Marmot Good Works

Three of the marmots came to visit me on a mission of good will to aid my recuperation today. Their arrival terrified the cats (which is good for the cats; keeps them humble). Every few minutes Tuey reminded me that the "cat did run away down the hall. You do need to find your cat and bring him here." Marmot Babe walked around bow-legged in his baby shorts, shaking my Amoxicillin, pulling cookbooks off the shelf, and chewing on the remote control. Madame M(4) and Tuey ate some cinnamon toast on bar stools and Tuey sang a little song and did a little seated dance while munching away. Then he told me that he had cleaned my "little white table" (the countertop), which may have meant that he brushed his crumbs and cinnamon sugar onto the carpet. I didn't check. They left cheesecake in my refrigerator and a rock on my counter and the only downside of their visit was that they made me laugh, which hurt my sore mouth.

I like marmots.

Wisdom Teeth Continued

Yesterday's problem was that my face was numb until about 8:00 pm. It's hard to eat with a numb face. I had to take my bowl of ice cream into the bathroom, so I could use the mirror to guide my ice cream into my mouth. Today's problem is that half my face swelled up in an alarming manner last night. The other half did not. I need one of those Phantom of the Opera masks.

These are the two highlights from my post-wisdom teeth extraction movie marathon:


Dear Frankie
This is such a lovely film! Frankie is a 9-year-old deaf boy who writes letters to the father he believes is a seaman on the Accra. Frankie's mother, Lizzie, responds to the letters to protect Frankie from the truth, but when Frankie discovers that the Accra is coming to town, Lizzie hires a stranger (a dreamy stranger) to pretend to be Frankie's father. The Scottish accents do not hurt one tiny bit.

Wuthering Heights - 2009
I don't actually like Wuthering Heights. It's billed as a romance but come on! What's romantic about a hero who's so broken that his "love" drives him to manipulate and destroy the lives of everyone in his entire family?

Still, and it might be the loritab talking here, I actually enjoyed this version of Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff's evolution from hero to villain is well-developed and almost all the characters (except Hindley) are portrayed sympathetically. And everybody's pretty. That always helps when telling a distasteful story. I'd still rather watch Dear Frankie, but if you're looking for a movie about a dysfunctional relationship, this one is better than the older versions of Wuthering Heights (or of Twilight).

sickation (sick leave + vacation)

I had my three remaining wisdom teeth wrenched from my head this morning, and that is how I know I should not be a spy. As soon as I was caught by my enemies and they started pulling out my teeth, I'd give up all my secrets. I don't really care for tooth removal even when my entire head is numb. And TODAY, the dentist started taking out one of my teeth, when he suddenly realized that it was NOT a wisdom tooth. I bet he wished I wasn't so fully conscious when he made that little discovery. Yeah, I have this tricky second molar that everyone has always thought was a wisdom tooth, but it ain't. The dentist did find and remove the wisdom tooth on that side of my jaw, but it was all rather disconcerting.

Still, tooth removal is a small price to pay for four paid days off work. AJ and one of our co-workers set me up with enough videos to keep me occupied for weeks and I have books and ice cream and an Internet connection. Life is good.

Camera Discoveries

I discovered some more settings and features on my digital camera.

Child and Animal Setting
Actually, I forgot I had this one until AFTER I tried to take pictures of Marmot Babe in the bathtub bludgeoning My Little Ponies. Next time I'll remember.

Self Portrait Setting
I got my hair cut on Saturday and acquired bangs. I haven't had bangs since the Great Bang Disaster of '99, but I think I like them. For the last month, I've gone to work looking like I had a small, fuzzy lap dog perched on top of my head. This is better.


Movie Feature
It's a real shame that I didn't realize I had the ability to take movies of the marmots earlier. Tuey was happy to perform tonight. The "fruity kake" he refers to is furikake, Japanese sea weedy stuff. Tuey got his very own jar of it for Christmas.

Shakespeare's B-Day

Young Man on Phone: I need The Taming of, um, wait. Oh, The Taming of the Shrew. By Elizabeth Taylor.

MBC: Weeping

photo of Poe and Shakespeare being friends from
Word: The Official Blog of READ magazine

Today is Shakespeare's 445th birthday and Talk Like Shakespeare Day (not to be confused with Talk Like a Pirate Day). The website provides 10 rules for speaking like Shakespeare (and advice on wooing lads). Listen to the hip hop birthday anthem. I like it.

It's Like a Rerun that Never Aired, or, Being a Lame Blogger

I went searching through my blog drafts just now to find you all something to read because I don't want to write a brand new post. I'm too busy doing things like deciding if I want to cut off most of my hair and trying to read My Name is Red, which is interesting but also distressing.

