How about a foray into the realm of non-fiction?
11. Jacques Cousteau: The Sea King by Brad Matsen
I remember as a kid, I was fascinated by two things that, looking back, probably started me on the path to become a conservation biologist: "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom," and the documentaries of Jacques Cousteau. I remember being thrilled, learning about wildlife and ecosystems and delicate webs of interdependence. Jacques Cousteau seemed like a kindly grandfather, showing us not only all the wonderful and amazing species that lived in the ocean but also how fragile the mighty oceans are.
This biography was an eye-opening adventure in learning about the real Cousteau. There were the awe-inspiring moments: his daring work with the French resistance in World War II, his input into the development of the Aqua Lung and its subsequent testing, the procurement of a WWII minesweeper turned ferry which would be reincarnated as the infamous and much loved Calypso, and the testing of human limits under the surface. But there were also the darker moments: his lack of financial sense, his lack of tolerance with anything but perfection, his arrogance/self-confidence, and his decades long affair with an Air France flight attendant which remained secret until his wife's death and created a rift between his first and second families that still exists today (thirteen years after his death). Matsen fairly detailed the many sides of the pioneer ocean explorer, which I appreciated. Despite his many faults, the impact Cousteau has had on our understanding of our oceans and their inhabitants is undeniable. A 4/5 star biography (deduction of one star for too few photographs).
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Monday, February 01, 2010
Received via email forward from my pal Greg
Dear Miami,
The Saints are coming and so are we; their loyal, long-suffering and slightly discombobulated Super Bowl-bound fans. While there's still time to prepare -- although a few hard-core Who Dats will begin trickling in Monday, most of us won't arrive until Thursday or Friday -- we thought we'd give you a heads-up about what you should expect.
First things first: You need more beer.
Yeah, we know. You ordered extra. You think you have more than any group of humans could possibly consume in one week. Trust us. You don't. New Orleans was a drinking town long before the Saints drove us to drink. But it turns out beer tastes better when you're winning. (Who knew?) So let's just say we're thirsty for more than a championship; adjust your stockpiles accordingly. And look, when we ask you for a "go-cup", be nice to us. We don't even know what "open container law" means. Is that anything like "last call"?
Second: It's Carnival season in New Orleans (that's Mardi Gras to you), and we'll be taking the celebration on the road. So don't be startled if you walk past us and we throw stuff at you; that's just our way of saying hello. Oh, and sorry in advance about those beads we leave dangling from your palm trees. We just can't help ourselves.
February is also crawfish season, and you can be sure that more than one enterprising tailgater will figure out a way to transport a couple sacks of live mudbugs and a boiling pot to Miami. When the dude in the 'Who Dat' T-shirt asks if you want to suck da head and pinch da tail, resist the urge to punch him. He's not propositioning you. He's inviting you to dinner.
If you see a big Cajun guy who looks exactly like an old Saints quarterback walking around town in a dress ... don't ask. It's a long story.
Third: We know that crowd control is a major concern for any Super Bowl host city. Our advice? Put away the riot gear.
Speaking of which, if you happen to see a brass band roll by, followed by a line of folks waving their handkerchiefs, you're not supposed to just stand there and watch. As our own Irma Thomas would say, get your backfield in motion.
And hey, Mister DJ! Yes, we know you've already played that stupid Ying Yang Twins song 10 times tonight, but indulge us just one more time. To us, "Halftime (Stand Up and Get Crunk)" isn't just a song; it's 576 points of good memories. It's the sound of a Drew Brees touchdown pass to Devery Henderson, a Pierre Thomas dive for first down on 4th-and-1, a Garrett Hartley field goal sailing through the uprights in overtime. It's what a championship sounds like. You may get sick of hearing it. We won't. Encore, dammit.
Fourth: Inside Sun Life Stadium, you may find your ears ringing more than usual. We're louder than other fans. Seven thousand of ours sound like 70,000 of theirs. Don't believe us? Ask the 12th man in the Vikings huddle. Some people think it's just the Dome that heightens our volume. But you're about to discover a little secret: We can scream loud enough to make your head explode, indoors or out. It's not the roof. It's the heart...well, ok, and the beer.
Number 5: Don't be surprised if there are more Saints fans outside the stadium than inside. A lot of us are coming just to say we were part of history, even if we can't witness it up close. The Saints are family to us, and you know how it is with family: We want to be there for them, whether they really need us or not. Because we know our presence will mean something to them, whether they can see us or not. Come to think of it, seeing as how you're taking us in for the week, we pretty much regard you as family, too. So we're warning you now: If you're within hugging distance, you're fair game. Hugging strangers is a proud Who Dat tradition, right up there with crying when we win.
Sixth: We cry when we win! Most sports fans cry when their teams lose. Not us. We've been losing gracefully and with good humor for 43 years. Tragedy and disappointment don't faze us. It's success that makes us go to pieces. Hurricane Katrina? We got that under control. The Saints in the Super Bowl? SOMEBODY CALL A PARAMEDIC!!! So anyway, don't let the tears of joy freak you out. We're just...disoriented.
OK. Let's review:
Order more beer. Throw me something, mister. Suck da heads. Wear da dress. Stand up. Get crunk. Hug it out. Protect your eardrums. Pass the Kleenex. Hoist the trophy.
See you at the victory party.
