Taa-Daaaaaa!

Marrows through the Catflap is a new weblog, and it's one to watch. I'm lucky enough to have been given a sneak preview of Marrocat's writing, thanks to our entertaining e-mail correspondence over the past few months. I'm really looking forward to watching her site grow!

So check it out... Marrows through the Catflap.

Special Delivery

My Pride and Prejudice Special Edition DVD arrived last night via UPS. Whoo-hoo! Trish was over for dinner, and we considered watching the "good parts" of P&P, but instead opted for Kenneth Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing.

I love Much Ado, and it was the perfect movie for last night. I'll save Mr. Darcy for later. Perhaps for Firth Fest 2001 (currently in the planning stages).

Headache. Ow. Ow. Ow.

I was just thinking about how close it's getting to the end of the year. Before I know it, it'll be time for me to do another "year in review" journal entry and a CD review for 2001. I can't believe that. I'm glad I started that Music Log. It's going to make it a whole lot easier to remember what I've been listening to all year long.

Actually, this week I've been listening to a lot of Queen. I miss Freddie. The world is a much tamer place without him. He was one of a kind.

A Tale of Two Darcys

For the true Pride and Prejudice fans among us: A Comparison of Two TV Versions of Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" by Lisa Warrington. I found this fascinating, and agreed with almost all of it. Especially this description of the "other" Darcy (from the 1980 BBC production):

So what about the other Darcy, David Rintoul? He has a pleasant, soothing, gentlemanly voice, he is tall and dark and could be called handsome, in a rigid, plastic sort of way. Odd head shape, I thought. He is also remote, passionless, virtually expressionless, and walks about as though someone has inserted a very stiff poker up his bottom. He has no life force, and no existence beyond the need for him to pop up in Lizzie's life on demand as the story dictates. There seems little excuse for this. I looked back at the novel to see how Darcy behaves, and he is actually a living, breathing, human being, with real emotions.

Lisa's whole page is interesting; check it out.

Interesting role for Ewan.

Thanks, Sonal!

The Pictures

This is the last of the flower pictures. A few people have written this week to ask about them. Marty took the pictures this past Monday, at the Bridge of Flowers up in Shelburne, Massachusetts. We visited there in July, and he took his father and stepmother for a visit this week. You can tell from the pictures that it was overcast and gray on Monday, but the flowers were beautiful.

Shelburne is a nice little tourist area with old-fashioned attractions -- a dam, some ice-age rocks, many ice cream and candy stores, a small candle factory, a place where they make blown glass, and of course the bridge. It's a lot of fun to spend a few hours wandering around there in the summer or fall.

Someone asked if they were our flowers, and I had to giggle. I can't think of two worse gardeners than Marty and I. But I do love to take pictures of flowers. I just don't know that I'll ever have any of my own.

The fall visits are lining up. From now until Thanksgiving, it's likely to be a very busy time. (Plus we'll be trying to finish the bathroom!) We're still in the planning stages for many of these trips and visits. But first up: Maria and I are going to try to reschedule our visit (again) that was moved from Labor Day to September 13, and then postponed due to the terrorist attacks. I believe she is going to try to come around October 12 or so, and I will be very happy to see her.

I don't often agree with William Safire of the New York Times opinion page, but I liked his column today: All Is Not Changed. (Actually, I usually enjoy his columns on language very much, it's just his political ones I don't agree with.)

So. Thursday. Not much to say about that, I guess, except I'm glad tomorrow's Friday.

Cat on the Table Problem

Last month I asked for suggestions on how to keep my cat off the dining room table while we're not at home. I got several great notes from readers with suggested solutions, ranging from the psychological to the technological to the just plain weird. I've been meaning to compile these for awhile, but things got so crazy that I never did. Now I'm afraid I may have misplaced some of the e-mail, so please feel free to remind me if your suggestion is not on the list.

• Katynka wrote: You could always use that bizarre suggestion from my one cat book and cover your dining room table with maple syrup. Yum.
  
  They also say that covering surfaces with aluminum foil works. Haven't tried that.
  
  My solution is to just to keep all my counters and tables covered with so much crap that Odin doesn't have a safe landing place. (Now I have a good reason to be a slob.)
  
  Unfortunately, Marty and I have never needed a reason to be slobs...
  
  
• JBB wrote: I, too, have a cat who likes getting up on my table. However, there's so much stuff on it (especially books) that usually it deters him. Also, I've caught him a couple times and clapped my hands really loudly.
  
  I saw this product in a catalog I receive. You can also do a search for "pet boundaries." Those products involve putting a device on the table and on the cat's collar, which makes a noise when the cat gets within a certain range of the table. Although I've not used any of the products, the Solutions catalog device seems more targeted. The alarm doesn't sound until the cat actually gets on the table, and the cat doesn't have to wear anything.
  
  I love the picture of the dog launching himself off the sofa.
  
  
• Susannah (no, not me) wrote: You could try spraying the table cloth with diluted orange or lemon essential oil - very Martha Stewart for yourselves, and cats are supposed to hate the smell (though mine go quite a bundle on chewing orange peel, the perverse little creatures).
  
