1. I leave for the Holocaust fellowship on Sunday. Between now and then, I've got about 5 more pounds of reading left to do (I'm pleased I've made such a significant dent in the reading assignments, actually), I've got to decide what I need to take with me and get all that ready for packing, and I've got to finalize plans with the Wayfarer clan to meet up for dinner on Thursday. I'll have internet access (at least, they say I'll have internet access) at Not-So-Local college, so I'll be posting about the experience and trying to keep up with all of your writing. Oh, and I've got to figure out a way to get love to my babies every day that I'm gone.

2. I'm getting two wisdom teeth out on the Tuesday after I get back from the fellowship, and I'm scared as hell. I'm going to be well sedated, I know, and I trust my dentist implicitly, but neither of those things does a damned bit to calm my anxiety. The Goddess of the Front Desk at TCC told me yesterday that getting the uppers out (which is what I'm getting out) is "a piece of cake," especially if they're not impacted (mine aren't) and I'm already gathering energy from the Universe so I can heal well and quickly. Any love you want to send my way at around 10 a.m. Eastern Time onward will be gratefully accepted.

3. We leave for a week at the lake on Saturday the 26th, and I'm almost CERTAIN we won't have internet access in the cabin. To that end, I'm giving you fair warning that I'll likely not be checking in with any of your blogs for that whole week and, knowing how you people are, there'll be 2,375 items in my feed reader by the time I get back (I swear; I leave you people alone for 24 hours and I come back to 56 new entries! And shut up about the math...). If there's something you really want me to see, send me an email (mrschili at comcast dot net) with the link and I'll get to it just as soon as I'm home.

4. SINCE I likely won't have access to the internet for a week, and since I've not yet figured out why my scheduled posts don't post when they're scheduled (I've got an email into tech support about that; I tried to schedule posts for the anniversary weekend, but they didn't go up when they were supposed to, so I posted them from my iPhone), I'm going to ask YOU guys to guest post. You don't even have to have a blog of your own (Dudley, Xena...); I'll make you an author on my dashboard and give you all the information you need to go in and write. The first 8 people to say "PICK ME!" in the comments will be given a day to post here at The Blue Door (and I'll go out of my MIND waiting to come back to read what you've all posted here!).  *Edited - Anthony at Wordpress support taught me how to schedule posts, so I can make that happen now.  Still, I'm willing - eager, actually - to take guest posters, so let me know!*

5. I'm working on another movie TTT; I'll post that next week. I'm finding, much to my unbridled delight, that it's not getting harder to choose films that I love (though it IS getting harder to keep from going on DVD buying binges on Amazon).

6. I've started a new habit of putting my clutch in and letting gravity take over the movement of my car whenever it is safe and feasible to do so, and as a result, my mileage has gone from around 28 to around 37. This pleases me, though I'm not quite ready to do some of the crazy (and downright dangerous) things that "hypermilers" do. I can still find gas at $3.91 a gallon from time to time, and I take advantage of that whenever I can. When Auntie and I were coming back from Nostalgic Coastal Town on Saturday, we passed a closed gas station that still had its sign up. $1.79 a gallon. Ah, those were the days.

7. Bo is starting to get a little itchy about the fact that we've not gained much popularity with The Dark and Stormy Book Club, and he's on a pitch to drum up some more readers. In fact, he's been disappointed for a while now, I think, with how few people participate with us each month. Personally, I'm okay either way; while I'd love to have more voices chiming in on the books we read, I'm also perfectly content to have the three of us jaw it up every month. Still, I love Bo and I want him to be happy, so I, too, am campaigning to get people to join us. This month's selection is The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and it's a fantastic read. You can probably get through it in a couple of days (it's a young adult novel), you can almost certainly find it at your public library (or, if you're a book whore like me, it's available in paperback), and it's narrated by Death. Come on! It doesn't get any better than that! Besides, it's summer! Go, get the book, park yourself in a lawn chair with a lemonade in the cup holder and have at it! Then listen to our podcast and write on our blog. You won't be sorry you did.

8. I've got to get in touch with Dr. C at Local University to find out more about the class I'll be teaching there in September. I'm not nervous, per se - I've taught before and these freshmen will likely be just like any other freshmen - but I've got to find out exactly what the expectations of my administration are for the course, and I'd like to work out all the little details, like where's my office, and how do I log on to L.U.'s Blackboard system, and what's the bus schedule like so I can figure out if I can come in to work with Mr. Chili and get home on the bus in a way that's even remotely convenient for me; that sort of thing. I think Dr. C is on campus this afternoon, but I've got to call to make sure.

9. I've got a BIG post in the making about what my friend Tonks is going through in the Ed. department at Local U. She's attending a summer program in education - the same one, in fact, where Bowyer and I met - and she's having an ABYSMAL time of it. The program has gone straight to hell since Bowyer and I took it in '95, and I'm more than a little upset about it. The idea here is to make people WANT to teach, not to convince them, within three DAYS of starting the summer program, that they'd rather do just about ANYTHING else. I hate that my friend is having such a terrible time, and I'm not yet rational enough to write coherently about the experience, but I'm working on it.

10. I really do love summer. I love the way it smells, I love the sounds (yes, even the birds who start their racket at about ten past five in the morning!), I love the sunshine and the heat and the fact that my days are far less rigidly scheduled. I love that the girls are home from school, I love meeting Daddy for lunch, and I love spending time with my friends (we're going on a picnic with O'Mama, Sphyrnatude, and his daughter on Wednesday and I can hardly wait). I've got a lot of stuff going on, it's true, but I feel much more relaxed and, well, real when the temperature is above 75 degrees.

Have a happy Tuesday, Everyone!

1. Who are your favorite authors?

Diana Gabaldon and Bill Bryson come immediately to mind, though I can't really say I have any FAVORITE authors.

2. What are your favorite books?

I love (present tense, for it is an enduring love) the Outlander series by the aforementioned Ms. Gabladon, I adored The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, and I could (and will) re-read Frankenstein again and again and again....

3. What kind of books do you tend to read?

I tend to like fiction - historical fiction in particular. I'm an English teacher, though - so I usually get to read things that are found in anthologies or that gain the attention of the academic community; at least, professionally. I get my "for fun" recommendations from friends, colleagues, and the display cases of my favorite bookstore.

4. Do you prefer to borrow books from the library or buy them?

I am all about the owning. Some women buy shoes; I buy books. I tend to get them used, though; I don't need to be the first person to ever open the book. As long as no one's written in the margins and the cover is still intact, I'll take a used book over a new one almost all the time. I'm a book whore, but I'm a cheap book whore.

5. Do you prefer hardcover or paperback?

I generally prefer paperback, but I do own a few hardcover books. Mostly, those were gifts, though. Like I said... cheap.