Faithfully yours,
The Who Dat Nation
The Saints are coming and so are we; their loyal, long-suffering and slightly discombobulated Super Bowl-bound fans. While there's still time to prepare -- although a few hard-core Who Dats will begin trickling in Monday, most of us won't arrive until Thursday or Friday -- we thought we'd give you a heads-up about what you should expect.
First things first: You need more beer.
Yeah, we know. You ordered extra. You think you have more than any group of humans could possibly consume in one week. Trust us. You don't. New Orleans was a drinking town long before the Saints drove us to drink. But it turns out beer tastes better when you're winning. (Who knew?) So let's just say we're thirsty for more than a championship; adjust your stockpiles accordingly. And look, when we ask you for a "go-cup", be nice to us. We don't even know what "open container law" means. Is that anything like "last call"?
Second: It's Carnival season in New Orleans (that's Mardi Gras to you), and we'll be taking the celebration on the road. So don't be startled if you walk past us and we throw stuff at you; that's just our way of saying hello. Oh, and sorry in advance about those beads we leave dangling from your palm trees. We just can't help ourselves.
February is also crawfish season, and you can be sure that more than one enterprising tailgater will figure out a way to transport a couple sacks of live mudbugs and a boiling pot to Miami. When the dude in the 'Who Dat' T-shirt asks if you want to suck da head and pinch da tail, resist the urge to punch him. He's not propositioning you. He's inviting you to dinner.
If you see a big Cajun guy who looks exactly like an old Saints quarterback walking around town in a dress ... don't ask. It's a long story.
Third: We know that crowd control is a major concern for any Super Bowl host city. Our advice? Put away the riot gear.
Reason No. 1: Indianapolis is going to lose, and their fans are way too dull to start a riot.
Reason No. 2: New Orleans showed the world on Sunday that we know how to throw a victory
party. We don't burn cars. We dance on them.
Reason No. 3: Even if we did lose, which we won't, leaving the stadium would be like leaving a
funeral, and our typical response to that is to have a special parade.
Speaking of which, if you happen to see a brass band roll by, followed by a line of folks waving their handkerchiefs, you're not supposed to just stand there and watch. As our own Irma Thomas would say, get your backfield in motion.
And hey, Mister DJ! Yes, we know you've already played that stupid Ying Yang Twins song 10 times tonight, but indulge us just one more time. To us, "Halftime (Stand Up and Get Crunk)" isn't just a song; it's 576 points of good memories. It's the sound of a Drew Brees touchdown pass to Devery Henderson, a Pierre Thomas dive for first down on 4th-and-1, a Garrett Hartley field goal sailing through the uprights in overtime. It's what a championship sounds like. You may get sick of hearing it. We won't. Encore, dammit.
Fourth: Inside Sun Life Stadium, you may find your ears ringing more than usual. We're louder than other fans. Seven thousand of ours sound like 70,000 of theirs. Don't believe us? Ask the 12th man in the Vikings huddle. Some people think it's just the Dome that heightens our volume. But you're about to discover a little secret: We can scream loud enough to make your head explode, indoors or out. It's not the roof. It's the heart...well, ok, and the beer.
Number 5: Don't be surprised if there are more Saints fans outside the stadium than inside. A lot of us are coming just to say we were part of history, even if we can't witness it up close. The Saints are family to us, and you know how it is with family: We want to be there for them, whether they really need us or not. Because we know our presence will mean something to them, whether they can see us or not. Come to think of it, seeing as how you're taking us in for the week, we pretty much regard you as family, too. So we're warning you now: If you're within hugging distance, you're fair game. Hugging strangers is a proud Who Dat tradition, right up there with crying when we win.
Sixth: We cry when we win! Most sports fans cry when their teams lose. Not us. We've been losing gracefully and with good humor for 43 years. Tragedy and disappointment don't faze us. It's success that makes us go to pieces. Hurricane Katrina? We got that under control. The Saints in the Super Bowl? SOMEBODY CALL A PARAMEDIC!!! So anyway, don't let the tears of joy freak you out. We're just...disoriented.
OK. Let's review:
Order more beer. Throw me something, mister. Suck da heads. Wear da dress. Stand up. Get crunk. Hug it out. Protect your eardrums. Pass the Kleenex. Hoist the trophy.
See you at the victory party.
Faithfully yours,
The Who Dat Nation
For those who don't understand
I've liked the Saints since I was a kid even though I'm loathe most of the time to actually watch a game, but one of my best-est friends, a.k.a. my evil twin Sarah, sums up pretty well the feelings all New Orleanians (that term includes natives plus those of us who lived through the Big K and thus adopted in as natives) have for our Saints.
As most of you know, I'm not a huge sports fan in general. I did go to a basketball game once when a friend gave me a ticket, but confess, I was more impressed by the t-shirt canon than the game. I have never had a ticket to a football game. It took me a long time to even be able to find the football on the tv screen! That said, you can't live in southern Louisiana, Mississippi, or east Texas and not get infected by Saints football.
Legend has it the Archbishop was asked permission to name the team and his comment was- go ahead, they'll probably need all the help they can get. Americans are always suckers for the underdog. We love a feel-good story where the little kid who has been kicked and spit on finally gets a work-out montage and his revenge. For over 40 years the Saints have been that kid. In fact, they made losing an art form. Even games where the other team was so bad and the Saints score was so high, would end in a creative defeat. Fans would go to the game, they would lose, everyone would put the paper bag they had brought for the anticipated event over their heads, go home, and say, "Maybe next year". For some reason that football team is the outward expression of New Orleans' soul. The soul that was laid bare in Katrina and was exposed to the entire world- the good and the bad.
