Happy New Year!

Happy 2008, everyone! I have big plans for the new year, but I think I'm going to keep them to myself. That way, when I a) crash and burn or b) fail to even try, I won't have to be accountable to y'all. Of course, if I succeed, you'll all know it when you see me doing the late night talk show circuit.

Housekeeping issues: I'm playing around with adding some new features to my right nav bar. Check out two new sections: Recommended Online Reading (links I've come across that I've enjoyed and think you might enjoy, too -- updated often) and Recent Reads (which is, as you'd guess, books I've read recently -- if you're looking for a new book or two, give it a look).

Rational Compassion

I really like this post over at Masala Skeptic. I don't usually do resolutions, and this New Year's will be no different, but I will do my best to keep Maria's post in mind throughout the coming year and beyond.

Geek Crushes

Airan's super-fab Christmas gift got me to thinking about my long-enduring crush on Captain Picard, and how basically all of my fantasy crushes fixate on cerebral men -- we'll call them geeks, as long as we all understand that we're using "geek" as a term of high respect and admiration. Got it? Okay. So let's examine a few of my favorite geek crushes, both the fictional and the real.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard: Well, isn't every girl attracted to power? Captain Picard has at it all: A commanding presence, impeccable ethics, a way with the ladies. Every time I hear that voice say, "Engage," an arrow goes warp nine straight into my heart. Make it so.










Alton Brown: How can you not love Alton Brown? He doesn't just tell us how to cook something -- he explains why it works, and while he's at it, he uses super-cool props and devises clever uses for common household items that you'd never have thought to use in the kitchen. And those glasses! Va-va-voom.










Stephen Colbert: I normally don't fall for conservative republicans, but I make an exception for Mr. Colbert. He has the guts to tell it like it is, and America can't help but take notice. Stephen serves the cause of truthiness, which every woman is used to -- men love to spout things that are sort of true-ish in attempts to win our favor. Stephen has perfected that art and extended it to inspiring patriotism in our hearts, rather than lust. Or maybe in addition to. Whatever.



Gaius Baltar: Sure, Lee Adama is the pretty one, but that Gaius -- he's bad news. Totally insane, self-serving, morally craven, shameless womanizer, mad genius. Yes, please.













Carl Sagan: This crush is less lust and more overwhelming admiration and respect. What I wouldn't give for half an hour to talk to with Carl Sagan about our amazing, awe-inspiring cosmos. And then maybe he could hold me. (Please, no one bring up the pot smoking. You people know that drives me crazy.)











And, of course, the biggest crush of all.

Some thoughts on unemployment

Yes, I was not exactly what you'd call "employed" before, I know. But I recently lost my steady freelance gig, and I'm finding that the loss has had a much bigger affect on me than I'd have expected.

Other than the affect it has on my bank balance, that is. The monetary lost is to be lamented, for sure. But I'm extremely fortunate in that Airan has a good, steady income that takes care of our basic needs. The mortgage will be paid. The kids will eat. That's all that really matters. We'll be feeling a pinch, for sure, but the straits are not dire.

I know that as recently as four weeks ago, I was stressed out from my toes to my earlobes about how I was going to get everything done in the course of an average day. Between taking care of the girls and getting my freelance work done, I was maxed out. So, honestly, when I first heard rumors that my freelance project was likely to end, my first emotion was relief. I won't have to juggle everything anymore! I can be a good mom and stop feeling guilty for neglecting something or someone all day long.

And now that I have no freelance work coming in, it's not like I have any free time. My days are still full to the brim just keeping up with these crazy kids. Honestly, I'm not sure how I was doing the freelance work before without going psychotic.

But something isn't right. I've never been terribly career-oriented, likely because I've yet to figure out what I want to do with my life. And despite that, I find that having no work has left me feeling inadequate, insignificant, diminished in some way. I'm not pulling my weight, but worse than that, I've lost my value. I contribute nothing. I take up space.

This is all very silly, of course. I take care of two wonderful but demanding kids all day every day, which is job enough for anyone. I'm cooking up little projects for myself (that I rarely find time for), I try to help Airan with his many projects, and I try to keep up with y'all in the blogosphere. I'm busy. I'm active. I'm useful. Right?

I never thought that my own self-worth could be so tied up with something I considered to be an inconsequential, insignificant job. I need to find some other yardstick to measure my own value. I guess that's my main project these days. And it seems to be a full-time job.

And Merry Geekmas, Too

This is what Airan got me for Christmas Geekmas, and I couldn't be happier.

Merry Christmas

Perhaps we should have named her Veruca

Ah, the spirit of Christmas.

We were having a little pre-bedtime chat with the girls about what Santa might be leaving under the tree for them tonight. Sophie, always a [sarcasm] retiring, delicate flower [/sarcasm], got nose-to-nose with her father and made this proclaimation at the top of her lungs:

"I want a pony! I want a pony! Do it now!"

If there isn't a pony under that tree, I have a feeling there will be hell to pay.

A Christmas Miracle

What I ordered:

One Bacon Salt sampler

What I got:

TWO Bacon Salt samplers

Enough Bacon Salt to feed the masses! And in time for Christmas!

Some sort of processing error, I'm sure. I guess I should make sure they didn't double-charge me before I call this a miracle.

Billions

The Bad Astronomer reminds us that today is the eleventh anniversary of Carl Sagan's death. Many of you know about the deep affection I have for Carl Sagan. His book The Demon-Haunted World was life changing for me, not to sound too melodramatic, and I still think it should be required reading for every human. His series Cosmos is smart, fascinating, accessible, funny, wonderful -- even now, 27 years after he made it. (I need to get those DVDs out again.) This video, adapted from Pale Blue Dot, is a nice setting for some of Carl Sagan's very wise thoughts about this mote of dust we call Earth.



Check out the second-annual Carl Sagan blog-a-thon here.