6. What was the last book you read? What are you reading now?

The last book I read was A Scrap of Time and Other Stories by Ida Fink. I'm working my way through most of Voices and Views: A History of the Holocaust for the fellowship I'll be attending all next week.

7. Do you read everyday?

Yes; without fail.

8. On average how many books do you read per year?

You know, I've never counted. Let's see; it's July now, and I've already read 16 books, so I'm on schedule for about 30 or so before the year's out, especially considering that I'm teaching a lit class this summer.

9. Do you belong to any book clubs?

Yes! I belong to two, actually. I co-founded an online club with Saintseester and Bo - the Dark and Stormy Book Club. Please join us; we're reading The Book Thief this time around and we have a blast every. Single. Month (even when the book sucks). I also started a "brick and mortar" book club with a former lit student of mine. Our membership includes myself and my student, the student's fiancee, the student's best friend, and O'Mama. We try to meet once a month, but it's more like once every other; this time around, we read (and I heartily enjoyed) The Memory Keeper's Daughter.

10. Recommend a good book.

I thought I just recommended a quite a few. Really, though, do join us on the Dark and Stormy for The Book Thief. It's a young adult novel, you can probably get through it in a weekend (that's how long it took me), and I can assure you that between the great story and the amazing insights of my co-hosts, you won't be disappointed.

This is the view Mrs. Chili had for most of Sunday. Really, is there a better way to spend a summer afternoon?

I should also say that this was part of my view all day, as well.  Again, though; no better way to spend an afternoon!

I spent an amazing - if not altogether too short - few days with my blogging friends Bo and SaintSeester this past weekend, and I'm still a little high from the experience. Here, in no particular order, are ten things that left their mark on me:

1. I'm so, SO grateful to Bruder for opening his home (and sharing his cat) with me for this trip. Mr. Chili was rightfully uneasy about my traveling alone halfway across the country to meet people who, for all intents and purposes, were complete strangers (though there are so many reasons why they were NOT complete strangers, but do I see his point). Being able to stay at Bruder's lent a layer of security to the process that, if it were not there, would have made the entire exercise untenable to my husband. Bruder got to share some time together with Bo, Seester, and me, and can truthfully report back to my beloved that my friends are exactly who I knew they'd be.

2. I am consistently amazed that we can all call ourselves Americans and yet be so incredibly different culturally. Southern mores and Northern ones are profoundly different. That's neither good nor bad - I'm not making any value judgments, here - but what I am saying is that it was very interesting for me, a born-and-bred Yankee whose never lived 70 miles as the crow flies from her birthplace, to spend time in the South. I've never been called ma'am so much. Men stood when I walked into a room. Bo got OUT of his truck to open my door when he came to pick me up. Waitresses TALKED to us (and one even came back to thank Bo for his generous tip - that's never, ever happened to me, and not because I'm not a generous tipper, either). There's a very different feel being in the South, and I can completely understand why people originally from one region would feel uncomfortable and conspicuous moving to the other.

3. There was a really funky mix of familiar and completely alien for me during this trip. The Weather Channel, chain restaurants, Home Depot and such were all things that I knew; the open fields, the red dirt, and the accents were all things that I didn't. While I think that diversity and local flavor and custom are wondrous and fascinating things, I like the comfort of familiarity, too. Despite all the evils of big-box stores and chain restaurants, those things DO give us a commonality that we'd be lacking otherwise (of course, we can have shared experiences through literature and film, too, but that's another post for another day).

4. Jeff Foxworthy does this bit about knowing when one is a redneck. In the version I heard, he starts the skit by talking about the accent; "Y'all hear a Southern accent," he says "and you automatically deduct a hundred IQ points." He then goes on to say how no one wants their brain surgeon to come in the room and say "Alright now; we're gonna drill a hole in yer head and root 'round in there and see if we cain't break up that dag-burn clot." While it's true that I probably wouldn't want my brain surgeon to say that, regardless of her accent, it is true that I prescribed, at least a little bit, to that stereotype. I laughed at Foxworthy - I thought it was funny. What I've always known intellectually - but came to realize in a very immediate way this weekend - is that accent has as much to do with intelligence and articulateness as does one's favorite color. My Southern friends have distinct accents and are some of the sharpest, smartest, most observant, and considered people I know. I still think Foxworthy's funny, but I'm going to be a lot less quick to judge Southern books by their covers (or their soundtracks, as the case may be). I grew a little as a person on this trip.

5. Sweet tea is altogether too sweet for my liking. Grits are yummy.

6. While I may not like it in my own home, I'm struck by the beauty of dramatic colors on the walls of my friends' houses. Seester's guest bathroom is painted the most stunning shade of deep, rich blue - actually, now that I think of it, there's a wall in Bo's living room that's just that color (go here to see; it's on the wall right behind him). Seester's dining room is done in an amazing shade of burgundy, and she did a gorgeous bit of magic in her daughter's room with green paint and pearl glaze. All the rooms in our house (with the exception of one sky blue wall in the girls' room) are either white or the faintest hint of pastel green or blue. I'm just not brave enough to commit to an out-loud color, and I admire people (like Seester and Bo and my mother, who had me paint her kitchen purple) who are.

7. I'm still not entirely sure I get the whole allure of geocaching, but I'm willing to learn. It's something my friends love - enough to spend serious money on equipment and make significant investments with their time - and I'd like to know what that's all about.

8. This doesn't have anything to do with my visit, but it does have to do with my travels: I'm always saddened by how rude people can be, particularly to strangers (and service people). You'd think it wouldn't faze me anymore, but it does. When I landed in DC, there was practically a mob scene in the terminal. My guess - I didn't want to get close enough to know for sure - is that a flight had been canceled and there were a pretty significant number of people who were profoundly - and vocally - unhappy about that. My thinking is this; the poor schmuck behind the counter is NOT the person who controls when (or whether) and airplane lands or takes off; he has absolutely zero control over whether or not we get to leave on time...or at all. Verbally abusing this person isn't going to get results, and it only reveals the person doing the yelling as a boor. I understand that these people were upset. I understand that it was late and everyone was probably tired and travel-weary and that many of the people in the crowd were likely just trying to get home and were likely in a state of panic wondering what they were going to do about jobs and commitments on Monday morning if they were still stuck in DC because they couldn't get a flight. I understand that many of them may have been out a significant amount of money over the issue. I get all that. My point is that calling the desk agent a stupid asshole at the top of one's voice isn't going to change any of it, and it isn't going to rack up any karma points for the boors, either. Poor, dear Boors; take a step back, take a deep breath, and try to figure out a work-around. Leave the beleaguered desk agent out of it - trust me; his day is much worse than yours is.