I've lived in Louisiana since 2000 and have watched a fair share of the games. After going through the storm, for some reason they seemed just a little more important- if only a venue for family, friends, and volunteers to come together for a few hours and not think about hauling debris and sheetrocking. I still have never gone to a game, but I have watched a lot more since Katrina. Greg & I took our friend Dawn to the newly renovated Superdome for the first game after Katrina when the Saints played the Falcons and won a soul-satisfying victory. We went to the Superdome and just reveled in the feeling that the city was still alive and that people would come back after all.
We watched the NFC championship game last week at a friend's house with about 14 other people- new friends and old, people from work, from school, from my camera club, and friends they brought. It was a nail-biting tennis match. When we watch a game we aren't just saying, "Gee, I hope they win." We are saying, "This will mean so much to the city- good publicity, good tourism, good money, good everything! So much more rides on this game than just a sports team winning- the whole city needs this. Please give us a break just this once!"
I have never been so nervous in my life. As the score when toe-to-toe with the Vikings, my stomach was in knots, my fingernails were chewed off. When we went into overtime and I couldn't sit still. We won the coin toss. I thought this is it, this is our one moment to make this happen- but I still couldn't believe it when the Field Goal kick was straight as an arrow. Everyone in our group was jumping up and down, crying, hugging, laughing. Most of us are a bunch of nerdy scientist-types so it was pretty surreal! We heard yelling outside- a group of folks were parading through the street with huge banners and hanging flags on the bridge near the house. Fireworks were going off all over the city. It. Was. Amazing.
I don't think anyone in the city was able to sleep without a liberal dose of alcohol. I had to take half a unisom just to calm down at 1:30am and finally try to go to sleep. I had to teach an 8am lab the next morning. My first comment was, "I'm not going to ask how many of you are still hungover, I just want to know how many of you are still drunk!" There was a whole classroom of exhausted smiles.
Today, banners fly throughout the city and cars are painted with the slogan- "It IS next year." The most common thing I hear people say is- I wish my dad (or mom, or cousin, or brother, or priest) had lived to see this day. So Pigs are Flying, Hell has frozen over, and the Saints are in the Superbowl. Whether they win or lose, they will have the biggest parade New Orleans can throw them (and you know we know how to throw a parade!).
So, even if you're not a sports fan, even if you've never watched a football game, even if you've never been to New Orleans, next week when the Saints play the Colts in Miami whisper a "Who Dat!" for America's team.
Geaux Saints!
-Sarah Brock-Strickland (29 January 2010)
As most of you know, I'm not a huge sports fan in general. I did go to a basketball game once when a friend gave me a ticket, but confess, I was more impressed by the t-shirt canon than the game. I have never had a ticket to a football game. It took me a long time to even be able to find the football on the tv screen! That said, you can't live in southern Louisiana, Mississippi, or east Texas and not get infected by Saints football.
Legend has it the Archbishop was asked permission to name the team and his comment was- go ahead, they'll probably need all the help they can get. Americans are always suckers for the underdog. We love a feel-good story where the little kid who has been kicked and spit on finally gets a work-out montage and his revenge. For over 40 years the Saints have been that kid. In fact, they made losing an art form. Even games where the other team was so bad and the Saints score was so high, would end in a creative defeat. Fans would go to the game, they would lose, everyone would put the paper bag they had brought for the anticipated event over their heads, go home, and say, "Maybe next year". For some reason that football team is the outward expression of New Orleans' soul. The soul that was laid bare in Katrina and was exposed to the entire world- the good and the bad.
I've lived in Louisiana since 2000 and have watched a fair share of the games. After going through the storm, for some reason they seemed just a little more important- if only a venue for family, friends, and volunteers to come together for a few hours and not think about hauling debris and sheetrocking. I still have never gone to a game, but I have watched a lot more since Katrina. Greg & I took our friend Dawn to the newly renovated Superdome for the first game after Katrina when the Saints played the Falcons and won a soul-satisfying victory. We went to the Superdome and just reveled in the feeling that the city was still alive and that people would come back after all.
We watched the NFC championship game last week at a friend's house with about 14 other people- new friends and old, people from work, from school, from my camera club, and friends they brought. It was a nail-biting tennis match. When we watch a game we aren't just saying, "Gee, I hope they win." We are saying, "This will mean so much to the city- good publicity, good tourism, good money, good everything! So much more rides on this game than just a sports team winning- the whole city needs this. Please give us a break just this once!"
I have never been so nervous in my life. As the score when toe-to-toe with the Vikings, my stomach was in knots, my fingernails were chewed off. When we went into overtime and I couldn't sit still. We won the coin toss. I thought this is it, this is our one moment to make this happen- but I still couldn't believe it when the Field Goal kick was straight as an arrow. Everyone in our group was jumping up and down, crying, hugging, laughing. Most of us are a bunch of nerdy scientist-types so it was pretty surreal! We heard yelling outside- a group of folks were parading through the street with huge banners and hanging flags on the bridge near the house. Fireworks were going off all over the city. It. Was. Amazing.