12 Days

Some holiday choral humor for you.

Ditto

What Wil Wheaton said.

Note to John Scalzi

Dear Mr. John Scalzi:

Really? You Google yourself every hour? Please, sir, leave a comment. I'm begging you. (Unless it would take too much time away from that book you're writing, of course.)

As Promised

[Because I love each and every one of you, I'm going to link to the image below rather than thrusting it upon you the second you visit my blog. Those of you who are squeamish concerning perfectly normal, healthy human anatomy, don't click the link below.]

Behold, my vocal cords.

Tis the Season

Two days ago, we got one package in the mail.

Yesterday, we got two packages in the mail.

Today, we got seven packages in the mail.

How many packages will come tomorrow? And will they include a partridge in a pear tree?

I think it's a girl.

Everyone think good birthing thoughts! Kerri is on her way to the hospital, and Libby's little brother or sister will soon be in our midst. Hooray! Good luck, Kerri and Martin!

UPDATE: Scratch that. BBPD is on his/her own schedule and is in no big hurry.

UPDATE: She's here!

Brrrrrrrr

How's your morning going? I've been singing outside in 18-degree weather starting at 7:00 am. I can't feel my toes. Or my vocal cords. (Speaking of vocal cords, stay tuned. You're all about to see a lot more than you ever wanted to see.)

UPDATE: Go here to see video of the Chicago Chamber Choir singing for the WGN toy drive. (Scroll down for a few different CCC video clips. Oddly, the first video -- as of now at least -- is of someone from the publishing company where I worked for seven years. Crazy.)

Not Meant To Be

I report with some sadness that our short-lived experiment in daycare has come to a close. Today was the twins' fifth and last day of daycare. The situation was perfect, and the daycare provider was wonderful. The girls loved it. I was coming to love it, too.

Unfortunately, my main freelance gig, the one that's kept me steadily working for the last two years and the one I was counting on to pay for daycare, has suddenly and unexpectedly evaporated. I now am no longer able to pay for daycare, but since I don't have any work to do, I don't really need it.

The girls really had been thriving at daycare, so I'm disappointed that it didn't work out. Maybe I'll get a fab new freelance job soon and we'll be able to revisit this little experiment. Do you guys know anyone who wants to hire a gifted and talented freelance editor?

Some Holiday Songs For You

The Chicago Chamber Choir's annual Carols by Candlelight concert is coming up soon. Sadly, I'm sitting this concert series out due to an unavoidable conflict. But I plan to attend one of the performances and encourage you to do the same.

I will, however, appear with the choir on the WGN morning show this coming Friday, December 14, between 7:00 and 9:00 am Central time. If you're in an area that gets WGN broadcasts and can see the morning show, check it out! We'll be caroling a few times throughout that two-hour period as people partake in WGN's annual toy drive. Good times.

Spontaneous Foliage Combustion

My worst fears have been confirmed.

Child "witches" targeted in Nigeria

Revisiting the topic of witches (because we had such stimulating conversation last time): This is what comes of belief in witches. This is a very real example of the dangers inherent in such mystical and illogical thinking.

The Golden Compass

Airan and I don't get out much these days, so seeing a movie in a theater is kind of a big deal for us. Last night, we went to see The Golden Compass. I must admit that when I read the book a few years ago, I didn't love it. I didn't hate it, either, but I didn't think it lived up to the hype. The movie has received so much attention in the press lately that I feared it, too, would fail to meet expectations.

I'm happy to report that I was wrong. We loved the movie. Yes, it skips over quite a lot of the book, and some things are rearranged and presented differently. (The gaggle of tweens sitting behind us was outraged -- OUTRAGED -- by the changes.) But that's to be expected in any movie adaptation.

Of course, all the talk about The Golden Compass has focused on its atheist agenda, its nefarious plot to poison young children against organized religion. You all know I wouldn't really have a problem with such an agenda if the movie did actually have one. But I saw no evidence of any such message. Yes, the movie does encourage kids to question and challenge authority, and I don't think that's such a bad thing. Blind, unquestioning, cattle-like compliance shouldn't be what we want from our kids, regardless of our religion or worldview. The Golden Compass encourages kids to use their brain and draw their own conclusions about the world around them -- I second that sentiment.

The movie is quite mature, with graphic violence and scenes with kids in mortal peril -- the twins won't be watching it until they're at least twelve. Otherwise, I highly recommend it to all movie goers. The Golden Compass is beautiful and captivating, the story is quite engaging, and the cast is excellent. (Ian McKellan as the voice of Iorek! Brilliant!) Check it out.

Think of the truffles!

I spent yesterday morning at the French Pastry School in downtown Chicago. Airan had arranged this tour/demonstration for my birthday back in September, and I finally got to enjoy it.

And enjoy I did! Friends, I was dying to go to pastry school before. Now I am downright obsessed with the idea. Imagine the amazing breads, cakes, and candies I'd learn to make! And I'd share them all with you! Sound good? Great. Glad you're on board. You have the $20,000 I'm going to need for tuition, right? You can make that check out to me.

A few random thoughts on decorating Christmas trees

A few nights ago, we bundled up and headed out to our traditional spot to select this year's Christmas tree. This is quite a bit earlier than I usually like to put up the tree, owing to my fear of spontaneous foliage combustion, but the twins have been so excited about the decorations they've seen around the neighborhood that I just couldn't hold out any longer.

Alas, we were rushed while tannenbaum shopping, so while we picked out a lovely specimen of festive greenery, I was denied my customary ornament-shopping spree. I have a weakness for the ornaments, you see, and ever year I buy so many that we can no longer fit them all on our not-small tree. (To those of you who say I ought to take this as a sign that I needn't pick up so many new ornaments every year, I say humbug.) And so we have only two new ornaments for this year's tree:

Lovely, no?

