A Little Round-up

Sometimes I wish I had a digital camera set up for easy posting of pictures to the blog. It's been good weather recently and everything is in bloom, but it's not too hot to walk in the daytime yet, so we've had some nice walks recently where we could actually see things other than streetlight-illuminated pavement. There are still lots of azaleas, both in full flower and in bud (they seemed to bloom late this year due to the cold winter), but there are also spiderwort here and there, though it is earlier than I usually see them. There are all sorts of weedy things: the little four-leaved flowers some other children and I used to call "wishing violets", but which are probably a form of bluet; henbit; wood sorrel (pink); and all sorts of other things, mostly yellow flowers, some white, a lesser amount of pink and lavendar. Best of all are the wild violets. I've seen several little patches of them on our recent walks. In addition to their beauty, they are unexpected and so easily overlooked that they seem more of a treat than the equally beautiful spiderwort I see every year in south Mississippi.

Last Sunday (Palm Sunday) Uncle Pookie and I took sandwiches to a little park and, as I said, everything is in bloom. The weather was wonderful and it was great seeing everything in bloom. We also saw our first snake of the year. It was a big one, and an ugly bastard, rough-looking and mottled brown; I think I saw a triangular head as I moved quickly backwards, but it was ugly regardless. We were surprised to see it, because it didn't seem that warm yet. We'd stopped on a little place where the road went over a large drainage ditch (there's often fish in there and we like to look at them) and the snake was sunning itself on a kind of metal pipe or support that stretched across the ditch. As we started walking away the snake flopped itself into the presumably cold water and we couldn't see it anymore. Nearby was a larger patch of wild violets than I'd yet seen and for just a moment it seemed a shame that they grow closer to the snake's home than to mine. Also that that snake, so ugly compared to, say, a little green garter snake, could crawl all over the beautiful violets. This is fanciful thinking of course, to call one bit of nature touching another unfair, because it is ugly and the other is beautiful.





Holy Thursday I actually made it to mass. I'm ashamed to say I've never been to Holy Thursday mass before; although it's not a holy day of obligation, it is still a holy day and I have often meant to go and somehow never made it. In the past I've sometimes had to resist the urge to refer to it as "foot-washin' Thursday". When I was growing up I would, rarely, hear my elders refer to "foot-washing Baptists"--fellow Baptists, perceived as perhaps a bit "backwoods" or old-fashioned, who practiced foot-washing in church. (For the record, I also heard my mother say to another relative that we should not put it down because her father, who was a respected preacher, believed in it as a potentially good thing, albeit something they did not practice.) In the Roman Catholic rite, the Holy Thursday readings all relate to the Last Supper and early in the priest emulates Jesus by washing the feet of a token number of male parishioners. My understanding of this is that it is symbolic not just of emulating Jesus in a rote way but of the Christian understanding of leadership--the one who would lead must serve; the one who would lead all must serve all. The ritual is actually rather beautiful at its heart.

Leaders humbling themselves before the people they have the privilege to serve? Reminding themselves they are servants? Some United States Congressmen might benefit from that.



Uncle Pookie and I went to see How to Train Your Dragon with a friend earlier this week. I wasn't thrilled about going because, although the trailer looked okay and there were some seriously cool promotional children's playsets for the movie in Wal-mart, I have a long-standing problem with de-monsterfying monsters, especially dragons. I like my dragons Western and dangerous and in need of slayers, not Eastern and personifying neutral forces in nature, let alone friendly and misunderstood. The "Which is cooler, Western dragons or Eastern dragons" thing is merely a matter of inidividual taste, but the rest is not. We do our children and our culture a disservice when we try to get rid of every monster out there and paint them as merely misunderstood. The world is dangerous and populated by monsters who can do more damage than dragons, who after all are easy to see coming. Children, like adults, need stories that say, yes, there are monsters, but monsters can be slain and sometimes that slayer can be a very ordinary person who reached within and summoned up the necessary bravery and faith and cunning and stamina to do what needed doing.

