to go with Erin on this one as well, and select the former Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Dolores Jane Umbridge.

Favorite bad guy? Right now it's Reason's grandfather, whatever his real name may be, from Justine Larbalestier's Magic or Madness series. He seems to be thoroughly Iago-like, in that I have not yet seen any reedeming features in him. I assume that, at one point, he must have had some. But his greed for magic and survival has at least hidden those thoroughly beneath the surface, if indeed they are still there at all.

And I'll add one more category of my own:

Character to whom you've most often been compared? And this, my friends, is Hermione Granger. My husband, when Hermione groaned at the announcement that end-of-year exams were canceled at the end of the second movie, said, "That'd be you." Huh! Shows how well he knows me! I've been known to carelessly walk into the crosswalk at the university and with a defiant eye just dare someone to run over me, when it was time for finals. Okay, this teeny little part of me loves taking exams. So I guess the comparison is somewhat justifiable.

TAGGING TIME: I tag Izzybella and Trista. And, of course, anyone else who feels like doing it. (And you should, because it's fun!)

My Weekend

(Before I write this, please note that I feel like a kid in school being asked to write an essay on what she did over the weekend. But I haven't been asked. I'm thrusting this on anyone who happens to be here reading. And I want to write it. But still. My Weekend?)

Friday night was pretty lame. It involved a quick trip to Subway for a tuna sandwich, the remote control, and my bed. Once the sandwich was disposed of, I turned on a movie I'd never seen before (and how have I gone this long without watching A Nightmare Before Christmas?). I fell asleep right after it was over, but woke up a little while later with a toothache. (Reminder to self: Call dentist, make appointment.) So I sleepily watched an hour of Pop-Up Video before putting in a Harry Potter movie and going back to sleep. For good that time, fortunately, because I was really really tired.

Saturday morning at weigh-in went pretty much as I'd figured. I was up .6 pound. I was NOT happy about it. But I went ahead with my plan to switch back to the flex plan on Sunday. Logically I can tell myself all I want to that I know that could be due to muscle gain or water retention, but I still want to lose pounds as well. If I were 60-70 pounds less than I am now, I could deal better, I think, with the scale not changing while my body still is. But when I'm still a good 80 pounds over my optimum weight, no matter how much my body is changing, I still have a fixed belief that the scale should change as well.

Joe and I went grocery shopping, and then he took me to brunch. But before we went to brunch, I had to change clothes. You see, my rocker husband wanted me to match him. So instead of my cute bright lime Tommy tee-shirt and my sneakers, I put on my New York tee shirt, a black jacket, plenty of black and silver jewelry, and my new black pinstripe sneakers. I admit I looked great. (Oh, yes, it's hard to be humble....)

And we stopped at Borders afterwards, and I bought a new book. Making Faces, by Kevyn Aucoin. I have to just stop right here and say, I heart Kevyn Aucoin. I've been wearing my makeup the same way for 15 years or more, with only slight variations, because I didn't know what to do differently. M-A has this book, and I was looking through it at rehearsal last week trying to get some ideas for makeup for the play. Well, I read it cover to cover this weekend, tried a few things out, and I look great today! I intend to go buy the rest of his books. It is just incredible what he can do for a face, with just a few items of makeup.

And S. and Izzybella and I had our girls' afternoon out. It was somewhat abbreviated for Izzybella, poor kid--she works box office part-time for a theatre in Arlington. The play was sold out; the show started late; and there were, as there always are, computer problems. So she couldn't join us until about 4. S. and I went to Ross and got lucky there--I found a fantastic red shirt with a huge black dragon on front. It's great, and may end up getting worn in the play instead of the New York tee. Our late lunch was fun, and, according to Princess S., calorie free.

That evening I went out and dropped some money on makeup and got Joe's birthday present (finally). And then went back home and read.

Sunday was spent mostly doing housework and some reading. I reread Wide Sargasso Sea. It's a good book--not quite the earth-shattering novel I considered it to be when I first discovered it 14 years ago, but it's good.

And, natch, I watched the Oscars. I like Ellen, and thought she did a nice job.

And that, friends, was my glorious weekend! It probably sounds really tame and boring, but I enjoyed it.