So, here's a blog entry I typed up last year and never posted. It was a toss up between this one and the one about Excel and the terrorists.

___________

So I was hanging out with a bunch of people tonight, and someone mentioned nieces and nephews.

Guy Sitting Near Me: I don't have any nieces and nephews.

I should note here that he wasn't actually talking to anyone.

Guy Sitting Near Me: I wish I had nieces and nephews.

Still, no one paying any attention to him.

Guy Sitting Near Me: I love kids.

Completely talking to himself.

Guy Sitting Near Me: Man, I want kids of my own!

These are the conclusions I came to while listening to the Guy Sitting Near Me.

Either
1. He's a crazy person who talks to himself.
Or
2. He's a crazy person who actually WANTED someone to hear him talk about his great desire for children after the manner of Bill Murray during his creepy phase in Groundhog Day.

Bad news either way.

And did I mention that this was the Sheepdog Hater? Yeah, so clearly I must never speak to him again.

Did You Know?

Did you know that during the English Civil Wars, Charles I's children (Charles and James) were given sanctuary on Jersey? Yes. And after Charles I was beheaded, Jersey proclaimed his son Charles II and allowed Charles II to remain on Jersey with his courtiers and a jester. In gratitude, Charles and James granted Jersey the land on America's eastern seaboard that became New Jersey. Did you know that? I did not because I did not learn anything interesting in my world history class. Except that video discs were the wave of the future. My teacher received a couple of them because we had a "21st century classroom" (in 1995), meaning the government paid for our classroom to have a big screen TV and several technologies, like giant video discs, that lasted approximately 2 years.

I learned about Jersey's connection to New Jersey, because in the contest between Croatia and Cinque Terre for my affection, the Channel Islands won. Actually, Cinque Terre followed by Mont St. Michel followed by the Channel Islands won. I also learned in my Channel Island research that on the island of Sark they don't allow cars. Living on an island where cars are forbidden is my special dream. When a wealthy resident of the island insisted on buying a car after the ban first went into effect, he was instructed that he could only use the car if it was pulled by a horse. I'm very tempted to move to Sark and live there forever.

In Memoriam

I love these shoes. And today I am throwing them away. The entire sole came off one of them. Based on the fabric choice inside the shoes (which I LOVE) and the outer shoe material which I'm pretty sure it's now illegal to use in the production of shoes (it being some kind of weird synthetic substance that probably gives its wearer cancer), I'm fairly certain these shoes are approximately 1,000 years old and not worth the trouble of repairing. Also, they're not entirely comfortable. I love them, though. I LOVE them.


And now I will carry them away for their funeral at the dumpster. I wish I knew a dirge.

I Need Photography Skills

I went through some boxes this weekend to see what I can discard before I go to Europe. The less stuff I have to store, the better, and I'm sure my sister is thrilled to receive my castoff weatherstripping, witch make-up, and telephone cords. In addition to those treats, I discovered the manual to my digital camera. I sat down and read it on Saturday and it was life. changing. I have long envied people with close-up functions on their cameras, but apparently, I have that option on my camera! It's been there all these years. I tried it out tonight with the marmots. It makes it so much easier to photograph

sweet potato biscuits

and green bean salad

and square-faced babies.

This one wasn't taken with the macro function. I just like these little boys.

A Common Language is No Guarantee

From today:

Woman: Do you have any videos on body repair?

MBC: Body repair?

Woman: Yes, body repair videos.

MBC: So, like, information about how the body heals itself?

She was not impressed with this guess, because clearly what she meant was AUTObody repair.


From a few months ago:

Man: Where are all the people?

MBC: The people?

Man: Yeah, I thought there would be more people.

MBC (in head): There are people all around us. It is a Friday morning so there are fewer people than normal, but we've got people . . .

Man: I looked on the shelf and a saw some people but not the people I want.

MBC: Do you need an issue of People magazine?

Man (as if this is soooo evident): Yes, but I can't find the one I want.

It is SNOWING Outside

Yesterday I grabbed an album by the Decemberists for our teen volunteers to listen to in our meeting. Except that our teen volunteers are not so much listeners as they are shriekers and texters and awkward conversationalists. Bless their little hearts. I enjoyed the music, though, and I'm still enjoying it today, especially these two songs.

The Crane Wife Part 3




The Engine Driver

The Rage Solution

I almost threw a giant fit at work today. I don't know if it's the fact that winter refuses to release the city, and consequently my heart, from its grip, or if I'm turning into a short-timer, or if we just have really rude and belligerent patrons (I vote for that one), but I have had ZERO patience at work the last few days and all our patrons enrage me. After four hours on the reference desk today, I was about to lose it, so I searched my brain for something that would calm me. What makes anyone in any situation feel happy? I asked myself.

