Hi, Anna-Liza here. Lyda’s still not on Facebook, and I figure some of the rest of you may not be, either. I took the quiz about “What zombie fighting weapon best suits you?” You know, so I can be sure to have it handy where I can grab it on Z-day, right? Here’s my result:
Normally used for wholesome sports, you are the BASEBALL BAT.
No ammunition, no reload, no fancy moves, just whack and go. You picked something up from the garage and the bowels of your childhood, and the fact that you think this whole thing is some sort of game is a little disturbing. You can’t help but giggle a little every time one of those heads goes sailing off into space like a rotten pumpkin. You’ve got a wide streak of mischief in you, and a strange way, these milling herds of zombies are your sick playground and therapy, all rolled into one. Play on, slugger. .
Okay, this could be either of us, but this time it’s Anna-Liza. I just went on a book-ordering binge on paperbackswap.com. As extensive as my Nero Wolfe (Rex Stout – author) collection is, there are still some I don’t have and just possibly a couple or three I haven’t read! And there were some of those listed on paperbackswap. I had seven credits; now I’m down to one.
Never heard of paperbackswap.com? Heard of it but never checked it out? If you’re a reading fiend like Lyda and me, you really must take a good look. You post books you’re willing to trade. You send books people request to those people – only costs you postage. When you have credits (one per book traded, and they start you off with, I think, three once you’ve listed nine books), you browse their listings and order books you want, and then they show up in the mail! Easy! Fun! Almost free!
You can also set up a “wish list” of books you want that aren’t currently available, and the website will notify you when one of those books is entered in the system.
If you check it out, you like it, and you want to sign up, tell them Divina sent you. That’s my username over there, and I will get a credit if you sign up and list nine books.
Happy book hunting!
Filed under: Around the Blogiverse, Weirdness, personal growth | Tags: Havi Brooks
Anna-Liza here. You may have noticed my girl-crush on that I really enjoy Havi Brooks? Anyway, this post of hers got me thinking about my “other selves”. Not in the “Sybil” sense (I’m pretty sure, anyway), but in the “inner child or whatever-it-is” sense. (Oh, be sure to read this post of Havi’s first – the other one will make more sense that way. And it’s funny.)
I have *lots* of Other Selves. I frequently refer to myself (in certain contexts) as “we” or “us” and actually mean it. Here are a few that are most familiar to me (and easiest to describe).
Dancer Me is close to the surface. I love to dance and can usually “let her out” whenever dancing happens. She’s in better shape than I am currently (which doesn’t really say much), looks like I did in college as a drama major with lots of dance classes. Down to the leotard, the hair in the ponytail, the old cardigan and the legwarmers. She’s not afraid to shake her ass – not shaking it gets in the way of the dancing. I am currently knitting a pair of sexy legwarmers (no really, they are sexy). Could be related.
English Teacher Me: She has a name – Amanda Louise. She looks a bit like a “sexy librarian” - slim skirt, hair in a bun. Glasses. She’s not at all repressed, though. She has a sense of humor, will tolerate a lot of leeway in spoken language and casual writing, and she has no problem with the invention of new words to convey new flavors of ideas, but she gets *really* pissy when people use the words “action” or “architect” as verbs. She has a red pencil and isn’t afraid to use it. She knows why relying on SpellCheck is a really bad idea. She’d be a good “Jeopardy” player in certain categories.
Rock Star Me: You know the drill. Black leather. High heeled boots. Mostly a singer and bass player, but she monkeys around with drums pretty regularly and isn’t above the humble cowbell. Has a thing for lyrics that actually mean something. Frequently transforms into Lounge Singer Me – sparkly heels, slinky dress, long earrings, a microphone and a baby grand to lean against. Or just a spotlight on an otherwise dark stage.
Writer Me? I’m still not certain she exists, but now I suspect that she does and I’ve been pretending she doesn’t. She’s probably not Amanda Louise, but they talk a lot and have coffee together frequently. Or maybe she is Amanda Louise and just keeps this part a secret until I am less of a wimp!
Artist/crafter me: Just about as elusive as Writer Me. Loves making. Can put together something beautiful out of old scraps and maybe some paint. Is ready to try almost any creative activity, just to see what happens. Endlessly curious about the world. Looks … pretty much like me, but with smudges on hands and face and an old, stained apron with big pockets.
Crone me: Smart, wise, tough, white haired, wears bright colors, takes no shit from anyone, says exactly what she thinks. She won’t spare your feelings if she thinks it would be bad for you to spare them, but she won’t be unnecessarily unkind, either. Swears if that’ll put her point across. Cares about no one’s opinion but her own and God’s. Makes really beautiful things. Has all the other Mes integrated and working together, finally.