  That little gem is adapted from a bizarre book I borrowed from a friend (it includes sections such as "Is marijuana bad for my cat?" and "Do electronic fences work?"). It actually recommends pinning pieces of orange peel to the area, which could also be an unusual-yet-intriguing decorative statement for the seasonal table...
  
  I'm picturing the table covered in essential oils and pinned with orange peel. Definitely a new look for our next dinner party.
  
  
• Piggly Wiggly wrote: Cats always prefer high places. It's part of their predatory nature; also, they like to be as close as possible to human eye-level.
  
  Solutions? First, create a space for the cat at a level higher than the table -- build a shelf or some other structure such as those outrageously priced kitty totem poles you find at PetCo. Second, blow up some balloons and attach them to the periphery of the table. Cats hate balloons. Leave them there for a while (you can remove them for company). He'll get the hint, and eventually his fondness for the table will diminish. This technique is especially effective for 2 reasons: The balloons work for you when when you're not around; and the cat will not associate the balloons with you, as he would a severe scolding. (Right now he thinks the table's only taboo when you're around. What a nuisance you are!!)
  
  The key to successful cat training is creative distraction. Don't try to make them NOT do something -- make them WANT to do something else!
  
  That last line is just about the best cat advice I've ever heard.

I really, really appreciate all the suggestions. Thank you all.

So far we've stuck with the lo-tech solutions. We've tried tin foil, but it does not seem to deter Ziggy. In fact, he seems to like it. We haven't tried balloons, but in the past he's never been particularly bothered by them. (I guess the first time he pops one, that could change.) We haven't bought any special devices or built a cat jungle gym in the dining room. I'm kind of turned off by the idea of the maple syrup (can you believe that?) and the orange peel all over the table.

At the moment we're keeping the table cleared of junk (which is a challenge for us), and using an extra tablecloth to protect it when we're not around. When we eat, we just take off the extra tablecloth and use the real one underneath. We even have some vinyl picnic tablecloths we can use for this.

I guess we're treating the effect rather than the cause of the problem, and we may need to become more aggressive. But then, maybe he'll decide he likes the new blanket chest better than the table, and start sleeping over there. We can hope.

Morning Update

It's a beautiful day here in Connecticut, with a bright blue sky, sunlight, and a breeze. It really feels like the beginning of fall, and here and there the leaves are starting to change. Patches of gold and bright pink are appearing in the trees.

We had a nice visit with Marty's dad and stepmom. They are headed south today, back towards North Carolina. I'm glad they could get up here for a visit.

Driving in today, I played Bob Marley's "No Woman No Cry" a couple of times. I love the way he sings the line, "Everything's gonna be all right." I'm using this song on one of my world music mixes, and using a different version of it (by Olodum) on another. The Olodum version is interesting -- it has those Brazilian drums at the beginning. It's very grounded, I guess. Bob Marley's, to me, is much more ethereal. I like them both.

"No, little sister, don't shed no tear. No, woman, no cry."

I read an article from The Washington Post that really pulls together a lot of what happened during the attacks: September 11, 2001. This is a disturbing story, but I was glad I read it.

Talking About It

I saw my therapist tonight. I asked her whether she'd been busy, if everyone had wanted to talk about the terror attacks for the last two weeks. She said that the first week, a lot of people cancelled their appointments, but that the second week, everyone came and wanted to talk about it.

People are talking about it. It was very quiet at first, I noticed. With just a few exceptions, I didn't talk to anyone on the phone or get e-mail from many people for the first week or ten days. But in the last few days my friends have been writing me again, wanting to talk about it more. It seems like a lot of people have been working through the grief and depression and now are getting to the place where they need to communicate and connect.

I can understand that. I feel the same way.

Doc Searls wrote a fascinating entry on the changing role of the media as it applies to the events of the last couple of weeks: Mending Habits.

Just the Beginning

I've been thinking a lot about how I make friends recently. Sometimes I meet someone and I just know that we could be friends. Maybe we share opinions, interests, a sense of humor, or something even less definable. It's a magic moment when that happens. Other times I might know someone for a long time before I really begin to understand who they are. It's a wonderful surprise when someone I've known for awhile starts to unfold before me in that way.

Either way, whether it's immediate or gradual, it always feels good to make a new friend. Finding that kind of connection with another person is a real delight.

Of course, it's also the kind of thing you can't force. You can put yourself into situations where you'll meet people, but you can't make friendships happen. It took me a long time to figure that out.

Another thing that interests me about friendship is how different my relationships are with different people. I have become much more conscious in recent years of how friendships are determined by the needs of both participants. This has become so much clearer to me since I've become an adult that I sometimes feel like I'm a different person in my relationships with different people. (Actually, just so you know, I don't date my becoming an adult back all that far. Really only a year or two, despite my looming 33rd birthday.)

As an adult, I spend so much time at work that it can be hard to meet people outside of it. But making friends at work can be tricky. It's great to have a support system, but it can also be difficult to work with people who know too much about your personal life. I have found that I do a lot better with people who don't work in the same department as me. (Since I am currently a department of one, I guess everyone else in the entire company is a potential friend. Well, okay, not really.)

