Maybe you’ve noticed I haven’t been a very faithful blogger of late. My apologies. I’ve hit paper-writing season—that dreaded time in the semester when I have to make all those fascinating ideas I’ve developed throughout the semester cohere into a clearly articulated, thesis-driven, original piece of prose. Ugh. Until I succeed, I always feel a bit like Rachel in Chaim Potok’s The Promise. She’s working on a paper on James Joyce’s Ulysses when her boyfriend Reuven, the narrator, calls her. As he relates,
She was working on an idea in connection with Bloom’s thoughts about Stephen’s thoughts about Bloom and Bloom’s thoughts about Stephen’s thoughts about Bloom’s thoughts about Stephen. It was a splendid idea, she said. I wished her luck.
That is so how I feel when I’m in the thick of a paper and, I’m sure, how I sound when I explain my work to my husband. Wish me luck.
I finished a sewing project this weekend that I’m pretty excited about: a throw pillow for our living room. I was inspired by this pretty little pillow from anthropologie:
Cute, isn’t it? I really liked the simple stripe design and homemade applique look. I wasn’t up for paying an arm and a leg for it, though, so I decided to try my hand at making it. My version didn’t turn out perfectly—this was my first go at applique, and I had a little trouble with puckering—but I’m still pretty pleased with the outcome. In fact, I think I like my faded color scheme better than the brighter shades of the original. Here’s the finished project:
Watching Project Runway has been one of my guilty pleasures these last few months. I know, I know, it’s a cheesy reality show. But for a reality show, I think it’s well done. Inter-contestant drama is kept to a minimum, and unlike shows that ask competitors to eat bugs or seduce each other, Project Runway actually calls for real talent. I like the show because I like seeing the garment-making process: sketching, choosing fabric, constructing, fitting, and styling. Watching always inspires me to go out a sew something! The season finale is next week, and I’m looking forward to it!
Here are a few of my favorite looks from this season. For the first two looks, the contestants had to create a garment out of newspaper, and for the second two, they had to design a costume for a genre film.
I’m going grey. Yes me. Twenty-five-year-old me. I’m not totally grey yet—just a few grey hairs here and there—but the process has definitely begun. I have to admit that it’s all a bit disconcerting. I’m too young to go grey! I haven’t had any children yet! I haven’t even been pregnant! I’ve never had a real job! There’s a part of me that just figures I’ll dye my hair once I’m grey enough and nobody will be the wiser. But there’s another part of me—the feminist part of me, I suppose—that thinks I should accept my grey and age proudly. My husband, I should mention, sides with my feminist self. He loves grey hair, can’t wait till he goes grey himself, and thinks grey will look fantastic on me. I’d like to agree with him. I do think there’s something about grey hair on a woman that gives her an air of confidence, wisdom, and peace of mind. But, I just don’t know if I have the guts to go au naturale. In an effort to boost my morale and work up enough courage to accept my greyness, I’ve been keeping an eye out for grey beauties. Here are a few of my favorites:
literary critic Susan Sontag:
Nobel-prize winning author of Beloved, Toni Morrison:
photographer Annie Leibowitz:
Academy Award-winning actress Meryl Streep:
United States Secretary of Health and Human Services, Kathleen Sebelius:
I always love a good Emily Dickinson poem. Ever clever, honest, and straight to the point, she packs so much into her tiny verses. Here is an unexpectedly sexy poem from the famously shy and reclusive poet. Enjoy!
Wild Nights—Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile—the Winds—
To a Heart in port—
Done with the Compass—
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden—
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor—Tonight—
In Thee!
Here is how the poem appears in Dickinson’s handwritten manuscript:
My husband and I spent yesterday afternoon and evening at a little get-together at dear friend’s home, and we had such a wonderful time! We caught up with some friends we hadn’t seen in a while, met a few new friends, and, because the host was a Pakistani lady who cooks amazing Indian food, we got to gorge ourselves on her fabulous cuisine! Yum! She even sent some leftover almond cookies home with us that we enjoyed this morning with some good Indian tea:
Today is a special day in my family–my dad’s fifty-sixth birthday! Among the many other gifts my dad has given me over the years, one of the best things he’s passed along is a love of words. I’ve mentioned before that my dad converted me to crossword puzzling, but he’s also taught me to love puns with his punning skills, taught me to appreciate a good punchline with his repertoire of jokes, and taught me to think in spoonerisms with his constant “spoonerizing.” Do you know what a spoonerism is? Basically it’s a swapping of the initial sounds in a series of words. For example, the spoonerism of happy birthday is bappy hirthday. Of course, bappy hirthday doesn’t mean much of anything, but some spoonerisms can be quite clever.