As I believe I've mentioned in the past, I do not decorate Christmas trees with a theme, and I feel sad for all those who do. I never want to have a Christmas tree that doesn't have a place for gold-painted macaroni-and-glue ornaments made by the smallest hands in the house. These are, in my opinion, the ornaments to be most cherished, and will always be front and center on my tree.

Exhibit A

Dirty Ice

So, so gross: Hold the ice: What's in your glass might surprise you

The article asks, "Is toilet water cleaner than the ice that's in your drink?" And depending on where in the Chicagoland area you're having that drink, the answer might disgust and sicken you.

Do we STILL, in this day and age, have to remind people to wash their hands? Really?

Very Small Rocks

I don't even have words to express how I feel about this poll.

I mean, come on. Thirty-seven percent of evangelicals believe in witches?? As opposed to a mere 32 percent of mainline Protestants and Catholics?

Religion encourages irrational thinking. Period.

UPDATE: David brings up an excellent point: Wiccans do exist. So depending on what the poll means by "witches," maybe that number should rightfully be 100%. Either way, we're talking about crackpots. That is all.

All's Well

Well, we all survived the twins' first day of daycare. The girls were great, as was to be expected from such outgoing, confident kids. And I managed to keep it together pretty well. I wanted to pick them up three hours early, but I only went 20 minutes early -- that's willpower for you.

I imagine this will get easier for me over time -- the girls are only going two days a week, so they'll still spend most of their time getting in my hair. Having those two days a week to do more freelance work, run errands, go to appointments, have my hair done, etc., will be very nice for my sanity, when I can stop worrying about the twins non-stop.

Brave New World

Tomorrow, the twins will attend their first day of daycare. I feel like I should be terrified, guilt-stricken, anguished -- and maybe I will be by about 8:30 tomorrow morning. For now, other than a touch of anxiety, I feel fine. I know they'll be in good hands, because I researched our daycare provider thoroughly. I know they're smart, resilient, talented girls who make friends easily and look out for each other. I still know firmly and without a doubt that no one can care for them as well as Airan and I can, but that doesn't mean that can't go out into the world without us and still be perfectly safe and adequately cared for. And just to prove to myself how necessary this is, I already have appointments at 9:00 am, 11:00 am, and 1:15 pm tomorrow. See how busy I am?? See how much I need to have my kids in daycare a few days a week??

So it'll all be fine. Just fine.

Why debate dogma?

You're all going to think I'm a militant, radical atheist now, but I found this video to be friggin' awesome.

Loyalty Oaths -- Has it really come to this?

So this headline caught my attention: Elections Board OKs GOP loyalty oath for presidential primary

Uh, what?? How is that legal? The Virginia GOP is saying that if you want to vote in their primary, you have to commit to voting for their eventual candidate, whoever that might be. I can't imagine they could really enforce that, but the fact that the elections board even approved it is mind-boggling.

What is wrong with politics in this country?

Perfected

Here's a touching music video to get your day off to the right start.

I always knew it.

(UPDATE: A word of caution concerning the Blog Readability Test site.)

Home Again, Home Again

Exhausted. It was a good trip, though all too short.

Inspiration from Beyond

Check out the Chicago Sun-Times review of the Chicago Chamber Choir's Sing Me to Heaven. Now don't you wish you'd gone?

On the Road

About 48 hours after starting out, we have arrived at our destination, some 1,300 miles west of where we began. Driving all night FTW!

Fox News Shows All

Now I understand why there are so many Fox News fans. (Warning: that link is probably NSFW, despite being safe for cable news. Open with caution.)

Found at Wacky Neighbor.

Judgment Day

Monday night, PBS aired a fantastic documentary, Judgment Day, about the Dover School Board's controversial attempt to add intelligent design to the science curriculum, and the resulting federal court case.

For those of you who don't recall, the school board in Dover, Pennsylvania, attempted to add the book Of Pandas and People, an intelligent design "textbook," to the biology curriculum as a companion textbook and required biology teachers to read a one-minute statement about how evolution is "just a theory." (All quotation marks are intended to convey my derision.) Parents of Dover students objected: Teaching intelligent design is the same as teaching religion in the classroom, and calling evolution "just a theory" shows a real lack of understanding about how much scientific evidence there is for evolution and also what scientists mean when they use the word "theory." (Gravity is also "just a theory," after all.)

Judgment Day gives an excellent explanation of these issues, and I thought it was very fair and even-handed, giving all parties an opportunity to tell their side of the tale. I was riveted to this documentary, all two hours of it. If you haven't yet seen it, watch it. My understanding is that it will be available in full on the PBS site starting tomorrow.

Update: Here's a link to a clip of what was my laugh-out-loud favorite portion of the documentary. Ha!

Last Chance to Be Sung to Heaven

Don't miss the Chicago Chamber Choir's final performance of Sing Me to Heaven, this Friday at 7:30 pm at Lincoln Park Presbyterian Church. Sunday's concert was a rousing success, if I do say so myself. It's surprising how much fun a concert about death can be.

A note to Colorado bloggers (and those in nearby western states): Immediately after the concert Friday night, the whole family will pack up and start driving to spend Thanksgiving hard by the Rocky Mountains. We'll be in the Boulder area briefly, probably not long enough to meet up with anyone other than Airan's family. However, if you're near Grand Junction, drop me a line and we'll try to do lunch.

Photo shamelessly stolen from the lovely Julie. Look, it's me!

Building a Temple Doesn't Make It True

Check out John Scalzi's enlightening and highly entertaining (and a little bit terrifying) report from his recent visit to the Creation Museum. Don't skip the photo tour, with its striking images and priceless commentary. Warning: Be prepared for much snarkiness and sacreligiosity. If you take creationism seriously, Mr. Scalzi's post will most likely not be up your alley.