So what about you? You willing to “come out” with all your Other Yous? Maybe now you know you’re not the only one! (Heh).
Filed under: Books, Culture - pop & other, Movies, Weirdness, Writing, reviews, twelve | Tags: Breakfast at Tiffany's, reading, Reading in Wonderland, Truman Capote, twelve, Weirdness
Lyda here.
That’s right. THIRTEEN, BABY!
Oh yes I did.
I finished my thirteenth book for Pollyanna’s Reading In Wonderland Challenge! And one of my items on my part of our Half-Bucket List. Because fifty, she is a comin’.
What, y’all thought 13 was something else?
I can only dream…
My final hurdle challenge from the Challenge was #7:
The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: Read a classic book you’ve never read and always meant to.
I had trouble finding a classic that I had a) never read AND b) wanted to read.
Not that I’ve read all the classics, far from it. I have read my share. After all, I did have a liberal arts education, and read the usual English and American literature in high school and college, and some more as my kid was reading them in school. I read a lot of classics on my own, too. In junior high, I was obsessed with Russian classics.
“War and Peace” and “Crime and Punishment” at thirteen. At first of course, just to be able to say I did. I also memorized “The Gettysburg Address” and other things on my own, so that I could recite them. Which I did. At the drop of a hat. I was a very obnoxious 13-year-old. But I digress…
And my family – bibliophiles all – threw lots of classic books at me.
Mostly missing my head, thanks for asking.
But no matter how often one drinks from the ocean, one can not drain it. I’m certainly not claiming I’ve read all the classics, or most of the classics, or even the modern classics, or all the books a person “should” read in their lifetime, or even all the books I think I “should” read…
Anyway…
The difficult part was finding a classic book I wanted to read.
I ruled out all depressing books, which takes out a huge swath of classics right there. With me defining “depressing” rather broadly. “Silas Marner” nearly did me in in high school, and I’m already none too steady in the “cheerful and sane” area lately.
So no sad books. Nothing that would put me over the edge.
And there are authors that I really didn’t want to read. Dickens, for example. I have read enough of his works to know that, due to some defect of my own, I do not really enjoy his books. And yet, I have yet to be jailed for this offence.
Anna-Liza and Marin both recommended “Vanity Fair” , so I checked it out of the library.
And I tried. I really did.
I read 300 pages before I threw in the towel.
I just wasn’t in the mood, or I wasn’t getting it, or… I don’t know. So I had to stop.
I recently resolved that I will stop reading a book I’m not enjoying. This is huge for me.
To continue this digression: Y’all have no idea how many books I’ve finished even though I knew in the first 50 pages that I didn’t like it. Or the first 20 pages.
And I’m not talking about required reading for school – I managed to get through all of those books, although “Moby Dick” required tremendous discipline. (What can I say, the menz were distracting me. But I digress within my degression.)
Sometime in my shady past – as a kid I suspect – I must have decided that I had to finish every book I started. Including books I hated.
I have finally given myself permission to STOP.
Okay, digression over.
for now…
I read “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” by Truman Capote instead. Because of this short novel, Norman Mailer called Capote “the most perfect writer of my generation.” I see why. And of course, the film of the same name with Audrey Hepburn was loosely based on the novel.
The book I checked out of the library also has three short stories in it. They are amazing. I highly recommend it.
Which is not to say that I’ll be reading “In Cold Blood” but I might give some of Capote’s other works a go.
A few weird side notes:
Capote was in Neil Simon’s 1976 mystery spoof Murder by Death.
He appears briefly as himself - uncredited – in Annie Hall.
He’s also famous for his masked Black and White Ball.
That’s what she said.
Filed under: Weirdness | Tags: heights, Sears Tower, the sense God gave a fencepost
Um … ? No.
(And I’m pretty sure Lyda will agree with me.)
Filed under: Books, Family, Knitting, Movies, Spinning, Weirdness, cleaning, organizing, personal growth | Tags: Archie Goodwin, chicken salad, chili, Ford Explorer, grandmother, Nero Wolfe, reading binge, Rolfing
Hey, Anna-Liza here. I believe I mentioned having the kidlets and Darlin’ K all away for a few days. And that I couldn’t make up my mind what to do?
Well, here’s what I did.
- Read one Rex Stout (Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin) book after another, like a four-year-old with a pumpkin full of Halloween candy.
- Took a ridiculous amount of time trying to decide what to wear for my photo shoot on Wednesday. This was a half-hour only, and I needed to bring two outfits, folks. Still took me hours to decide.