So, Daddy, to commemorate your fifty-six years of life, I’ve compiled a list of fifty-six clever spoonerisms. I know some of them will be familiar, but others I hope will be new. Hope they make you smile!
1. Trail Snacks
2. Shake a tower
3. Right Fascism
4. Plaster Man
5. Chilled Greese
6. Chew the Doors
7. Bad Salad
8. Rental Deceptionist
9. Hot Poles
10. Lack of Pies
11. Candle with Hair
12. Parking Spot
13. Tease my Ears
14. Wave the Sails
15. Mend the Sail
16. Blushing Crow
17. Know your Blows
18. Bowel Feast
19. Bunny Phone
20. Belly Jeans
21. No Tails
22. Chip the Flannel
23. Hate of Arts
24. Fight a Liar
25. Cozy little Nook
25. Roaring Pain
26. Boiled Icicle
27. Tar Bender
28. Feel Rude
29. Thrifty Fee
30. Nifty Fine
31. Waning Gait
32. Sign of Light
33. Hiss and Lear
34. Rake some Mice
35. Shoving Leopard
36. Lacked Punch
37. Nick your Pose
38. Bill in the Flank
39. Dot in the Shark
40. Hurling your Care
41. Math Bat
42. Flutter By
43. Crunch of Books
44. Head Rot
45. Gush and Bore
46. Bound Grief
47. Brunch Lake
48. Sues and Shocks
49. Cattle ships and Bruisers
50. Bedding Wells
51. Damp Stealer
52. Crawl through the Fax
53. Mad Banners
54. Shattered Scowers
55. Parrots and Keys
56. Nasal Hut
Yesterday I got a lovely email from an old friend, reminding me of a piece of music we both used to love: Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto. I used to play a very much simplified version of it on the piano, and she liked it so much she would call it “her song.” Such a beautiful piece! Thank you, my dear friend, for letting me take a trip down memory lane!
Here’s the first section of the first moment, performed by Martha Argerich:
I’m a big fan of houseplants. I like that they add a little life to a room and bring a bit of the outdoors indoors, and, especially in the winter months when everything is cold and dead outside, having a little greenery inside is so good for one’s spirits! About a month ago, I added a few more houseplants to our growing collection, and I’m happy to report that they’re doing well. See?
A spooky poem seems fitting on this Monday after Halloween, and what could be spookier than Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”? A great rendering of the poem appeared on the Simpsons a few years back that, if nothing else, shows how securely Poe has become fixed in our national consciousness. The Simpsons version isn’t the most loyal representation of the poem ever, but it’s certainly fun. Enjoy!
My apologies for my unexplained absence the past few days. We spent the Halloween weekend at my husband’s parents’ home, and I’ve been away from my computer. It was such a lovely weekend–so relaxing! We chatted with some of my in-laws’ friends over cider and pumpkin bread on Saturday afternoon, entertained trick-or-treaters and caught bits of the World Series on Saturday night (here are my husband’s resulting thoughts on the physics of baseball), and, throughout the weekend, watched our kitten Fermi explore their house and interact with Sam, my in-laws’ rambuntious Golden Retriever. Yes, we took Fermi along with us. We didn’t have anyone to watch him and thought he was too little to stay at home alone, so the only alternative was to bring him along. He actually did admirably well–he slept on my lap most of the drive there and napped in his carrier on the drive home, and I think he liked the excitement of being in a new place. We–all three of us–had a splendid time, and I feel lucky to have my in-laws so close–at just four hours away, so we can easily come and go to their house on weekends like this one. Many thanks to my new parents for a wonderful time!
Today anthropologie posted their Christmas decor on their online store, and it made me so excited about the upcoming holidays! I always get excited about Christmas, but I’m even more excited than usual this year because this Christmas will be the first one my husband and I celebrate as a married couple. It will be the first time we decorate our tree, bake Christmas cookies for our neighbors, and shop for presents for our family. I can’t wait!
Here are a few of anthropologie’s to-die-for ornaments. They make me want to get busy at my sewing machine!
Going through my files a few days ago, I came across a photocopy of a clever little essay that made me smile. If my memory serves me right, it was given to me by a favorite high school teacher. It’s such a fun little exercise in wordplay, I thought I’d pass it along to you. Hope you’ll enjoy it! It first appeared in the July 25, 1994 edition of the New Yorker.
How I Met My Wife
by Jack Winter
It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.
I was furling my wieldly umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way.