I don't think anyone in the city was able to sleep without a liberal dose of alcohol. I had to take half a unisom just to calm down at 1:30am and finally try to go to sleep. I had to teach an 8am lab the next morning. My first comment was, "I'm not going to ask how many of you are still hungover, I just want to know how many of you are still drunk!" There was a whole classroom of exhausted smiles.
Today, banners fly throughout the city and cars are painted with the slogan- "It IS next year." The most common thing I hear people say is- I wish my dad (or mom, or cousin, or brother, or priest) had lived to see this day. So Pigs are Flying, Hell has frozen over, and the Saints are in the Superbowl. Whether they win or lose, they will have the biggest parade New Orleans can throw them (and you know we know how to throw a parade!).
So, even if you're not a sports fan, even if you've never watched a football game, even if you've never been to New Orleans, next week when the Saints play the Colts in Miami whisper a "Who Dat!" for America's team.
Geaux Saints!
-Sarah Brock-Strickland (29 January 2010)
Friday, January 29, 2010
There's always something broken that needs to be fixed
I actually finished reading my latest book yesterday, but instead of posting about it, I braved the 24 degrees to go to the library and get MORE books (and what an exciting collection I got, Faithful Reader!). I then spent all evening cozied up to the fire watching "Ninja Warrior" and "Cops." Forgive me?
10. The Lace Makers of Glenmara by Heather Barbieri
This was a nice little slice-of-life story about Kate Robinson, a Seattle trying-to-be fashion designer who goes on an extended vacation after her mother dies from cancer and her long-time boyfriend dumps her at their friends' wedding. She heads for Ireland to see some of the places where her ancestors lived. The story begins with her walking in the rain near the west coast of Ireland. She's done the obligatory tour of Dublin and had gotten on a bus for the west coast, but said bus broke down, and after waiting four hours and still no one had shown up to look at it let alone fix it, she decides to hoof it. After a few days, she's picked up by William the Traveller, a sweet old man who travels the countryside in his wagon "fixing whatever is broken." Well, he does a good job with Kate by dropping her near Glenmara, a dying fishing village. There, she's taken in by Bernie, a sweet middle-aged woman still mourning the loss of her beloved husband. Bernie senses Kate has troubles and is pretty much unanchored, so she sets about subtly "conniving" ways to get Kate to settle in Glenmara. First, she introduces her to the members of her lace making society, and we get introduced to all their hurts and triumphs. The ladies begin to tutor Kate in making lace, first via crochet, then via the pillow with pins and bobbins. After seeing Bernie hanging out her "granny panties" to dry and hearing ladies don't have a lot of choices in intimate wear in the area, Kate's inner designer comes alive and devises a way to dress up the ladies' boring underwear with the lace in intricate designs specific to each woman. The society begins to scheme a business for this idea, and they decide on an email blast to their friends and family to get it started.
I found this book to be a quick read (I read all but about 40 pages in less than half a day), and I found all the ladies endearing -- except Aileen, who is not meant to be endearing, but I did find sympathy for her in the end, understanding why she's so crabby. I had a problem with Kate's romance with Sullivan Deane, not that she had one per se, but more the way it was written. I adored Denny and Niall (especially Denny, da to one of the lace makers), two old men who sit on a bench outside one of the pubs in the evenings, drinking Guiness and gossiping. This book was just a nice treat -- not something you had to think deeply about, but full of characters who elicit an emotional response from laughter to tears to anger to happiness. Not everything/one broken gets fixed by the end, but at least the mending's started.
10. The Lace Makers of Glenmara by Heather Barbieri
This was a nice little slice-of-life story about Kate Robinson, a Seattle trying-to-be fashion designer who goes on an extended vacation after her mother dies from cancer and her long-time boyfriend dumps her at their friends' wedding. She heads for Ireland to see some of the places where her ancestors lived. The story begins with her walking in the rain near the west coast of Ireland. She's done the obligatory tour of Dublin and had gotten on a bus for the west coast, but said bus broke down, and after waiting four hours and still no one had shown up to look at it let alone fix it, she decides to hoof it. After a few days, she's picked up by William the Traveller, a sweet old man who travels the countryside in his wagon "fixing whatever is broken." Well, he does a good job with Kate by dropping her near Glenmara, a dying fishing village. There, she's taken in by Bernie, a sweet middle-aged woman still mourning the loss of her beloved husband. Bernie senses Kate has troubles and is pretty much unanchored, so she sets about subtly "conniving" ways to get Kate to settle in Glenmara. First, she introduces her to the members of her lace making society, and we get introduced to all their hurts and triumphs. The ladies begin to tutor Kate in making lace, first via crochet, then via the pillow with pins and bobbins. After seeing Bernie hanging out her "granny panties" to dry and hearing ladies don't have a lot of choices in intimate wear in the area, Kate's inner designer comes alive and devises a way to dress up the ladies' boring underwear with the lace in intricate designs specific to each woman. The society begins to scheme a business for this idea, and they decide on an email blast to their friends and family to get it started.