In the Eye of the Beholder

From the makers of Dove, with its Campaign for Real Beauty, comes an altogether different message for our young girls.





For more information, go here.

CBN 2007

Tonight, we celebrated the 15th-annual CBN* (always observed the first Monday after Halloween) with Andrea, Matthew, Simon, Mike, Jenny, and David. Much eggnog was consumed. Nathan, Jemmie, Christine, and Jamie were missed.

Having the kids around really changes the dynamic of CBN -- it isn't exactly the raucous party it was in years past. But we had a great time hanging out, clogging our arteries, and watching old jury tapes. (Matthew had some fine taste in clothing in his college years, I can tell you that right now. And the glasses! And David's hair -- I like to think I remember just how manelike it was, but wow. I mean, wow. Of course, none of this compares to the, ahem, view seen in some of Mike's jury tapes.Yikes.)

Recipe for one CB (the traditional beverage with which to open eggnog season):
eggnog (lots)
vanilla ice cream (plenty)
chocolate sauce (don't skimp)

Combine all ingredients in the largest plastic cup you can find. Super Gulps are great for this.

Eat with a spoon or drink it up, your choice.

*I can no longer use the full name of CBN because I'm too grossed out by the search engine hits I get as a result. If you already know what I'm talking about, you don't need me to write it out. If you don't know, I'm happy to fill you in via email.

Sing Me to Heaven

A friendly reminder: The Chicago Chamber Choir's fall concert series approacheth.

"Sing Me to Heaven" is an intimate reflection of humankind’s inevitable journey from this world into the next. This exquisite collection of music explores the fear, mourning, consolation, joy and celebration that accompany our thoughts of death and what lies beyond. Whether your view of this voyage is one of mystery or one of certainty, you’ll be moved, challenged and uplifted by the music of Tavener, Debussy, Barber and Holst; the poetry of Emily Dickinson and King Solomon; and the spirituals of Hall Johnson, André Thomas and Aldophus Hailstork.

You can see Sing Me to Heaven Sunday, Nov. 11, 3:00 pm at Unity Lutheran Church, 5409 N Magnolia in Chicago, or Friday, Nov. 16, 7:30 pm in Lincoln Park. Order your tickets online now!

Modern-Day Cruella De Vils

I'm extremely distressed by this story about stolen puppies. Seeing as the robbery took place on Chicago's South Side, I first assumed the pups were headed for dog-fighting circles (like the South-Side circle from which our sweet Pepper was rescued). However, the story says these stolen puppies are headed to the "animal black market," where you can get your hands on a replica of Paris Hilton's Tinkerbell at rock-bottom prices.

What is wrong with these people? These puppies are helpless creatures who live and feel and need protection, not exploitation. I honestly believe that something is wrong with the essential humanity of people who have so little regard for animal life. The canine snatchers aren't as bad as the Michael Vicks of the world, but they are damaged goods.

I hope the puppies at least end up in homes where they're loved and properly cared for, although that doesn't seem likely.

Magic

Today, I was transported back in time to finals week of December 1994, UNC's Wiebking Hall room 149, with Tori Amos' Under the Pink blaring in the background. (Well, blaring softly in this case so as not to awaken sleeping twins.) Good times.

Why Twins Happen, since you asked

My search-engine hits mostly fall into one of two categories: song lyrics inquiries and searches for information about twins. I'm not so helpful for that first group (unless you're interested in some Cyndi Lauper lines -- if so, I've got you covered).

The twins-related hits are of more interest to me. There's a lot of misinformation out there about twins. I'm happy to do my part to debunk some of the strange things people seem to believe about twins, but I don't claim to be an expert. That said, here's what I know:

Fraternal twins can be hereditary, but only through female blood lines. Fraternal twins happen when a woman releases two (or more) eggs in an ovulation cycle, and both (all) of those eggs are then fertilized. Because it all has to do with how many eggs a woman releases during her cycle, the man has nothing to do with it. Men cannot influence whether or not a woman will have twins, even if the man is a twin or has twins in his family.

A woman who is related to a woman who has given birth to fraternal twins can think of herself as having twins in her family, so to speak, although that's by no means a guarantee that she will have twins (Nanette beat the odds there). And I know lots of moms of twins who don't have a hereditary predisposition for multiples (Rug's Bug and Mary Beth, to name a few), so heredity doesn't seem to play a very big role in whether you'll have twins or not. Lots of other factors come into play. Obviously, fertility treatments can result in fraternal twins (triplets, quadruplets, etc.). Age, weight, medications that mess with your hormones, and even diet can have an effect on whether you'll have fraternal twins.

So, really, it's a pretty random affair, nearly impossible to predict. If you want to have twins and are trying to make it happen, don't get your hopes up too high. Even fertility treatments aren't a sure-fire method.

Identical (monozygotic) twins are not hereditary. They just happen, and they can happen to anyone. No one really knows why an egg splits, although I've heard it said that fertility treatments might encourage monozygotic twins. Why that would be, I couldn't tell you, but if you're looking at fertility treatments, you're more likely to end up with fraternal twins (or more), not the identical variety.

I believe I've mentioned before that we don't know whether our twin girls are identical or fraternal. Everyone tends to assume that they're identical, and I can understand why. They are quite similar. But I'm not convinced. And I'm also not curious enough to subject them to blood tests to find out for sure. It remains a mystery. (Of course, Jim and Amy say the same thing about their twin boys, and I can't imagine how they could be so blind as to not know that their twins are identical. Is that what everyone says about us, too?)

For lots more fun facts about how to have (or avoid having) twins, check out this link.

Smell My Feet

While we were out in the 'hood with the ballerina princesses last night, celebrating All Hallow's Eve, we encountered scores of candy-crazed trick-or-treaters. I'm disappointed and disgusted to say that, almost across the board, they were the most horribly rude kids I've ever encountered. They barged into friendly local businesses, demanded candy in loud, bold tones, took their loot, and high-tailed it out with nary a thank you. Their parents, trailing along behind the precious angels, were no better. Never once did I hear one say something along the lines of "Say please!" or "Say thank you!" or even "Use your indoor voice!"