I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I’d have to make bones about it, since I was traveling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn’t be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.
Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.
So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads or tails of.
I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated–as if this were something I was great shakes at–and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.
Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d’oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.
She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. “What a perfect nomer,” I said advertently. The conversation become more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever sense. I have given her my life, and she has requited it.
Today is my mom’s birthday, and in honor of her special day I thought I’d post one of my favorite poems about moms–Billy Collins’ delightful “The Lanyard.” Mom, this is for you. I love you very much and am grateful beyond words for all you’ve given me. Happy Birthday!
Here’s a clever little poem I first read for an English class as a freshman in high school. My teacher devoted an entire class period to its little frame, something I didn’t think possible at the time, and I was surprised to learn that puzzling out its meaning for fifty sustained minutes could be riveting! I look back on that class period as an important turning point in my eventual decision to study English.
This poem seems timely now in the peak of autumn when we’re all noticing the changing colors and pulling our rakes out of our garages to gather up the falling leaves. Enjoy!
1(a… (a leaf falls on loneliness)
by e. e. cummings
These slippers are my much-needed remedy for cold feet. My mom gave them to me a few Christmases ago, and I love them. They’re so soft and fuzzy, and, most importantly, they keep my feet from going numb!
I’m very tired and need to get to bed, but before turning in I wanted to post about something that made me very happy today. My dad is in town for the weekend, and tonight we–my dad, my husband, and I–had a really good discussion about, as my husband would say, “life, the universe, and everything.” I’m blessed with a wonderful family and a wonderful father.
I’ve been ogling library ladders recently. I love the way they look–so scholastic and tweedy–and I like the idea of having enough books to need a ladder to get at to them. Maybe someday! Here are a few of my favorites:
And while we’re on the topic of library ladders, I think they make a very sweet place for a kiss. Here are Woody Allen and Romy Schneider in What’s New Pussycat? So cute!
Here’s a great comic I recently came across on one of my husband’s favorite web comics, xkcd. It perfectly captures the why-am-I-doing-this feeling I get so often as a graduate student. Enjoy!
We signed up for Netflix today! Hurray! We got it mostly so that I can watch productions of Shakespeare plays and adaptations of some of the other books on my exam reading list, but I imagine we’ll also use it to get some of the cool documentaries and art films they don’t have at our local Blockbuster. Outside world, here we come!
I think a good hearty bowl of soup is one of the best defenses against the cold, and we’ve been eating a lot of them these last few weeks–mostly tomato, vegetarian chicken noodle, and tortilla. Tonight, though, my husband was feeling adventurous and tried out this new recipe for cream of potato. It was so yummy and warm. A fantastic supper for a chilly evening!
Last night my husband and I watched the delightful film Wordplay. Here’s the trailer:
I’m not the world’s best puzzler and I’m certainly not as talented as the puzzle enthusiasts on this film, but I really love a good crossword. Working crosswords is something my family–especially my dad and I–have long enjoyed doing together. I have so many happy memories of watching my dad work puzzles with my big time puzzler uncle when he came to visit at Christmas, of working puzzles in the car on family camping trips, and most of all of working through the endless pages of a crossword calendar my dad once got as a gift. My dad and I make a good puzzling team. He’s good at the geography and obscure words, and I’m good at the literature and culture references. We often get stuck on the sports and old movie clues and have to look things up, but I think we’re getting better. I love Wordplay because it perfectly captures the obsessive nerdy challenge of a good puzzle, and it inspires me to work more puzzles and improve my game. Indeed, what do you think my husband and I did when we finished watching the film? We worked a puzzle of course!
It’s gotten quite chilly here. We’ve started running our heater and bundling up when we go out, and I’ve begun my annual effort to keep warm. Keeping warm is actually a bit of a struggle for me. I always seem to be cold when everyone else is comfortable, so I have to try extra hard to stay toasty! I’ve loaded up my bag of keeping-warm tricks over the years, though, and I thought I’d share some of them in the coming chilly months. As much as keeping warm is always a challenge for me, it’s also kind of fun trying to get cozy. And, of course, it’s oh so lovely to be warm!
Trick number one is drinking tea. During the winter, I almost always have a cup of hot tea beside me. It’s a nice treat because it warms up my hands and my insides and even makes me feel sophisticated!