More Dreams and Academy Awards Aplenty

I watched the Academy Awards last night, like a whole lot of other people. Wow--beautiful dresses! I think my favorite was Helen Mirren's dress, but all that I saw were absolutely lovely.

And then I went to sleep. The whole have-to-get-up-and-go-to-work-in-the-morning thing. You know.

Then I had a dream. I don't remember what it was. But I do remember that immediately at the end of that dream, I was standing on the stage accepting an Academy Award for my role in that dream.

Then I had another dream. And accepted an Academy Award for my role in that dream. This pattern repeated itself throughout the night.

In my last dream I played two roles, and was nominated for both roles. And I won. For both.

It was a highly amusing night. I woke up laughing at the absurdity of it all a few times, but immediately went back to sleep each time, and immediately had another dream for which I won an Academy Award.

Now what I want to know is, why did I win Academy Awards for Best Actress in a Dream? Why did I not win any awards for Best Dreamwriter? Because I wrote all those dreams as well as played the protagonist in them all. And some of them were damn complicated.

I'm just sayin'.

69 Things About Me

Stolen from Izzybella, who stole it from Spin_Doc, who stole it from Chesney Girl. Trista stole it somewhere along the way as well.

1. Are your parents married or divorced? They're divorced, and then remarried. They're both much better suited with their current spouses, although I'm glad they stayed married long enough to produce their kids.
2. Are you a vegetarian? No. But that reminds me of a great quotation I read somewhere: "I'm not a vegetarian because I love animals. I'm a vegetarian because I hate vegetables." teehee
3. Do you believe in Heaven? I do, although not in the white clouds and wings and harps version.
4. Have you ever come close to dying? Well, if you consider that every time you go under anesthesia for sugery as close to dying, yes. Several times. Otherwise, no.
5. What jewelry do you wear 24/7? None, because the thought of wearing anything 24/7 makes me feel claustrophobic. Last night when I got home I was too tired to take off my wedding rings and watch, and at some point during the night I woke up, took them off, and kept them in my bed. When I woke up in the morning, I had a wedding-wings-and-watch shaped indentation in my hip from laying on them. But I do love jewelry, and wear my wedding rings and watch almost every day. I also wear whatever jewelry complements my outfit. Like today, for instance, my right earring is shaped like a black guitar, and my left earring is shaped like a white guitar pick and has the word "Rebel" written on it.
6. Favorite time of day? 3:45, when I realize I'm about to get off work.
7. Do you eat the stems of broccoli? Yes. They're a lot more tender if you peel them before you cook them, but who has time for that?
8. Do you wear makeup? Yes. If I happen to get up in time to put it on before I leave for work.
9. Ever have plastic surgery? Yes. I had a breast reduction done in 2001. Went from a DDD down to a C. My back feels much better, thank you. My boobs look much better as well, now that they don't hang down to my knees.
10. If you did have plastic surgery, what would you do? I'm planning to have some--for lack of a better phrase here--rough edges from the breast reduction fixed, and would like to have another lift at the same time. And as I'm losing weight, it's becoming increasingly apparent that I want something done to my chin. I don't know how to describe it, though.
11. What do you wear to bed? My undies. If it's cold I might wear some sweats or my yoga pants and a tee shirt. Or if I'm really tired, I'll wear whatever I had one when I fell asleep, which could be jeans and a tee-shirt.
12. Have you ever done anything illegal? Yes, but it was a long time ago.
13. Can you roll your tongue? Yes, and it's only been fairly recently that I learned not everyone could.
14. Do you tweeze your eyebrows? No, that's why hot wax and stylists were invented.
15. What kind of sneakers? I don't know. They are comfortable and I can run in them. Oh, and I bought a cute pair today for the show that are low tops, black with pinstripes, and have white rubber toes. Most excellently cute.
16. Do you believe in abortions? I believe that they are performed, yes I do. But I'm being a smartass, because I know that's not how the question is intended. It's not a decision I would have ever made for myself. That's all I intend to say about the matter here.