I found this book to be a quick read (I read all but about 40 pages in less than half a day), and I found all the ladies endearing -- except Aileen, who is not meant to be endearing, but I did find sympathy for her in the end, understanding why she's so crabby. I had a problem with Kate's romance with Sullivan Deane, not that she had one per se, but more the way it was written. I adored Denny and Niall (especially Denny, da to one of the lace makers), two old men who sit on a bench outside one of the pubs in the evenings, drinking Guiness and gossiping. This book was just a nice treat -- not something you had to think deeply about, but full of characters who elicit an emotional response from laughter to tears to anger to happiness. Not everything/one broken gets fixed by the end, but at least the mending's started.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Be careful what you ask for -- it might be what you get
9. Gwenhwyfar: The White Spirit (An Arthurian Novel) by Mercedes Lackey
Though a complete work of fantasy concerning the protagonist's life, Lackey drew on an old Welsh poem that says King Arthur was in fact married to three different Guineveres in his time as High King. This story follows Gwen as she longs to become a warrior in her father's army rather than a Lady with the Blessing/Gift/Power as her mother (herself a powerful Lady) wishes. After one of her father's most trusted (female) warriors notices her gift with horses, Gwen gets all she ever hoped for -- training to be a warrior, and freedom to marry only if she wishes to. But through it all, the connivances of Gwen's little sister Gwenhwyfach (Little Gwen), Morgana, and Arthur's bastard son Medraut threathen everything in Arthur's kingdom, even Gwen's happiness as a warrior. Soon she finds herself on her way to Celliwig as Arthur's betrothed third Gwenhwyfar, and the intrigues thicken.
I was surprised to find myself really enjoying this book. When I read the synopsis, it seemed interesting, but I mainly decided to read it because I like Mercedes Lackey and I like the Arthurian legends. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that it was well written, but I am surprised I enjoyed the tale. If you like fantasy and you're not opposed to an old favorite getting a "reboot," give this a try.
Though a complete work of fantasy concerning the protagonist's life, Lackey drew on an old Welsh poem that says King Arthur was in fact married to three different Guineveres in his time as High King. This story follows Gwen as she longs to become a warrior in her father's army rather than a Lady with the Blessing/Gift/Power as her mother (herself a powerful Lady) wishes. After one of her father's most trusted (female) warriors notices her gift with horses, Gwen gets all she ever hoped for -- training to be a warrior, and freedom to marry only if she wishes to. But through it all, the connivances of Gwen's little sister Gwenhwyfach (Little Gwen), Morgana, and Arthur's bastard son Medraut threathen everything in Arthur's kingdom, even Gwen's happiness as a warrior. Soon she finds herself on her way to Celliwig as Arthur's betrothed third Gwenhwyfar, and the intrigues thicken.
I was surprised to find myself really enjoying this book. When I read the synopsis, it seemed interesting, but I mainly decided to read it because I like Mercedes Lackey and I like the Arthurian legends. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that it was well written, but I am surprised I enjoyed the tale. If you like fantasy and you're not opposed to an old favorite getting a "reboot," give this a try.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Music, music, music
I've been watching videos on YouTube for over an hour (thanks to an unprecedented good satellite Internet connection), mostly by Celtic Woman and Andrea Bocelli. Being the chick I am, I thought I'd share.
First, Signore Bocelli. This is the first song I ever heard him sing, and I've been a little in love with him ever since. Over the years, as well as his amazing solo career, he's had many notable partnerships, from Luciano Pavarotti and Sarah Brightman ("Con Te Partiro") to Celine Dion ("The Prayer") and Christina Aguilera ("Somos Novios"). However, this will always be my favorite. Even Elizabeth Taylor gets a look of pure joy listening to him sing. I always get goosebumps.
And then there's Celtic Woman. This is my absolute favorite song by them, and I always tear up. The second singer with long blonde hair and blue top (Chloe Agnew) was only about 15 at this performance.
And because I can't resist, my mom's favorite song since she got to see these ladies last November. It's even her ring tone.
First, Signore Bocelli. This is the first song I ever heard him sing, and I've been a little in love with him ever since. Over the years, as well as his amazing solo career, he's had many notable partnerships, from Luciano Pavarotti and Sarah Brightman ("Con Te Partiro") to Celine Dion ("The Prayer") and Christina Aguilera ("Somos Novios"). However, this will always be my favorite. Even Elizabeth Taylor gets a look of pure joy listening to him sing. I always get goosebumps.
And then there's Celtic Woman. This is my absolute favorite song by them, and I always tear up. The second singer with long blonde hair and blue top (Chloe Agnew) was only about 15 at this performance.
And because I can't resist, my mom's favorite song since she got to see these ladies last November. It's even her ring tone.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Who dat (II)?
::D does her happy dance::
Who dat?
Who dat?
Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints???
Quit while you're ahead, Mr. Manning.
Who dat?
Who dat?
Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints???
Quit while you're ahead, Mr. Manning.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Fall in love whenever you can
8. Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman
You've seen the movie, but the book is much different than the movie. Of course. "Magic" is not as obvious in the book (Sally doesn't stir her coffee by twirling her finger, nor does she blow candles a-light), but there are hints and a couple of overt instances. The law man from Arizona doesn't play as big of a part (sadly), and getting rid of Jimmy once and for all is kind of anti-climatic. It took me a couple dozen pages or so to get used to how different this was than the movie, but I did, and I enjoyed it.