Thanks to Molly, I’ve been listening to a lot of Lisa Hannigan lately. Her music feels so simple and lilting and whimsical, and it makes me calm and happy. And I love her beautiful little music videos–I just want to step into her world and never come back. Here are a few of my favorites:
Meet Fermi, our new kitten! Isn’t he adorable? We found him from an ad in the paper and brought him home on Sunday. We’re so excited about our new little charge! He’s turning out to be a very affectionate little cat–he follows us around the house, loves laps, and even tries to climb up our legs when we’re standing so he can be closer to us! Oh, and if you’re wondering about his name, it was my physicist husband’s suggestion. Enrico Fermi was a Nobel Prize-winning Italian physicist whose work connects with my husband’s research. Our tiny kitten has a big name to live up to, but I think he’ll grow into it.
My husband pointed me to this really wonderful poem on 3quarksdaily last week. It was originally published in The New Yorker on October 27, 2008. Enjoy!
Oh, and here’s wikipedia’s handy description of an oud if the term is new to you.
Learning to Make an Oud in Nazareth
by Ruth Padel
The first day he cut rosewood for the back,
bent sycamore into ribs and made a belly
of mahogany. Let us go early to the vineyards
and see if the vines have budded.
The sky was blue over the Jezreel valley
and the gilt dove shone
above the Church of the Annunciation.
The second day, he carved a camel-bone base
for the fingerboard. I sat down under his shadow with delight.
The third day, he made a nut of sandalwood,
and a pickguard of black cherry.
He damascened a rose of horn
with arabesques
as lustrous as under-leaves of olive beside the sea. I have found him whom my soul loves.
He inlaid the soundhole with ivory swans,
each pair a Valentine of entangled necks,
and fitted tuning pegs of apricot
to give a good smell when rubbed.
The fourth was a day for cutting
high strings of camel-gut. His left hand
shall be under my head.
For the lower course, he twisted copper strings
pale as tarmac under frost. He shall lie all night between my breasts.
The fifth day he laid down varnish. Our couch is green and the beams of our house
are cedar and pine. Behind the neck
he put a sign to keep off the Evil Eye. My beloved is a cluster of camphire
in the vineyards of Engedi
and I watched him whittle an eagle-feather, a plectrum
to celebrate the angel of improvisation
who dwells in clefts on the Nazareth ridge
where love waits. And grows, if you give it time. Set me as a seal upon your heart.
On the sixth day the soldiers came
for his genetic code.
We have no record of what happened.
I was queueing at the checkpoint to Galilee. I sought him and found him not.
He’d have been in his open-air workshop – I called but he gave me no answer –
the selfsame spot
where Jesus stood when He came from Capernaum
to teach in synagogue, and townsfolk tried
to throw Him from the rocks. Until the day break
and shadows flee away
I will get me to the mountain of myrrh.
The seventh day we set his wounded hands
around the splinters. Come with me from Lebanon
my spouse, look from the top
of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions’ dens.
On the eighth there were no more days.
I took a class in carpentry and put away the bridal rug.
We started over
with a child’s ‘oud bought on eBay.
He was a virtuoso of the ‘oud and his banner over me was love.
Today I have somereallyexciting news to share about a new arrival to our home. No, I’m not pregnant. Sorry to get your hopes up, mom and dad. No, actually we’re getting…(drumroll please)…a kitten! I am elated!Absolutely elated!
Getting a cat might not sound like a big deal, but for me it is. For one thing, it’s a big deal that our landlord is allowing it. He has a no pets policy, but we earnestly pled for an exception and yesterday we got word that he had very graciously granted our request. But getting a kitten is a big deal for more reason than that. See, having an indoor cat has always been a dream of mine. Though I hate to admit it, I’m kind of a cat fanatic. My husband likes to joke that if I hadn’t gotten married, I would have ended up being one of those crotchety old women with a houseful of cats. I’d like to think he’s wrong, but, well, I do really like felines. The thing is, though, my dad is very allergic to cats. So, when I was growing up, our cats always had to stay outdoors. It really wasn’t too bad, and I feel indebted to my dad for even consenting to let me keep a cat at all. Still, I’ve always dreamed about having a indoor kitty to curl up on my lap while I read or to lie at my feet in bed. And now, that dream is going to come true! I’m positively euphoric! Stay tuned for pictures of the new kitten.
Here’s one of life’s little pleasures that’s been making me happy lately: Simply apple juice. My husband and I tried it out for the first time a few weeks ago and were blown away. The amazing thing about it is that it really tastes fresh pressed–almost like cider. In fact, I’ve taken to heating it up in the microwave to drink cider-style. Unfortunately, the Simply brand is a bit pricier than other apple juice brands, but to my mind it’s worth an occasional splurge. Definitely something to try out if you haven’t already.