9. Oh, I almost forgot! I learned some secret Southern code while I was in Alabama! We were sitting around talking on Saturday, and Seester was telling us some stories about her grandma and about how unhappy the lady was when Seester brought home a Baptist whom she intended to wed. Seester's family is Catholic, and grandma wasn't all that happy about a Baptist in the family. She got over it, of course, but it was a little rocky for a while there. Anyway, when we were together on Sunday, Seester did a bit of an apology for telling not-so-nice stories about her grandma, then asked if I noticed that she punctuated her story with "bless her heart." "Bless his/her heart," Seester explained, is something that Southern people say when they're trying to soften the blow of criticism. "He's a smart man, bless his heart, but he's useless with a hammer" would be an example of a good use of the phrase. I'm going to be totally on alert for that saying now. I might even use it myself.

10. I've been looking around my own home environment and thinking about how I would introduce my friends to New England. Bo made several comments over the course of the weekend that he almost never does the "tourist thing" in his hometown, and I think that's likely true of all of us. Sure, I've been to a lot of places in Boston, but I think that's mostly due to the fact that I grew up there and was taken on field trips every year to places like the USS Constitution and the Museum of Science (and, now that I have kids of my own, I chaperone them when THEY go on trips to these places). There are a few touristy things around my little coastal town that I've not experienced yet - I've not gone to see the Tall Ships when they're in the harbor, I've not gone into the decommissioned submarine, I don't go to the annual downtown festival, that sort of thing - and I'm looking around with new eyes as I imagine how I'd plan a visit by my friends to MY little corner of the country. Funny how a visit to someplace else makes one appreciate where one comes from.

Happy Tuesday, Everyone!

Yesterday was great, despite the uncooperative weather.  After staying overnight at Bruder's house (with his kitty as my sleeping buddy - she's so cute!), Bo came and picked me up and we headed over to Seester's house to do what turned out to be a pretty disastrous episode of the Dark and Stormy Book Club podcast.  The speaker phone we were using apparently wasn't up to the task, Seester's husband and mother kept buzzing in on call waiting, and we kept dropping the handset and making all kinds of noise.  That didn't matter, though, because Seester says that the audio on the podcast kept coming in and out anyway, and half the time we're inaudible.  Whatever - you didn't miss much; none of us liked the book choice and we spent half the time laughing about all the incidental noises and half the time trying to figure out what to say to fill the time slot because we all thought the book was so bad.  See us in a month; we'll have something better for you.

After the podcast, Bo treated us to a wonderful lunch at a little cafe.  We had quiches and spinach salads (and sweet tea - Holy MOTHER, but that'll make your teeth ache.  I mean, I like sweet as much, if not more than, the next girl, but I have to admit being wholly unprepared for the amplitude of sweet in sweet tea.  I hope I covered well...).  Lunch was followed by three desserts - yes, THREE; a lemon pie, something called strawberry pretzel salad (I wonder if the "salad" part is supposed to make it sound healthy?) and chocolate Coca-Cola cake.  WOWIE, but it was all yummy.  I have pictures, but they're in my camera and despite my having packed too much for this trip, I neglected to bring the cable for my camera (sound familiar, Michael?).  I'll upload them all on Monday, I promise.

We dropped Seester's daughter off at grandma's then decided to do a little geocaching (something that I think I understand in principle, but I'm a little hazy on the details).  The weather was decidedly unamenable to the task, however, as it started to rain in earnest just as we were approaching the intended park.  After standing around in a mostly closed coffee shop (that, for reasons I didn't quite understand, doesn't sell coffee by the cup...?) we decided to head back to Seester's house and just hang.

I'm so glad we did.  I enjoyed just being with my friends - no agenda, no schedule, no burning need to do anything.  We chatted about lousy airplane experiences (I'm going to try hard to not think back on that conversation on my way home tonight) and about our families and Seester's very proper Southern-Lady grandma and about painting and garages and Auschwitz (we're an eclectic bunch, aren't we?).  The weather cleared enough that we decided to go outdoors for a little bit, so Seester decided to take us to the slave burial ground up the road, where we walked around reading the plaques and talking about the history of this area.

After that, Bo brought me back to Bruder's, where he then took me to visit his horses.  I had a fantastic time squelching about in the mud and scritching horse faces.  They are beautiful animals, though wildly intimidating; I'm not used to being around critters so big.  They were all extremely friendly and well-behaved, though, and they all greeted me with gentle nuzzles and winks from huge brown eyes.  Bruder got right in there and gave a couple of them a good scratching, and it was hysterical to see the way they responded to that.  One of them - I'll post her picture tomorrow - walked right up to Bruder and insisted that he scratch her belly.  He complied, and she stretched her neck out in what looked all the world to me like a cat luxuriating in the experience, complete with copious amounts of horse drool.  I swear, if she could have rolled over on her back and given him her belly, she would have.

After our visit with the horses, we headed off to Bo and Lea's for an amazing dinner (Bo, I understand now why you have trouble losing weight - your wife can COOK!).  She made us an incredibly tasty pork tenderloin with asparagus and squash and rolls and YUM - and I haven't even mentioned the artichoke dip!  We sat around the table and just talked for hours; sitting around with my friends has been my favorite part of the trip so far.

My last day here is going to be pretty busy.  After I hit "publish," I'm going to jump in the shower and pack up to leave.  Bo and his family are coming to get me so that I can attend church with them, then we're all heading back to Seester's for brunch.  The weather's supposed to break this afternoon, so I think we're heading to the botanical gardens a little later so I can take pictures of pretty flowers and trees that don't grow in New England.  My flight leaves the airport at 5:55 this afternoon, and I should be back in my house around midnight (I land in my airport, which is about an hour from home, at about ten to eleven.  Damn the time change...).

More later - I'm busy having fun!

I fly out of my New England airport at 20 past 11:00 tomorrow morning. I'll arrive at Reagan National around lunchtime, and I've managed to swing a date with Steve from The Hygiene Chronicles for said lunch - he's agreed to spend his afternoon with me in an airport restaurant - isn't that GREAT?! I LOVE serendipity; I'm going to be in his town at the same time that he's going to be free to meet with me! I get THREE blogging buddies for the price of two!

After what I'm certain will be a wonderful few hours with my friend - likely the most fun I've ever had during an extended airport layover - I'll take off for Alabama around 4:00 and, given the time change between the Eastern and Central zones, I'll arrive just in time for dinner! Magic! I've been promised veggie lasagna and Krispy Kreme bread pudding at Seester's house - guess which I'm most looking forward to? - and I can't wait to be in the company of two of my best blogging friends.

I'm staying with my brother-in-law, who lives in essentially the same neighborhood as Bo and Seester. He had a scheduling snafu, though, so he's not going to be available for hanging out with us on  Saturday night; he'll be taking his SCUBA certification so he can go diving when he goes to the Carribean later this spring (jerk! - no, not really; I love the man to the ends of the earth, but I AM jealous of his travels. He just recently returned from Rome, for crying out loud).

