"like a bold champion, i assume the lists" pericles, prince of tyre: i, i

Wow, I got "tagged" this week by two bloggers! Exciting world I've entered, this blogosphere. I'd best get on it before the "tagging" starts piling up! (I'm going to keep mostly quiet about the fact that "tagging" someone to make lists seems suspiciously similar to sending out an email poll. I'm just glad to be here!)

First, I was tagged by the "lovely and talented" Amy Guth, author of the fantastic new novel Three Fallen Women, and, as it happens, one of my favorite people.

So this is the "book meme" she tagged me on (the quotes are because I'm just learning all this newfangled terminology):
1 ) One book that changed your life: Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll. The book that taught me to love reading.
2) One book that you'd read more than once: The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger.
3 ) One book you'd want on a deserted island: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. There's a lot I’ll never get at in there. But that kind of free time might help.
4) One book that made you laugh: High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
5) One book that made you cry: *sigh* I don't cry much for books, but I did just read a play called Indoor/Outdoor by Kenny Finkle, about a cat and her owner, and I have to confess that I was a little teary at the end.
6) One book you wish you'd written: About a Boy, Nick Hornby. A lot of good characters who are all going somewhere in the story.
7) One book you wish had never been written: The Left Behind series.
8) One book you're currently reading: Moab is my Washpot: An autobiography, Stephen Fry
9) One book you've been meaning to read: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer
10) Tag 5 people: Well, I don't know all that many people out there on the blogosphere, but I guess those I tag without blogs could post responses in my comments section. So I tag Like Pollution's V., Rational Leftist's Adam (maybe he'll finally post something, the lazy PhD-seeking slacker), ummm, let's see, oh, Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah is someone whose posts I always enjoy; I'll tag her too ... and, ok, how 'bout my dad, Rob, and my mom, Jan. Maybe they'll comment on my blog for a change!

Ok, so the other "tag" I got was from the very funny Katie Schwartz, whose blog I am a relative newcomer to, but who I so far find quite entertaining. This meme was a little more open ended so I am just going to go with it:

::five things you don't know about me:: [maybe]

1. I know a lot of keystroke shortcuts for MS Word. Ok, ok, a lot of people know that Control-Z is Undo, and Control-A is Select All, etc. But did you know that Control-] will make selected text increase in font size, and Control-[ will make it decrease? Also, Shift-F3 toggles selected text from lowercase to initial capitalized to all caps. Control-K is the shortcut for the “degrees” symbol. (On a Mac, you would use the Apple key instead of Control.) There's more ... so much more. But I'll move on.

2. I can’t keep myself from reading every comic strip in the comics section of a newspaper, no matter how bad it is. There’s text and pictures on the page, I must read it. So once I start reading, even if it’s just to keep up with Get Fuzzy, I have to stick it out all the way through For Better or for Worse, Family Circus, and, yes, even Marmaduke.

3. I confess that I often prefer a mix tape (or, now, playlist) to listening to a series of albums. I mean, there are some albums that just do better as a whole, and I generally listen to them in their entirety; however, as a general rule, I'm much happier keeping a nice variety going. So sue me.

4. I wore sneakers under my wedding dress. No one was the wiser. And my feet were much happier.

5. I read every advice column I can get my hands on: Miss Manners, Dear Abby, Ask Amy, Savage Love, Tell Me About It, heck, I even read Hints from Heloise if I'm reading a paper that carries it! I don't know why. I'm not looking for advice; heck, I rarely accept advice from people I know and love, let alone some stranger! I guess reading other people's problems and an advice columnist's answers is like my version of a soap opera obsession.

So, anyway, I guess that's all from here. I think I'm supposed to tag people on this one too, so how about V. again, and Adam again, my sister Jenny, and how about Carolyn, too.

"told by an idiot, full of sound and fury" macbeth: v, v

My alma mater is adorable! They think I actually give a crap if they have some kind of emergency that they want to notify me about by email.

I just received in my junk mail inbox the following message:

In our continuing efforts to ensure our ability to provide emergency notifications from the [Nonspecific College] campus when necessary, we are testing our email capability.

Please reply back " Received " in the body of the email . Thank you.