Baby hippos.

Yep, Kirsten recently introduced me to zooborns. When Madame E(6) was a baby, she liked the words hoopter woopter. No matter what she was doing, if we said hoopter woopter to her, she stopped and laughed, even if she'd been crying earlier. Baby leopards have the same effect on me. Rage and misanthropy are no match for photos of baby jungle cats or a sifaka with a fuzzy monkey mother. I sat at the desk and I looked at leopards today and I wished I had a baby leopard to keep at the desk. I would settle it near my chair and pat it if I was angry and when it got bigger, I'd let it eat the people who bothered me. Love me the leopards.

Each Marmot Child

Madame E(6)
My sister and E(6) had this conversation yesterday (in response to E(6) trying to get someone to agree that she knows more than her sister).

Sister: When sisters are small and still in school, usually the older sister knows more, but when sisters are grown-up they each know more about some subjects. Like, what do you think Aunt knows more about than Mommy? The library, maybe?

E(6): Yes. And what children like.

Oh, Madame, you got some points on that one.


Madame M(4) and Tuey
Yesterday I was in the bathroom at the Marmot House. I locked the door. M(4) and Tuey wanted some quality time, so they stood outside and pounded on the door.

M(4): Aunt! Aunt! It's Octopus with Eight Tiny Legs!

Tuey: Aunt! It. is. Oct.o.pus with. Tiny LEGS!

They were very persistent but did not manage to break in.

When E(6) was very small, she used to join me in the bathroom and sit next to me on a stool, patting me on the knee and telling me that I was doing a good job. I do not miss those times together.


Marmot Babe
Marmot Babe's face is square. I just noticed recently.

And he walks.

And possibly he's working on picking up some martial arts skills. Which he could use, considering where he lives.

Easter Eggs

I colored Easter eggs with the marmots this weekend.

Tuey spent most of his time dropping eggs on the concrete, hollering until someone peeled them for him, and popping them practically whole into his mouth.

My sister and I once again made lovely plant-printed eggs. Tuey has likely smashed them by now.

This was my best egg:

The children were somewhat scandalized by my egg. They were unaware that such rudeness was possible in holiday traditions.

Today

Thumbs Down

• Contacting Summer Reading Sponsors--My sister can participate in the summer reading program this year. I hope she wins a whole boatload of loot to make up for the many miserable, pleading phone calls I have placed to our sponsors over the years.
  

• Waking Up Early in the Morning (in the RAIN) to Go to the Dentist--All three wisdom teeth are coming out. I'm very excited to have a legitimate excuse to stay home from work for a few days eating Thin Mint ice cream and watching movies.
  

Thumbs Up

• Travel Agents--AJ and I have been puzzling over our week in Greece, but last night we realized that the Greek ferry system (and the official train website--anybody want to take a guess at what "edisy" means--it's a heading on the English page) is beyond mortal comprehension. The aid of Zeus is necessary to get from Sifnos to Rhodes. Or the aid of a travel agent.
  

• Using My Powers for Good--I have two superpowers that I generally keep on the down low. (1) I'm very good at pulling out the EXACT number of pieces of paper I need for my photocopying needs. Don't ask to see a demonstration. It doesn't work under pressure. (2) I am excellent at shortening booklist annotations. Today someone actually needed this power. It would have been even better if I'd had a cape.

Dem Bones Dem Bones

Last week I read Laurie Halse Anderson's new book Wintergirls. Anderson's book Speak is one of my favorite books of all time, and I think Wintergirls is the best thing she's written in the intervening 10 years. HOWEVER, Wintergirls is about anorexia and anorexia creeps. me. out. If I think too hard about elbows or ankles (they're so boney), it reminds me of anorexia, and I feel disturbed. In college I took a yoga class, and when we had to lie on our backs with our hands on our stomachs and relax, sometimes I couldn't, because my elbows were touching the mat and making me think about teenagers starving themselves to death. Even writing about elbows right now is distressing me. Ever since reading Wintergirls, I've had difficulty falling asleep at night. I'm very aware of my bones. Usually if I can't sleep, I lie on my stomach and scoot down until I can hook my feet over the end of the bed, but now when I do that, I feel all of my ribs touching the mattress. The other night I was trying to distract myself from bone thoughts, and told myself, Sing a song, sing a song and what did my enterprising little mind come up with? The toe bone's connected to the foot bone, the foot bone's connected to the ankle bone . . .

[Late additon: I just read this poem by Laurie Halse Anderson about Speak in VOYA, a ya review source. This video is Anderson reading it.]

National Poetry Month

It's National Poetry Month, and this is my favorite poem. I find it extremely touching. That last line kills me.