We three are planning on doing our monthly podcast of the Dark and Stormy Book Club on Saturday, April 5th, at 10 a.m. Central time. This is the first (but, hopefully, not the last) time that we'll be all together in the same room for the show, and I'm VERY much looking forward to the dynamic. We're good on the phone - we're going to be GREAT in person! Seester thinks that we might be able to handle a call-in or two - keep checking the Dark and Stormy blog to get updates on that and, if we think we can make it work, the phone number for you to call in to.

I get to stay through about dinner time on Sunday - around 5:30 or so - then I do the whole trip in reverse. Because I'm leaving later and going against the clock, though, I don't arrive back home in New England until around 11:00 on Sunday night. My stay in Reagan National is much shorter on the way home, too - I'll only be there for about an hour - so I won't have any visiting opportunities.

I'm bringing my computer and my camera, and my cell phone and my iPod, both loaded with a movie or two and some West Wing episodes to keep me entertained on the planes - for as much as I love the convenience of flying, I do get nervous in the air. Depending on whether or not I have internet access in the terminals, I may do some live-blogging, too. I have to remember to pack my bathing suit (Seester's got a hot tub!) and I'm bringing some archetypically New England gifts to give to my southern friends; beyond that, my suitcase will be pretty light - I'm only going to need two days' worth of clothes, and I don't have to pack anything more than my toothbrush and my contact solution; Bruder's got pretty much everything else I'll need, which is great, because the 3-oz, zip-bag, TSA bullshit is really a pain in the ass. The smallest bottles of contact stuff I could find are FOUR ounces - not three - and I'm going to be some kind of pissed off if the security monkeys confiscate them...

I CAN'T WAIT!

Anyway, Seester sent me a link to Time Magazine's 100 Novels of All Time. Since I'm running short of blog fodder today (though I've got stuff lined up for both tomorrow AND Tuesday - go figure), I've decided to read through the 100 and let you know which books I've read. I've a feeling I'm going to be heartily embarrassed by how few of these I've gotten to - especially given that I identify myself as both a voracious reader AND an English teacher, but here we go anyway. Don't laugh....

Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume

Beloved by Toni Morrison

The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood (thanks, Seester!)

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather

The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (Dear GOD, but I hated this book...)

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis

The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkein

Midnight's Children by Salmon Rushdie

Native Son by Richard Wright

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro (thanks again, Seester!)

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neal Hurston

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

Holy crap! FIFTEEN out of ONE HUNDRED?! I'm pathetic...

Here's the list of the 100 best novels as voted by "regular people." I've put in bold those that I've read...

1. 1984 by George Orwell
2. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
3. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
4. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
5. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
6. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
7. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
8. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
9. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
10. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
11. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
12. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
13. Ulysses by James Joyce
14. Animal Farm by George Orwell
15. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
16. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
17. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
18. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
19. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
20. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
21. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
22. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
23. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
24. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
25. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
26. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (I'm SO glad this made a list. It's my favorite) 27. East of Eden by John Steinbeck
28. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
29. Life of Pi by Yann Martel
30. Lord of the Flies by William Golding
31. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
32. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
33. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
34. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
35. The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown
36. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
37. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
38. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
39. Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden (I own this, I've just not read it yet) 40. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
41. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
42. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
43. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
44. His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman
45. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
46. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
47. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
48. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
49. The Stand by Stephen King
50. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
51. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad (I've read this six times)
52. Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
53. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
54. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
55. Watership Down by Richard Adams
56. Dracula by Bram Stoker
57. Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham
58. Moby Dick by Herman Melville
59. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
60. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
61. On the Road by Jack Kerouac
62. The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
63. Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
64. Dune by Frank Herbert
65. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
66. Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling
67. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
68. Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
69. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
70. Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
71. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
72. The Trial by Franz Kafka
73. I, Claudius by Robert Graves
74. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
75. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
76. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
77. A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
78. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
79. To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
80. Vanity Fair by William Thackeray
81. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
82. The Stranger by Albert Camus
83. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
84. The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
85. The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston LeRoux
86. For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
87. Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
88. Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
89. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. Persuasion by Jane Austen
91. Light in August by William Faulkner
92. Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger
93. Call of the Wild by Jack London
94. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
95. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
96. Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
97. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
98. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
99. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel
100. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

So - 28 on this list. A little better, but still pretty frickin' shameful for an ENGLISH teacher... I'm going to go sulk for a while...

Here are the rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people & post a comment here once you post it to your blog, so I can come see. I'm going to skip the tagging part (Freudian slip there - I almost wrote "gagging"), but if you decide to play along, do let me know so I can come and read your answers.

I'm reading Three Men in a Boat (to Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome. In my edition, the sixth through eighth sentences on page 123 are as follows:

We thought it strange and unaccountable that a stuffed trout should break up into little pieces like that.

And so it would have been strange and unaccountable, if it had been a stuffed trout, but it was not.

That trout was plaster-of-Paris.

I can't recommend this book highly enough....

Here are ten reasons why you should join us on our latest Dark and Stormy Book Club adventure:

1.  Bo chose the book.  We're reading Three Men in a Boat (to Say Nothing of the Dog).  From the sounds of it, Bo's 'bout fed up with the fact that it seems none of his peeps are reading, so I'm not sure that sending MY peeps to read will help with that, but the more, the merrier.

2.  The book is light and funny and short.  Really; my copy clocks in at 135 pages.  I don't care HOW busy you are, 135 pages is a cinch, especially when it's as charming and easy as this prose is; we're making a break from our usual diet of philosophical heavy-lifting, so don't be scared...

3.  You can get the book for under five bucks.  Seriously.  If you don't want to spend the five bucks, you can get it online for FREE.  Remember Louie the Bud Lizard?  "F-R-E, Baby!!"

4.  Reading is good for you.  It stimulates your brain and makes you smarter.  How can that be bad?

5.  Reading in groups - and then talking about what was read - fosters a sense of community and belonging that are often lacking in today's fast-paced, hectic world.  It's nice to be part of a group.

6.  Have you ever heard of this book?  Neither had I, until Bo chose it as our selection.  New experiences are GOOD for you!

7.  You'll be hard-pressed to find more thoughtful, insightful, considered book club members than SaintSeester and Bo.  They shake my thinking each and every month, and I'm an ENGLISH TEACHER, for cryin' out loud; I do this sort of thing for a living!

8.  There are no meetings, no pot-luck dishes to cook, and no fussy members to endure while you sit around someone's living room eating spray cheese on Ritz crackers.  We do the whole thing online - you can participate on the blog, you can listen to the podcast, and you can do it all from the comfort of your own home in the comfort of your own pajamas.

9.  The story is lovely.  The first sentence on the back of my edition says "George, William, and J agree on one thing; they're overworked and need a rest."  Who DOESN'T feel like that?!  Plus the discussion of whether to camp out or sleep indoors is hysterical.

10.   You KNOW you wanna!  Come on and join us; we'll have a blast.

I've got a ton of things rolling around in my head today, so I'm giving you bullet points.