Anyway, my closest friend at work is about to move to another company. When we met, about a year and a half ago, we hit it off immediately. We were like kindred spirits in a corporate world. We eat lunch together two or three days a week, when we're able to. I will miss her dreadfully when she goes. Her last day is a week from tomorrow.

But I know we will stay in touch. And I am cultivating some other friendships at work, too. There are some nice people there, and when you can get them out of the office they are even nicer.

I am a lucky, lucky girl when it comes to friends. I have the best in the world.

I really liked Thomas Friedman's column in the New York Times today: Terrorism Game Theory.

Up Early

It's windy this morning. We are supposed to be having thunderstorms today. Outside my window everything is still dark, but I can hear the tree branches blowing.

I'm not really sure why I've been waking up so early in the mornings lately. I'm not sleeping well, although as far as I can remember I haven't been having nightmares, either. I'm grateful for that.

A friend wrote me yesterday that she'd just re-read Pride and Prejudice and watched the movie. She made some comments about Mr. Darcy that were along the lines of what I was saying here on my page a few months ago during the Firth Frenzy. This isn't someone who reads my site. This Mr. Darcy thing seems almost universal.

Anyway, right after I got her e-mail, I got this one from Amazon.

From: orders@amazon.com
Date: Mon, 24 Sep 2001 16:22:31 GMT
To: susannahx@hotmail.com
Subject: Your Amazon.com order

Greetings from Amazon.com.

As you requested, we shipped this portion of your order separately to
give you quicker service. The remainder of your order will follow as
soon as those items become available.

The following items were included in this shipment:
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Qty Item
---------------------------------------------------------------------
1 Pride and Prejudice (BBC TV Miniseries) DVD Special Edition
---------------------------------------------------------------------

I ordered this new special edition DVD several weeks ago, but it was just released today (I'm not sure how they shipped it a day early). Anyway, I can't wait to get it.

The picture of the flower is one Marty took yesterday up in Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts. He took his dad and Linda to see the Bridge of Flowers, which we first visited back in July. He took some gorgeous pictures yesterday. I'll post more of them soon.

Don't know why I thought Marty wouldn't want to go. Tonight I asked; he agreed immediately. But I think he was surprised I asked. Anyway, we are going on Saturday.

Still Thinking About It

Rob went to Manhattan yesterday. He's written a journal entry about it. I was glad to read it, even though it's very hard to bear the details.

I understood why he had to go. I live probably less than 5 miles from Rob, and I've been thinking of going to New York myself. I don't think anyone else would want to go with me, though, and I admit I am afraid to go alone. Not afraid of the city -- not even the city the way it is now -- more afraid that I would get down there and become so overwhelmed by all of it that it would be hard to get home again. I don't want to go alone.

Still, with the site of unspeakable horror less than 100 miles from my front door, it somehow seems irresponsible and disrespectful not to go. I'm still thinking about it.

Looking back over my entries for the last few days, I realize that they might seem disengaged with recent events. Does that mean I'm not thinking about it? No. How could I not be thinking about it? How am I supposed to stop? Lynda wrote an interesting journal entry about this feeling. I think she's right, too: we are all at different places on that spinning wheel of grief.

It's important to remember that what we see on other people's web pages or faces doesn't reflect even a fraction of the things they are feeling. And just because we hold on to the small pleasures of life, it doesn't mean we're forgetting how things have changed, and what we've lost.

I'm still thinking about it. I bet you are too.

A Boy and His Rabbit



This is my desktop at the moment. If you read other people's journals or forums, you may recognize Oolong, the rabbit in the picture above. I'm by no means the first to link to him. But if you haven't seen him before, he's a rabbit whose Japanese owner likes to take pictures of him balancing different things on his head. He seems like an extremely tolerant rabbit. He really makes me smile.

Check out Oolong's site. It's mostly in Japanese, but if you click on the links you'll find some great pictures.

Hedonist in a Fur Coat



I took a bunch of pictures of Ziggy in the sun this morning, and the one above is my favorite. He was rolling and wiggling on the kitchen floor in a sun spot, like a little fur-covered hedonist. I love how his claws are extended. A bigger version is here.

We're having a fun visit with Marty's dad and stepmother. It's a blue sky sunny day today, perfect for a drive up to Hammonasset Beach.

My father-in-law made us a beautiful blanket chest and brought it up this weekend. It's taken a place of honor in our dining room. I will post some more pictures of it later; it is really gorgeous.

After I posted my three world music mixes on Art of the Mix the other day, I got inspired to work on the next ones. I've just about finished the fourth one, and I have about half the list done for the fifth one. I've found some gorgeous African music by Baaba Maal and Papa Wemba to use on number four. Number five is going to be wild, just really fun. Very over the top. I love it already.

You know how you get stuck on a song? Well, maybe you don't, but I do. It happens to me all the time. I've played Harry Belafonte's "Jump in the Line" like, twenty times today.

