sixoclockbells's Xanga

New Location

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 17:26:25 GMT

I've moved. You can now find me at http://yellowpencilstub.wordpress.com/ . Still working out a few kinks in the new platform. This blog will stay up for a while as I collect and archive old posts.

Quote for the Day

Tue, 27 Jan 2009 02:03:25 GMT

Coworker, leaving in the evening: "Well, enjoy your time off. And don't even think about coming back from this trip not married!"

Conversation of the Month

Sat, 17 Jan 2009 03:18:08 GMT

Confused coworker: "So, what kind of religion are you, that you can attend both a Catholic and a Protestant church?"

Me: ".......uh, Christian?"

Prayer of St. Ignatius

Thu, 08 Jan 2009 02:10:05 GMT

Lord, teach me to be generous.
Teach me to serve you as you deserve;
to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and not to seek for rest,
to labor and not to ask for reward,
save that of knowing that I do your will.

2008 Books in Review

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 02:32:09 GMT

In keeping with the posts from last year and the year before, it's time for the end-of-year book review. After all, the little blue notebook I track books in was about the third thing I unpacked after moving. 2008 was unusually short on finished books (26). I only took one quarter of classes, and that as a part-time student, from January to March. While I read some books for class, lots of time went to digging through archives while writing my thesis. I read a lot, but it tended to be peoples' old letters and Civil War journals, or relevant snippets of books. My obsessive-compulsive side never lets me say I've actually read a book unless I've read all of it, no skipping. On top of that, it's been an exceptionally busy twelve months - writing a thesis, job hunting, moving to Texas, graduating, an intense job, getting engaged, wedding planning.

This seemed to be the year of the long book, so what was lost in number of books was often overcompensated for by the number of pages in any given brick...er, book. Charles Dickens' Little Dorrit weighs in at 850 pages of tiny print. One of his better, though less-read novels. Another 850-pager? George Eliot's Middlemarch. Amazing characters, good writing. Tom Jones by Henry Fielding is another long classic, ringing up more than 1000 pages. Problem is, the first 200 pages are hilarious. The last 100 are pretty good. What the other 700 exist for, I have no idea.

In a year of long books, it seemed fitting to finally plow through the long book of all long books: War and Peace. It's a good story, but I tend to be a little biased against Russian novels. A short book from a Russian novelist that I enjoyed far more over a few hot summer days? Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov. Much less known than his famous book Lolita, Pnin swings from hilarious to bittersweet sentence by sentence. It's worth googling some discussions about the book when you've finished, but not before. Read it without extra input the first time, gauge your reactions afterward.

One of the nicest surprises of the year was Anthony Trollope's Barchester Towers. I love this book. It's a good story. It's funny. It's beautifully written. The characters, both charming and odious, are treated with tender good nature. You finish refreshed, and wishing you lived in 19th century rural England. I read it first, then tried two other novels from his Chronicles of Barsetshire (Framley Parsonage and The Warden). Similar and also fun (but not as good, because nothing could be as good as Barchester Towers): Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray. Especially good when received as a gift from Significant Other, and hungrily devoured in 15 minute breaks from thesis writing. In contrast, this fall I read Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert. Flaubert is a genuinely amazing writing. He writes prose like poetry, captures moments, moods, people, like few men on earth...and leaves you utterly depressed, one of those first 19th century writers to dip their toe into 20th century moral woes, while retaining just 19th century rewards.

A few other random picks from the year: Gang Leader for a Day is a mesmerizing look at gang structure and life in a Chicago housing project. The author, a University of Chicago grad student, spent several years with the gang in a distinctly unorthodox research project. The Penderwicks is a childrens' chapter book, but loads of fun for grown-ups. A lot like the books my Mom picked as read alouds when we were younger. George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia is his story of fighting in the Spanish Civil War, with a pretty good explanation of the war and its politics overall. Especially interesting since it tells of his service as a young socialist, before his later rejection of communism and publication of books like 1984 and Animal Farm.

