Randomie

Mar. 10th, 2013 08:00 pm
meirwen_1988: (mischief)
Supernatural+wine=Not Good (in that good kinda way)

Feeling melancholy nostalgia for crazy gatherings of friends. Oddly this is manifesting as wishing I was heading for rehearsals of a Hamilton Musical Theatre production, a trip to Hungry Charlie's, dinner at Regan and Jamie's (with a healthy dose of Marge, Hanita, and Hilary added to the company), or an epic post-revel.

I think I have most of my necessary work done--why do I feel so horribly behind?

We went to dinner last night for Samantha Moore's birthday (Baroness Anastasie). It was a lovely night, and covered nearly a full range of SCA adulthood (TSivia, Ro and me, and Their most recently retired Excellencies of Delftwood). It is interesting to see how the times have changed, how those of us how have "stayed" see things vs. those who are "new" do, and where there is overlap, and where total incomprehension (on both sides). I fear Flieg is right--in 20 years, we will be gone. LARP will take some, groups like Regia Anglorum and the other equivalents will take some, and Battle of Nations the rest. The SCA will disappear, subsumed into the others, because in trying to be all things to all people, ultimately we were not enough for any.

I should probably eat some protein and go to bed. Clearly, I am in a Stephen Donaldson mind-set.

Someday...

Mar. 6th, 2013 12:47 pm
meirwen_1988: (table tag)
Some day I will write that long post about how it seems that the left assumes that anyone who is very conservative is selfish, greedy, cruel, and unable to feel charity, empathy, or compassion and that the right assumes that everyone on the left is either rich and naive about the cruel realities of the world or poor, lazy, and looking for a government handout. And the post will talk about how that is not my experience with either end of the political spectrum.

But today is not that day.

6 of 52

Mar. 3rd, 2013 01:49 pm
meirwen_1988: (reading)
Rise of the Darklings (The Invisible Order, #1)Rise of the Darklings by Paul Crilley

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I think I've been spoiled by the J.K. Rowlings, Rick Riordans, and Michael Scotts of the world (not to mention C.S. Lewis and Susan Cooper), but I don't expect a Young Adult label on a title to automatically mean the book will seem...childish. Unfortunately, that's how I often felt about this book.

It does have some virtues. The characters are often interesting, there are some well-written action sections, and the author's ability to create comic-relief characters who also display courage and nobility is solid. And, it's nice for a change to have Faery a place full of very dangerous creatures, not whimsical glowing beings who dance and twitter.

Still, this is definitely a book (and I presume this holds for the entire series) that is better suited to tweens than teens, and certainly not for adults.



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meirwen_1988: (Thoughtful)
If you go back and check in history, February through May is traditionally a pretty grim time. Oh, yeah, we've got the whole "burgeoning life" thing going on, with lambs and kids and calves being born, cats running around pregnant (lots of kitties are birthed in April), etc. But that truth is balanced by a pretty high body count.

By February, the food is running really thin (it is not an accident that Lenten fasting neatly corresponds with low food reserves), cold and the ravages of winter have taken their toll on the very young and the very old, and being cooped up inside means that if one person gets sick, everyone probably does. In days before "modern medicine," that sometimes meant a simple cold could kill you.

You would think that with all the modern amenities (fresh fruit and vegetables in abundant supply in February), OTC and prescription medicines, central heating, etc., that things would change.

Not so much.

Not even touching on the appalling catalog of deaths in my own family and those dear to me who died in the Februarys of the past, in this February ALREADY my cousin has died, my friend Bobbie died, Phil's mom died, and Kat died (as well as friends and relatives of friends who aren't personally known to me).

