Happy New Year! : Tennyson

Ring out the old;
Ring in the new!
Ring happy bells across the snow.

The year is going;
Let him go!
Ring out the false; ring in the true.

~Alfred Lord Tennyson

Now Stir the Fire ~ Wm. Cowper

~rachel tsunami

One of my favorite things about the holidays is the company that comes and stays, or drops by for a visit, letting us draw them in to the warm embrace of our home, sharing their joy and laughter, reveling in old memories, making new ones...

We just bid goodbye to the Bruces who arrived almost 24 hours ago. (We spent more of those hours fellowshipping than not. Nome Sane?) In a little while, we'll get to hug the necks of Lauren (Bradley)Wallis and Lacey Madden who will drop by to visit awhile, and this evening we'll light a few candles and heat up the tortilla soup to welcome the three Shafer boys from Stephenville, TX: Raz, Kris, and Jacob, and Evan Ritchie who is traveling with them. Word has reached me that they're bringing several of their 'strings' so I expect Robert and Logan will follow suit and we'll have some jammin' goin' on tonight. They'll backtrack a bit to Memphis for the New Year meeting which starts tomorrow.

What delight! Food, fire, music, laughter, singing, (and probably more food...)

Now stir the fire,
and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains,
wheel the sofa round;
And while the bubbling
and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column,
and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate,
wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

~William Cowper

from ~ A Child's Christmas in Wales

We just listened to a recording of Dylan Thomas reading his classic Christmas prose on Christmas day --- a tradition we began a couple years ago. If you've never heard it, or read it, give yourself a treat. It is rich with luscious literary device and visual language so vivid the images leap off the page.

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six...
~Dylan Thomas

Merry, Blessed, Happy Christmas Day ~ from the Greens

Sunday: Pink and Winfrey

They only, who are trusting in His death for their salvation, can truly appreciate and celebrate his birth.
~A.W. Pink


The God that filled the universe suddenly confined to womb! The creator
made of a woman! Immutable God undergoing mitosis! (The spiritual, unchangeable,
indivisible God was growing by the process of natural cell division.) When God
was a man Omnipresence walked! (Think about it. God had always been everywhere.
Now he walked to get there!) Omniscience learned! Limitless strength grew weary!
Eternal peace was troubled! His hands held the world, yet he had no where to lay
his head! The feeder of the birds hungered! The Living Water thirsted! God ---
asleep on a pillow! The Almighty said, "If it be possible." The All-Wise asked,
"Why?" A man-made nail held the hand that none could stay! Sovereignty sighed!
Omnipotence cried! Eternity died?!? Oh, how amazing our God is!

~Elder Jeff Winfrey

Christmas Acrostic

C - carols
H - hot chocolate
R - reading Christmas stories
I - interesting looking packages
S - smells of food and candy
T - tinsel
M - music
A - angels, aardvarks (Christmas aardvarks, that is)
S - singing


(do you have anything to add?)

'Tis the season

**

****

-to laugh
-to sing carols

-to hunt for mistletoe
-to yell "Merry Christmas"
-to recieve Christmas pictures
-to send Christmas pictures out

-to feel the warmth of the woodstove
-to wrap presents in the dead of night
-to bounce up and down in excitement

-to watch a family traditional Christmas movie

-to enjoy the whole family being together at once

-to whip things into hiding if a certain person comes in
-to spend all day in the kitchen cooking delicious goodies
-to snuggle in the warm blankets with a cold nose poking out

-to gather around the fire and play a word game, enjoying each other

-to sit with a cup of hot tea (or hot chocolate, whichever you prefer) and think

****

****

'Tis the season to be jolly!

(what does this season mean for you?)

Poem Sunday - Stevenson

Prayer

I ask good things that I detest,
With speeches fair;
Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my breast,
But hear my prayer.

I say ill things I would not say-
Things unaware:
Regard my breast, Lord, in Thy day,
And not my prayer.

My heart is evil in Thy sight:
My good thoughts flee:
O Lord, I cannot wish aright -
Wish Thou for me.

O bend my words and acts to Thee,
However ill,
That I, whate'er I say or be,
May serve Thee still.

O let my thoughts abide in Thee
Lest I should fall:
Show me Thyself in all I see,
Thou Lord of all.

--Robert Louis Stevenson

Poem Sunday: Herbert

Teach me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see,
And what I do in anything,
To do it as for Thee.

A man that looks on glass,
On it may stay his eye,
Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass,
And then the heav'n espy.

All may of Thee partake:
Nothing can be so mean
Which with this motive, "For Thy sake,"
Will not grow bright and clean.

This is the famous stone
That turneth all to gold;
For that which God doth touch and own
Cannot for less be told.

George Herbert (1593-1633)


(Anybody recognize the sunset?)

There's no such thing as too many...

1. books

2. black shoes

3. teapots

4. love letters

5. years with my sweetheart

6.


Okay, I'll leave some for the rest of you.

Hmmm... Blogger's nightmare: Has someone done this already and I've forgotten about it and will appear to be pretending to be original?

Poem Sunday: Longfellow

Loss and Gain

When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen or been turned aside.

But who shall dare
To measure gain and loss in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Not original with me. The idea of Poem Sunday came from a friend. (Thanks, A.W.) But it's a good thing. Hope it will help me revisit some favorites.

I can explain

blogger's ennui

A.B. Simpson, quoted by Andree Seu in World:

God is represented as treasuring the prayers of his saints in vials.... They are placed like fragrant flowers in the chambers of the king.... And later they are represented as poured out upon the earth; and lo, there are voices, and thunderings, and great providential movements, fulfulling God's purposes for His kingdom. We are called 'The Lord's Remembrances.' And we are commanded to give Him no rest, day or night, but to crowd the heavens with our petitions.

And in due time the answer will come with its accumulated blessings. No breath of prayer is lost. The longer it waits, the larger it becomes.