Is it just that the holiday brings out the worst in these brats? Or are they like this year-round? I suspect the latter, and I vow that the twins will have much better manners when they start trick-or-treating in earnest. (And in all areas of life, if I have my way.) But maybe the candy mania will take over, and all of my careful grooming will fly out the window in the face of Whoppers and Tootsie Rolls and those ever-coveted Smarties. We'll see.

Happy Halloween!

(More pics at the twins' blog.)

It takes a lot of nerve.

This was going to be a rant about the bill I received from the hospital today (see above). However, when I called the hospital's billing department to rant and rave and threaten legal action, I was denied delivery of my carefully scripted tirade. (Imagine it: "You don't really want me calling every local news station in town and telling them about how you endangered my adorable, photogenic two-year-old's life, do you?") The helpful and friendly woman on the other end of the line insisted that no, no, this account has a $0 balance, no balance due, nothing to pay. And she would not elaborate further. Huh. I guess the hospital is smarter than I thought.

Free Rice

I've killed far too much time on this site today. Go. Check it out. Improve your vocabulary and save the world. Oh, and if you're up for a bit of competition, we can discuss vocabulary levels in the comments. (I'm shaking out to be a solid 43.)

News?

The question: Are these reporters extremely credulous? Or are they just hoping that we are?

Cow-eating trees

Dolphins used to look like humans and lived in Atlantis

Thanks to Fark for the links.

An Open Letter to L'Oreal Paris

Dear L'Oreal Paris,

I purchased your L'Oreal Superior Preference Fade-Defying Color & Shine System in 8G Golden Blonde, looking forward to the promised eight weeks of true color. However, use of your product resulted in something less like 8G Golden Blonde and more like 75R Raggedy Ann. Thus, I'm wondering just how iron-clad this eight-week promise is. Can we negotiate? Because, really, I'm willing to let you out of your contract early.

Sincerely,
Kelly

Rainbow Books

I can't get over how beautiful these pictures are. If ever I have a home where I have room to actually display my books, this is what I'm going to do. Dewey decimal be damned.

Right vs. Left

Here's a fun link. Check it out and determine whether you're more of a left-brain or right-brain thinker.

According to the link, I'm a right-brain type, which surprises me. I've always thought of myself as a left-brain thinker, seeing as I value logic, words, and language so highly. And one of the traits for right-brain thinkers is "believes" -- uh, not so much.

How about you? Clockwise or counterclockwise?

Thanks for the link, Airan!

Sometimes a wand is just a wand.

According to J.K. Rowling, Albus Dumbledore is gay. Admit it: You've wondered. The flowing robes, the attention to personal appearance, the lilting way he sashays through Hogwarts -- all the signs were there.

Kidding aside, I have to say this seems perfectly consistent with the books, and I love that Rowling has now outed Dumbledore, although I'm also glad that it didn't come up in the books. The Harry Potter books are all about tolerance and acceptance, so Dumbledore's orientation should rightly be of no consequence. Well done, J.K.

Now all those Harry Potter haters will have a whole new round of ammunition.

Public Service Announcement

Food poisoning sucks.

What's going on?

My life has been a bit of a blur lately. Just to keep you all in the know on the minutia of my life (because that's what you come here for, right?), here's an update.

• Evelyn is recovering nicely. She's back to her old self, other than being even more pale than she was to start with. This will pass. Still no word on whether the hospital will be sending us a bill for their "services."
  
  
• My bottom right eyelid has been twitching for six days.
  
  
• We got a new used minivan, and it is a thing of beauty. It is also a behemoth, but I guess that's par for the course.
  
  
• We had our last Game Night with Julie before she moves to St. Paul. She'll be back in town for next month's Game Night, but it still feels like the end of an era. I blame Tomkin.
  
  
• Fall is well and truly here in the Windy City, and I love it. Good riddance, summer!
  

How are you?

An Inconvenient Nobel Laureate

I love that Al Gore was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his work in drawing attention to climate change. And I love that the Nobel committee plays politics when awarding their prizes. Did you hear that, George Bush? And you, global-warming deniers? Aw, snap.

Evelyn's Ordeal

Many of you have already heard the story of Evelyn's ordeal by now. Humor me while I relive it again, savoring the terror, the fury, and the eventual sense of relief (tempered with a gnawing desire to kick some anesthesiologist ass).

This adorable girl (smiling in her hospital bed post-ordeal) was scheduled for a routine MRI yesterday (one that her father and I were entirely convinced was unnecessary, but that we were going through with to satisfy doctors who were most likely just covering their own asses). Because she is so young, she had to be sedated for the procedure. You can't expect a two-year-old to just hang out for an hour while you run scans of her brain.

What could go wrong? Glad you asked. Tiny girls such as Evelyn are completely swallowed up by the MRI machine. You know they're in there, but you can't see them. So if, for example, her IV becomes somehow disconnected and she's lying unconscious in the machine, bleeding freely for no one knows how long, you wouldn't be able to tell. Not until you take her out and find her lying in a puddle of her own blood. Yes, enjoy that image -- it keeps replaying in my mind. I'm glad I didn't see the actual event, but my imagination fills in the blanks quite nicely.

When the doctor retrieved me from the waiting area to tell me what had happened, he played it cool, but even he couldn't pretend that this was at all routine or normal or OK. This doesn't happen. Little ones such as Evelyn don't have a lot of blood to spare, so when they lose a large amount, the quantity of which is unknown in this case, it is dangerous and scary. (Scary, yes -- that is an understatement.) The nurse confessed, in panicked tones, that in her 28 years as a nurse, she'd never seen anything like it. (Bedside Manner 101: Don't say things like that to scared parents.)