My girl's name is Senora,
I tell you, friends, I adore her
And when she dances, oh brother
She's a hurricane in all kinds of weather

Walk On
by U2

And love is not the easy thing
The only baggage you can bring
Is all that you can't leave behind

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back
Oh no, be strong

Walk on
Walk on
What you got, they can't steal it
No they can't even feel it

Walk on
Walk on
Stay safe tonight

You're packing a suitcase for a place
None of us has been
A place that has to be believed
To be seen

You could have flown away
A singing bird
In an open cage
Who will only fly
Only fly for freedom

Walk on
Walk on
What you got
You can't deny it
Can't sell it or buy it

Walk on
Walk on
Stay safe tonight

And I know it aches
How your heart it breaks
You can only take so much

Walk on
Walk on

Home
Hard to know what it is
If you never had one
Home
I can't say where it is
But I know I'm going
Home
That's where the hurt is

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on

Leave it behind
You've got to leave it behind...

For all you Penn State people: A New York Times article from today, At Penn State, Unease Extends to Football.

It rained until well after lunch today. I went out at noon and the world was nothing but light and water. I took this picture in the parking lot at work, looking out the window of my car.

I'm feeling wiped out tonight. Alicia said she thought everyone was feeling overexhausted after the last two weeks, and I have to agree. There's just been too much too feel and too much to think about, and we're all low on energy. She's right, I think.

Two people, Maria and my cousin-in-law Kevin, asked me today whether I could believe that Don Henley's "New York Minute" wasn't on the Clear Channel list. In a word, no. I mean, if "Mack the Knife" made the list, why not "New York Minute"?

I'm listening tonight to one of my world music mixes. I've been working on a series called "World in My Head" for the last few months, and have done three so far: Mbube, Spirits, and Mexico (the one I'm playing tonight). There is nothing better than the Gipsy Kings' version of "Hotel California."

Marty's dad and stepmother arrived here today from North Carolina. I cooked spaghetti for dinner and we had a nice visit. They'll be here for several days, and tomorrow one of Marty's brothers will be here too, just for one night. We live so far away from our families (and most of our friends, too) that this visit is a real treat.

If you ever ride in my car, you'll see this mascot on my rear-view mirror:

Are You Lookin' At Me?

Okay, I know I posted this picture of Ziggy several months ago, but it's one of my favorites. The look on his face is classic. He looks so pissed off.

"Are you lookin' at me? You want a piece of this?" Heh.

I don't know what Ziggy got into yesterday, but the fur on his back was all matted and weird last night. And then -- then -- we couldn't find his brush. This is all very strange. He's never had this problem with his fur before, and the brush has been kept in the same place for the past 9 years (in the drawer of the end table beside the sofa). It seems like a weird coincidence that the brush disappeared right when we needed it most.

So I am headed out at lunchtime to find a new brush and probably some cat shampoo. It's been at least 2 years since I last gave him a bath in the kitchen sink, but I'm betting we can still remember how it goes...

It's a rainy, cool day in New England. The leaves are fading from summer green, and everything's soaking wet.

Bizarro Update: Here's the whole list of the songs "banned" by Clear Channel radio stations after last week. (I say "banned" since the list was, they say, only a suggestion -- not a requirement at their 1,170 radio stations here in the US.)

Thanks for the link, Sonal.

I drank three cups of coffee today. That's three more cups of coffee than I've drunk in the last three months. I am feeling a little jumpy.

File Under "Bizarre"

Just ran across this in the New York Times:

After the Horror, Radio Stations Pull Some Songs
By Neil Strauss for The New York Times

Clear Channel Communications, the Texas-based company that owns about 1,170 radio stations nationwide, has circulated a list of 150 songs and asked its stations to avoid playing them because of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

Some listed songs would be insensitive to play right now, such as the Gap Band's "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" and Soundgarden's "Blow Up the Outside World," but other choices, critics and musicians say, are less explicable because they have little literal connection to the tragedies.

These include "Ticket to Ride" by the Beatles, "On Broadway" by the Drifters and "Bennie and the Jets" by Elton John. Even odder, some songs on the list are patriotic, like Neil Diamond's "America." Others speak of universal optimism, like Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World," and others are emotional but hopeful songs that could help people grieve, like "Imagine" by John Lennon, "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon and Garfunkel, "Peace Train" by Cat Stevens and "A World Without Love" by Peter and Gordon.

[read the whole article]

The wall in my craft room. That red Craftsman chest at the bottom of the picture is what I keep my rubber stamps in. As you can tell, I like to have things to look at when I am feeling creative.

One Week Later

It's hard to believe a week has already passed. Last Tuesday morning at 5:30 AM, who among us knew how different the world would seem in just a few hours?

I have found ways to continue to do the things I have to do to keep my life moving as it must, but at night, when I put my head to the pillow, those thoughts are always waiting for me. I find myself thinking of the victims, all the different kinds of victims of last Tuesday's attack, from the ones in the planes to the ones on the top floors of the towers and in the subway station several stories below the street, all those firefighters running up the stairs, the people at the Pentagon, all the people who may have still been alive after the buildings fell and how long they might have been conscious underneath the rubble before their broken bodies finally gave out and they drew their last breaths.

But the circle of victims spreads wider than that. I think about all the grieving families left behind, the wives, husbands, parents, partners, children and best friends who won't see the most important person in their lives, ever again. I think of that cat or dog left waiting in some apartment in New York city or Washington DC, and I hope that someone else thought of that faithful friend too.

I also think about the Muslims here in America and other dark-skinned people who have been targeted since the attack, and the ones overseas who are likely to lose their lives, despite, perhaps, not agreeing with the terrorists any more than I agree with the extremists Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson here at home.