(Hat tip to our friends at Wittingshire)

Don't Miss This!

rachel tsunami

I stumbled onto this quite unexpectedly last night, and I'm really excited about it:

The History Channel will air, this Sunday night at 8pm (probably Central), a 3 hour dramatized documentary called Dangerous Crossing: The Untold Story of the Mayflower.

Go to www.mayflowerhistory.com and follow the link to read Caleb Johnson's lengthy and thorough review of the full documentary. Caleb Johnson is apparently the foremost authority on all things Mayflower, and he is very impressed with the accuracy of the production.

This site will offer a link to the History Channel website, where you can play an interactive game about the Mayflower to earn the privilege of seeing the first 10 minutes of the show. Pretty cool. I had to do it twice to pass the test!

Sounds like it would really be worth recording. We don't get network or cable tv, just have the screen, so we can't do it, but somebody really should.

Also, would somebody tell me how to hide a link in plain ol' words you can click on without typing all the www.stuff?

ouch!

I cut my finger

Fill in the blank -

~e


it's raining...




and i'm feeling _______








blue.

Pied Beauty

rachel tsunami

Warming fires are in the woodstoves daily as well as nightly now, and our small, annual harvest of chestnuts is in. Kathryn has already made her first round of Chestnut Bisque. The view from my kitchen window is a gloriously textured carpet of leaves under the huge, old pecan tree. Puts me in mind of this poem. We've had the most colorful autumn in north Miss'sippi that we can remember. The pied beauty of the season just seems to go on and on. Must share this loved poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, which marvels at the incomparable variety and diversity in God's creative palette. Hopkin's injunction to us is well-taken. "Praise Him."


GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844-89


pied: having patches of two or more colors
brinded: streaked, or patchy coloring
stippled: dotted, flecked, speckled

More than self

O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife.

Who more than self their country loved

And mercy more than life!

America! America! May God thy gold refine

Till all success be nobleness And every gain divine!

verse 3, America the Beautiful by Katherine Lee Bates

Lest We Forget

rachel tsunami

November 11 is Veteran's Day. It is duly noted, along with all the other holidays of the year, in pale grey letters on my calendar---it's easy to miss, and even easier since there are no presents involved. No traditional meal to prepare. No greeting cards to mail with the sheepish inscription, "Hey! I know this is late, but..."

But I never rest well when I sail past Veteran's Day without proper regard for it. It just doesn't set well. There's something that niggles at my brain, my emotions. And I have my brother, Keifor, to thank for that.

Several years ago he decided to make a difference in the lives of his 4 sons (pre-Davis, as I recall) with regard to Veteran's Day. I saw a picture later that my mother took of them all standing near the flag on their front porch that day, with Keifor reading something to the boys. It was the text of a verse from America, The Beautiful , and he had prepared a graphic of those words superimposed against an image of the flag. Several days before, he had mailed copies of that, bearing a personal note, to each name on a list of men, family members and friends, who are counted in that (more-often-than-not) forgotten group---our Veterans. I could only imagine what it must have meant to them.

I resolved then that if we do not teach our children to remember, no one else will. Keifor was, and still is, a busy man. He could have done even less to commemorate that day and still have made a lasting impression on the men. On the boys. The important thing was that he didn't let the day go by without remembering---and teaching his sons to remember.

In the years following his good example, I have tried to "go thou and do likewise." One year I wrote a letter expressing our gratefulness, and sent a copy to every veteran we personally know, from WW2 through Vietnam, on behalf of our family. Another year, our whole family assembled and sang verses one and three of America, the Beautiful to every veteran we could reach by phone.

Last year, I was teaching at our homeschool co-op on Veteran's Day. I couldn't do something big last year, but I rehearsed my class of 3rd-6th graders, and we placed a cell phone call to my Uncle Harry, veteran of World War 2, a naval hero who served on the submarine USS Haddo. After a spritely, but slightly comical solo of Anchors Aweigh by yours truly, the class sang America, the Beautiful to Uncle Harry. I told him, in front of the children, that I had spent Geography class telling them his story. I told him that I want them to know, and I want them not to forget. I told him of the impact his life has had on my thinking, and on my choices, all my life, and that I would be forever grateful that he never ran; that he was willing to put himself on the line for us. I told him that he was one of my main heroes. It was one of the too few times in my life I have followed through on a good intention. It was a very special moment for both of us.

Exactly two weeks later, unexpectedly, Uncle Harry's earthly warfare ended. He gave a final salute to his family who had gathered around a hospital bed, and closed his eyes in death. When I got the news, I realized I'd been given a special and final opportunity to say thank you, and this time I hadn't dropped the ball.

I know this is a long post, and someone else's personal remembrances aren't always high on the list of interesting reading, but if anyone has stuck with me this far, please understand two things: I don't credit myself with these performances of gratitude. I credit my brother, Keifor.

Is there someone you know who has served? Something you can do to bless someone else who has made sacrifices in the past for you? Our children aren't born knowing or caring about this heritage, but they will be richer human beings if we will teach them to honor and show appreciation for what others have contributed to their lives. Consider this challenge: Do something. Even something that may seem small to you. If it is from your heart, I promise you it will swell the heart of a veteran.

And secondly, the real point of my message is this: May God have mercy on us if we do not remember to show gratitude. Yes, our lives should be permeated with it. But on Veteran's Day, please remember especially the courage and the sacrifice of those who have done---and are even now doing---their duty. On our behalf. To forget is to gradually be eaten alive with selfishness.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget --- lest we forget!

~ Rudyard Kipling

he's on a roll...

by rachel tsunami

Because of our family's strong ties to Harmony Hill Singing School, the question has come up through the years with almost predictable regularity. As our children and their cousins, the Beauch Boys, have grown from toddlerhood into their cognitive years, there have been the inevitable questions about those ties. And the conversations have often include the dawning of the idea of geneology in their fertile minds.