You've seen the movie, but the book is much different than the movie. Of course. "Magic" is not as obvious in the book (Sally doesn't stir her coffee by twirling her finger, nor does she blow candles a-light), but there are hints and a couple of overt instances. The law man from Arizona doesn't play as big of a part (sadly), and getting rid of Jimmy once and for all is kind of anti-climatic. It took me a couple dozen pages or so to get used to how different this was than the movie, but I did, and I enjoyed it.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Jesus Saves
7. 8th Confession (Women's Murder Club series #8) by James Patterson with Maxine Paetro
Another fast-paced novel featuring Lindsay, Claire, Cindy, and Yuki taking down bad guys and girls to the best of their abilities. Yuki is trying a young beauty queen for murdering her father and attempting to murder her mother. Cindy discovers the brutal murder of homeless saint Bagman Jesus, then she drags Lindsay in with her. However, Lindsay and Claire are up to their eyeballs with three socialite murders with no evidence and no apparent cause of death. All this intertwines with their romantic personal lives (well, everyone but "old"-married-woman-with-new-baby Claire).
Oh, and did I mention the mobile meth-lab-in-a-school-bus that blows up in an intersection, killing ten people including the bus driver/meth cooker?
These books are great fast reads.
Another fast-paced novel featuring Lindsay, Claire, Cindy, and Yuki taking down bad guys and girls to the best of their abilities. Yuki is trying a young beauty queen for murdering her father and attempting to murder her mother. Cindy discovers the brutal murder of homeless saint Bagman Jesus, then she drags Lindsay in with her. However, Lindsay and Claire are up to their eyeballs with three socialite murders with no evidence and no apparent cause of death. All this intertwines with their romantic personal lives (well, everyone but "old"-married-woman-with-new-baby Claire).
Oh, and did I mention the mobile meth-lab-in-a-school-bus that blows up in an intersection, killing ten people including the bus driver/meth cooker?
These books are great fast reads.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
All that mattered was that he couldn't see the baby
6. Strength in What Remains by Tracy Kidder
I adored this book! It is one man's story about living through and escaping the Tutsi-Hutu genocide in Burundi and Rwanda in 1994. The first section chronicles the life of Deogratias (Latin for "thanks be to God") from his boyhood herding cattle in Burundi to his relocation to the US as a third year medical student. This section is not chronological, but it is not confusing thanks to the places and years located subsequent to chapter numbers. Hardest to read is the chapter detailing Deo's six months of running, desperately staying away from both Tutsi armies and Hutu militia. The second part is told by the book's author in first person as he first meets Deo and slowly learns his story then follows Deo back to Rwanda and Burundi as he struggles to build a clinic for the poor of his countrymen. One wonderful observation Deo makes about the genocide to Kidder is this:
He liked to frame his solution jocularly: "I do believe in God. I do believe in God. I think God has given so much power to people, and intelligence, and said, 'Well, you are on your own. Maybe I'm tired, I need a nap. You are mature. Why don't you look after yourselves?'" Deo would pause, then say, "And I think He's been sleeping too much."
I really can't say enough how much I liked this book.
I adored this book! It is one man's story about living through and escaping the Tutsi-Hutu genocide in Burundi and Rwanda in 1994. The first section chronicles the life of Deogratias (Latin for "thanks be to God") from his boyhood herding cattle in Burundi to his relocation to the US as a third year medical student. This section is not chronological, but it is not confusing thanks to the places and years located subsequent to chapter numbers. Hardest to read is the chapter detailing Deo's six months of running, desperately staying away from both Tutsi armies and Hutu militia. The second part is told by the book's author in first person as he first meets Deo and slowly learns his story then follows Deo back to Rwanda and Burundi as he struggles to build a clinic for the poor of his countrymen. One wonderful observation Deo makes about the genocide to Kidder is this:
He liked to frame his solution jocularly: "I do believe in God. I do believe in God. I think God has given so much power to people, and intelligence, and said, 'Well, you are on your own. Maybe I'm tired, I need a nap. You are mature. Why don't you look after yourselves?'" Deo would pause, then say, "And I think He's been sleeping too much."
I really can't say enough how much I liked this book.
In other news
This article in which the bones of a 10th century English princess may have been found in a Magdeburg (Germany) cathedral. Especially interesting -- "Should the skeleton be positively identified as belonging to Eadgyth, it would be oldest remains of any English royal discovered so far."
Who Dat?
Excerpt from a Wall Street Journal article about the upcoming championship games and Super Bowl. Thanks, Tracie!
May I root against the New Orleans Saints?
No, you may not. Rooting against the Saints is like rooting against Elin Nordegren. They're the Sentimental Team of the Century; if Dick Enberg were calling the NFC championship game, he'd need a trailer truck of Kleenex. Even if you forget everything that New Orleans endured during Hurricane Katrina—and how could you?—they're the Saints, the former Aints, one of the most hard-luck franchises in the history of hard luck. Not long ago, newborns came into the world in New Orleans hospitals with tiny grocery bags on their heads.
If the Saints win this weekend, we expect the Louisiana Superdome to levitate off the ground, stop at Parkway Bakery & Tavern for a roast beef po'boy and fly straight to Miami for the Super Bowl.
My correction: I believe they would prefer to get their roast beef po-boys from Mother's or maybe Zimmer's.
May I root against the New Orleans Saints?