• Yesterday is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. MLK has always been my hero, and I have all my life been sad that I was born too late to actually see the man. Alison, over at What If This Is As Good As It Gets, posted an entry on Sunday about the MLK Day of Service, which is something I'm ashamed to admit I knew nothing about. I'm learning, though, and I plan to be a driving force in making sure people at TCC and the health club know about it NEXT year!

• I'm ruminating about trust lately. A friend of mine, who will remain nameless until she writes about it herself, has been betrayed in a big way. This is causing me to reflect on the ways we treat each other in general, and how important trust is in any relationship. I'm not sure where I'll go with all this thinking, but I suspect I'll have to write about it at some point to put it all in some kind of order for myself.

• Speaking of writing, I'm working on an essay about Robert Lewis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde for my literature class. I decided, when I gave them some essay questions last week, that I'd do one, too. It's been a while since I've organized my thinking about a piece of writing into essay form, and I think it'll be an interesting exercise, both for me and my students, to see how I fare in the attempt. I'll post my effort here later today sometime.

• Speaking about organizing thinking about reading, the Dark and Stormy Book Club has been reading Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. Our podcast happens this Saturday at 8 a.m. Eastern time.

• Eighteen-and-oh, Folks! I don't care that a lot of haters are talking about asterisks, the Patriots didn't cheat their way to a perfect season. Sunday's playoff game wasn't pretty, by any stretch, but it's still a W. Oh, and Joe Buck sucks at football, too. (photo credit, NYTonline)

• My back is better, but I'm still not back to good yet. I'm down to about a three on the discomfort scale, and I'm still really careful about how I move. I taught my step class Sunday without a step, and I modified a lot of the yoga class, too. I told Mr. Chili that he'll know my back is better when I shave my legs - I can't reach my shins in the shower yet. Neither can I manage laundry baskets up or down the stairs. Bleh.

• Our taxes went up significantly enough to change our mortgage payment amount to cover the escrow and I had to adjust the automatic payment amount to cover the increase. Now I'm even less thrilled about having to buy city-sanctioned trash bags, and am noticing with renewed clarity of vision what a crappy job the city does plowing the roads and filling potholes.

• I've added someone new to my blogroll. Go on over and check out Doc. You won't be sorry - that man tells a great story (Gerry, I think that you, in particular, will like him a lot - and he you).

• The fifth tour of duty for Yoga National Guard is this weekend. I'm really hoping to be well enough to participate fully, though I can modify most of my participation if I have to. I'm going to have to spend some time with the anatomy book before Friday, though; I've honestly not given much thought to YNG since last month's go-around because of all the swirl and activity around the holidays.

• Beanie's follow-up appointment with the endocrinologist is next Tuesday night (they schedule the follow-ups in the evenings so kids don't miss too much school). I'm going on the "no news is good news" plan - I'm betting that if they'd found something dire from all the test they've run, someone would have been in touch by now. I'm still convinced that there's nothing wrong with the child - that she's just going to be petite - and I'm betting that Tuesday's visit with her doctor will confirm my Mommy Intuition. Check back next Wednesday for the news.

Happy Tuesday, Everyone! Stay warm!

What kind of soap is in your bathtub right now?
Some form of body wash - both Mr. Chili and I dislike what becomes of bar soaps after the first few uses.

Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator?
Sadly, no - we're well out of watermelon season in New England. There's some apple cider in there, though!

What would you change about your living room?
I'd like for Mr. Chili to buy and install surround sound speakers, so the wires that are hanging from the walls would no longer be a focal point for me. Other than that, I love our new living room...

Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?
The dishwasher is, I believe, holding dirty dishes at the moment. There aren't enough in there from breakfast to run a cycle, though, so we'll wait until after dinner tonight.

What is in your fridge?
A lot of food - how about I just give you some highlights? Two gallons of milk (1%, grocery store brand), the better part of a dozen eggs (in the door holder, where everyone tells you NOT to put eggs), a package of sliced mozzarella cheese and some of my homemade spaghetti sauce, which will figure heavily into tonight's dinner. Yum!

White or wheat bread?
Yes. The latest purchase was split top wheat, but I also love Canadian white - thick, heavy white bread, please - no Wonder for us...

What is on top of your refrigerator?
Not much - the new cabinets are bigger than the old ones, so there's only about four inches between the top of the fridge and the bottom of the cabinet. There are some big platters up there, a small, flat basket and a bunch of magnets that are in reserve for sticking things to the fridge.

What color or design is on your shower curtain?
Our current curtain is a dark blue plaid. Once spring comes, I'll switch it out to a light green cotton canvas.

How many plants are in your home?
Oh, good lord! Hold on, let me count... 25 - four of which are 20+ year old ficus trees - oh, and a Christmas cactus that's actually flowering now...

Is your bed made right now?
Yes. I always make my bed in the morning - unless Mr. Chili makes it first.

Comet or Soft Scrub?
Neither. I own no cleaners of the scratchy variety unless you count the stuff that came with my glass cook top...

Is your closet organized?
Depends on your definition of "organized." We're in the process of moving clothes from the closet in what used to be our bedroom into the wardrobes we bought from IKEA this fall. That means that our clothes are in two different places. This isn't a problem for me, as I know what I've moved and what I haven't, but it's still kind of a PITA.

Can you describe your flashlight?
We have two - one big, bulky, brownish plastic one that takes huge batteries and one mini mag light that takes double-As. I think I even know where both of them are at the moment...

Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?
Glass

Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?
No, I don't! If I did, it wouldn't be in a pitcher, though - we make it in a recycled milk gallon that says "Iced Tea" on the side in black Sharpie, and the reason I don't have any at the moment is because I can't find the lid to the gallon, so I'm waiting to finish another container of milk so I can poach the lid for the tea...

If you have a garage, is it cluttered?.
Not really, though it could stand some organization. My biggest pet peeve is that I keep those fridge cases of soda cans in the garage in the winter (it's cold out there - it's like having a free fridge) but I've nowhere to keep them but the steps on the already-too-narrow little deck thing that leads to the house. I want Mr. Chili to install little shelves over the recycle bins so I can stack the soda there and stop knocking it over as I'm struggling to bring in groceries.

Curtains or blinds?
Neither, actually. There are only two openings to our house that have treatments of any kind - one of the girls' old bedroom windows has a roman shade on it, and the patio doors have plain, linen-colored curtains. Every other window is nekked!

How many pillows do you sleep with?
Two

Do you sleep with any lights on at night?
NO!

How often do you vacuum?
Quite often, actually - at least once a week, sometimes more. I'll vacuum later this afternoon.

Standard toothbrush or electric?
Standard, sorta. I brush with a Radius, which most people don't think of as "standard."

What color is your toothbrush?
My current color is kind of clear, actually; it's not really a color at all.

Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?
It's not a "mat" exactly - it's a wooden thing that was given to us when we first moved in 16 years ago.

What is in your oven right now?
Nothing.

Is there anything under your bed?
NOTHING! We've moved into the new bedroom - you know, the one with the heated floors? - so we're keeping as much stuff off the floors as possible...

Chore you hate doing the most?
I'd say "ironing," but I don't do it, so it doesn't count. I'd have to say that I hate doing dishes when I'm really tired and all I want to do is go to bed, but I can't bear to wake up to a messy kitchen...

What retro items are in your home?
Um...nothing, I think. I have an old candy dish from my great grandmother, and there are some games and a toy train set that Mr. Chili had when he was a kid that his mother found and brought over, but we're really not "old stuff" kind of people.

Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?
It's not really a separate room, but we do have the loft. There's a desk, filing cabinet and computer in there, but it's also a way station for wardrobe-building tools at the moment, so it's not being used as an office space. My "office" is a corner of the kitchen, and I LOVE it.

How many mirrors are in your home?
There will be six - one in each of the bathrooms (that's three, but the new bathroom mirror isn't installed yet), one full length in the closet in the girls' new room and one full length in our room by the wardrobe, and a beautiful mirror that my adopted mother carved the frame for by the front door.

Do you have any hidden emergency money around your home?
YES! And in the car, too. One never knows when one is going to need to order a pizza or stop for ice cream!

What color are your walls?
Mostly white. The new family room is the lightest of blue - as is a wall in the girls' new room and the downstairs bathroom - and the kitchen is the lightest of sage green. All else is white.

Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?
Nope. There's an aluminum baseball bat in the garage - does that count?

What does your home smell like right now?
Mulled cider. Later, it will smell like stuffed shells and garlic bread.

Favorite candle scent?
Yankee Candle Buttercream. It smells like yellow cake mix. Mmmmm.

What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?
I've got kosher dills in there, and sweet relish.

What color is your favorite Bible?
WOW! THAT'S making an assumption! I know I HAVE bibles - two, I think - one is white (we got that one when we were married) and one is black (that belonged to my father). What I don't know is exactly where either of them is at the moment. It's likely they're in the bookshelves in the library, but I can neither confirm nor deny that from where I'm sitting right now.

Ever been on your roof?
No. I've never been in my attic, either.

Do you own a stereo?
Yes - two, actually - the sound system that's hooked up to the television in the family room (the one without the surround speakers) and a Sony mini-system that we put in the great room. Really, though, the mini-system is only used to amplify the iPod. Does my computer count? I've got iTunes on it, and a really kick-ass Cambridge Soundworks speaker set-up - I can shake the kitchen walls with the thing (though I have to admit that, geek that I am, I'm usually listening to NPR live streams or Dark and Stormy podcasts on it...)

How many TVs do you have?
Two, but only one gets watched with any regularity: the other is there in case there's a serious conflict of watching desires.

How many house phones?
Three; two cordless (which are pieces o' shit that I want to replace) and one old, black, push button, corded version that Mr. Chili acquired from an old job. That's the one that gets plugged in when the power goes out.

Do you have a housekeeper?
Only in my dreams.

What style do you decorate in?
IKEA modern

Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints?
Only solid colors, thank you. There are no patterned furnishings in our house.

Is there a smoke detector in your home?
Yes, several... let me count.... seven - two upstairs, two downstairs, two in the basement and one in the garage.

In case of fire, what are the items in your house which you’d grab if you only could make one quick trip?
We're assuming all living things are safely on the lawn? Okay, then; my computer, the girls' baby books, my wedding gown and our wedding album. I know the answer to this because I use it all the time as a writing or discussion prompt in my classes.

Feel free to boost this, and happy Saturday, Everyone!

We decided to investigate poetry this month, seeing as though December is typically a very busy month for folks and we thought that a novel would represent too much pressure for most folks to handle during the holidays. For me, anyway, this was perfect; it HAS been a busy month for me and I likely wouldn't have managed to get through a novel.

The collection of poems we chose were just right. Some were short, some were long, but they all made me think. I'm often astounded by how beautifully some people can manipulate words, and I'm always thrilled to find out how other people interpret poetry. It's very easy for me to get all wrapped up in my little English Teacher Ego and to think that my interpretation is, of course, the only one that makes sense. Hearing how other people bring their own emotions and experiences to the poem teaches me to expand my own thinking, and lends a depth of flavor to the words that I could never have attained on my own.

In short, I love this project, and I'm thrilled to be a part of it.

At one point, Seester mentioned her experience of having lived in Mississippi and of having people ask her how she could stand living there (go and listen to the podcast - you'll hear what I mean). That reminded me of a song that I promised to post, so here it is. It's sung by Everything But the Girl and it's one of my favorites of theirs (as a matter of fact, it made my 100 Songs List). I'm sad I can't find a link to a video or an audio clip - nor do I have the ability to post MP3s here. Just take my word for it that it's a lovely song that speaks to exactly how I feel about home.

So here we are in Italy
With a sun hat and a dictionary.
The air is warm, the sky is bright,
Your arms are brown you're sleeping well at night.
So why does England call?
The hedgerows and the townhalls.
After all, there'll soon be nothing left at all.

If we were born outside of place and time,
To make our choice, well this would be mine.
To live and die under a sun that shines.
But something pulls, something I can't define
Tells me England calls, whatever she's done wrong.
Always calls, "This is where you belong."
And I'm lonesome for a place I know.

Oh but Florence you tempt me here to stay,
Amidst your hills to wile my years away.
But your roots in soil lie, mine in paving stone.
And I hate what it's become, but in my bones
I'm lonesome for a place I know.
Why does England call?

Our plan is for all three of us - SaintSeester, Bo, and myself - to choose a couple of poems to read that we will post on the DSBC site (the post isn't published yet; keep watching here for it). We'll each read and think about each other's selections, then we'll each take a third of the podcast to lead a discussion on our choices.

I've chosen this poem from Frost; this one from Rilke; this, this, and this from Rick; and a poem from a man named Paul Monette that I couldn't find on the internet, so I'm posting it here. Read. Enjoy. Think. Then, listen in as we podcast and comment on the blog. The more the merrier!

