Category Archives: Uncategorized

U is for undecided

I couldn’t decide whether to write about Underdog, one of my favorite childhood cartoon heroes, or underwear. So I’ll write about both.

We owned a couple of Underdog glass tumblers (tall drinking glasses) when I was a kid: one had Sweet Polly Purebred, Underdog’s lady love on it; the other featured the humble superdog himself. The theme song to that show was so thrilling, and I loved the fact that Underdog always spoke in rhymed verse. In fact, if asked as a child what kind of superpower I would like to be given, I’m pretty sure I would have asked for the ability to always speak in rhymed verse. (Even then I was a language geek.)

Since the theme of the day is undecided, I’ve changed my mind about writing about underwear. (I hear some of you sighing in relief and others moaning in disappointment. Maybe next “U is for…” day.)

Yesterday, a friend and I were discussing how the both of us are understaffed and underfunded. I mentioned that I had taken one of those personality-type quizzes that helps you figure out how best to get organized. I fall into the category of person who should hire someone. It turns out that I’m not really disorganized; I’m understaffed. My friend has been tirelessly looking for a job since well before she was awarded her PhD last spring. Her research fellowship is running out, and she’s trying not to panic. I pointed out that she’s been working harder at finding a job than she would work if she actually had a job. She put it this way: “I’m not unemployed — because heaven knows I have more than enough to do — I’m underfunded.”

There’s a good chance you’ve found this post uninteresting. While that is unfortunate, it also seems unavoidable.

T is for Tea (of course!)

Ah, tea! Hearty Assam, smooth Darjeeling, delicate green, smoky Oolong. Blended, flavored, fermented to all degrees. With honey, milk, sugar, butter, lemon, spices. By the pot, by the cup, by the mug. Loose-leaf, bagged, or tied into flowers. In the morning, at noon, mid-afternoon, or after dinner.

I like both tea (made with the dried leaves of Camellia sinensis) and tisane (infusions that don’t include Camellia sinensis). Of the former, I especially enjoy English Breakfast, jasmine, Tazo’s Zen. Of the latter, I’m partial to rooibos, my own infusion of fresh lemon basil, and a couple of medicinal combinations for various purposes.

Tea (and tisane) has gained enough of a foothold in this country that it’s fairly widely available in some form or another. You can’t always get it hot; you don’t always have much selection; you seldom get it with milk, but you can find it. That makes me ridiculously happy. (Maybe it helps explain why I was so delirious with joy just being in the UK.)

Several years ago, I had a group of friends who held old-fashioned tea parties. Some collected teacups, teapots, and other paraphernalia. Some assembled recipes and tried out menus and techniques. Some scoured tag sales for hats and gloves, table linens, and parasols. We staged elaborate gatherings, complete with poetry readings and croquet, depending on the season. It was glorious fun.

I no longer live near these friends, nor do I have the time or the energy for such theatrics, but I still find both comfort and sustenance in a nice hot cuppa, no matter what the time of day.

S is for Skipping

…because I skipped Saturday. According to the official April A-Z Challenge rules, skipping Sundays results in the correct number of days in the month (26). Seeing as yesterday ended up the kind of day when I didn’t even turn on my computer, I decided to skip yesterday and blog today instead. As my grandmother always used to say, “It all comes out in the wash.”

Friends have been clamoring for me to blog about my time in London (okay, one friend suggested it out of politeness) so I’ll begin with a few of my impressions of the place.

– It is incredibly civilized. By that I mean that you can get a cup of hot tea just about anywhere (and most places a pot), and they bring you milk when you ask for it, not half-n-half or non-dairy creamer (ye gods!) because they are at a loss.

– It is incredibly civilized. By that I mean that they have excellent public transit. We never had to wait more than five minutes for a bus or tube train and could transfer between lines and modes without difficulty.

– It is incredibly civilized. By that I mean that people seemed to conduct themselves in public with a reasonable degree of awareness of and courtesy toward those around them. (Except that young couple who wouldn’t stop snogging on the tube platform one afternoon. And folks leaving the bars at 3:00 a.m. And the French schoolchildren, as mentioned in an earlier post. But maybe the latter don’t count because they’re not British.)

– It is incredibly civilized. By which I mean that even the corner quickie mart offered a delightful array of British cheddars in the cold case with nary a slice or block of petroleum-based American cheese product in sight.

– It is incredibly civilized. By which I mean that it is considered perfectly appropriate to have a pint of ale with lunch. Every day. And with dinner, too.

(Caveat: These are merely my impressions from a brief sojourn. If I am wildly mistaken, I welcome gentle correction from folks more knowledgeable than I in these matters.)

R is for Really Late

Thanks to Tiffany Francis of Some Words, I recently found out about the April A-Z Challenge. I know the month and the challenge are 2/3 of the way through, but if today were April 2, I’d say, “B is for Better Late than Never!”

Given how far I’ve fallen off the daily post wagon, I make no promises. But seeing as fewer than two weeks remain in the challenge, it’s not unreasonable to hope that I might at least make a decent showing. Who knows? I might even end up forming a good habit (though I’ll probably need another equally simplistic challenge to help me along. Any suggestions?)

Ain’t misbehaving?