Of them all, Bobbie's has hit me hardest, which is silly, because she was elderly, had a great day Saturday, started to feel "off" on Sunday, was taken to the hospital and died that night. Happy and reasonably active and healthy to nearly the end. But Bobbie and I shared something. I remember at one meeting of Chapter I was talking about my childhood and mentioned that my dad worked at GE. Her little head popped up (Bobbie was 4'10"--everything about her was little except her brain and her heart), and said, "Was your father Little Tommy Mink?" Okay, no one but my father's aunts had ever called him "Tommy" in my hearing, but..."Yes, my dad's name was Tom." For years my father gave one of his co-workers a ride to work since his path from our house out in the boondocks took him through the village of Clinton. A couple of times when he was taking the family to Utica (for doctor's appointments, so we would ride in with dad at 5 in the morning and get dropped off at my grandmother's) I even got to meet her. But I was still surprised when Bobbie said, "He drove my mom to work! Did he ever mention Margie Dawes?" And so we talked about our parents.

Bobbie, at least by reputation, knew my father. The number of people still in my life who can say that are vanishingly small. And Wednesday I said goodbye to one of those people. A lovely little kindergarten teacher, who knew my daddy.

T.S. Eliot was wrong. April is not the cruelest month.
meirwen_1988: (table tag)
I got out of my sick bed to go to Dennis's funeral today. It was held in one of the largest, most beautiful churches in the area, St. Mary of Mt. Carmel. It's in East Utica, the former bastion of the Italian-American community in Utica (until recently the largest ethnic communities in the city, in order of longevity, were the Irish, Italian, and Polish; you used to identify where you lived by parish, not street, because there were so many Catholic churches and each had a very specific identity). It's all stained glass, painted ceilings, inlaid marble, and every piece of art has an "In Memory of" attached, most with Italian surnames.

So, when Fr. Mark (from, of all places, St. Mark's in North Utica) came forward to give the funeral homily, he started by saying that he felt like JPII at his first address to the assembly in Vatican Square, looking out at a sea of native Romans looking up at him, all thinking "So, who is this Polak?" But he knew Dennis well, was with him through the long years of his battle, and so it was right that he celebrate the Mass.

He was right, though. While the ages of the assembled friends and relative ranged from children to senior citizens, the vast majority were between 20 and 50, olive skinned, black haired, brown eyed, and harkened clearly to their roots in Calabria. There were the occasional blondes, and a few token Lombards, but otherwise, yeah. I was out of place, in more ways than one.

His sons were torn up, as was his daughter. I was touched to see that his son-in-law looked like he was taking it as hard as anyone. I think that says volumes about both men. Lynda was as I expected. She was taking it like an Evans-Wood woman--that's the lineage we share. In joy she's all Perritano; in grief the Welsh comes out.

And it was, in many ways, everything I expected. With some exception. It was a two hour funeral mass. My cousin Dennis sang (twice, and my God his tenor is beautiful). They talked about family, and the business, and family, and the Seabees, and family. Because that's both Dennis and Lynda, and why they were so incredibly right for each other. Oh, and NASCAR, but only a little. *smile* And family--did I mention that? Which includes his employees. All of these were expected.

I didn't expect the stretch limo for the immediate family. But maybe I should have. (I have to admit, it was efficient, and if there'd been one, we wouldn't have had some of the moments of embarrassment at my Uncle Pete's funeral.)

What I really didn't expect, but that I think is actually a beautiful, honorable element I never would have envisioned, is that the funeral cortege was led by his employees, driving the company vehicles, with "Dennis Padula and Sons Roofing" on the sides. Beautiful, and shiny, and proud.

Lynda knows I was there. I didn't go to the reception after--I'm family, but not really in the ways that matter at times like this. (Some things require more than blood.) It was, I am sure, an incredible laying on of food and booze, and by now there are clusters of maudlin Italian men holding each other up, and telling funny stories. The exhaustion is hitting Lynda and the kids, but they won't leave until the oldest relatives do. Who won't leave until the food is cold and the drinks are flat. Because that's what you do at an Italian funeral meal. I've been to enough of them--it's as predictable as clockwork. And it is a good thing.