Rather than going through all the books I read this year, I'll leave you with my two "Don't Bother Reading 'Em" awards for 2008: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran (takes itself waaaaay too seriously. Almost put me to sleep at the wheel), and The Vicar of Wakefield (how did this ever become a classic? Things got bad. Then they got worse. Oh look, even worse! Lets add imprisonment! Burns. Poverty. Death! But look, it's good in the last two pages. Oh, happy day!)

Happy reading, and all the best in the New Year. Do you have any favorite reads from this year?

Christmas, here and there

Sun, 21 Dec 2008 04:27:31 GMT

My boss turned, pointed at my chair, and said "nobody's lasted more than six months in that seat - good luck." That was my first week at my job. Today marks six months and four days. It's no coincidence that this blog has only nine posts since I started work in June.

It's also no coincidence that Christmas preparation is a last-minute scramble this year, knocked out in bits and pieces late in the evening, long before sunrise, or in quick weekend bursts. There are ingredients for Christmas cookies sitting on my counter, but if they don't get made until New Years, it's ok. Half my relatives will finally receive their gifts around New Years, but life is still rich and good. It reminds you to treasure things like a fiance who buys you tree lights when you're stuck late at work...and picks up a bunch of flowers while he's at the store, just because. A a quiet evening at his apartment reading together, while Christmas carols play in the background. The tangy smell of pine trees trucked in all the way from the Blue Ridge mountains, and the little one that's just right for my apartment. Unpacking my creche, the one from the Christkindle Markt in Chicago. Listening to the choir during the Nine Lessons and Carols service, while flickering candles reflect off the priest's rose robes, and the lingering smell of incense permeates the church.

It's disorienting when weather.com predicts 80 degrees and sunny on December 25th, but inside it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas:

Montessori would have flunked me...

Sun, 07 Dec 2008 04:28:03 GMT

For the last four weeks, work varied from intense to exhausting - long days, late nights, occasional extra work from home or weekend work. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I hauled myself out of bed for another day, spooned down some cereal, and tried to pack my usual lunch. Lunch bag out on the counter. Small tupperwares ready to be filled. Food waiting to fill them. I pulled the nearest tupperware over, plucked the lid off the cottage cheese container, and tried to dump a portion out. Then kept pouring while blinking and groggily trying jump-start my brain:

"Why is the cottage cheese running down the sides of the container, dribbling across the counter, running down the front of the dishwasher onto the floor? Weird. I'm pouring it right at the tupperware...huh. Wonder if it would help if I took the lid off the tupperware before trying to fill it?"

Overwork has its benefits: you get extra reasons to laugh at yourself.

Creating Autumn

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 02:12:30 GMT

Yes, "Currently Reading" still says War and Peace. It's War and Peace - what do you expect? By page 1100, you know why it's such a long book. Good stuff, but did Tolstoy really need, say, three full pages explaining just exactly how Moscow resembled a bee hive without a queen?

I don't know if a Texas autumn can be bribed into an early arrival, but I'm doing my best. Sweaters, yellow-gold and burgundy flowers, Thanksgiving editions of Martha Stewart Living, and lots of savory fall food like tonight's stew from The Silver Palate Cookbook. How can you go wrong when a recipe starts with three pounds of Italian sausage?

Sausage Ragout
1.5 pounds sweet Italian sausage
1.5 pounds hot Italian sausage
1/4 cup olive oil
1 large yellow onion, peeled and coarsely chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and minced (I used more, and liked it that way)
2 green bell peppers, stemmed, seeded, and coursely chopped
2 red bell peppers, stemmed, seeded, and coarsely chopped
8 fresh Italian plum tomatoes, quartered
1 cup spicy tomato sauce
1/2 cup dry red wine (I used a cup)
1/2 cup minced fresh Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Cut the sausages into 1/2 inch slices. Heat the olive oil in a skillet over medium-low heat, add the sausage pieces. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the sausage pieces are well browned.
2. Add the onion and garlic and cook for another 5 minutes. With a slotted spoon transfer the meat mixture to a deep casserole (don't own one, so I just use a regular large pot).
3. Set the casserole over medium heat and add the peppers. Cook, stirring, until the peppers are slightly wilted, about 7 minutes.
4. Add the tomatoes, tomato sauce, wine, and parsley, and season with salt and pepper. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes.
5. Taste, correct the seasoning, and serve.