I think about all the children throughout the world who witnessed what happened last week, either in person from the windows of their schools in New York, or through the window provided to all of us by the television, and my heart feels very heavy. How would my consciousness have been shaped if I had witnessed thousands of people die when I was five years old? or eight? or eleven? or fifteen?

So even though life continues, and I go about my day-to-day business, these are the thoughts that crowd my head after the lights are out. And for the last three nights I've dreamed about it, as well. I guess my brain needs to continue processing the experience whether I am conscious or not. Sleep no longer seems like an escape from my thoughts. In the days following last Tuesday, I had to remind myself upon waking that it had really happened. These last few mornings, I've had to remind myself that I wasn't really on that plane, and Marty wasn't under that building.

If I could pray, I would.

Instead, I'd like to point out a suggestion made by one of Alicia's best friends. I'm glad she chose to share her thoughts, and I thank Alicia for posting them.

Things to Be Grateful For

I was looking back through some of my archives and ran across this entry from December 13, 1999, during the first winter we spent in our house:

We have been undergoing the installation of a new heating system these last two weeks. Holy cow, is it ever gonna be done? Originally it was supposed to be finished last Tuesday . . . today it's Monday again and they're still not done. Tonight when I got home there were three (count 'em, three!) vans in my driveway, and about seven men inside the house, working away. They stayed til 7:00 and it's still not done. But we're getting closer. Surely in the next couple of days . . .

In the meantime it's still maxing out at about 50º F in this house. The coldest we ever recorded was 35º F in the living room. It feels like camping. Last night when I got in bed, it took me 45 minutes to warm up enough to fall asleep. And that was with the electric blanket blazing away.

Um, 35º F in the living room? And why weren't we staying in a hotel???

Shattered: A Time Photoessay by James Nachtwey

It's been such pretty weather here this weekend. Yesterday I went out to the orchard and up to Manchester to go to Record Express and Target. It was good to be out on the road with the music and the sunshine.

Today it's time for chores and cleaning, some work on the bathroom project, and maybe a phone call or two. Just kind of a quiet Sunday.

My journal is updated with an entry and pictures today.

Late yesterday evening Marty and I came in from dinner and errands, a Friday night tradition at our house. It's getting dark earlier and earlier now, and as we got out of the car, we looked up into the sky. Although we live very close to New Haven, the city lights interfere much less with our view of the stars than you might expect. Friday had been a cloudy day, but by last night it had cleared and the stars were vivid against the black sky.

Among all the stars were the tiny flashing lights of a jet plane, moving slowly across the sky, way overhead. It was the first plane I'd seen in the sky since Monday.

I'm glad it's Friday. Even though it's not much of a Friday -- it's rainy, it's cold, and my weekend guest is stuck 1300 miles away -- at least it's the end of this long, long week.

It really is actually cold today. I noticed some color in the trees, as well. We will be well and truly into autumn in just a couple of weeks. The year is slipping away.

Taking a Break

I'm skipping CNN duty tonight, although Marty's downstairs putting in a shift. Instead, I watched a silly movie, and now I'm halfway through Bob Dylan's Love and Theft for the third? fourth? time today.

She's looking in to my eyes, and she's a-holding my hand
She looks in to my eyes, she's holding my hand
She say, "you can't repeat the past,"
I say "You can't? What do you mean you can't? Of course you can."

Where do you come from, where do you go?
Sorry, that is nothing you would need to know
Well, my back's been to the wall so long it seems like it's stuck
Why don't you break my heart one more time, just for good luck


~ Bob Dylan, Summer Days

I like this CD so much I came home today and ordered a copy for my dad. :-)

A Self-Intervention

I've learned that sometimes when you can't find anything big to feel good about, it's better to just look for something little.

I went out at lunch for two things I knew would make me happy in some small way: a Blue Raspberry Freeze from Burger King, and Bob Dylan's new CD, Love and Theft. (This CD was just released Tuesday, and Laura's been talking it up ever since. She's quite right, too. It is very good, and it sounds like Vintage Bob.)

Life, Postponed

You may remember from a post earlier this week that I had tickets to see John Mellencamp and The Wallflowers last night in Hartford. Not surprisingly, that concert has been postponed. You may also remember that I was planning to take today and tomorrow as vacation days because Maria was coming to visit from Detroit. Of course that visit isn't happening either. So here I am at work again, trying to concentrate, not having too much luck. If I'd had enough vacation time I would have just taken today off after all.

I was thinking this morning that the way I feel right now is similar to how it's felt in the past when I've been depressed. Everything becomes so damn difficult, even just getting up in the morning, or going to the grocery store. Trying to get things done, at home or at work, I feel like I'm walking around underwater with a lead suit on and a brain full of cotton wool. That is what depression feels like, at least to me. When I am depressed, I'm locked away so deep inside myself that I can't remember what it's like to feel like myself. And that's kind of what this feels like, too.

So, in the last couple of days, much has been cancelled or postponed. Not just visits and concerts, but also feelings of security, long-term plans, and, of course, thousands of entire lives. And it makes me feel like I don't know what to feel, or how to do the things I need to do.