Just how is it that we are so connected with that place and the events that take place there? Who owns it? Where does the buck stop? Just who was Roy T. Denman? Today it was time for another round of all that, and I joined mr. incredulous just as ham 'n cheese was struggling to explain:

ham 'n cheese: Mama, can you explain to Shafer about Harmony Hill?

me: Sure. It's like this: Many years ago, your Granny, and your great-grandaddy Roy were in a Real Estate business together (which I explained), and they saw this piece of land that was on the top of a hill, and it had room for some buildings and tents, and you could watch the sun come up over the lake, and they believed it would be a great place to have a camp singing school for young people and their families. So they bought it to have a place for what became Harmony Hill.

mr. incredulous: Wow. So then he owned it?

me: Well, no one person owned it, you see. He founded it.

mr. incredulous: (...incredulously) Wow! Really?...Where did he find it?

"Who's Gene Pool?"

I was sitting at the bar drinking some hot cocoa in our Casablanca mug with the picture of Bogie and Bergman sitting at a table in a cafe with the caption: "Here's looking at you, kid."
Shafer / Mr. Incredulous: Who's Here?

for moo, for autumn

The day becomes
more solemn and serene...
There is a harmony in autumn,
and a lustre in its sky.

The Indian Serenade
by Percy Bysshe Shelley

hot mama

by rachel tsunami

Earlier this month, Queen B. Shenaynay posted a treatise called Chili Apologetics, a thought-provoking piece about the virtues and benefits of capsaicin, and endorphins, and pain. As best I could tell, she believes (through extra-biblical revelation), that Adam and Eve ate chili on their first date. Of course, none of us can prove her wrong, nor would we want to.

At the time, I proffered a comment about the following recipe, which has found a happy home in my collection, and was pressed to share it, which I happily do here. However, I need to be perfectly clear about this. I did not try to claim that this chile is "better" than Shenaynay's, only that it is very good, and that it has caused a shift in my chili paradigm. I don't know about you, but in my world, there's room for more than one chili, and each family has its favorites for different reasons.

btw:
~masa harina isn't hard to find. Most any grocery store will have it.
~obviously, the quantity of jalepenos can be adjusted up or down according to how many brain cells you can spare.
~as usual, when cooking with beer or wine, they are added for the flavor. I can't vouch for the taste if you omit the beer. It might be just fine.

All in all, a really good recipe!


Beef Chili with Masa Harina

There are as many versions of chili as there are chili cooks. This one includes a signature flavor of the American Southwest: masa harina. The Mexican corn flour used for making tortillas and tamales, masa harina is made by grinding corn kernels that have been simmered in a slaked lime solution and then dried. It is sold in well-stocked food stores and in Latin markets. Added to the chili near the end of cooking, masa harina thickens the liquid slightly, giving it body, and imparts a subtle corn flavor.Grind the meat yourself or ask the butcher to grind it fresh for chili, using the large holes of a meat grinder to give it a coarse texture. Accompany the chili with small bowls of sour cream, salsa, shredded cheddar cheese and chopped green onions.

5 Tbs. vegetable oil
3 lb. beef chuck, ground for chili
3 large yellow onions, finely chopped
8 garlic cloves, minced
1 jalapeño chili, seeded and finely chopped
1/2 cup chili powder
2 Tbs. ground cumin
1 Tbs. ground oregano
2 tsp. ground coriander
1 1/2 cups lager-style beer
2 1/2 cups beef stock
1 can (28 oz.) crushed tomatoes
1 can (15 oz.) kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (15 oz.) pinto beans, rinsed and drained
3 Tbs. masa harina
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

In a large nonstick fry pan over medium-high heat, warm 1 Tbs. of the vegetable oil. Add half of the beef and cook, stirring occasionally, until browned, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer to a colander placed over a bowl to drain off the fat. Repeat with 1 Tbs. of the oil and the remaining beef.
Drain and set aside.

In a large pot over medium heat, warm the remaining 3 Tbs. oil. Add the onions and sauté, stirring occasionally, until softened, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the garlic and sauté for 1 minute. Add the jalapeño, chili powder, cumin, oregano and coriander, stir until well combined and cook for 1 minute more.

Add the reserved beef, the beer, stock and tomatoes and bring to a gentle simmer. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 50 minutes. Add the kidney and pinto beans and masa harina. Simmer until the chili is slightly thickened, 5 to 7 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and serve in large bowls.

Serves 8 to 10.
Adapted from Williams-Sonoma Collection Series,Soup,by Diane Rossen Worthington (Simon & Schuster, 2001).

::kip voice:: So basically...

I have this pretty sweet web album thingy . It's pretty much the coolest one out there.
Check it out! Gosh! My lips hurt real bad!

"This come's from our many media's"

Van Atkins billboard in Ripley-
You're back to school headquarters!
I am?

On a homeschool blog-
If you realy want to homeschool, their is allways away...
Not if you spell like that!

And I'm sure you have all seen this one-
Only windshields kills more bugs than we do!
N.C.S.P.

On a grocery store in Tupelo-
No credit cards are excepted in this store.
Well, in that case...

Uh...

addendum by rachel tsunami~

Ellie, you forgot this one, also seen on a billboard in our fair town. And this is exactly how it appears, mind you:

Cash for Your,
Paychecks and titles!

Nothing doing! I'm never parting with my Your.

makes sense to me

Mr. Incredulous:

"I thought 'alias' was a girl alien."

To Autumn

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

-John Keats 1795–1821

Ok, since you're so smart...

Here's a harder one. Guess who said this:

"I'm so sorry you're feeling bad... Can I have your sausage?"

Paris is always a good idea...