In the end, Evelyn is fine. She had to stay in the hospital overnight for observation, and she's likely to be pale and wan for a few days while she rebuilds her blood supply, but no lasting harm was done.

But how does this happen? I know human error is unavoidable. There's no knowing when it will strike. And we can't expect doctors and nurses to be superhuman. But how is it that there's no safeguard that keeps this from happening? As Pop-pop and others have said to me, this seems to be yet another sign that something is seriously wrong with our health care system, that important, essential details are being overlooked and lives are being endangered as a result.

All involved parties expressed a great deal of remorse and concern, leading me to believe they are as mystified as I am about how this happened. I'm glad Evelyn is fine, but what if she weren't? What if she'd lost more blood? What if she'd been abandoned on the table for hours while unconscious and bleeding?

How do we prevent this sort of thing?

Persnickety

A general note to the blogosphere:

Lightning

and

Lightening

are not the same word.

That is all.

Disappointed

If you know me at all, you know I'm not a sports fan. Quite the reverse. I have not just apathy concerning sports, but even active animosity for them. I can't really tell you why. It could be that, because I've never been able to participate in sports, I've developed a dislike of them in order to protect myself from feeling any sadness over being left out. That would be like me.

Whatever the cause, I'm no sports fan -- except for the Olympics. I love them. Every other year, I'm glued to the TV for two weeks, rooting for my favorite athletes as they struggle for gold. Some personalities really grab you (perhaps because the media inundates us with their life stories come Olympics time), and you can't help but care for them.

Ah, Marion Jones. How I loved her. How I wanted her to win those medals. How I believed her claims to be steroid free. I guess I can't be surprised by her admission of guilt. Rather, it causes me to wonder anew how many of our celebrated athletes are using performance-enhancing drugs.
More than we might guess, I think.

But that might just be my anti-sports attitude talking.

Updated to add: What Dreams brings up a good point. Marion Jones has shown great courage over the last few days, for which we must be proud of her. Her bravery might help to end the culture of steroid use among athletes. We can hope so.

Educating Mommy

My girls are a couple of Chatty Cathys. They talk up a storm all day long. They have a lot to say, and they're getting better and better at expressing themselves.

Because they're coming along so nicely with their vocabulary and sentence-building skills, I've decided it's time to start eradicating some of those baby-talk mispronunciations that they've outgrown and yet still cling to. "Wellow" is cute, but the rest of the world recognizes it as "yellow." Most of you are probably unaware that "beebras" are striped equines, and you can take a ride in a Radio Flyer "lagon." Caterpillars, those hungry creatures, mature into "fuh-flies."

Yes, yes, this is all very cute, but the girls are perfectly capable of saying the real words. They have the phonemes. It's time to start putting them to use. So I've been spending a lot of time lately saying things like "BUH-ter-fly" and "WUH-WUH-WAgon," with mixed results. I hear a lot of "wuh-wuh-LAgon!" and "zuh-zuh-BEEbra!" in return.

Evie seems to really enjoy this process, so much so that she decided it's time to start working on some of Mommy's mispronunciations. We sat down this afternoon to eat some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (or "danniches" in Eviespeak, "narriches" in Sophiespeak). Evie turned to me, with earnest expression and urgent tone, showed me her sandwich, and said, "Duh-duh-dannich! Dannich! Now you, Mommy! You, Mommy!" And she was not satisfied until I repeated back to her, "Duh-duh-dannich!" Not to be left out, Sophie chimed in with her own version: "Duh-duh-narrich!"

These poor, sad kids, saddled with a mother who doesn't know how to say "sandwich."

At least they're learning something.

From my alma mater: A Week of Hot Sex. I am proud.

Sure, but the maintenance expenses for my Leer jet really cut into my disposable income.

Check out these astonishing numbers over at Donklephant concerning the Global Rich List.

A taste of the numbers: If you make $40,000 a year, there are 6,411,789,392 people in the world poorer than you. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling pretty fortunate right about now.

How many of us think of ourselves as being among the monied elite?

To Comma or Not to Comma

Today is National Punctuation Day! To celebrate, let's talk about why you should always use the serial comma.

From Strunk and White's The Elements of Style:

In a series of three or more terms with a single conjunction, use a comma after each term except the last.

Thus, write,

• red, white, and blue
• gold, silver, or copper
• He opened the letter, read it, and made a note of its contents.

This comma is often referred to as the "serial" comma.

From Words into Type:

In a series of the form a, b, and c or red, white, and blue most publishers prefer a comma (sometimes called the serial comma) before the conjunction, whether the items of the series are words, phrases, or clauses. The consistent use of this comma is recommended, for in many sentences it is essential for clarity. [...]

In the examples to follow, the use of the serial comma is necessary to prevent misreading. A series of personal names should have the comma before the conjunction to prevent the first name of the series being construed as a noun in direct address.

• "Anna, May and Walter are here." [Might be read as telling Anna that May and Walter are here.]
• "Anna, May, and Walter are here." [Can mean only that three persons are here.]

Now go forth and punctuate correctly.

Thanks to click for the link.

Hangers and Swimming Pools

There are often days when, come nap time, Sophie and Evie chatter away at each other for long stretches of time before they fall asleep. They sing together, laugh together, throw their stuffed animals around together, and in general have a fantastic time before eventually drifting off to sleep. On those days, I'm reminded of my own almost-sister and how she and I would talk late into the night about everything under the sun.

Any time Heather and I were fortunate enough to spend the night together when we were growing up, we were up for hours talking, even if we'd already been together non-stop for days. We never ran out of things to discuss. When we went off to college together and shared a dorm room, it was the same. Those first few weeks, it seemed like we'd never sleep -- our new experiences and new friends gave us oodles of new late-night-conversation fodder.