17. What is your hair color? If you're asking about my natural hair color, I haven't seen it in so long, I have no idea. It used to be dark brown. It's probably dark brown with quite a bit of silver in it now. But now it's a lovely warm medium brownish red. Thank you, L'Oreal.
18. Future child's name? There are no future children, unless you count the two who are waiting for me in Heaven (see #3, above). Their names are Tadeusz Hayden (nicknamed Tad) and Elinor Catherine (nicknamed Ellie).
19. Do you snore? Heck yeah! I also grind my teeth and breathe heavily.
20. If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be? Everywhere in the world. I want to see everything.
21. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Well, Molly does sometimes crawl into bed with me right after she's eaten, so I guess I could say yes. Occasionally.
22. If you won the lottery, what would you do first? Faint. Once I came to, I'd have one helluva shopping spree! In New York City. One that would involve multiple nights' stays. Which would mean multiple nights spent watching Broadway plays.
23. Gold or silver? Gold.
24. Hamburger or hot dog? Hamburger. If it's a home-grilled one, it should have a slice of cheddar cheese, some crisp lettuce, a slice of juicy vine-ripened tomato, three bread & butter pickle slices, a thin slice of purple onion, and some mustard.
25. Only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? Can I pick soup-and-salad bar? Does that count?
26. City, beach or country? City, please. But I wouldn't mind if there were a beach nearby.
27. What was the last thing you touched? My water bottle.
28. Where did you eat last? At my desk.
29. When's the last time you cried? This morning.
30. Do you read blogs? Yes, I do. Linky goodness to the right.
31. Would you ever go out dressed like the opposite sex? No, I don't really see any purpose to doing so. I'm a woman, and quite happy to be so.
32. Ever been involved with the police? Yep. I helped put a flasher behind bars when I was 12 or 13. And there's the whole thing about my mother used to be a police officer.
33. What's your favorite shampoo, conditioner, and soap? I use Redken Color Extend Shampoo and Conditioner. And I heart Dove soap.
34. Do you talk in your sleep? Yes, I do, but it's never intelligible, contrary to what Izzybella once persuaded me.
35. Ocean or pool? Depends on what I'm in the mood for. Normally ocean.
36. Sauna or whirlpool? Whirlpool. Might I remind you that I live in Texas? If I want a sauna, all I have to do is walk outside, at least during 6-8 months of the year.
37. Starbucks or Krispy Kreme? Starbucks. When it's cold or cool, I like the sugar-free, fat-free vanilla or toffee nut steamers. When it's hot, I like the vanilla bean or strawberry frappuccinos. I also really like green tea.
38. Window seat or aisle? Depends. If I'm going somewhere I've never been, I might like a window seat. If I'm going home, I like the aisle. If I'm going to see my Mom, definitely aisle. That three seconds makes a big difference.
39. Ever met anyone famous? Yes, I have. Why, just last November I met Elizabeth Moon, Charles de Lint, Sarah Beth Durst (she may not be famous just yet, but she will be!), JoAnne Whittemore (ditto), Tiffany Trent (ditto), Eric Flint, and Carole Nelson Douglas, among others.
40. Do you feel that you've had a truly successful life? According to my personal definition of success, I have. I hope to continue the pattern. I have been knocked down, and I have gotten back up every damn time. I have aimed high, and continue to do so. I have written and continue to write. I wanted to act, and am in my first play. I have good friends. I'm happy. I'm involved in causes that are important to me. Yeah, I would say that I'm successful.
41. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it? I twirl it. I have an Italian sister-in-law.
42. Ricki Lake or Oprah Winfrey? Ugh.
43. Basketball or Football? Well, if you're going to tie me down and force me to watch one or the other, I suppose I'd rather watch basketball.
44. How long do your showers last? Depends. If it's winter and I'm in my house, about 5 minutes. That's as long as the hot water lasts, until the tank's had a chance to get heated back up again. If it's summer, as long as I want, unless I'm late for work.
