Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Yikes, I haven't been posting

...and I really should be in bed. But what the hey, I'll be home for the holiday soon and won't be able to post from there. Did you catch the Simpsons comix extravaganza this past Sunday? Fortuitously, I tuned in and caught it. Had some amusing moments although surely they could have come up with better lines for Art Spiegelman, right? Kate did point out that Alan Moore singing to his Little Lulu comic was definitely worth the price of admission.

Another amusing thing for you as you waste time at work or at home: if you remember the "Land of the Lost" and ever been in a library, check this youtube video out. It's nine seconds of silliness that made me laugh out loud.

So, I leave for home on Wednesday. My sister's birthday always falls around Thanksgiving and I finally realized the absurdity of having a full (and I mean FULL) meal and then having birthday cake. How is this possible or normal? Fortunately, I have her gift ready to go.

Happy Thanksgiving you turkeys....gobble gobble

Saturday, November 10, 2007

There are jobs for English majors...

I know I shouldn't be laughing at this tragedy in Australia, but don't you just get the feeling that a disgruntled English major has been waiting for YEARS to write such a headline.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Lovely, lovely fall days

Today was one of those snuggly mornings. I had put on an extra blanket on my bed and turned up the heat a bit. I awoke to the low purring of one of my cats which mirrored my mood rather than interrupted it. I didn't even mind pulling myself from the cocoon to face the day.

Last night was a lot of fun too. I met up with friends, Cheryl and Faye, who had been at a symposium on witchcraft at ECSU. It's surprising that they hadn't had the chance to meet each other yet what with their overlapping interests and mutual friends. At dinner, we saw our new first selectman, Jean DeSmet. (It's nice living in a small, left leaning town -- I rubbed it into my friends' face who lives in Alabama and longs for such choices we face here). After dinner, we attended a dance performance about women executed in Connecticut for witchcraft. It was called The Witching Hour.

Though Cheryl was not enthusiastic about modern dance, I really liked it. The performers, as Faye put it, had "real" women's bodies and moved with a lot of grace. The set was very striking with giant puppets as the male Puritans who condemned these women, speaking the words of Cotton Mather among others. In front of them was a lone woman who signed their speech. Some of the dancers integrated sign language into their dance. I also loved their opening sequence where the dancers imitated the crossing over the Atlantic with the slow heaving and tipping of their bodies. The performance was partially narrated by a modern, home-schooled girl, Addie Avery, who has taken it upon herself to get her ancestor (a grandmother, nine times removed) exonerated. She played herself which made her words all the more meaningful.

Thanks very much Cheryl for the ticket!!

Thursday, November 1, 2007

All Soul's Day -- Poetry Edition

On the Acaedmy of American Poets' website (www.poets.org), there's an interesting essay on the graves of poets -- there are lots of them lying around doing nothing in New England. In honor of dead poets everywhere, I give you a spooky poem from Emily Dickinson (you can see her grave in Amherst) -- the last line perfectly captures the feeling of coming across a snake unexpectantly:

A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him, --did you not,
His notice sudden is.

The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.

He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,
--When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.

Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.