Now, in case the fact that an email from my college went directly into my junk email box hasn't given you a clear picture of things, I'll just go ahead and let you know that I'm not really on speaking terms with the school right now. Don't get me wrong, my education was just fine and dandy and I met some of the greatest people - students, staff, and faculty alike - that I know there. However, the school and I don't speak because I'm not really pleased with the direction the school is headed in (they recently bragged that entering freshmen SAT scores were now averaging something like 1099) ...

So given my unwillingness to talk to these guys for like, you know, normal stuff, why on earth would I reply to a creepy email about emergency notifications? What possible emergencies would I, an alumna now for 7 or so years, need to be aprised of? "Alumni Emergency Alert! We need to know what color balloons you want to have at your reunion! Please reply immediately!" No way.

***

In other news, gas prices being what they are, I took the bus to and from work today, and was delighted to be approached by Nutty O'Nutahan while at the bus stop (if by "delighted" I mean "displeased"). A woman about my age, she marched up to the bus stop where about 6 people were waiting and agressively demanded the time. My mistake was being the person who answered. She parked herself next to me and started gabbing - despite no encouragement from me - about why women and senior citizens are such crappy drivers and described a recent instance where she had been driving and been cut off by an older woman and so she "flipped her the bird" as she said. Much to my relief, the bus arrived at that point and I allowed a couple of people to board between us. Noting where she sat, I moved to the opposite end of the bus and sat down and put my headphones on.

As soon as the bus started moving, this gal stood up, looked around, saw me, and - despite my lack of eye contact - moved back and parked herself next to me again. I ignored her (cause, you know - headphones) as she began to launch into another speech, until she saw that I had headphones in and tugged on my jacket sleeve until I turned to look at her and listen!"There was another incident where I was at an intersection and ...." After that point, it actually wasn't too bad; I simply nodded every couple seconds, not really listening to what she said. At one point I realized she had asked me a question and had to respond, but for the most part, I was able to just tune her out. Even still, her voice wasn't as relaxing as simply putting my head back and listening to music. I guess that's the price you pay for public transportation. Plus, you know ... the fare.

"know'st me not by my clothes?" cymbeline: iv, ii

Boy, I sure do love music. All kinds. I wish I could say I was a snob about it, but I'm not, not really. Which isn't to say I'll listen to anything, but there is a wide variety of music I'll listen to with gusto. I really do have a soundtrack in my head all the time. I can remember two Halloweens when I was growing up, I tried to rig up a way to actually have a soundtrack to accompany my stellar costumes. One year, I was "the Sugar Plum Fairy" -- not just any fairy, I was the Sugar Plum Fairy (mind you, I held on to this idea from the previous December when I saw The Nutcracker ballet for the first time). I was nervous that people wouldn't know, specifically, that I was the Sugar Plum Fairy based on my purple leotard, tutu, foil-covered wings, and beautiful makeup (the only time I got to wear lipstick at age 7) and wanted to carry the music with me to sort of clue people in. So I spent an afternoon with my Fisher Price tape recorder, sitting next to the stereo speakers in our living room playing the music from the Nutcracker record we had (this was early October, much to my mother's delight), and trying to record the music by holding the recorder up to the speaker. Trouble was, I'd get halfway through recording the darn thing, and someone would walk in and say something, or make a noise, or I'd drop the recorder, etc. Finally I got through one recording that had maybe only one interruption -- I'd have to just quickly make my appearance and skip away before anyone heard it, I reasoned -- and it was time for dinner so I called it a day, hoping for the best.

On Halloween night, in the excitement of putting on my costume, arguing about sweatshirt-wearing with Mom, getting my glow stick and jack-o-lantern treat pail all together, I forgot the damn tape player!! I didn't realize it until we approached the first house, and by then it was too late. We rang the bell, and the kindly older woman who answered the door oohh'ed at the sight of us in our glory, me as the Sugar Plum Fairy and my sister as ... I'm not sure, but I think she was an alien with a sparkly Star Trek-like outfit that might even have had lights on it. "Ooooh!" the woman cooed. "What do we have here? An astronaut! Annnd, let's see .... a ballerina!"

