For the Love of the Doughnut

Rhett maintains that should a decent doughnut place or drive-in (dare I say the combination sounds irresistible?) be introduced to our little community, it would flourish. I maintain that we have the ability to financially back either a dozen of the doughnuts, or a single round of burgers. Not including the condiments. Alas, the dream remains in a box.

On a similarly-related train of thought, I came across this place yesterday while participating in one of my favorite summer activities: the watching of the television. All I can say is, "I want to go to there!" Also, if you are getting married anytime soon, don't rule out the possibility. Think about the pictures...

Rediscovering My Will To Blog

It is exceedingly ironic, but summer has a tendency to turn me into a crazy, lazy, unproductive, non-creative, generally uninteresting blah. I am one of those people who thrives on routine. I don't sleep-in on Saturdays (well, no one with kids does, but I would choose not to); I can eat the same thing for lunch 180 days a year, then find myself at a deli counter with endless palatable ecstasies from which to choose and say, "I'll have a turkey sandwich on wheat with mustard, lettuce, and tomato. Please." I am not spontaneous in the least. I need to know what I'm doing when I finish doing what I'm currently doing, before I start doing it. Oh, and I'll need to know how much it will cost. Including tax.

It works for me, though. Somehow I find the time to fit in workouts, new recipes, laundry, etc. It is as if going to work in the morning actually makes me function. Don't get me wrong, I love being able to hang around in my pj's with my kids until lunch time. And we have been doing some great exploring of the island and all. What I'm trying to say is that I've been meaning to post about my summer reads for some time now, but have not been able to fit it into my busy schedule. Somewhere between researching the interesting lives of others via Facebook and becoming addicted to Hannah Montana, I have lost the will to blog.

Coming up: a look at my love-affair with Mr. Pip.

First Sunburn of the Summer

Alas, I have been reading. However, the end of school seemed to approach this year with the tenacious vengeance of a rarely prodded mythical beast. Or maybe a two-and-a-half-year-old. Either way, the laundry list of literature I've consumed since last writing is unremarkable and nothing has really made me feel the need to report up to this point. But this afternoon (dare I say my first real day of Summer vacation?) I finished a lovely and noteworthy tale which will mark the beginning of my summer reading odyssey.

Stephanie Kallos' Broken For You chronicles the final years of Margaret Hughes' life as she seeks redemption for the sins her father (a Nazi sympathizer whose tremendous wealth was built upon priceless antiques stolen from the homes of interned Jewish residents during WWII) committed and a lifetime of guilt and shame associated with these sins. Margaret has locked herself in her grand old Seattle mansion (great local references in this one!) for most of her adult life, with the sole duty of caring for these incredible and incredibly sad treasures. After receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis, Margaret decides to take in a boarder, and here meets Wanda, a young woman whose broken heart is almost as fascinating as her cooky demeanor. Together, dare I say, they face their dragons.

Something about the "need for redemption" piece of this read reminded me of The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield--which I completely loved. This would be a great book for a group as it is accessible yet multi-layered. 

Things About Which I Am Illiterate vol. 1: iTunes

Only recently did I even venture into the realm of the iPod. I've had one for a while, but since I tend to shy away from new things until the majority of the population has successfully integrated them into their lives, I have been ignoring it. Like when I was in middle school and everyone had CD players, but I still used tapes. Don't get me wrong, I had a CD player, but it was almost like I felt sorry for the three thousand cassette singles I had purchased at Camelot Music. What would happen to them?

Since giving birth four months ago, I have slowly started to get into working out again. Before I got pregnant with Griffin, I was running and loving it, so I am working toward that goal again. The iPod tends to be a bit easier to carry than a Discman (which I have), so I've decided it was time to get to know him. The problem is, that it seems to be so easy to use that I get confused. And iTunes, well now, wait, what do I do?

Since Rhett's music collection consists of a wide variety of what I can only label as loud guitarry music, I have been searching for something to run to. Long story long, my BFF Allison made me a super-awesome mix and I am very excited to utilize it but I spent OVER AN HOUR last night trying to figure out how to get the songs (which are now on my computer) onto my iPod. And by the time Rhett got home, I had given up and forgotten about the task altogether. What is wrong with me?!?! Why can't you just set the thing on top of the CD or point it at the screen and have them magically appear? Everthing else about the darn thing might as well be magic.

Poetry Analysis, the Spring, and My Over-Crowded Desk

Welcome to Spring-time at the relaxing retreat-away-from-home affectionately known as My Desk. Spring means Literary Analysis. Which means essays. And poetry analysis. And essays analyzing poetry.

The result, as you can see, is that my desk looks like this. Some people might think, "Wow! I could never leave my desk like that on a Friday. She'll be there all night getting through that pile. I'll bet it's all she can think of..."

But you know what? Not true. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I am looking forward to the weekend. In fact, I've thought of about 30 other things just in the last 5 minutes. And I'm 95% sure my desk will still look like this when I leave today.

Peace Montag.

Nothing says "summer's almost here" like a celebration of book-burning. After I get over the creepy photo of Ray Bradbury on the back cover of the book, I always enjoy a good romp through Fahrenheit 451. In 1953, Bradbury wrote about a future overrun by technology, where children no longer care about the validity of information, but consume what is set before them without question, quickly moving on to destroy things at the local theme parks.

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The story goes that the fireman's duty is to destroy knowlege and promote ignorance, all in an effort to equalize this futuristic society. The setting is full of over-stimulating images of fast cars, giant and ever-blaring television screens, and 200-fo0t long billboards. Reading has given way to faster means of consuming information; important and accurate information has given way to tidbits of purposeless banter. This cryptic novel is full of thought-provoking paradoxes such as "not empty" yet "empty indeed" and "dead" yet "alive" or "there" yet "not there". These paradoxes serve to further the certainty that, without substance, life would be uncertain indeed.

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This book becomes increasingly interesting to me as we plunge deeper and deeper into the Age of Technology. My mind was especially blown yesterday when 3 of my 90 honors students had heard of Maya Angelou, yet 90% of them picked right up on a reference I made to Nazi Zombies (apparently a level in Call of Duty 5).

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Missing my Lost rundowns? Don't worry, I'm getting to the finale.

But, I can make time! (an old draft, but finally finished)

RIP Daniel Faraday. Last night marked the end to my second favorite Lost character ever (Charlie being my 1st).

Danny Boy pleads with his mom to let him continue with the piano, but she insists that he must give it up "for the Greater Good" (read: Dumbledore and Grindewald, i.e. Deathly Hallows). Dan's reward for being diligent with his studies and becoming Oxford's youngest Doctoral candidate? More criticism from his mother. If it were me, at age 11 (? I'm terrible at guessing ages), I would have gladly given up the piano lessons. However, I was not a genius (contrary to popular belief) and I had a piano teacher who would kick my shin if I was off-tempo or missed a note. And his name was Ken. Enough said?

I just realized something: Penelope! Penelope is Odysseus' wife who waited 20 years for him to return home from Troy, and all the while he was drifting around at sea, encountering innumerable obstacles on a quest to return home to his wife. Sounds like...Desmond and Penelope? Why yes, it does.