Heather has always been there for me. She's been my moral compass, my confidant, my role model, my friend, and my sister in every way that counts. I'm a better person because of Heather. I'm so fortunate to have her in my life. Happy birthday, Heather! I hope this trip around the sun is the best one yet.

No Baggins Here

Legal analyst Jeffrey Toobin has written a new book about the Supreme Court called The Nine.Kind of makes them sound like Nazgûl, doesn't it? The resemblance is striking: They dress in black, they were once human, and they are the Dark Lord's most powerful servants.

A Rainy Day, A Cozy Chair, and Thee

Another fun weekend assignment from Mr. John Scalzi: Here is my towering stack of books TBR, in no particular order. It's missing a few volumes, but these were all I could carry.

Most of these were gifts for my recent birthday, and last Christmas, and probably the birthday before that ... Well, I don't have a ton of time for reading these days. But I will catch up! I will! Maybe when the twins go to kindergarten.

There was a time when I logged no less than a book a month in my book log, usually several more. Now I'm lucky to get through two books a year. If I'd known birthing twins would have such a devastating effect on my reading habits, I'd have thought twice.

Who Are You?

I've mocked other bloggers (with only the kindest intentions) for assuming they know who their audience is, for thinking the readership of the vast blogosphere is knowable. I'm irritated when other bloggers make snide or unfriendly comments about persons who might actually be reading their blog, unbeknownst to the blogger.

I try my darnedest to avoid that sort of thing on this blog, mostly because it just isn't nice to say mean things about people, and partly because you never know who's reading.

The blogosphere might seem ephemeral and fleeting, with blog posts erased by a click of the "delete" button, but that is a false impression. Site feeds send your every post out to the world, even if you only had it up for five seconds. Archiving sites store every entry for future generations to peruse. The illusion of impermanence might lull us into unwise posting, but the savvy blogger knows better.

I say this smugly from my soapbox, but I have a confession: I, too, am guilty of assuming I know who my audience is. I know most of you by name, I have met (and am related to) perhaps the majority of you, and I can see where many of the rest of you come from via tracking software. (It sounds so Big Brother when you put it like that!)

But the fact remains: I don't know who all of you are. Thanks to RSS feeds (which I love -- don't get me wrong), my tracking software can't tell me who all reads my posts, and even the tracking info I do get is incomplete. I get blog hits from the strangest places, from the oddest search engine strings, and even from nowhere, as far as I can tell.

So today I ask you: Who are you? Leave a comment. Say hello. Introduce yourself. Oh, and lest I forget, welcome! We're glad to have you.

And the Moon Is Made of Cheese

I know this one is all over the Web, but I had to add my two cents.



You've got to be kidding me. ABC thinks this woman is a good role model?? Well, probably not. They just think she's good TV. I guess they're right about that, because people are talking.

For more info, go here.

Robert Jordan, RIP

Sad news: Robert Jordan (aka James Oliver Rigney) passed away yesterday. I know this has been pretty well covered by other bloggers, but I just wanted to mention it here.

I've been a devoted fan of the Wheel of Time series since I was 15. Mr. Rigney had been gravely ill, and his passing, while extremely sad, was not a surprise. Yes, I've made some cavalier comments about how he damn-well better finish the final book in the series before he kicks off because I need closure. However, now that the event has come to pass, I find that I'm just sad for his family, sad for his widow, sad that such a talented (and by all accounts good) man is no longer with us. My thoughts are with his family, as are those of his huge legions of devoted fans.

Rest in peace, Mr. Rigney.

Sorting Satire from Scripture

Phil Plait posted about Christian fundamentalist satire sites such as MarryOurDaughter.com, saying this:

[E]ven with sites like Landover Baptist and Jesus’ General, it’s still really hard to distinguish complete over-the-top sarcasm and satire from real fundamentalist lunacy. When you have people — and I use that term loosely — like the truly evil and sick Fred Phelps, then how can you ever satirize fundamentalist religion again?

But then, the Bible does say you can sell your daughters. But who would ever take the Bible word-for-word literally?

Sigh.

And yes, I know other religions have incredibly foolish notions about arranged marriages, selling women, and the like. I will say this out loud and squarely: any institution — government, religion, or otherwise — that treats women as anything less than men should be derided and humiliated publicly, and not issued a deferment because of any notion of social relativism. Anyone who treats 50%+ of the population — or any percentage, no matter how small — as chattel should be taunted out of existence.

Now that I've excerpted basically his whole post, you should go read the rest of it.

I think it's hard to argue with what the Bad Astronomer says. What say ye?

Another Year Wiser

Things to do today:

1. Sleep in. (Check.)
2. Shop. (Check.)
   
3. Eat cheesecake. (Check.)
   
4. Spend time hanging out with my wonderful family. (Lucky me -- it's like it's my birthday every day!)

Thanks for the kind birthday wishes, everyone! I had a great time, got some fab gifts (including some knives so sharp I'm scared of them -- thanks, Mom and Dad!), and ate way too much food. Check out the very sweet birthday greetings posted by Rug's Bug and Heather (who included one super-cute pic of me, Jim, and Heather, and one somewhat-less-cute shot of me in my stylin' letter jacket. Good times.)

In the Now

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Chicagoland. The weather was sunny, breezy, and just the right temperature for hanging out at the beach without frying to death. I cajoled my family into abandoning various video games and heading to the out-of-doors; this perfect weather won't last, and we'll miss it when it's gone.

We grabbed some food and strolled to the park for a picnic by the lake, followed by a romp in the sand at the beach. Why are there no pictures in this post, you ask? Because we forgot to bring the camera. And I spent much of the afternoon thinking to myself, "Damn. I can't believe we didn't bring the camera. This is such a beautiful, perfect outing. The girls are adorable. The weather is bright and sunny. How will I ever remember this day without pictures?"