Saint Judas
by James Wright

When I went out to kill myself, I caught
A pack of hoodlums beating up a man.
Running to spare his suffering, I forgot
My name, my number, how my day began,
How soldiers milled around the garden stone
And sang amusing songs; how all that day
Their javelins measured crowds; how I alone
Bargained the proper coins, and slipped away.

Banished from heaven, I found this victim beaten,
Stripped, kneed, and left to cry. Dropping my rope
Aside, I ran, ignored the uniforms:
Then I remembered bread my flesh had eaten,
The kiss that ate my flesh. Flayed without hope,
I held the man for nothing in my arms.


Anybody else have favorite poems I should be reading this month?

The Bad Tooth

I still have three of my wisdom teeth and they have always lived in peace and harmony with me and my regular teeth and my mouth. Until recently, when one of my wisdom teeth went rogue. It came in this year and turned sideways, toward my cheek, with the effect that I now have one tooth that is always biting me. BITING. ME. So, I'm going to have to call the dentist tomorrow.

I like my dentist and my trips to his office are always relatively painless, but his partner is my good friend's husband. Every time a new hygienist joins the office and sees in my notes that I'm friends with the other dentist, she offers to call him in to do my exam. And then I have to protest and explain that I like my health care professionals to be strangers and that I don't want to go to my friend's house next week and have her husband privy to the inner workings of my mouth. That's creepy. If he wants to know about my dental problems, he'll have to read my blog.

On a completely unrelated note, I saw Duplicity this weekend, and what I have to say about that is Clive Owen, how'd you get to be so dreamy?

What is it about the British?

I paid for my townhouse in Bath yesterday. When I emailed the owner about payment, he responded that he would "have a go" at sending a PayPal request, although they charge "a fair old whack" for the service. He also wrote that he'd just seen my "chap from the White House arriving on Downing Street." The extreme Britishness of the language made me swoon just a little bit. My mom keeps instructing me not to date while I'm in Europe, but if one visits a country in which the men wear good shoes AND use the word chap without sounding like idiots, one should maximize one's opportunities. Okay, Mom?

Oh, p.s. Marmot Dad asked this week if I had chosen a destination for the last week in September. You all gave good endorsements for a number of places. I do really want to visit Prague and I'd love to watch a hurling game (match?) in Ireland (and that's a fine place to pick up a man with an accent as well, or so movies and Breanne tell me), but Easy Jet made the most compelling case for me to fly to Milan by selling plane tickets from Bucharest for $50. You know where you can get from Bucharest for $50? NOWHERE. Except Milan. So now the real question is whether I should go east to Croatia or west to Cinque Terre after I arrive in Milan. Thoughts? (Now that you know I largely disregard the opinions I request.)

Give to Public Radio

KUER is holding its spring pledge drive, which takes me back to my days working the phones at WTIU, the public TV station in Bloomington. My roommates and I used to volunteer during WTIU's pledge drives, because our friend worked at the station. (Also, because public TV and radio are the BEST. Community access TV is fantastico too. In Bloomington, the community access TV was really open to the public and late at night you could watch super low budget TV shows created and produced by students in their backyards. I was also fond of watching the little child skating lessons/recitals from down at the ice rink that were televised on Saturday mornings.)

There are many good reasons to volunteer for a pledge drive (other than the worthy cause). There's usually pretty good food, you're on TV, you hear producers say special stuff like ". . . and with your pledge you'll receive this tote bag that symbolizes your special relationship with us here at the studio . . . " (just like that tote bag your boyfriend gave you to show you how special your relationship is), and there are many amusing conversations to be had with callers. One night I had this conversation multiple times.

Elderly Woman: I just saw that nice Michael Flatley on my television, so I had to call in and give a little something to keep him on the air.

MBC: Well, we appreciate your support.

Elderly Woman: Now, is Michael in the studio right now?

MBC: No, I'm afraid that performance was prerecorded in Chicago.

Elderly Woman: Because I'd like you to tell him what a fine job I think he does.

MBC: Oh, I'm sure he'd love to hear that. Now I just need to get a few pieces of information from you to process your pledge.

Elderly Woman: He's such a fine dancer and a good-looking man. There's a reason they call him the Lord of the Dance. Could you tell him that Bertram and I own all his videos? We just think he's so talented.

MBC: Yes, he's very popular. People love him. Now, would you like to pay by credit card or check?

Elderly Woman: My friend Verna loves him too. I think she has a little crush. She's a widow, you know. Probably don't mention that to him. Verna might not appreciate that getting out!

MBC: Oh, he'll never hear about Verna from me. So, this will be going on your credit card?

Elderly Woman: Now this money is only to go toward Michael Flatley's performances on WTIU, alright dear?

And so on.

Those were the days. But, seriously, contribute to the pledge drive.