Can anyone guess what movie this quote is from?

the impenetrable beauty of simple, and the evening wisdom of porches and kitchen tables...

by rachel tsunami

It's inescapable. I've always loved well-crafted writing, and I married a graphic designer who has worked in advertising for many years. One of the results of that is that we really enjoy excellent advertisements together, both for their design elements and for good, well-written, effective copy. ["copy" is the words part of a print advertisement.]

I just came across this ad in a foodie magazine, and I think it deserves to be shared. And btw, it really does make me want to find some of this bottled iced tea and taste it. That's the hallmark of an effective ad. But for now, here's the copy. Just lovely, with or without the tea. It reads well in Late Summer especially:

Mayor Wanted. The Town of Gold Peak Seeks a Mayor.

Must be a believer. Must believe in the impenetrable beauty of
simple. [oooh, i like that part.] Must believe in six year olds running by a
lake with sparklers and chocolate ice-cream smiles. Must believe in the evening
wisdom of porches, kitchen tables and two chairs by a lake. [and that part.]
Must believe in the divine symphony of the lap of a canoe paddle, the cry of the
loon, and the rustle of maple leaves in September breezes. Must believe in
parades, picnic blankets, and the loyalty of boat dogs. Must believe in the
crisp and sweet purity of grass between the toes and of tea between ice. [this is great!] Must believe in Nathaniel Hawthorne when he whispers happiness is as
a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but which if you
will sit down quietly, may alight upon you. This is that place. This is Gold
Peak. Mayor wanted.

If you believe, visit www.tastegoldpeak.com/mayorwanted
and tell us why.
Gold Peak. What it Tastes Like Up Here

George Grant could be their mayor. In fact, he could have written this. He believes strongly in parades, picnic blankets, and grass between the toes.

(If you're interested in good advertising, visit the site. Somebody found a great ad campaign just waiting to happen.) Somebody tell Dan to look at this.

Well done. I don't even know what state it's in, but for a few minutes, I want to move to Gold Peak.

National Eat an Apple Day

I saw this announcement in the school library this morning. I felt it incumbent on me to tell all my friends so they don't miss out.
I'm tellin' you, what with Talking Like a Pirate yesterday, and Eating Apples today, there's no time for school!

The Antiquary...

by ~e

Yes. The Antiquary. That is the book I am currently wading through. Wait, don't get me wrong. I love to read, and if you don't find me talking to my friends, doing school or helping my dear mummy around the house, I'll probably be curled up on my bed in my beautiful bedroom that my papa has made for me, reading one of my faves.

Walter Scott's writing is particularly wordy, and although very astounding and brilliant, it is somewhat breathtaking and can be a somewhat daunting task. (Especially if you have to read 15 chapters per week. AAAAHHHH!!!!) However, if I can make myself concentrate and if I try to enjoy the style of writing for what it is, I've found that the plot line is very enjoyable and thrilling.

One of the main characters is Jonathan Oldbuck of Monkbairns. He's the character that Sir Scott describes as the Antiquary, who, because of his own personal disappointments, has taken refuge in the obsessive study of miscellaneous history. He has a curiously passionate love for books and this is very evident in his speech.
Speech? Did someone say speech? Did I also mention that the dialect that Sir Walter Scott uses is completely Scottish? Did I mention that I happen to love the Scottish accent and jargon?
Well, now you know...
Back to Mr. Oldbuck, his bookishness is very prominent throughout and some very good quotes about books are found within the pages because of it.

And so I'll leave you with my favorite quote... (so far)

'For he would rather have, at his bed-head,
A twenty books, clothed in black or red,
Of Aristotle, or his philosophy, (ok, maybe not Aristotle, but you get the general idea.)
Than robes rich, rebeck, or saltery.' - Quoted from the Canterbury Tales


With ~e's permish, I am ammending her post, instead of topping it with a new one, to say how well timed it is, as we are hoping to make our annual trek this coming Saturday to the Clanjamfry --- Memphis' annual Scottish festival. It's not on the grand scale of the one the Beehive attends in Texas every June, but it is great fun nonetheless. Last year the Beehive joined us on the beautiful, ivy league grounds of old Evergreen Presbyterian Church, near Rhodes College, for a full day of tartans, bagpipes, and kilt swishing. (The Wolf River Pipe Band Pipe Major is just too dashing!) They've got the sheepdogs, the traditional Scottish games, the food, the music, the displays of pipes and swords and geneologys galore.

So. We'll don our status as honorary scots (thoroughly welsh, at least, so we feel entitled), go watch the games, enjoy the celtic bands and the dancers, (buy some jewelry), and who knows, we may even eat some haggis in honor of Great Scot.

~rachel tsunami

double first blood

by rachel tsunami

Courtesy of Lacy's camera, here are some great shots Andrew sent me from last weekend when we gathered at Grace Chapel for Timothy Guess to be ordained.



First love.



I have a collection of them in this pose through the years. Taller now.



Andrew helping Molly figure out how to get down the steps.



Really cute, except for the Walmart bag.



She must've nailed him.



Prince Dog. Princess.



Andrew and his Fairy.

addendum: Joe4444

Yay Joe! How did I miss this? When I read your comment to Kathryn about the parking lots, it hit me like a pie in the face. Somehow I wasn't conscious (go ahead, somebody. just take that and run with it) of the fact that dear Joe4444 is also a student at U of M. In spite of all the Tiger sports talk you guys do in the comments it just didn't sink in(...it's a woman thang). Now it makes sense. Ah yes, the school year is shaping up just sweeter and sweeter.

So. My list of U of M friends was incomplete (Wednesday, 8/30/06 post). Yet another one to offer advice, encouragement and a helping hand. It warms a mother's heart.

Viva la Joe.

Find your Parking Spot....and Discover Yourself

by multifarious


Parking at school is a fine art; not something to be taken lightly or for granted.