So, yes, I probably shouldn't have gone. I really needed one last day in bed, and that's where I am now, and have been since I got home 2 hours ago. But I'm glad I went. A glimpse at the family I would have been welcome in, had we not moved out of Utica. I'd probably have married one of those Calabrian-sourced men, because that's who Uncle Pete and my godfather, my cousin Peter, would have approved of. And cousin Dennis would have helped with the vetting. Sometimes the veil thins, and we see a different world, a different set of...selves. No regrets, but still, an interesting view, from time to time, isn't a bad thing.

Dennis was sent off with love and tears. Not a bad epitaph. Not bad at all.

5 of 52

Feb. 4th, 2013 10:16 am
meirwen_1988: (reading)
In the Woods (Dublin Murder Squad, #1)In the Woods by Tana French

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I'm torn on this book. In many respects I thought it was very good. I like the way French strings words together. She is also very good at developing clear, complex, totally believable human beings. I found that when I was away from the book I was wondering what was coming next, how things were going to resolve, and that's usually the hallmark of a good book.

That said, I had some significant problems with the it. Betrayal and desolation pervade the book--they are ubiquitous and unrelenting. And even the one note of happiness at the end seems...illusory. Perhaps I wasn't in the mood for more Irish despair (after Christine Falls), or perhaps she does have an ability to create a nearly Donaldsonian level of despair. Whichever the case, it was so depressing I felt I needed medication after some sections. And I felt that the resolution of one of the central mysteries was too pat (I honestly knew "whodunit" as soon as I met the character, with only the slightest doubt at any point), and the irresolution of the second mystery (a phrase that will only make sense once you've read the book) was completely unsatisfying and not entirely convincing.

Because I very much like how French uses words, I may well go on and read volumes 2-5 in the Dublin Murder Squad series. But I think I'll wait until I've overdosed on happy optimism, cute kittens, and frolicking puppies. At that point bleak hopelessness might be just what the doctor ordered.



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meirwen_1988: (small but mighty)

Surgeon (on January 20): Wear the compression bandage for 3 days. Keep the sterile bandage on for 4 days. Leave these little suture strips on until they fall off.

I bet he thought that would happen in January.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

meirwen_1988: (Thoughtful)
My mother's cousin Lynda is just about centered in age between my mom and me. When Momma was young, before she was out of high school, used to babysit for Lynda, nursed her through meningitis...they were very close. Lynda was always slightly glamorous to me. When I was young she worked at the Bank of Utica, which made her very sophisticated in my eyes. She was always lovely, and funny, and kind. And she was Aunt Ann and Uncle Pete's daughter, which made her magical, not to mention she was my godfather's little sister.

When I was in high school she got engaged to a Vietnam vet, Dennis Padula. Dennis reminded me a little of my Uncle Pete (both short, Italian Uticans with a stocky build), but I never knew him well. I remember their wedding in St. Anne's in North Utica like it was yesterday. Afterwards my dad had to drive me back to Morrisville for the 9th grade fashion show and Spring concert, then he turned right back around to drive back to Utica for the lovely, elegant, evening wedding reception. I was bitter about missing it, but, well, the show had to go on. (Missed my Senior Dinner Dance for similar reasons, but I digress).

Lynda and Dennis had three children--Dennis, Peter, and Renata. Dennis is gay, and a singer with his own band in NYC. Peter got married and became a father in the last year, and Renata's been married and has, I think, two children. Maybe more. I'm bad about family. Never got the knack, nor the taste for it. There was always too much underlying hostility. The only relatives we ever visited where it felt safe was Uncle Pete and Aunt Ann's (not my grandmother's, not my aunt's, only there), and once they were gone, it all fell away. Lynda would like us to be closer, but it just never seems to happen. My fault, not hers.

From things on my cousin Dennis's Facebook page, I think Dennis senior died today. He's been fighting lung cancer. He's another victim of our friend Mr. Orange's appearance during his time in Southeast Asia.

So there are calling hours in my future. And a funeral. Lynda is going to be a wreck, and strong, and all the things in between. I would hate this to be the thing that finally makes us close. But it may. Or things may just go on as they have. But I will go, and there will be family.