However How to Train Your Dragon won me over. The whole "the monsters aren't really monsters, just misunderstood" thing is dangerous territory and now old and tired territory, yes, but in the case of this particular movie's story, think of it as a pet-taming story and you're there. It's actually a pretty good animal-taming story. And if the "big, burly father misunderstanding his son" bit is also rather tired, at least Dad wasn't malicious or hopeless and there was a a lot of good animation and humor along the way. I liked the designs of the houses and such, the "nature" visuals were good too, some of the Vikings (especially the one Craig Ferguson voiced) were funny, and I like that the hero was a builder/engineer sort and that we saw him not get his design right the first time, but have to test and modify it. The Night Fury dragon was sometimes like an overgrown domestic cat--most delightfully when he's hiding and watching, and he can't help but give that slight butt wiggle cats sometimes can't contain when they're contemplating the joy of pouncing. The movie also has a great line near the beginning, which I expect to see in sig lines before long: "We're Vikings. We have stubborness issues." Uncle Pookie and I, who both probably have some Viking ancestry, really liked that line.

Should you shell out extra to see it in 3D? I'm not sure. I've been impressed with the quality of the new 3D in the movies I've seen it in previously, but I really only noticed the 3D effect once or twice in this movie (once was when ash was falling at the end). I'm not sure if that's because it wasn't that amazing this time or if this movie had enough story to keep the viewers focused on the story or overall experience rather than singling out special effects. By contrast, the first 3D movie I saw (the one with the giant girl) I oohed and ahhed over the 3D for a while then fell asleep right there in the theater.

A note for people who suffer from motion sickness: This is a safe movie, despite all the flying. I didn't get queasy at all. I only glanced away preventively once, for the briefest of moments, and it turned out not to be necessary.

A New Pleasure and a RIP

Two weeks ago today I was an hour and a half north of here and got to experience a pleasure I have never had in the whole of my life: I got to walk in the falling snow. Central and south Mississippi do have the rare snowfall and I have known several that were really notable by our standards. But every one I have ever known fell during the night, so I never got to experience more than seeing the flakes lit up in the car lights as we drove home or, if home when it started, running outside for a few minutes to see it; I could only take a walk in the snow the next day, after it had fallen. Friday before last, by contrast, much of the snowfall happened in the morning, so I got to take a walk in it and see the big, fluffy flakes fall past my face in natural light. It was beautiful.

Of course, I also discovered that snow can create a problem on glasses something like rain does and, not being at home, I didn't have a brimmed hat to wear to keep the snow off them, but nothing is perfect in this life and that walk, with the vision of snow on pines and more snow falling, was good enough for me.


Today was also the seventeenth anniversary of the World Trade Center bombing. Here is a piece from the fifteenth anniversary. Michelle Malkin notes the anniversary too. May the seven people who died that day and all of the people who have died in terrorist attacks on America and on her allies be granted eternal rest.

Good Riddance to Summer

Pretty much every year of my life--maybe every year--there has come a day in, oh, September or October when I've woken to the palpable fact of there being a new feel to the air that morning. Something that I can not quite describe, even to myself, would be different. When I was a child this was usually accompanied by the sound of someone cutting firewood with a chainsaw in the distance, and when I would swing my feet to the floor there would be a faint coolness there. And I would know that it was Fall.

Gentle Reader, that day was today. Well, yesterday, technically, as I'm up after midnight, but oh goodness, it isn't half lovely. For you see, it means I have survived summer. Hideous, hideous summer. Summer, with its blazing sun and its humidity and its sweatiness and its "not even mad dogs and Englishmen" feel. Fall has always been my favorite season, because in addition to its own charms, it means summer is over and not to be thought of for months. Oh, I know, Mississippi weather is apt to zap us with some more unpleasantly hot days after I wake up to the first fall day, but it can't take away the wondrousness of that first day of fall feeling or the knowledge that all is working to the good weatherwise now--the hot days won't be as hot and there will be fewer of them. (Of course it's still hurricane season, but let's not quibble; hurricanes hitting are rare and sweatiness is daily.)

I got to enjoy delicious fall air all day. The temp only got up to around 84 degrees F; it was cool enough in the morning to actually need a top sheet. This year I even got the chainsaw sound. Admittedly a chainsaw that seems to be operating no more than a hundred yards away from one's bed loses something that the chainsaw so far in the distance you couldn't even guess what neighbor might be using it has, especially when that nearby chainsaw is soon joined by a neighbor cutting grass, but nothing can take away the wondrousness of the first fall day. Even an idle thought of, "Whatever happened to that old Bible Belt 'don't do yard work on Sunday' thing?" floats away like gossamer, leaving only good will and continued luxuriating in the air.


Take note, folks, this is about as good-tempered as I get all year.

Something Beautiful to Start the Day

BBC News has the winners of the Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition, and they are stunning. You have to click on the small picture to enlarge, as the small pic doesn't show the whole thing; even if I were on a slower computer that took a little time to load, it would be worth the wait.