45. Automatic or do you drive a stick? I love to drive a stick; however, when I was working for CPS, all the driving I did messed up my clutch knee. So now I find it easier to drive an automatic.
46. Cake or ice cream? Why does there have to be an "or" here? Okay, okay, cake.
47. Are you self-conscious? I'm learning not to be. Just for example, five minutes ago during my break I was so stiff that I was stretching in the breakroom, and even did Downward Dog. I will confess to being glad no one came into the breakroom while I was doing Downward Dog, but I still did it.
48. Have you ever drank so much you threw up? Not since I was fifteen. That was so unpleasant I never repeated it.
49. Have you ever given money to a beggar? Yes, I have, but I prefer to give food.
50. Have you been in love? Yes, and still am, even though there are days when I feel like I hate him almost as much as I love him.
51. Where do you wish you were? Right now? Honestly, I wish I were at home asleep. I'm so tired that I'm running on sheer adrenaline.
52. Are you wearing socks? Yes, but they're dirty. I couldn't find any socks this morning because I was so tired when I woke up that I was crying, and I cried because I gained weight, and I cried because I only had 5 minutes of hot water in my shower this morning, and I cried because I was running late for work. So I put my shoes on my bare feet because I knew I had a dirty pair of socks in my trunk (don't ask) and when I got to work I took my shoes off, put the dirty socks on, and put my shoes back on. But they're not TOO dirty. Well, they are now, because I've been wearing them all day, but they weren't too dirty when I first put them on. Only a little dirty. They didn't stink or anything.
53. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance. Yes. Several times. When I was younger our family was in an accident when we were returning home after an Atlanta Braves double-header. Another time I was in an accident when a pizza delivery guy ran a very stale red light and slammed into our pick-up. Another time I thought I was having a heart attack (I wasn't, knock wood), but it was very unpleasant. Is that all? I think so. I don't like riding in ambulances. Not fun.
54. Can you tango? Nope. But I can merengue, and cha-cha, and salsa.
55. Last gift you received? I assume you're not counting gifts I buy for myself, right? Oh, I know what it was! Joe went to a Cheap Trick concert, and he brought me two picks that the lead guitar player threw out to the audience. He thought I could make them into earrings. I will, just haven't yet.
56. Last sport you played? Water polo, 12th grade, 1981.
57. Things you spend a lot of money on? Books. Perfume. Clothes. Shoes.
58. Where do you live? North Texas, near Fort Worth.
59. Where were you born? Lone Star, Texas!
60. Last wedding attended? It was the wedding of one of my husband's godsons, in Pennsylvania.
61. Am I the only person to notice that there is no question #61? So technically this is 68 things about me not 69 things about me. Unless you want to count that I'm pedantic as the 69th thing about me.
62. Favorite position? I like to take the high road. You can take the low road, or you can take the high road. It's kind of like how I tell you to feel free, or feel expensive, whichever you prefer.
63. Most hated food(s)? Okra. Slimy, nasty stuff. Unless it's deep-fried. Um, I know there are other foods I don't like, but really, I'm pretty easy-going.
64. Most hated soda pop? I don't drink soda pop.
65. Can you sing? Of course I can. I sing a lot. I sing loudly. This question probably means, "Can you sing well?" In which case the answer would be no.
66. Last person you instant messaged? I don't instant message.
67. Last place you went on holiday? Austin, Texas.
68. Favorite regular drink? Propel water. Peach flavor, although every flavor is good.
69. Current Song? If this question is referring to my favorite current song, that's just not possible to answer. That's like asking my favorite current book, or my favorite Buffy quotation, or my favorite Chaucer story. Well, not quite like my favorite Chaucer story, because that's an easy answer: The Miller's Tale. But I can give you a few choices (note that the word "current" is relative): Painting by Chagall (The Weepies); Bohemian Like You (Dandy Warhols); My Own Worst Enemy (Lit); Nice Guys Finish Last (Green Day); Run, Shithead, Run (Mudhoney), Song for the Dumped (Ben Folds Five), and I guess I'll finish off with a decidedly uncurrent song that's my theme song, Break My Stride (Matthew Wilder).