Brother of the Mount of Olives
combing the attic for anything extra
missed or missing evidence of us I sift
your oldest letters on onionskin soft-
cover Gallimard novels from graduate school
brown at the edges like pound cake and turn up
an undeveloped film race it to SUNSET
PLAZA ONE-HOUR wait out the hour wacko
as a spy smuggling a chip that might decode
World War III then sit on the curb poring over
prints of Christmas '83 till I hit paydirt
three shots of the hermit abbey on the moors
southeast of Siena our final crisscross
of the Tuscan hills before the sack of Rome
unplanned it was just that we couldn't bear
to leave the region quite the Green Guide barely
gave it a nod minor Renaissance pile
but the real thing monks in Benedictine white
pressing olives and gliding about in hooded
silence Benedict having commanded shh
along with his gaunt motto ora et labora
pray work but our particular brother John
couldn't stop chattering not from the moment
he met us grinning at the cloister door
seventy years olive-cheeked bald and guileless
no matter we spoke no Italian he led us
gesturing left and right at peeling frescoes
porcelain Marys a limpid row of arches
across the court like a trill on a harpsichord
little did he know how up to our eyeballs
we were on the glories of Florence the Bach
geometry of the hill towns their heart-
stopping squares with the well in the middle
and a rampant lion on the governor's roof
we'd already scrutinized every thing and now
before we left wished to see it peopled
going about their business out of time
keeping bees holy offices raisin bread
as if nothing had happened since Galileo
instead this voluble little monk pulling us
into the abbey church its lofty Gothic vault
overlaid in sugared Baroque plaster like a bad
cake then Brother John grips us by the biceps
and sweeps us down the cypress-paneled choir
to the reading desk where the Gutenberg
is propped on feast-days he crouches and points
to the inlay on the base and there is a cat
tail curled seeming to sit in a window
every tiger stripe of him laid in jigsaw
as we laughed our rapturous guide went mew mew
like a five year old How long have you been here
we ask a question requiring all our hands
fifty years he tosses off as if time had
nothing to do with it one hand lingering
on my shoulder is it books we like then come
and we patter round the cloister in his wake
duck through a door up a stone stairs and peer
through a grill wrought like a curtain of ivy
into the library its great vellum folios
solid as tombstones nobody copying out
or illuminating today unless perhaps
all of that has died and there's a Xerox
glowing green in the abbot's study John
pokes you to look at the door carvings it seems
he is not a bookish man but who has time
to read any more we must descend and see
the frescoes fifty years without the world
pray work pray work and yet such drunken gaiety
gasping anew at the cloister's painted wall
clutching my hand before the bare-clad Jesus
bound at the pillar by the painter so-called
Sudoma the parted lips the love-glazed eyes
JUST WHAT KIND OF MEN ARE WE TALKING ABOUT
are we the heirs of them or they our secret
fathers and how many of our kind lie beneath
the cypress alley crowning the hill beyond
the bell tower how does one ask such things
with just one's hands then we took three pictures
me and John John and you you and me click
as the old monk takes my arm I'm certain now
that he likes touching us that we are a world
inside him whether he knows or not not that
I felt molested I can take care of myself
but a blind and ancient hunger not unspeakable
unsayable you think he know about us Rog
how could he not pick up the intersect
the way we laughed the glint in our eyes as we
played our Italian for four hands but my sole
evidence is this sudden noon photograph
the two of us arm in arm in the cloister
delirious gold November light of Tuscany
washing our cinquencento faces splashing
the wall behind us a fresco of the monks
at dinner high above them in a pulpit
a reader trilling in Latin you can't even
eat without ora et labora and we look
squinting at John as if to wonder how
he will ever click the shutter right it's like
giving a watch to a savage but we look
quite wonderful with you with the Green Guide me
clutching the pouch with the passports we look
unbelievably young our half smiles precisely
the same for that is the pierce of beauty
that first day of a rose barely started
and yet all there and Brother John so geeky
with the Canon A-1 did he even see what
he caught we look like choirboys or postulants
or a vagabond pair of scholars here to
pore over an undecoded text not religious
but brotherly enough it's a courtly age
where men are what they do and where they go
comrades all we look like no one else Rog
here's the proof in color now the tour is over
we are glided into a vestibule where cards
slides rosaries prayers that tick are gauntly
presided over by a monk senior to John
if not in years then officialdom the air
is strict in here we cut our laughter short
this one's got us pegged right off this keeper
of the canonical cash drawer withering John
with a look that can hardly wait to assign vast
and pointless rosaries of contrition we buy
the stark official guide to Monte Oliveto
leave a puddle of lire per restauro
for restorations and then we're free of His
Priestliness and John bundles us off still
merry and irrepressible too old perhaps
to fear the scorn and penitence of those
racked by sin of the flesh who never touch
a thing and ushers us out to the Fiat
bidding us safe journey who's never been
airborne our out to sea or where Shiva
dances or Pele the fire-god gargles
the bowels of the earth we wave him off
and leap in the car we're late for Rome flap
open the map but we're laughing too Did that
just happen or what and we drive away
winding up past the tower towards the grove
of graves where the tips of the cypress lean
in the breeze and a hooded monk is walking
head bent over his book of hours in passing
I see that it's John wave and grin rividerci
startled at his gauntness fixed on his text dark
his reverie no acknowledgement goodbye
that is the whole story you know about Rome
and flying tourist opening weeks of mail
putting a journey to bed and on and on
but I've thought of John ever since whenever
the smiling Pope makes another of his sub-
human attitude the law he drives our people
from the temples and spits on the graves of his
brother priests who are coughing to death in cells
without unction and boots the Jesuit shrink
who calls all love holy he wants his fags
quiet shh and I try to think of John
and the picture he saved three years for me
till the lost roll of Tuscany came to light
and turned out to hold our wedding portrait
the innocent are so brief and the rigid world
doesn't marry its pagans any more but John
didn't care what nothing we professed he joined
us to join him in a ritual not in the book
but his secret heart it doesn't get easier Rog
even now the night jasmine is pouring
its white delirium in the dark and I
will not have it if you can't I shut all
windows still it seeps in with the gaudy
oath of spring oh help be somewhere near
so I can endure this drunk intrusion
of promise where is the walled place
where we can walk untouched or must I be content
with a wedding I almost didn't witness
the evidence all but lost no oath no ring
but the truth sealed to hold against the hate
of the first straight Pope since the Syllabus of
Errors this Polack joke who fears his woman
and men too full of laughter far brother
if you should pass beneath our cypresses
you who are a praying man your god
can go to hell but since you are so inclined
pray that my friend and I be still together
just like this at the Mount of Olives blessed
by the last of an ancient race who loved
youth and laughter and beautiful things so much
they couldn't stop singing and we were the song.

photo credit

I've already played this game: twice, in fact. The first set of questions I received was from Contrary, way back in April. Then, Liv sent me five more queries last month. When Bo got his questions from SaintSeester (I sent her some questions to ponder, and she made the offer to interview her readers), I asked him if HE'D interrogate me; I love how he thinks and knew he'd ask some good questions (did you follow all that?). He agreed, and here are the questions he asked:

Is lying ever the right thing to do? If so, what is an example of a morally
permissible lie?