Carl and I loved this dish. You can make your own spicy tomato sauce, or take my crunched-for-time way and buy a can from the store (don't get the variety with sugar - it would be too sweet). This is a very forgiving one to keep on the stove when your fiance happens to be on 24-hour call in the ICU and you have no idea when he'll make it off base for dinner. So sweet of the Army (plus a hat-tip to the Air Force) for scheduling a month straight where none of our days off coincide.

On Cars and Plups

Tue, 21 Oct 2008 00:44:08 GMT

When I moved to Texas, my parents graciously loaned me one of their vehicles - one less thing to worry about as I graduated, switched states, got settled in my apartment, and started a new job. It guzzled liquid from the pump like a thirsty camel, but it got me where I needed to go and put a nice sturdy wall between me and the universally insane Texas drivers. Summer drew to a close (theoretically, at least - here it's still warm, the trees are still green, the grass is still brown, long pants are still hot, and the pool is still open) and Dad began dropping hints that, yes, I did eventually have to get a move on and find a car...and by eventually one signifies soon thankyouverymuch because snow may fall by Halloween and four-wheel drive is useful. After a lot of research and a couple test-drives and some surprisingly simple negotiations I now have the SUV I really wanted for a lot less than I'd dreamed. And I'm trying to get insurance by tomorrow so I can actually drive it off the lot.

Insurance brochures are a whole 'nother, thoroughly macabre, ball-game. Fully of adorable pictures of smiling families, they chirp a steady flutter of cheery statements like:

"The gate to your backyard is left open, and your dog gets out and bites a neighbor. Your neighbor has injuries, suffers trauma, and files suit..."

"While driving home, you change lanes to avoid hitting a motorcycle causing a serious accident. Several passengers in the claimants car are injured and ask for $1.5 million in damages."

"The plup (Personal Liability Umbrella Policy) is a good way to be sure that you protect your assets in the event that someone slips, trips or falls in your home and sues you."

I'd be rolling my eyes, except that on the way home, I spotted enormous clouds of pitch black smoke boiling up into the sky. On the other side of the highway, an SUV sat engulfed in an huge ball of flames, bright orange churning through the middle of the car, vomiting out the windows, and lunging skyward from the roof. The fire was so hot I could feel it inside my car, three lanes away. An (uninjured) woman stood a hundred yards away, watching as her vehicle disappeared in a whirling dervish of flames. Earlier this summer, there was the pickup truck that swerved toward Carl and I, then overcorrected, went into a ditch, hit a cliff, and flipped. Insurance, anyone?

War and Peace...and more War and Peace...and look! MORE War and Peace!

Wed, 01 Oct 2008 00:57:38 GMT

The good thing about being engaged to another book lover is that I never have to go to the library. Not that I don't like libraries - there's just not much time to get there. Russian literature is not my favorite - A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and maybe Crime and Punishment when I'm in the right mood are the only Russian novelsI've really loved so far. Dr. Zhivago made me want to poke my eyes out. The stories and characters are compelling (e.g. Anna Karenina), but there's just something that grates. Maybe it's because I keep losing the story to wonder why everything must happen while at parties, leaving parties, going to parties, or planning for parties? Last week I finally borrowed the book I've been avoiding for years - there was lots of traveling to do in a few weeks, and I didn't want to be stranded on a plane with a finished book. Four hundred pages in, it looks like running out of text is the last thing War and Peace might do. It'll never be my favorite, but it's a good story...and there's plenty to be had of it.