And now you know a little more about me than you did before, and possibly even more than you wanted to know. My sister, not without cause, refers to me as "The Queen of TMI."

Trista is Evil

Evil, I tells ya!

Have you read the linky goodness? Why not? Go read the linky goodness. I'll wait here.

Okay. Did you see the part about the Scheherazade Project? See, you might win this really gorgeous brown and shiny gold Italian leather journal:

Here's how it works. Write a story. Or a poem. Or an essay. Just write something, okay? Write a lie. Lie like a yellow dog. (Or, if you happen to have a border collie, as I do, lie like a black and white dog.) It's easy, okay. As Trista reminded me, lying is part of the human condition. I know I've been lying since I was a kid, hence the growing up and becoming a writer, so I can lie with impunity. (Please note that I write FICTION.)

Then post your lie on your blog. If you don't have a blog, you may e-mail it to me at faith(dot)stencel(at)gmail(dot)com and I'll post it here. Then go to the Scheherazade Project, and in the comments section, post the link to your lie. Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.

Someone's going to win that beautiful journal. Trista can't win it--she bought it and is the moderator of the Scheherazade Project. I can't win it--I'm co-moderator of the Scheherazade Project. So will it be you? Hmmmmm???

Owlie-wow-owww

Every muscle in my body aches. You think I'm exaggerating, doncha? Well, check this out.

Hamstrings? ache. Gluts? ache. Gluteus maximus? aches. Trapezoids? ache. Deltoids? ache. Abs? ache. Other miscellaneous muscles that I can't identify because I didn't take anatomy? They ache.

When I say every muscle, believe me, I do mean every muscle. Honestly--I didn't know my butt cheeks could ache like this.

And when I say ache, believe me, I do mean ache. Let's just say that while the copier was running, I plopped myself down shamelessly on the floor in the copier room to do some stretches. Helped. For a few minutes, at least. While I was passing out copies, I was able to walk with a degree of flexibility. Of course, now I'm sitting down again, so the stiffness will recur. So at any given moment, anyone could walk into my office today and find me back on the floor doing stretches.

So I shed a few tears this morning when I got on the scale and found that it was up .6 pound. Logically I know that (a) I've been stressed; and (b) muscle weighs more than fat. And I've been building muscle. I have been doing a titch of stress eating, but even with that it hasn't been that bad. Probably if I hadn't been doing the degree of activity I've been doing, I'd be losing. So when I go for my official WW weigh-in tomorrow morning, it may show a gain. But THE SCALE LIES!! because all the scale measures is pounds avoirdupois. It doesn't measure my fat lost. It doesn't measure my muscle tone gained. It doesn't measure my blood pressure (117/70, thank you very much). It doesn't measure the improvement in my lipids panel (I'm going for a physical next Friday, so I'll have those results shortly). So I've got to quit attaching so much importance to the scale.

When I took my shower this morning I was admiring the increased muscle definition in my calves. I've got damn good legs, even if they are far fatter than I want them to be. Damn good legs. I'm just sayin'.

So I have my costume almost entirely figured out for the play. I'm going to wear my black and silver and white New York tee (it shows the NYC skyline pre 9/11, so the Twin Towers are proudly standing erect over my left breast) over a black skirt. The skirt is almost ankle-length, two layers of sheer fabric, but it's very easy to move in. I'll wear footless tights, probably, and they may be black or they may be fuschia or they may be lime green or they may be purple. I don't know yet. And I'm not sure what will be on my feet. Maybe I'll be barefoot. Maybe I'll wear ballet shoes. Maybe I'll wear high-top purple Converse. I dunno yet. And I'm going to wear hot pink panties. No one will see them, obviously, but I'll know they're there. And that's what's important. My hair will have lots of rainbow colors painted on the ends. And the makeup will be most excellently cool.

We're having a makeup rehearsal on Tuesday night, and we're taking the first batch of photos on Sunday 3/4. If I can, I'll post something here so you can see how cool (freaky) I look. 'K?

All right. What else can I rattle on about? I seem destined to throw people on their asses during rehearsal. On Wednesday night, during a game of musical chairs, I was so caught up in what I was doing that I pulled the chair out from under someone and she fell, quite hard, on her ass. Then last night someone else was spinning me around with a yoga strap, and I accidentally let go, and she landed on her ass. So I'm just wondering who I'm going to get next week.

It's also really cool to realize that words don't have to mean what they say. I'm a certifiable verbivore, so for me, that's saying something. Last night, in light of the horrible day I had, I did lose it at one point during rehearsal. But I had a 3-person blanket of love, and the words they were saying ("no bath water") really meant all kinds of different things. They meant, "We love you," "You can do it," "It's going to be all right," "Breathe," and more things like that. I felt, and feel, very loved and accepted. I like feeling that way.

Fun Stuff

I said there was fun stuff, and I'm going to write about the fun stuff, because it was fun. One can't always dwell on the unfun, can one?