No, you may not. Rooting against the Saints is like rooting against Elin Nordegren. They're the Sentimental Team of the Century; if Dick Enberg were calling the NFC championship game, he'd need a trailer truck of Kleenex. Even if you forget everything that New Orleans endured during Hurricane Katrina—and how could you?—they're the Saints, the former Aints, one of the most hard-luck franchises in the history of hard luck. Not long ago, newborns came into the world in New Orleans hospitals with tiny grocery bags on their heads.
If the Saints win this weekend, we expect the Louisiana Superdome to levitate off the ground, stop at Parkway Bakery & Tavern for a roast beef po'boy and fly straight to Miami for the Super Bowl.
My correction: I believe they would prefer to get their roast beef po-boys from Mother's or maybe Zimmer's.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Maybe it all collects in your hair
5. The Appointment by Herta Muller
This was an odd one, and very confusing. Definitely NOT a casual read.
This was an odd one, and very confusing. Definitely NOT a casual read.
Aaaaaaah, libraries!
Went to ye local library today to get my own card and check out some books. Yes, yes, I have plenty of my own books to read -- I'm just not in a mood right now to dig them out of the boxes, plus it was an excuse to get out of the house.
So, I rolled up to the circulation desk and asked the woman, "My ID does not have my current address on it. Is a bank statement acceptable?" She started laughing and remarked, "I LOVE it when people come prepared!" We gave her back two ILLs I'd gotten on my mom's card and asked for the fourth (I'm still reading the third). I had a list I'd made of nine books I wanted to get.
I got ONE off the list.
To be fair, one other one on my list was checked out earlier today by someone else. I didn't even bother looking for the rest because I got distracted. The other two I got off the displays, and there are three others on the displays that I want to get next time.
All fiction this time. Of course you'll be getting reports.
So, I rolled up to the circulation desk and asked the woman, "My ID does not have my current address on it. Is a bank statement acceptable?" She started laughing and remarked, "I LOVE it when people come prepared!" We gave her back two ILLs I'd gotten on my mom's card and asked for the fourth (I'm still reading the third). I had a list I'd made of nine books I wanted to get.
I got ONE off the list.
To be fair, one other one on my list was checked out earlier today by someone else. I didn't even bother looking for the rest because I got distracted. The other two I got off the displays, and there are three others on the displays that I want to get next time.
All fiction this time. Of course you'll be getting reports.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
It was just a story about despair
4. A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick
It may even be appropriate to say it is also a story about passions, about needs, about desires -- the emotional as much as the physical. No, the emotional MORE than the physical. This novel spins a tale not unknown, a simply written tale of love desired, love lost, love never truly had, love found in unlikely places. The dialogue is spare, both in quantity and in sentence length, because this is a tale of inner motivations, and we rarely say what we truly mean. The prose is sometimes truncated and to the point, sometimes long and convoluted and bordering on rambling. It's often difficult to bear witness to the heartache, and the heartache at times seems never-ending. Even up to the last page, you wonder if any good comes out of it.
I found this to be a rich and splendid piece.
It may even be appropriate to say it is also a story about passions, about needs, about desires -- the emotional as much as the physical. No, the emotional MORE than the physical. This novel spins a tale not unknown, a simply written tale of love desired, love lost, love never truly had, love found in unlikely places. The dialogue is spare, both in quantity and in sentence length, because this is a tale of inner motivations, and we rarely say what we truly mean. The prose is sometimes truncated and to the point, sometimes long and convoluted and bordering on rambling. It's often difficult to bear witness to the heartache, and the heartache at times seems never-ending. Even up to the last page, you wonder if any good comes out of it.
I found this to be a rich and splendid piece.
Monday, January 11, 2010
I came with nothing, I leave with nothing
3. In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by Daniyal Mueenuddin
A collection of short stories examining class in Pakistan, this is not an easy book to read. None of the stories end happily, but it is at its core (to me) a warning to carefully consider the goals you think you want because in short order you may see that they aren't what you really wanted after all. This disparity holds true if you are an old beggar man who manipulates a servant job at the big house or the rich landowner around whose family every story orbits. I'll be thinking about this one for a long while.
A collection of short stories examining class in Pakistan, this is not an easy book to read. None of the stories end happily, but it is at its core (to me) a warning to carefully consider the goals you think you want because in short order you may see that they aren't what you really wanted after all. This disparity holds true if you are an old beggar man who manipulates a servant job at the big house or the rich landowner around whose family every story orbits. I'll be thinking about this one for a long while.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Time is a river . . . and books are boats
2. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown
I had read one reviewer's comment that she did not at all enjoy this book, but I will disagree. As with his two previous blockbuster books, Brown carefully weaves his fiction around that which is well known or at least easily Googled. This story revolves around the Freemasons; symbolism in Washington, DC, monuments and art; Noetic science; and, of course, symbology. While one major plot point is not too difficult to figure out (I literally knew the secret from its introduction), it doesn't detract from the enjoyment of the overall tale. In fact, for me it added to the study of human complexity and the things we think should bear resemblance to each other but in the end are light and dark.
Give it a read. Tell me what you think.
I had read one reviewer's comment that she did not at all enjoy this book, but I will disagree. As with his two previous blockbuster books, Brown carefully weaves his fiction around that which is well known or at least easily Googled. This story revolves around the Freemasons; symbolism in Washington, DC, monuments and art; Noetic science; and, of course, symbology. While one major plot point is not too difficult to figure out (I literally knew the secret from its introduction), it doesn't detract from the enjoyment of the overall tale. In fact, for me it added to the study of human complexity and the things we think should bear resemblance to each other but in the end are light and dark.