I’ve just returned from London, where we encountered groups of young people at every turn, most of them speaking languages other than English. The French-speaking school children were exceptional in their lack of discipline and consideration for other people. They consistently disregarded the direction of tour guides, train conductors, police officers, and their own chaperones. If there was a commotion at a museum, a restaurant, or on the street, the source was nearly always a group of French school kids.

The phenomenon was so apparent and widespread that it became a kind of running joke in our party. French school groups seemed to be everywhere, their disruptive behavior identifying them long before we were close enough to hear them speaking. We kidded that it was no wonder they’d all been sent abroad – their communities were probably relieved to be rid of them. We speculated that this was also the reason they couldn’t get chaperones: most groups had only one adult, maybe two, and 30 or more students. We dubbed them the scourge of Europe, opining that the Huns would be a welcome alternative, swift death by sword being preferable to death by unrelenting aggravation.

In short, I came away with a distinctly unfavorable impression of French children and, by extension, French methods of child-rearing. I hear there’s a new book out extolling French parenting, Pamela Druckerman’s Bringing Up Bebe: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting. I’ve not read the book, so I don’t know what Ms. Druckerman saw that led her to conclude that American parents could take a page or two from French parents. Perhaps French children are well-behaved at home (which is where Ms. Druckerman probably saw them) and only act like hooligans when they’re not under the watchful eyes of their wise parents. I’m reminded of the genuine wisdom of my father-in-law, who once said of my own children: “They’re going to misbehave at one time or another; isn’t it better for them to do it at home, where you’re there to guide them, than out in public?”

Postscript: I realize it is completely unjust to paint an entire nation or generation with a single, broad stroke. In all fairness, there may have been a number of French school groups that we didn’t notice because they were so well-behaved. It’s quite likely that the groups which drew our attention did so because they were inadequately supervised, and the same children would have been ideal travel companions had they been accompanied by an appropriate number of adults. Nevertheless, I can’t help thinking it oddly significant that we encountered no school groups of other nationality that exhibited similar behavioral issues.

Pear blossoms

Not to be outdone by my friend Murphala, who posted a lovely picture of cherry blossoms on her blog, here’s a nice photo of the ornamental pear blossoms:

“Snow” followup

Today there are almost as many petals on the ground as on the trees.

They even make the same kind of shushing sound that snow does when I drive through it.

Not enough for sledding, but still…magical.

It’s snowing!

Not really; it’s been in the upper 80’s (F) all week. But the ornamental pear trees that line the street  look a lot like they did a couple weeks ago (minus the tiny green leaves), when each branch was weighed down with a tiny mound of snow.

Each time a bird alights in or takes off from a tree, there’s a little shower of white petals. Last evening I heard small voices giggling and shrieking, “It’s snowing!” Down the street, two children were tossing twigs into the trees and dancing around in the resulting cascade.

For a few magical days, snowy white petals will swirl on the breezes and form car-blown drifts in the street. Despite the ridiculous heat, it really is only spring.

Geek holiday overload

March 14 is such an exciting day!

1. Pi Day – Today’s date can be written in month/day format like this: 3.14, which happens to match the first three digits of the mathematical constant, pi. People around the world celebrate this holiday by eating pie, reciting as many digits of pi as they can, and talking about both (pie and pi). Happy Pi Day!

2. Albert Einstein’s birthday – The world’s most respected patent clerk was born on this date in 1879. People around the world commemorate the occasion by discussing physics — or at least reciting the equation E = mc (squared) — and wearing fabulously big hair.

3. Save a Spider Day – This is my favorite thing about today, because I love spiders! (See my other spider-related posts for details.) I haven’t seen any since the large jumping spider my son found hiding in his bath towel last month. (I’m not sure who was more freaked out by the encounter, but I’m happy to report that both survived.) I did walk through a bit of spider web in the yard yesterday, though, which I was pretty excited about (once I stopped ninja dancing to get it off me, of course.)

In the spirit of the day, I invite you to eat some pie, tease your hair, and read this winning contest entry by Brandon J., “Spider Day.” A fellow spider dork salutes you, Brandon!

Lenten devotion for 10 March 2012

[The following meditation was based on the hymn, “God Loved the World” (Hymn 323 in Evangelical Lutheran Worship). It was published in Lenten and Easter Devotions (2012) by the East Kentucky Conference of the Indiana-Kentucky Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.]

“God loved the world.” Everything begins there, with a love that made the world, sustains the world, and redeems the world. We tend to think of this relationship as an opposition: God on one side, the world on the other. These words remind us that God doesn’t see it that way.

In fact, God is so head-over-heels in love with the world that God does crazy-fool things with and for and in the world, all the time. Things like free will, and mosquitoes, and causing the sun to shine on evildoers as well as on those who do good. Things like quarks, and dinosaurs, and coming among us to live and suffer and die. God sends the world flowers and blue-footed boobies and rainbows like some love-sick teenager, undeterred by rejection or indifference or outright hostility.

It’s easy during Lent to focus on our failings as the cause of Jesus’ advent. But it’s not really about us in that way. Although our sin might provide the occasion, it is not the reason for Jesus’ coming—love is. Jesus lived and died and was raised because God loved the world. Let us live and die in hope because of that love.

Love-struck God, help us remember that your love is all around us, even in things we do not see and in ways we do not understand. Lead us to love the world as you do—truly, madly, deeply—and follow the example of Jesus, in whose name we pray. Amen.