Hey, that's almost a tongue-twister. Not quite, but listen--
one can't always dwell on the unfun
can one?
okay, not even almost a tongue-twister. But it rhymes.

Anyway, one could always dwell on the unfun, but it wouldn't make for a very fun existence. I won't call it a life because it wouldn't be a life. It would be a walking death. A living anesthesia. I choose to live.

So on with the fun:

Gertrude Stein.

Let me say here and now that a life immersed in medieval literature does not prepare one for the intricacies of Gertrude Stein. "Sugar is not a vegetable." Hello! Chaucer said reasonable things. Well, okay, I mean, it's true that sugar is not a vegetable, so I suppose that's fairly reasonable. Let me find another Steinism. "Luck in loose plaster makes holy gauge and nearly that, nearly more states, more states come in town light kite, blight not white." WTF? WTHFF? (That's from "Tender Buttons" in case you're wondering, more specifically, "Lunch." I have no clue what she means by that. No clue whatsoever.

Please don't take that to mean that I believe everything Gertrude Stein said is bosh. Not at all. I like a lot of what she said. Here are only a few of my favorite Steinisms:

• “A writer should write with his eyes and a painter paint with his ears.”
• "A vegetable garden in the beginning looks so promising and then after all little by little it grows nothing but vegetables, nothing, nothing but vegetables."
• “An audience is always warming but it must never be necessary to your work.”
• “But the problem is that when I go around and speak on campuses, I still don’t get young men standing up and saying, ‘How can I combine career and family?’”
• “Considering how dangerous everything is nothing is really frightening.”
• “Everybody knows if you are too careful you are so occupied in being careful that you are sure to stumble over something.”
• “I am writing for myself and strangers. This is the only way that I can do it.”
• “The creator of the new composition in the arts is an outlaw until he is a classic.”
• “There ain’t no answer. There ain’t gonna be any answer. There never has been an answer. That’s the answer.”
• “We are always the same age inside.”
• “We know that we can do what men can do, but we still don’t know that men can do what women can do. That’s absolutely crucial. We can’t go on doing two jobs.”
• “What is the answer? In that case, what is the question?”
• “When they are alone they want to be with others, and when they are with others they want to be alone. After all, human beings are like that.”
• “You’ll be old and you never lived, and you kind of feel silly to lie down and die and to never have lived, to have been a job chaser and never have lived.”

Get the picture? I could go on and on and on, but I think I've made my point. Woman had a lot to say, and she said it. She didn't always say it in a way that was easy to understand, but she said it.

So the play we're doing, What Happened, A Play, is one of those things that isn't very easy to understand. Reading "Tender Buttons" is giving me a little bit to work on, although that's its own challenge. In the intro to the two plays in Selected Writings of Gertrude Stein (Carl Van Vechten, Ed.), she says this about the play: "And so all of a sudden I began to write plays. I remember very well the first one I wrote. i called it, WHAT HAPPENED, A PLAY, it is in GEOGRAPHY AND PLAYS as are all the plays I wrote at that time. I think and always have thought that if you write a play you ought to announce that it is a play and that is what I did. What Happened. A Play. I had just come home from a pleasant dinner party (elsewhere she tells us this dinner was given by Harry and Bridget Gibb) and I realized then as anybody can know that something is always happening. Something is always happening, anybody knows a quantity of stories of people's lives that are always happening, there are always plenty for the newspapers and there are always plenty in private life. Everybody knows so many stories and what is the use of telling another story. What is the use of telling a story since there are so many and everybody knows so many and tells so many. In the country it is perfectly extraordinary how many complicated dramas go on all the time. And everybody knows them, so why tell another one. There is always a story going on. So naturally what I wanted to do in my play was what everybody did not always know or always tell. By everybody I do of course include myself. And so I wrote, WHAT HAPPENED, A PLAY. Then I wrote LADIES' VOICES. The idea in WHAT HAPPENED, A PLAY was without telling what happened, to make a play the essence of what happened."

So that's Gertrude Stein.

REHEARSAL:

Fun. Just, fun. Warm-ups, trying not to laugh as I watch everyone around me making extraordinarily grotesque faces and sticking their tongues out and knowing that I'm making the same extraordinarily grotesque faces and sticking my tongue out. Trying to keep up with Vanessa in the vocal warm-ups. Failing, but continuing to try.