Give it a read. Tell me what you think.
Monday, January 04, 2010
2010 Book List
1. The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Veiled Detective by David Stuart Davies
SPOILER ALERT -- DO NOT GO FURTHER IF YOU EVER INTEND TO TRY THESE BOOKS
An interesting AU-take on the circumstances surrounding the meeting of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John H. Watson, but I feel that the author took his "new view" a bit too far. I was intrigued at first, but as certain machinations of the author came to light, I felt like he was messing with things just because he could. If Davies had left out a couple of small details, I would've liked the book much more. I mean, Mycroft can be shady, but in cahoots with Professor Moriarty? And Mrs. Hudson on the payroll of the latter? Puh-leez! Word to the wise -- you don't have to alter EVERY character in an AU to this degree, especially when it comes to personalities.
SPOILER ALERT -- DO NOT GO FURTHER IF YOU EVER INTEND TO TRY THESE BOOKS
An interesting AU-take on the circumstances surrounding the meeting of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John H. Watson, but I feel that the author took his "new view" a bit too far. I was intrigued at first, but as certain machinations of the author came to light, I felt like he was messing with things just because he could. If Davies had left out a couple of small details, I would've liked the book much more. I mean, Mycroft can be shady, but in cahoots with Professor Moriarty? And Mrs. Hudson on the payroll of the latter? Puh-leez! Word to the wise -- you don't have to alter EVERY character in an AU to this degree, especially when it comes to personalities.
Good thoughts, please
With the final transcript being logged this morning and my third letter of reference being uploaded moments ago, my Ford Foundation Diversity Fellowship application is officially complete. Wish me luck in getting it this time. It's for a stipend of $21,000 for living expenses so I can actually be in NO to complete my final year.
Also, if you have an extra thought/prayer to spare, would you ask that the National Science Foundation have pity on me and resubmit my grant application to the "appropriate program"? We received an email on Christmas Eve morning that my grant proposal had been thrown out because it wasn't appropriate for the Division of Environmental Biology program.
My whole dissertation is about how environmental stressors alter the development and reproduction (both biological processes) of fish. What?
Also, if you have an extra thought/prayer to spare, would you ask that the National Science Foundation have pity on me and resubmit my grant application to the "appropriate program"? We received an email on Christmas Eve morning that my grant proposal had been thrown out because it wasn't appropriate for the Division of Environmental Biology program.
My whole dissertation is about how environmental stressors alter the development and reproduction (both biological processes) of fish. What?
Friday, January 01, 2010
Looking ahead
A lot of people use this time of year to reflect on the year that has passed and try to divine what will come in the year ahead. Unless something truly crappy or truly outstanding happened, I rarely remember too much of what happened the previous year. The minutiae get all balled up until I cannot tease them loose from each other. I do not make up lists of praises and lists of rants and post them on tha Interwebz because they have meaning only to me, and I don't want to get into some heated discussion with someone who takes offense to this like or that dislike. I don't make huge, life-changing resolutions because something always happens to prevent their completion.
Every new year, what I promise to do are "little" things. I hold my head up and smile at strangers as we pass on the sidewalk or in the grocery store, even if they look at me like I sprouted a third eyeball in the middle of my forehead. I say thank you when someone helps me with something, even if s/he does it for me every day and knows I appreciate it, because very few people show gratitude for the little things. I try to do the best research I can. I explore my personal spirituality and endeavor to remain patient with those of a more rigid mindset. I make attempts at creativity in a variety of forms such as writing fiction, making soap, making mosaics, or cross-stitching. Soon I'm going to attempt to make my own portable medicine wheel. I try to read widely. I try to read something or someone previously unknown to me. I try to read as often as I can. Following the example of a friend, I will endeavor to keep a list of everything I read in 2010 -- both books for fun and research materials (the latter for my own edification) -- and I will attempt to write mini-reviews of the books in the interest of those who might want to also read something I've read.
So, in that vein, I am off to drink some tea (green tea with jasmine and passionfruit) in an attempt to soothe my sore throat, then I shall return to the further adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
I hope your year is everything you want it to be.
Thank you for being my friend and helping me grow.
Every new year, what I promise to do are "little" things. I hold my head up and smile at strangers as we pass on the sidewalk or in the grocery store, even if they look at me like I sprouted a third eyeball in the middle of my forehead. I say thank you when someone helps me with something, even if s/he does it for me every day and knows I appreciate it, because very few people show gratitude for the little things. I try to do the best research I can. I explore my personal spirituality and endeavor to remain patient with those of a more rigid mindset. I make attempts at creativity in a variety of forms such as writing fiction, making soap, making mosaics, or cross-stitching. Soon I'm going to attempt to make my own portable medicine wheel. I try to read widely. I try to read something or someone previously unknown to me. I try to read as often as I can. Following the example of a friend, I will endeavor to keep a list of everything I read in 2010 -- both books for fun and research materials (the latter for my own edification) -- and I will attempt to write mini-reviews of the books in the interest of those who might want to also read something I've read.
So, in that vein, I am off to drink some tea (green tea with jasmine and passionfruit) in an attempt to soothe my sore throat, then I shall return to the further adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
I hope your year is everything you want it to be.
Thank you for being my friend and helping me grow.