A ballerina!!! Oh, god, she totally missed it!! Without my music I was doomed to the anonymous, unoriginal role of Ballerina, no doubt one of hundreds who would pirrouette their way up these porch steps!! Crestfallen, I blurted out "NO! I'm the Sugar Plum Fairy!!!!!" The woman smiled condescendingly and said, "Happy Halloween, dear," as she dropped a pencil and a penny into each of our treat pails. Double whammy: incorrect costume identification, non-candy treat. Boo.

The very next year I was convinced that I would not be undone in the same fashion. Without my imagined cinematic entrance complete with the very important musical cues that would let people know exactly who I was, I was doomed to nondescriptness; I might as well just buy a costume at the store!

With the new year I had discovered the rock and roll music. In fact, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up in a school assigment, I put down that I wanted to be either a "doctor for horses" (I knew what a vet was but associated them with cats and dogs and wanted to specify my [kind of snotty, I see now] association with horses, which came from the fact that my dad played arena polo) or a "punk rocker" (I wish I was making my third grade terminology up). Please understand, however, that my idea of punk was about as close to the Clash as Justin Timberlake. My understanding of, ahem, punk rockers was that they wore mis-matched clothing -- sometimes with rips in them! -- had a lot of earrings, all the way up the ear, and, most interestingly to me, multicolored hair. In other words, uh .... er ....

Ok. It was Cyndi Lauper (I spelled it Cindy Lopper). Yeah, not exactly ... you know ... Sid Vicious level punk rock.

So, that was my planned costume. This year, I had it even better, because at (again) the previous Christmas, my uncle (who had been, in his day, a, uh, "punk rocker" himself) had recorded a copy of "She's So Unusual" for me, so I already had my top-notch recording of the song "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Now, all I needed was that awesome criss-cross haircut that she sported in the "Time After Time" video, dyed bright red!! Well, Mom nixed the cut, but did buy me some red spray-on color. Then, with my "punk rock" outfit (red boat-neck sweatshirt off one shoulder, red skirt, turquoise tights (no rips), red legwarmers), some "crazy" makeup thanks to Mom, I was ready. Oh, wait, one other thing. I decided Cindy Lopper had a pet, who was also punk rock, so I took my Koosa and dressed it up in a similar outfit, and pierced its ear, and drew makeup on the doll with magic markers. Now I was ready. This outfit, pet, red hair, and music would be sure to leave no doubt in any viewer's mind who I was. I was a veritable dead ringer, as surely Cindy Lopper arrived anywhere she went with her punk rock pet and her own music being blasted by one of her lackeys.

The problem that I didn't foresee was my mother's unwillingness to tote my tape player around. Weirdly enough, between the jackets she would be carrying for both me and my sister, the flashlight, and no doubt my Koosa as I got tired of carrying it, she didn't want the extra baggage. Huh, weird - she didn't want to be my stage manager. Go figure. Well, I didn't want to ruin the effect by carrying it around myself (not very punk rock to carry a Fisher Price tape player, even I knew that), and it was getting late -- soon all the good loot would be gone. And I didn't want to throw a fit, lest I be sent to bed with no trick or treating at all. So I surrendered the soundtrack for the second year, against my better judgement.

And at the first door, the kindly older man looked down and said "Oh! What do we have here now? Ahhh, a cheerleader!! Very nice." And dropped a penny into my treat pail. Double, double whammy.

"sweet sister" measure for measure: iii, i

It's my younger sister's birthday today, and in honor of that, I'd like to share this Top 10 List of Why My Sister is the Best:

10. She has a stunning sense of fashion.
9. She has the kind of willpower and self-discipline it takes to begin a homework assigment when it is assigned, not the day before it is due (unlike certain writers of this blog who I might know ... or, er, be).
8. She's good at learning languages.
7. Growing up, she had the good sense to request pumpkin pie for breakfast on her birthday, which meant that I got to have pumpkin pie on her birthday too!
6. She forgives me for not calling her as often as I think of her (well, she says she does, anyway).
5. She can ascertain (correctly!) from a crappy cell phone photo whether a pair of shoes will go with a dress that has only been described to her.
4. She put up with all my hairbrained ideas when we were growing up.
3. She makes a mean spaghetti sauce.
2. She's funny as hell.
1. She's got a heart as big as the Moon.

Happy birthday, Skeet!