Incongruous

We've had a couple of glorious days here, with blue skies and perfect 70-degree temperatures. I took this picture around 6:00 this evening in my back yard.

The weather is incongruous with the way I feel, with the way most people seem to be feeling. I'm just kind of numb, still, and I'm having trouble concentrating and focusing on everyday things. All I seem to want to do is keep reloading CNN.com to see if they've updated, and then, if they haven't, just read the same news over and over again. But then, I don't want to do that, either.

Last night my friend's sister-in-law was attacked on the subway in Philadelphia. She was on her way home from work and was beaten by three men. She is Muslim and she covers (that is, she wears a veil and long robes). She ended up at the hospital. It makes me so angry and afraid.

It's shameful that people would turn that kind of blind hatred on each other. No matter what reason they might have thought they had, what they thought they were "retaliating" for, it makes me sick and ashamed, and I know it's only the beginning of what we may see happen right here at home. Even at my so-called diverse and progressive workplace, I hear people making comments that sicken me. This hate is very dangerous to our society.

I'm not a pacifist by nature, although I do have very conflicted feelings on this subject. I support military strikes against those who harbor and enable terrorism, whether those supporters are foreign or American. But I also believe it is wrong to judge an entire nation or faith on the acts of extremists. Most likely, that kind of fanaticism is what led to the terrorist attacks yesterday in the first place. Unthinkingly repeating that same wrong in retaliation will only make matters much, much worse, because it will diminish us as a nation.

One friend wrote me today that moderates should distance themselves from extremists, lest they be mistaken for extremists. I think that is true, and not just for people who look like they might have come from someplace else or have "different" religious beliefs. As a moderate, I think I need to distance myself from the extremists here at home, by speaking up to people who make stupid, dangerous remarks that I believe lead to violence against others. Remember what Martin Luther King, Jr, wrote from the Birmingham Jail:

Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

In other words, moderates who don't act can be even more dangerous than extremists who do.

A Bright Spot

The last couple of weeks have been pretty busy around here, and I've fallen behind a little on the journals I read and the personal sites I check on a regular basis (most of these appear on my links page). I haven't really caught up yet, but imagine my delight when I discovered just now that my good friend Laura W. Petix has started a weblog.

It's called Anti-Linear Brain and I think it will be a very, very good thing for people who love coffee, good music, the web, and anti-linear thinking. Yay, Laura.

How can the world look the same when so many people are dying less than a hundred miles from my house? New York City may seem like a different world from Hamden, Connecticut, but the truth is that it is very close by. Just 85 miles from my front door to where the World Trade Center used to stand.

But I'm sure every town in the US seems close to New York City today.

I heard from a friend who works at an online news service that even in the midst of all the news pouring in yesterday, it was sometimes hard to believe this was really happening, that it wasn't a nightmare. I felt it too, that need to remind myself that it was really true.

Yesterday was bad enough, with trying to understand such a huge senseless loss of life, but this morning I realized that as the reports get more individualized, things are going to feel worse and worse. We woke up to the news that as many as 800 people may have been killed in the Pentagon attack; the fire was still burning when I left for work this morning. On the way to work I was listening to NPR, and heard a woman being interviewed whose husband worked at the World Trade Center and is still unaccounted for. Her voice was desparate and hysterical. "The worst part is not knowing. I wish I could just go and dig for him myself. What if he's dying and I'm not there to hold his hand? What if he's hurt and I can't help him?"

Then I got to work and read the articles about the people on the planes who had called their wives or moms or husbands by cell phone as the planes were being hijacked. And the people who are still calling this morning on cell phones from underneath the rubble in New York. And the rescue workers at the trade center talking about picking through thousands of body parts in the search for survivors. And hearing just how many of the firefighters are unaccounted for in New York -- they are saying 300 right now. And when you multiply each of these heartwrenching stories by the thousands of people who died yesterday, it just becomes really overwhelming, trying to take it all in.

In a way I think things are just going to keep becoming harder and harder, until we either find some outlet for our anger and bewilderment or become hardened to these stories in some way. On top of my sadness for all these people who died or who lost loved ones, I am worried and scared about what that will do to America.

New York Weblogs

Allen Plummer
Super Hyper Demon Child
Lightning Field
Saran Warp

There's a very strange feeling in southern Connecticut this afternoon. Our whole area is reeling today in the aftermath of this morning's attacks in New York and Washington. I'm sure that feeling is pretty much the same all over the US, but here at my office we also have people whose spouses work in New York (they can't get home tonight), contractors who live in New York and commute here every day (they can't go home either), and at least one person whose sister worked in the World Trade Center (she made it out okay).

I think I heard that 50,000 people worked in the twin towers of the WTC. The magnitude of this tragedy is hard for me to wrap my brain around. It feels like nothing will ever be the same again, and I guess it probably won't.

For our friends and family who may be checking the site: When the attacks happened this morning, Marty was at work in Hartford, and I was at work in New Haven. We are both safe and we'll be home soon.