There are two parking lots at The University of Memphis for students – Central and Southern. Central is my favorite by far. It is right beside the music building and closest to the library. The atmosphere is nicer, with trees every few yards, and there are no chain link fences or construction cones. Southern is rather depressing and trashy looking, so I never park there if I can possibly help it.

I am riding to school with Beka today; carpooling is my favorite.

Molly wants me to bring her coffee. I want some too, so we stop at a gas station and get two coffees in those styrofoam cups with sip lids. Beka's first class is closest to Southern and that's where she plans to park, but that means I have to walk all the way across campus carrying two hot, sloshy coffees. I negotiate: "Why don't I just drive your car around to Central and park it there for you? It will be closer to your last class."

That sounds good to her. Central is also a bit closer to the library where I plan to spend the next 2 free hours studying for Weather and Climate. I know it will take a while to find a parking space; it's usually pretty crowded by 9:30am.

Understatement of the century.

After spending a solid ten minutes driving over the huge parking lot and not having a smidge of success, I decide to take the stalking tactic: look for someone coming from campus, arms loaded down with books, and follow him surreptitiously to his car. This can be awkward as you must drive very slowly, close behind the person, but one must resort to extreme measures sometimes. There's a promising looking one, with a resolute, home-going look on his face, but he keeps walking and keeps walking, never getting to his car and my parking space.

After having unsuccessfully stalked about half a dozen people, I realize the problem. Many of these unsuspecting victims live in the dorms behind the parking lot. So that's why they disappear and don't provide a parking space for me! After about fifteen minutes I learn to detect these kinds by the hand/key factor: Look at hands. No keys, no car. Dorm-dweller.

Now I am discouraged. Should I resort to illegal parking? Many do; yellow lines, medians, odd ends of areas. Should I join the outlaws? No. I will stick to my principles . Surely somebody, somewhere, is through with morning classes and is on his way home.

Aha. There are two guys talking at a car. The door is open; he's fiddling with keys! That looks promising! With a warm thought toward the cozy library and all that studying that is going to breeze me through Weather and Climate, I roll down the window and drive by.

:: sweet, distressed face ::

"Are y'all coming or going?"

"Going. Just a second." I drive around to come in the other way and get a better angle (I am not a very skilled parker).

Big Mistake. Within the 20 seconds it takes me to get back around, another person has parked HER car and taken MY space. She wasn't even around! Sneaky freak.

I am tired. I want the library. Why are there so many students at this stupid school? Why don't they enlarge the stupid parking lot? Am I reduced to parking at Southern, beside the curb at the end of that long line of cars that stretches away from campus to infinity?

No. I will not.

I continue the mad search, back and forth, back and forth. There is a lovely young man. Shall I ask him if he minds me stalking him? Oh. No keys. Stupid guy. Why can't he live off campus like normal people? Back and forth, back and forth; probably burned half a tank of gas by now. I don't care. I won't go to Southern. I take a tiny break to put a love note on the windshield of a red Honda Civic with a kilt on the stick shift and a Jack-in-the-Box antenna topper. My resolution is bending. More cars coming in for 10:20 classes. No cars going out. They are all better space finders than I. They've all done this before; I am just a poor freshman. Someone take pity on me and LEAVE!

It's no use. No one hears my cry or even cares for my plight. I am a nomad and vagabond without my own personal parking space. I don't belong.

Forty-five minutes have passed and it's just too long. I can hold out no longer. I point my car toward the exit. Numbly I wait for a pedestrian to pass, a dark, pretty girl with a sorority jacket on. I stare at her as she walks slowly, meandering her way toward the dorms. Of course there are no keys in her hands. Time stands still in a hopeless sort of way.

Luck is not my friend. I am forced to park at Southern.

Suddenly she stops, turning her head slowly. Her long, straight, shiny black hair swings around in slow motion; it reminds me of a Pantene commercial. She is looking at me. Oh, great. She thinks I'm a moron, just sitting here staring at her. But what is that look on her face? Questioning? Understanding? Sympathy? She points across the parking lot, then turns and starts walking again. I meekly creep behind, blessing her all the way. She stops at a bright blue Mustang. I sit, stoically guarding my space, afraid that a phantom car will appear from nowhere at any moment and whiz in behind me. Nothing happens. She pulls out. I back in.

Hmmm. The person from the car next to me will have about half an inch in which to open his door. Do I dare adjust? What if a skinny motorcycle snatches the spot before I get back in? I pull out and back in, holding my breath all the while. No motorcycle appears. I give the cars on either side perfect amounts of breathing room, and do not kiss the front bumper of the car in back. I shut off the motor.

I love this school. I love Central. I love this coffee I have to carry. I love my heavy bag. I love the long walk ahead of me. I am happy. I found a parking spot.

And I was all like, "Yeah right!", and he goes, "Whatever!"

by monolog

Mama recently got me the Fourth Edition American Heritage Dictionary to be my ever-present companion this school year. She and Papa each had one in college and found them to be invaluable (which is evident by the current condition of Mama's First Edition red cover.) I have already found mine very helpful. There are many, many times I've wanted to look up the definition of a word or find out its etymology, and now it brings such satisfaction to discover that I've actually remembered to bring my new 21st century-looking 8x5 American Heritage with me all the way out here under the tree to help with a literature assignment.

On the back...

"This new American Heritage is more suited to our national character than any other previous dictionary." -The New York Times Book Review

...Newly updated to reflect our changing language, this revised edition...

like (2)
-idiom: be like Informal
To say And he's like, "Leave me alone!"
(See Usage Note at go)

all
-idiom: be all Informal
To say He's all, "What did you do that for?"
(See Usage Note at go)

go
Usage: Many speakers now use go in informal conversation to report speech, as in Then he goes, "You think you're real smart don't you?" This usage is much like that of the quotation introducers be all and be like, although these constructions can also be used to express statements that sum up an attitude, as in He's all, "No way!" By contrast, go is largely restricted to realating dialouge in the present tense narration.