Misc. Stuff, Including More Barbies I Can Get Behind

I had some minor computer troubles lately that made using Blogger a pain, but here's some fun stuff I would have otherwise posted this past week.

***
I've seen altered dolls before, but I didn't realize the extent of this little subculture/hobby/craft. I was browsing the pattern catalogues in Wal-Mart last week, looking for a particular style of dress, and came across Simplicity number 4696, a Barbie--sorry, 11 1/2 inch fashion doll--"Extreme Doll Makeover". Actually it's patterns for a couple of outfits with instructions for modifications that may or may not be extreme. That very night, while looking for something else, I happened to come across the delightfully-named website of the woman who made the two dolls pictured on Simplicity #4696. Her Doll Gallery is fantastic; the Valkyrie section is my favorite, although there are great-looking dolls in every section and I particularly like the Chicks in Chain Mail doll. (Chicks in Chain Mail is a series of light-hearted fantasy stories, edited by Esther Freisner and featuring, as you might guess, chicks in chain mail. I've not read all the books, but I enjoyed what I read.) The dolls' weapons are made by the dollmaker's husband, a knifemaker; I like all the weapons, but the Barbie-sized battle ax made me ooh and aww more than anything. For people who want to alter their own dolls, Valkyrie has a lot of tips.

To see more people's altered dolls, search Dogpile or EBay for the terms FDMAA or OOAK. In addition to altered 11 1/2 inch fashion dolls, you'll also find "reborn" baby dolls and others.

***
I enjoy Maclin Horton's posts on the Caelum et Terra blog, but the most interesting post of his this past week was his link to what he calls "the definitive judgement on Harry Potter." I could find some things to quibble with in the post he links to, but it is pretty close to what he says it is.

I believe the Regina Doman who wrote that judgement on HP is the same Regina Doman or Schmiedicke who wrote an article on liturgical dressing in Domestic-Church. I'm not interested in dressing according to the liturgical colors for the simple reason that I don't look good in any of those colors except green (and not the shade of green usually seen in priest's vestments either), but I'm fascinated by her account of the Mary Dress and the Mary Jumper because I prefer simplicity of dress and am interested in pattern-free clothes. I just wish she'd posted photos of her wearing samples of each.

***
The current Foamy has Germaine making her own clothes because all the clothing in the local stores is "slutwear for teens". A recent episode had her complaining that she couldn't find a pair of pants without something written across the butt. Now if it were Jerry Falwell complaining that would be one thing. And if it were a non-prudish but decidedly grumpy person such as myself complaining--and I assure you I have been doing so the past couple of years--that would be another thing. But when a Gothy, bitch-hermit wannabe, tank-top-wearer like Germaine is fed up with how revealing fashions are, things have officially gone too far.

I think the tide is turning, albeit slowly. I'm seeing more knee-length skirts, and hear talk of the "sexy librarian" look (a big step up from the cheap whore look), gypsy skirts, and prairie dresses. Also I think the minor fad-let of girls wearing revealing slip-dresses over jeans comes from a (possibly unconscious) desire for more modesty; it reminds me of Wendy Shalit talking about women wearing split skirts who, when a breeze comes by, instinctively try to close the slit.

(I don't remember where I read that bit from Shalit, but she has several things available online. Click here for the first chapter of her book and here for a speech she gave.)

***
I've seen many hummingbirds, but I have never seen a hummingbird nest. Here's a story-in-photos of a hummingbird nest and its occupants. Even if you're grossed out by baby birds and glossy, full-color, photographic depictions of bird shit, keep going till the end--the size comparison is amazing. (Link via The Anchoress.)

***
Here's a pattern I want to try: Dolly Hugs. It's a small cloth doll that is made so that its arms will drape around a child's neck as if it were hugging the child. Yeah, yeah, it sounds nauseating, but the doll looks cute and the pattern is incredibly simple. The pattern is free, provided it's used for non-commercial, preferably charitable purposes. That's the other part I like--the pattern was created with troubled children in mind.

Not Enough Babes in the Woods

Yesterday I read a fascinating Newsweek article on some of the less well-known consequences of Europe's de-population:

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/8359066/site/newsweek/

The unexpected (by me, anyway) consequences include reforestation, the return of wolves, a decrease in biodiversity (as farmland becomes forest, there is an initial, generations-long decrease in biodiversity as meadow flora and fauna are lost), and sewer problems.