Mouse in the House

This morning Ziggy cornered a mouse in the kitchen. I wasn't really surprised, because last night while we were watching Henry V, I could have sworn I heard squeaking from the direction of the kitchen. When I checked last night, though, I couldn't find anything. This morning the mouse was out in the open, and Ziggy had it trapped on top of a heater vent on the floor. This is the first mouse I've seen since we bought our house two years ago, so I'm hoping this is just a one-off, not a sign of things to come.

Ziggy is not one of those intrepid mouse hunters that you find among cats. He never learned to hunt, and so he's never actually (as far as I know) managed to kill or even really catch anything. (We had infrequent mice at a couple of places we lived in Pennsylvania.) He doesn't go outside so he's never had a chance at birds. Even things like ants and spiders are just interesting to him, not cause for stalking and pouncing. I guess he's a live-and-let-live kind of cat.

I think about a cat like Odin, who in some ways might strike one as a fey little fairy, and I know, deep in my heart, that he could out-mouse Ziggy any day. I have seen him demolish suede toy mice in a matter of minutes, gobbling their little tails and biting their heads off like a tiny guilloutine. But Ziggy just doesn't have the knack.

So this morning I called the real man of the house. Marty came down and scooped the mouse up on a piece of cardboard with a big cup over it, and took it out to the ravine behind our house. Thank goodness for Marty. In some ways, he's a better cat than Ziggy is.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers!

Or, to quote Giles and Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as they once again go to meet the apocolypse, "We few, we happy few, we band of buggered..."

Tonight we watched Kenneth Branagh's film adaptation of Henry V, which is one of Marty's and my favorite movies. When it was released, in 1989, I saw it in the theater with Celeste in Athens, Georgia. I think I went back a second time the next week and took Marty with me. What a movie.

(I always forget that Christian Bale is in it until I watch it again... he was a mere babe in arms back in those days. The casting in that movie is great.)

It's been a nice weekend. Friday night we stayed in, then Saturday we were at a picnic for Marty's softball team. (I made this yummy salad for it.) It was good to see some old friends there. Today, Marty started cutting tile for the bathroom (yes! we are making progress!) and I did the weekend chores... laundry, straighten up, change the sheets, clean the bathroom, etc.

Then we closed the weekend down with "a little touch of Harry in the night." I just love that movie. But I think I love the movie even more because I love the play. There are so many great scenes and speeches in it.

When I was teaching freshman English at Penn State, I once took my video of Henry V to class and showed the St. Crispin's Day speech as an example of rhetoric using pathos. (I also used a scene from When Harry Met Sally to demonstrate logos, and one from Bull Durham to illustrate ethos. That was a fun day.)

This will be a busy, short week for me -- Wednesday night we have tickets to see The Wallflowers and John Mellencamp (aka John Cougar) in Hartford. (I will try to keep this page from becoming Jakob Dylan Central. Try.) Then Maria is arriving on Thursday to stay for the weekend. We are going to cruise around New England playing the Top Down Mix! :-)

Now, I leave you with this:

Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger...
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot!
Follow your spirit; and upon this charge,
Cry, "God for Harry! England and Saint George!"


William Shakespeare, Henry V, III:1

More Brunching

In checking out the Brunching Shuttlecocks' review of The Matrix, I realized it had been awhile since I last Brunched. So I had to poke around the site a little, and I simply MUST share this, from the review of Planet of the Apes:

The story, as it would normally be told (the eternal set-up), centers on Leo Davidson (Marky Mark) and his loves of various chimps (The Funky Bunch).

You see why I can't resist this site, right?

What is The Matrix?

Last night we watched The Matrix, a trippy sci-fi movie from 1999, starring Keanu Reeves and Laurence Fishburne. It had great special effects and sounded really cool in surround sound. And -- surprise -- it also had an interesting plot. Marty and I both liked it. But still, it is a Keanu Reeves movie. And so it must be rated on the true scale of Keanu Reeves movies, as defined by the Self-Made Critic of Brunching Shuttlecocks:

Any review of a Keanu movie must start with Keanu himself. Basically, just how bad is he in this one?

Is he playing a role that adeptly hides how unbelievably horrible he is (Parenthood, the Bill and Ted movies)? Or is he playing a role that broadcasts his complete and utter lameness for all to see (everything else)?

Actually, there is a third class of Keanu films. These are films that are so packed with other distractions - explosions, car chases, semi-naked hotties - that Keanu is given little actual acting to do. These movies include Speed... and... and... did I mention Speed?

Well you can slap The Matrix into that third category. Keanu is so buried in effects and gunfire that he has little to do other than pose. And he poses pretty well.

[read the whole review]

It just makes me laugh, because it's so true. And I'm a fan of Keanu "Can't Act" Reeves. In fact, I'd have to say he's probably one of my favorite actors, because I love three of his movies and like several more.

Love: Much Ado About Nothing, Speed, Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure
Like: A Walk in the Clouds, River's Edge, Parenthood, Dangerous Liaisons, Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey

And yes, Point Break is missing from that list for a reason. Even I won't sink that low...

Why does this day seem so long? I feel like I've been awake forever, and it's only 4 in the afternoon.

Well, here it is: Berry and Peach Cobbler. This is the cobbler I made on Monday. It was so good. I recommend making it now, while the peaches are in season (at least, they are around here).

Enjoy!