I've often like wondered about how they were going about explain this like...mutation of our language when they finally like admitted these usages into the dictionary. Well, they actually went to the trouble. I was betting they'd put, 'Usage: Go ask the nearest 13 year old.'

Cry, quiver, quake! It has descended!

by ~e

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times, it is the age of wisdom, it is the age of foolishness, it is the epoch of belief, it is the epoch of incredulity, it is the season of Light, it is the season of Darkness, it is the spring of hope, it is the winter of despair, we have everything before us, we have nothing before us, we are all going direct to the head of the class, we are all going direct to ...(said in awed whisper) ... the principles office - in short, the season of trepidation has descended upon us all.


School.


That single, one-syllable word, strikes terror into the bravest hearts. Men of courage quiver at the thought of it quite as a Pekenise dog might quiver at the thought of a hairbrush. If someone actually dares to say it, they gasp, turn away, look aghast, and hope that no one notices. Some of the most courageous men of history have been subdued by the stark harshness of that word.
If brave men of battle are afraid of even just word, you can imagine the effect that this causes when children, mere infants, are thrust into the throes of education.
Mothers use it to threaten their children.
"Johnny," she says.
"Ma'am?" He looks frightened as if he were a goldfish looking down into the dark recesses of a toilet.
"...School!" says she, in a melodramatic voice.

Hold on to your seats, because, believe it or not, 'tis the season.

50 year old matron Fools All of the People Some of the Time

by rachel tsunami

I spent a really neat day, yesterday, on the U of M campus---had some coffee and danish in the university bookstore, business in the Art Dept., business in the Bursar's office, and spent some time watching people as they traversed the campus between classes. I saw Molly, Kathryn, and Beka some, but mainly stayed busy just trying to look like a hip, young, 2o something college student, which effort was largely unsuccessful I am sure.

It took me back a little; I had fun in college. But I didn't have anyone on campus that I shared the really important things with. So I also enjoyed knowing that today---somewhere out there---were Beka, and Andrew, and John, and Seth, and Ryan...(am I leaving any-UofM-one out?) attending their classes, and just plain ol' being there for Moo and Multi. And not just for the safety-in-numbers factor, but for the fellowship, support, and plain ol' fun they'll all have together.

What a great year this will be! Viva la!

Word of the Day for Monday, August 28, 2006

aegis \EE-jis\, noun:1. Protection; support.2. Sponsorship; patronage.3. Guidance, direction, or control.4. A shield or protective armor

It is this ideal of the human under the aegis of something
higher which seems to me to provide the strongest counterpressure against the
fragmentation and barbarization of our world.-- Ted J. Smith III (Editor), In
Defense of Tradition: Collected Shorter Writings of Richard M. Weaver,
1929-1963

What a great word. I wonder if Ted Smith and I have the same "something higher" in mind?

Lots of luck to you and yours!

SHADES OF GREEN WISHES MOO A VERY MERRY BIRTHDAY!

We love you, Molly. May you live all the days of your life!

Now is Now

by rachel tsunami

Last week we turned a corner in our family. On Friday we sent our two oldest children off to college. We don’t think it’s unique or novel. Parents have been doing it for decades. But it’s a first for us, and a ‘passage’ that we have looked toward with mixed emotions.

Molly and Kathryn have moved to Memphis to attend University Of—only 1 ½ hours away. It’s a familiar place, with familiar people—family, and other people we love—people who love them, and they’ll even be living with some of those lovely folks. All in all, it’s a huge comfort zone, and I’m glad for that. It’s a school they could easily have chosen for its advantages even if it had been farther away, but it also has the delightful advantage of being near home. And they expect to be home many weekends (when they can afford the gas).

But it’s a passage nonetheless, and being the predominantly sentimental folks that we are, the whole “leaving” thing has been fraught with tenderness, and meaning, and tradition, and excitement, and a not a little circumstance (as in “Pomp and”). For in spite of all the perks, and the peace we feel about this step in their lives, we realize that things will never, ever be the same for us again. Not really. It’s a bit of a wistful feeling, mixed with courage and faith, at once thrilling and bittersweet, with concentric circles of “if-ing” and “then-ing” swirling about us, and coming back around to land squarely in front of the throne of grace.

The thing is, life is full of many things that can result in the same phenomenon of making things Never Be The Same Again. Many of them are not nearly so pleasant or so filled with positives aspects. I’m grateful.

Fittingly, RoBear finished reading aloud the first Little House book early last week. We had forgotten the poignancy of the very last page, but you’ll see why it touched a deep place in our hearts.

When Laura and Mary had said their prayers and were tucked snugly under the trundle bed’s covers, Pa was sitting in the firelight with the fiddle. Ma had blown out the lamp because she did not need its light. On the other side of the hearth she was swaying gently in her rocking chair and her knitting needles flashed in and out above the sock she was knitting. The long winter evenings of fire-light and music had come again.
………
Then Pa began to play again the song about Old Grimes. But he did not sing the words he had sung when Ma was making cheese. These words were different. Pa’s strong, sweet voice was softly singing:

“Shall auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Shall auld acquaintance be forgot,
And the days of auld lang syne?”

When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, “What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?”
“They are the days of a long time ago, Laura,” Pa said. “Go to sleep now.”
But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa’s fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods. She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle. She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.
She thought to herself, “This is now.”
She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.

Reading Little House in our Big House...

When I was a little toddler and my sisters quite young, Papa read through the series of The Little House on the Prairie Books. I don't quite remember it, but growing up, I've read through them a number of times. You can't ever grow tired of these books. The way Laura Ingalls writes and describes every little detail on a younger level is most entertaining. I don't think that even grown-ups could ever grow tired of hearing about the life and adventures of the little 'half-pint of sweet cider half drunk up'.