My consternation was so extreme that it startled me. I actually caught myself thinking, "This is a wasted trip. Without pictures, this day will fade from our memory and cease to exist. We might as well have stayed inside playing video games all day."

At this point, I realized that my crazy thinking had gone too far. What about this moment, right now? What about enjoying each happy experience life hands us? Living in the now? Is life only about collecting memories in some concrete form to hoard and treasure years from now? What's so wrong with spending a few perfect hours with my family on the beach, whether or not it's a day we might all forget?

Do I really want to spend every day with my children photographing and documenting instead of participating and enjoying?

And with that, I put aside thoughts of the camera and focused instead on my consternation at how on earth I'm going to get all that sand out of the twins' shoes. (Which goes to show you that it might in fact be impossible for me to just relax and enjoy a perfect day. But at least I wasn't worrying about documenting it anymore.)

Even now, I'm having a hard time not regretting that there are no pictures, no solid evidence that such an outing took place. I suspect myself of writing this post only to create a record of the afternoon, in the absence of other documentation. This will most likely be an ongoing struggle for me -- appreciate this moment, enjoy this day, trust that living in the now will generate many happy memories that I'll cherish years from now, with or without photos to remind me.

Yard Sale

Mary Beth was kind/crazy enough to host a multi-family yard sale Saturday, an ordeal she swears she'll never repeat. Despite the beautiful weather and close proximity of several other yard sales and a big ol' flea market, traffic was dismal and sales were slow. From our contributions (boatloads of baby clothes, mostly), we made $12. And spent $14 on lunch. Sigh. At least we have a lot more room in our closets now. Does anyone need three metric tons of baby clothes? Free to a good home!

A Sad Day

Madeleine L’Engle, Children’s Writer, Is Dead at 88

Sing Me to Heaven

Tonight, the Chicago Chamber Choir started rehearsals for our fall concert series. The concert is titled Sing Me to Heaven and features songs about, you guessed it, death.

Non-religious folk such as myself have a very different view of death than what you'll find in every song on this concert, and yet I was deeply moved by the beauty, sorrow, and hope held in these settings. And I wasn't alone: Throughout rehearsal, as we all took our first look at the music and tried to find our way through notes and rhythms and lyrics, distracted by our sight reading, many choristers still found themselves teary-eyed or outright crying, moved by the solemn message in this mournful music. I was particularly distressed by this passage from John Tavener's Funeral Ikos:

But whither now go the souls? How dwell they now together there?
This mystery have I desired to learn, but none can impart aright.
Do they call to mind their own people, as we do them?
Or have they forgotten all those who mourn them and make the song:
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

I don't know why it is, but in all the sad songs about death and mourning our loved ones, the joyous proclamations about going to Heaven in glory, I'm most affected by this passage. The idea that, when our friends and family leave this mortal coil, they might forget about us, is unspeakably sad and upsetting.

I'm not sure what that says about me.

Mark your calendar: Sing Me to Heaven concerts take place November 11 and November 16. On October 18, CCC's rehearsal will be open to the public. If you're in the Chicagoland area, please join us! I promise it will be more fun than this post.

The Truth

Well, it turns out I'm a better liar than I thought. Only Pop-pop divined the true lie. (And he's had years of practice.) Let's take each item one at a time, shall we?

1. Super hearing -- you better believe I have it. And you should have seen the giddy otolaryngologist when he gave me the news. He was beside himself! (I seemed to have gotten extremely lucky in this department. As Aunt Bobby noted, people with OI are prone to otosclerosis and thus poor hearing, but I managed to dodge that bullet.)

2. The ability to predict the twins' troublesome behavior -- please, friends. I wish. I know lots of parents claim to have this sort of skill. But let's be honest. No one has psychic powers. What we do have is a sense of dread when suddenly things are too quiet and we're not entirely sure where our children are. Unfortunately, that red flag doesn't fly until after the misdemeanor is underway.

3. Alton -- you bet your patootie Airan and I would have named a boy-child after Mr. Brown. The other boy name in hot contention: Enoch. Yes, if we'd had boys, they'd most likely have been pummeled on the playground every day. Good thing we had girls.

Success in the Kitchen

An entire week of successful meal planning!

Day One: Anne Glamore's Bulgogi

Loved it. It reminded Airan and me of a restaurant in Greeley, Hunan, where we used to dine far too often in our college days.

Day Two: Sauteed Salmon Steaks with cous cous and tomatoes (prepared mostly by Airan)

Good and good for you. And Sophie ate it like it was candy, which shocked us all.

Day Three: Anne Glamore's Bow Ties with Peas and Prosciutto

I don't do peas. Otherwise, this recipe was great. And half of my kids devoured it. (I think Evie's on a hunger strike.)

Day Four: Anne Glamore's Pork Lo Mein

Delish, and so easy! Thanks to Lady and the Tramp, Sophie loves to eat anything that looks like spaghetti. However, Evie's hunger strike continues. I'd like to get my hands on some real lo mein noodles and try this one again. The vermicelli was good, but I think authentic noodles would be even better.

Day Five: Risotto with Porcini Mushrooms and Mascarpone
(from Cooking Light, September 2007)

Delicious, but it took forEVER to cook. Oh, and as far as the twins are concerned, this is "mac and cheese." Shhh.

Day Six: Rachel Ray's Chicken Piccata Pasta Toss per Anne Glamore's suggestion

I liked it, although I think I like this chicken piccata recipe better. Rachel's was probably easier and faster, and the family seemed to think the two recipes are equally good.

Tonight, it's back to chili-cheese tator tots.

What I learned from this week's adventure:

1. Meal planning is smart! And not that hard!
2. I need new knives in a bad way. (And someone has a birthdaycoming up...)
3. When planning meals, remember to plan side dishes as well. Oops.
   

Now I'm working on next week's menu. Any suggestions?