Sidenote: "I can accept failure. Everyone fails at something. But I can't accept not trying." (Michael Jordan)

Tongue-twisters. I heart tongue-twisters. I stink at them too, but I still heart them.

And then we play. We play with props and space and movement. It amazes me anew each time how intense the play is. We get physical. I'm playing musical chair with another actor; the music stops; she moves to sit in the chair; before I know I'm going to do it, I pull the chair out from under her and triumphantly sit down. She falls on her ass. I pull over a little stool, and gesture to her to sit on it, apologizing in a whisper (we're not supposed to talk) for getting too caught up in the playing.

Another actor is stomping back and forth, back and forth, pacing furiously. I keep step with her, curious. Then I lock arms with her, hoping to slow her down, get into her mind, to without words find out what is troubling her. I put my arm around her shoulder. We slow down. I put my arms around her and hug her. Another actor joins in the embrace. She hugs back and suddenly there are real tears. The emotions that she has been carrying during the day have erupted, and we stop playing for a few minutes. Meanwhile, a fourth actor, feeling left out, goes to sit alone in a corner.

We play again without words. Someone begins beating on an overturned bucket with a rubber arm. Rhythm. Another person begins tootling with a squawking rubber chicken. Music. Another person ties a yoga strap to a hula hoop and begins strumming. We have a band, and we play and dance.

We form a choo-choo train, and chug-a-choo throughout the rehearsal area. When we begin to get tired, we go more slowly. When we feel more energy, we move more quickly, we raise our bodies up. When the train is almost at a stop, someone rushes up and pours coal into the engine, but the train is out of water, and we must stop then.

Someone hangs a hula hoop on the light fixtures on the wall. Another person is transfixed, and carefully lays a rubber hand on the light fixtures. We all work together until every single prop is suspended somehow on the light fixtures on the wall. We appreciate each other's work, and then after a moment of silent appreciation of our efforts, we then shake our heads and begin to undo everything. After working together to create, we then take it apart separately and are off in our own little worlds again.

It sounds crazy. Maybe it is. I love how we start off separately with a prop or two, a thought in our head, and we can all come together to create art. It's very moving to be a part of something like this.

Perhaps that's why my emotions are running high right now.

More Nightmares

I had more nightmares last night, very Daliesque, á la Un Chien Andalou—which I’ve never seen, because the thought of watching an eyeball being sliced with razors is just a little more than I can stomach.

On a side note, why do people feel compelled to talk about their dreams? Children tell their parents, people tell their spouses, and here I am about to tell you. Just wondering.

Anyway, I was attending the University of Texas, being haunted by a ghost that only I could see. No one believed me. One man pretended to believe me, but somehow I knew that he was going to betray me. And I could see the whole sequence of my gullible belief of him, and the results of his betrayal of me. And I describe it as Daliesque, but it was also reminiscent of the more recent Japanese horror films.

Other nightmares, ones that I cannot escape because they are my life:

Joe’s angry with me this morning because I only put $1200 on my bennies card and it’s all used up. There’s nothing like being screamed and cussed at and hung up on several times before 7:30 a.m. It apparently doesn’t matter to him that I figured out an estimate for my entire year’s medical and dental expenses, including doctor and specialist visits, dental expenses, and prescriptions. When I told him my estimate, which would have been off at least by the $268 I spent on my glasses (because I didn’t know how much extra they cost above our vision benefits due to the fact that I wear bifocals and got the progressives), he insisted that I couldn’t put that much money on my card, because he put extra money on his card. He finally reluctantly allowed me to put $1200 on my card. I’ve done the majority of my dental work for the year, had one doctor appointment, paid for several prescriptions, and bought my glasses. So my card’s virtually empty. I have a neurologist appointment today and asked for his card so I can pay for my appointment. Hence his temper tantrum. Was his temper allayed when I calmly pointed out the facts I’ve just mentioned above? Fuck no. I got sworn at and hung up on again. At this point I feel like I don’t ever want to talk to him again.

I also told him that I want to get a henna tattoo for the play. He refused. Well, right now, the way I’m feeling, again I say, fuck that. If I want to get a henna tattoo, damnit, I’m getting one. The whole point of my costume for the play is that I’m a seething mass of rebellion. Ironic that my husband won’t give me permission to get a HENNA tattoo, one that will wash away in 8 weeks or so!!!!