The most comforting parts in all the books are when Pa gets his fiddle down to play, with Ma sitting by the fireside knitting and the little girls tucked snug in their bed while the winter winds blow and howl outside. And Pa's fiddle sings...

"'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."

This summer, ham'n'cheese had Little House on the Prairie on his summer reading list, so we decided to read the series as a family again. It's so comforting to sit as a family in our living room that Mama has made so beautiful and homey, while Papa reads aloud and you color or...

You should read them. Have you?

a comma by any other name...

In her highly popular book, Eats, Shoots & Leaves, obsessive-compulsive punctuation policewoman, Lynn Truss, quotes Nicholson Baker in his book Room Temperature as he muses poetically on the shape of the comma. It recalls to his mind...

"the pedals of grand pianos, mosquito larvae, paisleys, adult nostril openings, the spiraling decays of fundamental particles, the prows of gondolas..."

"adult nostril openings..." Man, that's great! I wish I'd thought of that first.

Okay. Now, if you'd like to have a little fun with how they're used instead of what they look like, go here http://eatsshootsandleaves.com/ESLquiz.html for a little game to see how savvy you are with commas and apostrophes. I'm "a 92% stickler."

Well? How did you do?

Happy Birthday Andrew!

Happy 19th! from all of us here at Eddings Hill


He has many faces...








brother,








nephew,








double-first cousin,








friend,









tent maker, Master-Mind player,
prince when we played royalty,
daddy when we played house,
tree climber, tag-a-long, fisherman,
candy eater, candy seller,
scheme contributor, interpretive opera singer,
Shark player, cartoon watcher,
Uno player, Blind-Man's Bluff player,
dress-up artist, cowboy, cop or robber,
stowaway in our van, spend-the-night-lobbier,
pasture explorer, barn explorer,
thumb sucker, nose picker
and much, much more...Bo-Doo

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Eleanor!

1. The air around Eleanor is superheated to about five times the temperature of the sun.
2. Eleanor can use only about ten percent of her brain!
3. Eleanor is 984 feet tall.
4. Eleanor will give a higher yield if milked when listening to music.
5. A Eleanorometer is used to measure Eleanor.
6. Eleanor never said 'Play it again, Sam'.
7. Eleanorolatry is the mindless worship of Eleanor.
8. There are now more than 4000 satellites orbiting Eleanor!
9. Apples are covered with a thin layer of Eleanor.

Words, words, words....

by rachel tsumani


~Hamlet Act 2, Sc.2

Y'just gotta love Dr. Dictionary and his Word-for-the-Day. A new word magically appears in your inbox every day. You can read it quickly then drag it to a file to save for reference later on. (Or not.)

Maybe it's a word you've never heard before, and you flag it, determined to add it to your vocabulary [bombinate 5/21]. Lots of times it's a word that you have heard before but forgotten, only to have it turn up like a well-loved stuffed animal that you haven't seen in years; an old friend that you welcome back into the circle of your thoughts [imbroglio 7/16]. Occasionally it's a word that you've always loved, just for the way it looks on the page and the way it sounds when it falls "trippingly on the tongue,"...a word that's just downright pleasurable to say [incontrovertible 5/22, and agog 4/23]. Or a word whose definition is so perfectly descriptive and choice that you can't resist finding opportunities to use it [hubris 7/6].

Consider patronizing Dr. Dictionary. Where else will you read random words like forfend and supercilious. Compunction, corroborate, and concatenation. And not only do you get the definition, he always gives 3 sterling examples of the word in the context of a sentence or short paragraph.

Okay, maybe the idea of learning a new word every day doesn't float your boat. Maybe it's not your idea of a good time, (although I dare you to say scuttlebutt [7/19] and not enjoy it). Even if you delete 2/3rds of them, I guarantee you'll read one occasionally and learn something that could come in really handy sometime when you need to sound smart. Hey, it's free education!

A good vocabulary builds self-confidence and helps fool people into thinking you're smarter than you may or may not be. (Kind of like that old trick of sauteing an onion with some garlic just to make the house smell great and and boost your family's morale while you buy yourself some time---frantically trying to come up with supper.) Before long, whadya know...you are smarter.

Ah, Monday. Today's word is fatuous. Come now, can you really resist a word like fatuous? http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/ Look for the sign-up in the upper right corner.

Next time Dan Bruce, attorney, throws around phrases like prima facie [8/1], I won't have to pretend. I'll actually know what he means. Thank you, Dr. Dictionary

Got any favorite words? Throw us a few.

In the face of all you cat-lovers, I post this quote...

Cats, as a class, have never completely got over the snootiness caused by the fact that in Ancient Egypt they were worshipped as gods.
- Mulliner Nights; P.G. Wodehouse

A Prophet Indeed

regarding The Constitution...

"I do indeed believe in this cause. This cause it right, it is just, it is good, it is true. But I must, never the less, confess a great fear: there may one day come a generation, rooted not in the principals that gave rise to our liberty, who will take these phrases and these articles which we have so carefully drafted, and twist them and make them into something that we could not have imagined."

-George Washington
in a letter to Alexander Hamilton

magnetic poetry

imagine lazy summer

your feet dance
meander in our thoughts
hot rain murmers
play in the puddles
plump petals swim
sun shine lounge
cool luscious moonlight
smooth delicate sleep
dream beneath eternity
it blows music above
a thousand whispered nothings
rose red bare skin
sweet smells of color

summer

We Are Americans

"We are Americans, and as Americans we must live or die by liberty, virtue and the call of almighty God upon our lives.
Should we betray any of these causes, then lay at our feet the shame of the world and let the nations mock us.
We must be the beacon light, for we were sent on an errand into the wilderness, and therefore are called to be a light to the world."
- Samuel Adams

From the first speech made in the first meeting of the First Continental Congress.