- Read every blog I have bookmarked at least once (and I’ve been finding and marking blogs for a few years now). Caught up on a couple I really love and had neglected due to chronic busyness.
- Made chili and my famous summer chicken salad. Ate almost all the chicken salad, froze half the chili. It’s finally getting warm enough for iced tea!
- Slept badly. It’s a normal side effect when Darlin’ K isn’t here. Yeah, I know, that’s cute. I’m not especially cute after a night like that, though. Not always a big problem except for those who have to look at me or talk to me, but see item 2.
- Drove my father-in-law’s big-ass SUV, praying gently all the while that nothing will happen to this car. Please.
- Got used to Started getting used to the idea of being a grandmother. And of Darlin’ K being a grandfather!
- Missed Knit Night, as that was the same night the kidlets came home. Bad week to miss it, what with the whole becoming-a-grandmother thing to talk about.
- Looked at lots of knitting patterns and examined my stash for appropriate yarns. Baby patterns, yes, and also I have some knitting to do for my Rolfer.
Some of the things I didn’t do, but thought about:
- Watch any movies whatsoever. I decided I liked quiet better than TV noise, even if it was TV noise I chose myself.
- Clean. Anything.
- Go through all my clothes and get rid of stuff. Although I will do this soon, I decided it isn’t anything that can’t be done when the kids are home.
- Go through all the kids’ clothes and get rid of stuff. Ditto.
- Eat fast food. Although I did have some leftover Chinese takeout.
- Meditate any more often or any longer than normal. Bad hippie chick.
- Knit more than usual, which I admit is strange. But it’s hard to put down Nero Wolfe, especially when Archie’s in top form.
- Practice spinning, even though I have all this lovely new fiber. Plus some lovely old fiber!
Lyda here. Things are still completely gonzo crazy at work. Things have calmed down a bit at home.
More soon. Really. I promise.
Filed under: Knitting | Tags: designing knitwear, Eunny Jang, Interweave Knits
SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!
Oh, um, Anna-Liza here. Sorry if that was too loud. Eunny Jang just told me she really liked my sweater – the one I designed – and complimented specific details.
(wiggle wiggle happy dance)
And then invited me to submit to the magazine.
(wiggle) SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
Anna-Liza here. Guess what?
I’m going to be a grandmother!
(Ha, you thought it was going to be a slightly different announcement, dintcha?)
That’s right, Knitting Sprite is having a baby! She’s doing well, and everything is just as it should be. And I have a new knitting deadline.
Okay, I’m not entirely used to the idea yet, but I’ve got until December to wrap my head around it.
Filed under: Weirdness | Tags: cars, elephants, Ford Explorer, Ford F250, Honda Civic, mahouts, Rudyard Kipling
Hi, Anna-Liza here again. (Where’s Lyda? You’ll have to ask her – Darlin’ K has the cell phone, so no long distance calls for me this week!)
Did I mention that, while Darlin’ K’s out of town, he has the car I usually drive (early ’90s Honda Civic Si hatchback), the Subaru is in the shop, and so I’m driving my father-in-law’s Explorer? Well, that’s what’s happening.
The Explorer is very luxurious, especially compared to my usual. Crankin’ stereo, automatic everything. My car has crank windows and manual locks (which I tend to prefer, really, since they’re less likely to fail and TRAP YOU IN THE CAR UNTIL YOU PASS OUT FROM HEAT AND OXYGEN DEPRIVATION … oh … oh I’m sorry, back to the main thread). It’s an automatic transmission, too, and I have to say I’m proud of the fact that I’ve only hit the brakes in mistake for the clutch once. Okay, twice, but once was while I was starting the car.
However, the automatic everything is good in the Explorer, because it’s so big that I can’t reach everything from the driver’s seat. It’s really big. Really. Freakin’. Big. I know there are bigger SUVs (although I don’t know why), but going from a Civic hatchback to an Explorer feels similar to going from a surfboard to a battleship. Years ago, I drove a CRX most of the time and occasionally drove my grandpa’s 1972 Ford F250. So this is not a completely unfamiliar feeling, except the F250 had no A/C, an AM radio, and no power brakes. Oh, and it was rear wheel drive, so it was a really lousy snow car … you know, I’m going to have to tell you about the time Darlin’ K and I drove that monster back to my folks’ place near Houston during a record-breaking heatwave … but not right now.
I’m very grateful to my in-laws for letting me have the use of it, ’cause I’d be pretty much screwed without it! Driving it does tickle my sense of humor, though. I feel like a mahout on a well-trained elephant. A well-trained elephant with a crankin’ stereo and A/C. “Down, Hathi!”