I think it IS sometimes okay to lie, particularly when one's safety is at issue. An example of this actually happened to me a few weeks ago. A very dear friend of mine is trying to get herself out of a difficult and awkward living situation. Last month, she and I went to look at a house she wanted to buy - her plan is to buy a place and move herself out because her efforts to get her housemate out have failed miserably. Anyway, she told him that she and I were going out shopping: telling him what we were really up to could have threatened her safety and made the time between her purchase of the place and her actually moving out untenable. I was more than happy to participate in that lie, and I'd do it again with no compunction whatsoever.

I also think that certain white lies are okay - or, more to the point, that it's not necessary to be completely and baldly honest all the time. I adore my grandmother, for instance, but am not overly fond of her homemade cake frosting (I mentioned, in another post, that she's of the Crisco generation). I don't mention that I dislike her frosting, though, even when it's offered to me. What would the point be? Some would say that I'm lying by omission, but I say it doesn't matter.

Are there any foods that everyone seems to like but you?

Cheese and coffee. I should clarify here that I do like cheese - well, certain kinds of cheese, and only when they're completely melted. I like cheddar cheese in soup and quiche or souffle, and I like mozzarella fried, on pizzas, chicken parmigiana and broiled over tortellini, but that's about it. Nearly everyone around me eats cheese cold and revels in it. Mr. Chili cuts hunks off the block I grate for soup, the girls eat cheese sandwiches for lunch, my friends will put a cube of cheese or spread some of that brie stuff on crackers and have looks on their faces that echo my delight in good chocolate. Kizz loves stinky cheese - the stinkier the better, according to her - and I just don't get it.

Coffee is another thing that everyone loves (as can be proven by the amazing rate at which Starbucks are being built; even in my podunky little area we have three). I don't like the flavor of coffee and never have. I don't own a coffee maker, I don't need a fix in the morning, I don't like espresso powder in my chocolate cakes, thank you very much. I love the SMELL of coffee, mind you, particularly of hazelnut flavored coffee, and I don't mind walking down the coffee aisle in the grocery store, but I really can't stand the taste. More for you, I guess...

Do you have any irrational affections?

I suppose that would depend on who you ask. My students think that I'm a nut job because of how excited I get about my job. If you don't know already, I teach English at a small community college (represented here as TCC). English courses are required at TCC, which means that everyone is in my classes because they have to be (though I like to imagine that at least a few of them would choose my class as an elective, but I could just be kidding myself). Anyway, they can't, for the life of them, figure out what it is about this reading and writing stuff that Mrs. Chili gets herself SO WORKED UP about. So Mrs. Chili writes every day and belongs to some book club (who reads for fun, anyway?!). So some Nazi made a speech 60 years ago. So some chick wrote a horror story 189 years ago. WHO the fuck CARES!?!

Well, kids, Mrs. Chili cares, and she seems to be getting more excited about her work (and her hobbies) as she goes. I'm thrilled when I learn new stuff - particularly when I learn new stuff about stuff I thought I already knew! I love seeing connections between pieces of writing, or between pieces of writing and anything else). I love getting the perspectives of others and seeing things that, without them, I never would have seen. I love the communication - both with the texts and with others experiencing the texts - and I love that I'm a different person for having had that communication.

I don't know - is that an irrational affection?

What was the first television show you ever described as your "favorite"?

Probably Sesame Street. I spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the television when I was a child (I knew, for example, that when Scooby Doo was over, it was time for me to leave for kindergarten. My father had long since left for work and the mother was still in bed - no one was watching the clock for me at five years old), so it's pretty likely that Sesame Street was my first favorite.

Do you laugh out loud when you're by yourself?

Oh, God! ALL. THE. TIME. I love to laugh and take every opportunity I can to do it. I have had to pull my car over because I was laughing too hard to drive. I sit in front of my computer and laugh at stuff I see on YouTube, or stuff that my blogging friends write. It happened just the other day!   Kwizgiver put a YouTube up on her site (that I immediately stole for mine) that put OutKast's "Hey Ya" to scenes from A Charlie Brown Christmas. I was just chuckling and grinning until we got to the part where Charlie Brown is in front of his empty mailbox with the wonderfully expressive, Charlie Brown gloomy face on, and the lyrics say "why, oh, why, oh, why-oh / are we so in denial / when we know we're not happy here?" No one in the house but me, laughing loud enough to startle the snoozing cat in the next room.

Happy Friday, Everyone!!

A lot of people are unfamiliar with Shelley's story - they think that Frankenstein is the tall green guy with bolts in his neck who goes around moaning and terrorizing villagers. They are surprised when they find that much of what they thought they knew about the story - what they learned from Boris Karloff movies - has nothing to do with the novel as Shelley wrote it.

I love this book and I always have. I don't really remember the first time I read it; I know I picked it up on my own in the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, but there was an awful lot going on at that time in my life, so I don't have a whole lot of intact memories about that first reading.

Subsequent revisits to the novel have been profound experiences for me, though. I love the story and find that I see something different in it every time I pick it up. I respond to it very much from the point of view of an adult survivor of child abuse, and I notice that most of my interpretations of the story come from that place. I identify with the Creature and his struggle to find a family and a sense of history and belonging, and I find that my judgment of Victor is particularly harsh because of what I see as his failings as a parent.

The novel deals with a lot of really interesting themes - the power and purview of nature, the limits of human ambition (or, more to the point, what SHOULD be the limits), the pursuit of glory and admiration and the idea of hubris, the concepts of family and relationships and responsibility, the role of women, the importance of literacy and communication, and the nature of what makes us truly human. It's a nearly bottomless well of really great discussion fodder, and I'm very much looking forward to sharing this with other readers.

I know a lot of people who hesitate to share their favorite things, and I've known a lot of English teachers who are reluctant to discuss their favorite stories; they don't want to see them any differently than they see them - they want their favorite story to live in their consciousness the way it does right now; they don't want anything to threaten or change their impressions of the story. I'm excited to share Frankenstein with others, though - I'm always interested in seeing new things (or old things in new ways) that other readers bring into my experience.

The novel is available online for free (here's my favorite link) and can be had for almost no money at pretty much every book store (especially around Hallowe'en). Join us, won't you?

Bo has picked Philip Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. If that sounds familiar to you, that's because it's the book that inspired Blade Runner (which, by the way, is one of Mr. Chili's all-time favorite movies). I've heard NOTHING but good things about the story, and I'm really looking forward to finding out for myself if all the good stuff I've heard is true.

I tried to pick up a copy of the story this afternoon, but the wretched big-box book store had EVERY story Dick had EVER written EXCEPT the one I wanted. I'm still a little pissed off about that, and am going to call my favorite (though not terribly local) bookstore this morning to find out if THEY'VE got a copy - and, if they do, if they'll hold one for me.

Join us, won't you? We really do have a great time - reading great stories and then discussing them with smart and funny people is FUN!

Yesterday morning, the second installment of the Dark and Stormy Book Club Podcast was recorded. In it, we discussed and critiqued Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin. Go here to listen, then head on over to the website to participate in the continuing conversation - you know you want to!