I feel like I should say here that Joe ate a considerable portion of Belgian chocolate yesterday. Whenever he eats chocolate, it wreaks havoc on his emotions. So does that excuse things? Well, part of me says yes, but the other part of me, the part that’s been yelled at, sworn at, and hung up, says fuck no, because he’s old enough to know that it wreaks havoc on his emotions, and he knows that he takes it out on me, and I’m fucking sick and tired of having him take it out on me. So this morning I say that it most emphatically does NOT excuse things.

He’s also stressed because his employer told him yesterday that the company that has had him on site has not renewed the contract. He may be on site there for up to another two months, but his employer does not know if they will be able to find him another position locally. That could mean relocating. Today I say fine. Let him move. I’m staying here. I know that’s not nice, and I might not really mean that. Then again, maybe I do.

I’m reminded at this point of a Buffy episode. Earshot. She’s telling Jonathan, who has gone up to the tower to shoot himself because his life sucks so bad, that her life happens, on occasion, to “suck beyond the telling of it.” He is marveling because she’s so beautiful and gorgeous and has good friends, and he can’t believe that her life could ever suck. She tells him that the reason no one out there notices him is because everyone is so consumed with their own problems. Unlike Buffy, I’m not beautiful or gorgeous. I’ve got my own style, and I like it. I’ve got good friends, and am making more. I keep myself busy, and I have a purpose to my life that makes me happy. But there are times when my life sucks beyond the telling of it. Today’s one of those days.

There is good to report, and I’ll do that later. Right now I had to get the bad out.

Nightmares

I dreamed I was going to grad school.

Okay, now see, that may not sound like such a bad thing in and of itself. And it's not. I'd love to go to grad school. But here's the rub:

I was also:
--Working as a GTA
--Working full time at the job I have now
--In a play
--Running late on a publisher's deadline for a book I was writing
--Solving some mystery I was involved in (yeah, I've been reading too much lately)

Overbooked much? And I had a recruiter from another school keep coming into the bathroom where I was trying to take a shower (it wasn't a pervy thing--he couldn't see me) telling me that I HAD to hurry up and get my application in for his school. He knew it was past the deadline for applications, but he had greenlighted my application, and it was just a formality, and I had a full scholarship, and I had to hurry up and apply. There were hundreds of freshmen just waiting for me to introduce them to English Literature!!

Egads! He wouldn't listen to my pleas that I have no intention whatsoever of teaching English Literature to freshmen (or sophomores or juniors or seniors, for that matter). "But you must teach!" he kept saying. "It's your mission in life! You must teach! You must! You must teach!"

I was really glad to wake up. And not only because I woke up an hour late and dashed out of the house with my pants rolled up to the knees so that I wouldn't drag them in the damp grass and with bare feet because my trouser socks were wet and I had to dry them in the car vent on the way to work (that was Joe's idea--I was going to put them on wet, ugh) and I got to work ten minutes late and rushed into my office with bare feet (thank goodness no one saw me) and put on my dry trouser socks and my too-high-heeled shoes and rolled down my pants and booted up my computer and clocked in 13 minutes late. No. I was glad to wake up so that horrible dream could end!

But then I started thinking.

Okay. No, I'm not going to grad school. I have no desire to, at least not unless/until I can afford to go when I'm not also having to work full-time.

But I do work full-time. And I am in a play. And I hope/plan to be in more plays. And I am writing books. And I am sort of late on a publisher's deadline.

No mysteries to solve, though, not exactly, although there is one that puzzles me and I have no possible way to solve it.

Why, yes, I do have ADD, now that you mention it. Do you think maybe that's partly why I type more than 130 words per minute? I broke the typing speed/accuracy record at one major corporation's personnel office here in the Dallas-Fort Worth area--they were stunned. People who see me typing tend to stare dumbfounded. But that's not what I meant to say. I just tend to overload myself. So was my dream telling me that I need to go to grad school (heaven forbid!)? Was it telling me that I'm pushing my luck, and I need to not add anything else (prolly)? Or was it my conscience pricking at me and telling me that there is something I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing so many things that I'm missing something?

Or was it just a dumb dream?