(serendipity)

"When learned men use their reason, I usually find that they haven't got any." -G.K. Chesterton

Test Key

NOT EDITED SINCE JULY, 2006

[If you've just joined us, scroll down to see the two preceding posts first. Then maybe, just maybe, this will make sense to you. No promises.]


"Must a name mean something?" Alice asked doubtfully.

"Of course it must," Humpty Dumpty said, with a short laugh. "My name means the shape I am and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape."

Through the Looking Glass - Lewis Carroll


ro-bear: Robert took French in college, and remembers very little, but his name in French converts nicely to a teddy bearish sort of nom de plume. The master of the “little yellow house on the hill,” and husbandman of all within and without, Ro-Bear is where the buck stops on Eddings Hill. Frankly, I’m glad he’s in charge. [btw, he was having fun that day, but the sun was bright.]

rachel tsunami: This pseudonym happened when my friend Queen Shenaynay took a look at me during an all-nighter at her house and suggested I had a Tsunami hairstyle. (No photos, thank you.) Did she know my middle name is Sue, and that all my life till adulthood I was known as Rachel Sue to my extended family? (No. She didn’t.) Actually, they called me “RacheSue” and, who am I kidding, my aunts still call me that. In their hearts. I settled on this name for one reason. I knew it would make Leck laugh.

moo: When Molly was little, this was our pet name for her. Okay, yoo may be wondering; it was short for "Molly Moo-Cow"—(the name of a favorite toy.) Though this may not sound musical to you, it has sentimentally lyrical overtones to our ears—Our songbird's brain is one big file of song lyrics, tunes, poems, and movie quotes. She’s marvelous with a pencil, to be sure, but it turns out that music is her Grand Passion. Works for us. We’re the fortunate audience. (And she can still quote Peter Rabbit word for word.)

multifarious: Have you seen this name around in The Comments? Have you looked up “multifarious”? [having many aspects; "a many-sided subject"; "multifarious interests"; varied] In between achieving her goal of reading every book in our home library, and keeping one hand in a jigsaw puzzle at all times while finding anything in our home that happens to be lost, Kathryn manages to run circles around the rest of us, and at least starts everything that needs to be done even if she can’t stick around to finish it because she’s hurrying off to one of her jobs or running the errands no one else wants to run. Whew. Like I said.

monolog: Logan’s real name is fraught with potential we didn’t even think of when we named him 16 years ago. As a little tyke, it went from Lo-Lo, to Log, to Logo. Perfectly suited for cyber nonsense, he could be Log On, Log In, or Log Out. But “monolog” seems to fit perfectly. He’s the quiet, understated sort who can put one instantly in stitches when one least expects it. These days, it’s either a mandolin/guitar/banjo/harmonica, a basketball, or a sandwich that can be seen as an extension of his right arm. Also known as Flogart McSlothenguarde to his double cousins (known around here as the Beauch Boys) and his newest cousin, Jason Sacran, who dubbed him.

~e: That’s all. Just ~e. But she used to be “fairybird,” and it was fitting: Eleanor is 14 years, 4ft. 10”, and 92 lbs dripping wet, in and out, flitting about, devilishly clever at being unnoticed until it occurs to me that the dishwasher is *still* not unloaded. That’s about the time I hear her at the piano and my mouth just slams shut while she plays. It’s hypnotic, I tell you. The girl gets away with shenanigans untold because of that twinkle in her eye (not to mention the one in her fingers). But she’s our EllieBird (and about that big—except for the massive mane of dark hair that keeps her anchored to the ground).

ham ‘n cheese: The name says it all. Dalton is our resident 9yo scholar (soon-to-be-10), budding naturalist (it was that insect collection that did it for him), geologist, bookworm, humorist, (did I mention goofball?) and all around Did-You-Know?-er. He’s a data-sponge, I tell you. A sponge. With dimples “as big as all outdoors.” They’ve all got ‘em, but Dalton’s are dangerous. Get too close and you’ll fall in.

mr. incredulous: Our youngest, and our littlest Green man, 7 year old Shafer is at that delightful age when the world is still amazing. The end of one marvel is the beginning of the next. How do I know? Simple. The more marvelous it is, the wider the eyes, the higher the eyebrows, and the higher the pitch of his exclamatory sentence. Exploration of uncharted territory, settling the Old West, and surprising Dalton around a corner with a rubberband gun are some of his favorite pastimes. Mama’s baby. (And did I mention goofball?) Also known as Clueless.



There. How did you do?

Okay, time’s up. Put your pencils down and turn in your papers…

Been flirting with doing a family blog for about a year now. We generally don’t rush into things. (See the date on the previous post.) It started out as just a technicality; I had to be a blogger to access other blogs. Then it became a joke, as the comments will attest. Then a sort of a dare. And now, well, there it is.

I realize that for many of our good friends who might be reading this, the blog thing has peaked and isn’t such an interesting novelty anymore, so our timing may seem a bit off the beam. And it is probably fair to say that those of you who only had a virtual existence during the school year have discovered a real life in the plethora of summer activities. But I’m betting the cycle will come around again. (As cycles always do.)

However, one of our primary motivations for pushing this through even now—because it is summer and we have a little time—is because it has always seemed it would be a good vehicle for sharing information with some folks in our extended families: Beauchamp/Chandlers, Denmans, Greens, and Davises. Sort of a weak alternative to all those cards I should have written to aunts/uncles and cousins, and all those holiday here’s-what-we-did-last-year letters that have written themselves in my brain but never found a way out. If you are family, and you got word from me asking you to visit our family’s blog, you’ll know that guilt had something to do with it.

Also, admittedly, we’ve missed out on the satisfaction of having a venue for the mishmash of ideas, favorite poems and pictures, and slice-of-life snippets that are just too good not to share.

So there. Our raison d’être.
Our reason for being.


Tomorrow, I’ll post the test key and you can check your answers.