The Special Edition DVD of The Princess Bride was released yesterday. I stopped at Borders on my way home last night and picked it up. This is one of our favorite movies from way back.

When it was released in 1987, I saw it in the dollar theater in Valdosta, Georgia, when I was home on break from college. I loved it immediately. I took all my friends to see it. I took my sister to see it. I think I saw it five times before it left the theater.

Marty and I weren't in touch then. We'd broken up the year before, and it would still be another year before we talked again. After we started dating I showed him the movie, and he loved it too.

On DVD it's gorgeous. I'd heard that the original DVD version was very badly done, but this new edition is great. There are a bunch of extras on the disc -- tracks of commentary by both the director and the writer, special interviews with the cast, a making-of documentary, and more. But the best part is that it looks and sounds better than I've ever seen or heard it before. Swoooon.

Shelley has made a beautiful gallery to celebrate the life of her almost-stepdad, Dickie, who died in July. He was a one-of-a-kind guy and the story told in these pictures is fascinating whether you knew him or not. It made me cry, especially those letters at the end.

A day in the life... of Alex. Awwwwww!

(I highly recommend using Internet Explorer to follow this link. This is one of the only sites where I have found it makes a big difference whether you use Netscape or not.)

Doesn't Bridgnorth look like a cool place? It's in Shropshire. Which I think is right near Wales.

THINK no more, lad; laugh, be jolly:
Why should men make haste to die?
Empty heads and tongues a-talking
Make the rough road easy walking,
And the feather pate of folly
Bears the falling sky.

Oh, ’tis jesting, dancing, drinking
Spins the heavy world around.
If young hearts were not so clever,
Oh, they would be young for ever:
Think no more; ’tis only thinking
Lays lads underground.


A.E. Housman, 1896
from A Shropshire Lad

It's a Peach Pie kind of day...

Actually, I am making something very similar to that recipe -- a berry/peach cobbler -- but I'm too lazy to put the recipe online. Those peaches I got at Lyman Orchards yesterday are wonderful.

Here's something interesting, sent to me by Maria: WIL WHEATON DOT NET:The Official Wil Wheaton Website. Yes, that Wil Wheaton. You know the one.

He has a weblog and everything, and he seems really cool. Rock on, Wil!

Trainspotting, Revisited

I've been out to Lyman Orchards today for fresh peaches and tomatoes. It's a gorgeous, breezy, sunny day. Perfect for a drive and a walk by the pond at the orchard. I got 4 quarts of Lyman's peaches, and some beautiful red local tomatoes. Oh, joy.

While I was driving around, I played the Trainspotting soundtrack. I've owned this soundtrack for a year or more, although I never watched the movie until last weekend. I had listened to it a little bit, but never really got into it. Since seeing the movie, though, I have to say that the soundtrack is absolutely brilliant. Now that I've seen how the songs were used in the movie, listening to them takes on a whole new dimension.

I will stand by my original claim that the movie isn't a comedy, but I have to say I like it better in retrospect than I did while I was watching it. And I think listening to the soundtrack with an increased understanding of the songs was part of what made the difference. The power of music, I guess.

No, it's not a comedy. As I told Katynka, any movie with a dead heroin baby is automatically disqualified from sitting on the shelf alongside Groundhog Day.

More Moulin Rouge

Yes, more. I can't help myself... I was raised on the early days of MTV, and I still believe that too much is never enough.

Sonal pointed out this review of MR to me today. I will quote the parts I like best:

Ewan McGregor, the just-turned-30 Scottish actor who stars in Moulin Rouge, sometimes comes off as all-too-tragically hip.

In edgy fare such as Trainspotting and Shallow Grave, McGregor seemed talented but possibly a tad too cool for his own good. And even as the young Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace, he appeared to be holding back, as if he were leaving his options open.

But his latest movie is a musical -- a musical about star-crossed lovers, set in the Paris of 1899 and co-starring Nicole Kidman. And as its struggling-writer hero, McGregor is required to sing such songs as Elton John's "Your Song," Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You," Sting's "Roxanne" and even a bit of Rodgers and Hammerstein's "The Sound of Music."

You don't hold back on songs like these. You either give them your whole heart or you're lost.

McGregor meets the challenge by committing to the film as he has never committed to a film before. His ardent eyes and hungry mouth are always before us, and his strong, slightly dusty voice makes his songs seem newly inspired.

Although McGregor has appeared physically naked in some of his earlier films, he has never been as emotionally naked as he is, fully dressed, in Moulin Rouge. He opens himself up to us, and what he reveals turns out to be almost alarmingly charming.

Even in scenes where he doesn't sing, the power of his musical numbers carries over, filling his work with a previously untapped passion...

In the end, this is Ewan McGregor's show. It could, in fact, be a career-changing film.

Musicals are out-of-fashion, so McGregor may not have many other chances to sing onscreen. But if he can find a way to find the sort of passion in nonmusical roles that he does here, who knows how far he'll go?

Basically, he just needs to keep a song in his heart.

Can it really be September? Oh dear...

April, come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain
May, she will stay
Resting in my arms again

June, she'll change her tune
In restless walks she'll prowl the night
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight

August, die she must
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold
September, I remember,
A love once new has now grown old


Paul Simon