It's complicated, but as Gibbs would say, "It's family. Always is."
meirwen_1988: (table tag)
On this day in 1957, I was present, by report, when my mother kicked the obstetrician (who'd been brought in specially through a horrible snowstorm 25 miles from Oneida to Hamilton) across the delivery room. I was late. And very tiny. After almost two weeks in the hospital, they finally let me come home, even though I did not yet weigh 5 pounds.

On this day in 1964 I was in Miss Butler's first grade class in Morrisville-Eaton Central Elementary. Miss Butler, who was probably overdue for retirement, kept forgetting the new words that had been added the Pledge of Allegiance. She often muttered "it was good enough for 50 years...."

On this day in 1971 I was in eighth grade. Dana Sue Miller was my science teacher, and in later years I became her lab assistant. Books, chorus, and band were my salvation (though Mod Squad, Daniel Boone, Hogan's Heroes, The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour, and the last season of Dark Shadows helped). Momma was in college, Daddy felt threatened, and Lee's health was beginning to deteriorate.

On this day in 1978 I was living off-campus with Kate and Robin. It...wasn't perhaps the best housing choice any of us ever made. But we survived it. I was a double-major in Music Ed and English, and working in the PoliSci office for work-study, had two shifts at WCVF-AM, and was the receptionist and music librarian ($$). AM-Radio music kept me sane. I went into a hard depression between semesters, and was only just coming out of it by January 29. Shelley, Joe, and Linda were my best friends there, and are still loving and loved presences in my life.

On this day in 1985 I was in grad school at Syracuse University. Michel, Marianne, and I were the terrible trio, and perhaps one of the oddest set of best friends you'd ever see. But it worked for us. I was learning the limits of my academic ambitions, and for the first time understood that as good as my education had been, that there were just some schools that prepared students better for graduate school, and that some circumstances of childhood and adolescence did, in fact, give an advantage--something I'd never believed before. Intelligence alone was really not enough.

On this day in 1992 I was still, using Victorian terms, a bride. I was teaching part-time, and was the Assistant Editor for The Mid-York Weekly. Life was crazy, but good. I loved where we were living, loved the people I knew, and the world was full of promise.

On this day in 1999 I was two years past the surgery that saved my life, had more energy than I'd had in years, but things were otherwise rocky in almost every area of life--love, money, SCA, work.

On this day in 2006 I was teaching full time as a term contract, and the years since 2001 when I started getting full term contracts had helped with some of the money anxieties on my end, but houses eat money with the appetite and table manners of a velociraptor. Morguhn was chomping at the bit to fight in Crowns again, and neither Rowan nor I was interested in putting the household or ourselves through that. This precipitated a fairly prolonged period of "Dukes behaving badly" that made for a rough year or two, but there was a glimmer of hope. We'd begun to get better at both being able to talk and be able to listen.

Today I taught my classes, still on a little bit of a high from the very nice birthday eve I had. I have a job that only drives me a little crazy most of the time. I work with some really cool people. I'm not ignoring the fact that, as my doctor said with a little gasp when she was taking my history, "So,you're all alone." And sometimes it does feel that way. But I have wonderful friends in Eastern Star and the SCA, not to mention the friends I've made in the 56 years I've been kicking around who are still important parts of my life. And I have my chosen family.

So, here's to birthday 8x7--let's kick a little ass. ;-)
meirwen_1988: (Roses)
IMG_0147

Tonight as I was walking from my room to go downstairs I caught the sight of the moon in the huge triple window high on the wall in Morguhn's bedroom.

In other days, we would lay in bed, sometimes nestled together, or holding hands, talking, or drifting off to sleep bathed in moonlight as Diana rose and traveled across the window, her view dappled by leaves in three seasons, or, as tonight, broken by the dark shadows of the bare maple limbs, like a steel point engraving, or a German Expressionist landscape. Beautiful, and stark, and leaving us full of wonder. It seemed impossible to quarrel, or even be cross on those nights. In the face of so much beauty all we could do was be grateful for each other, for love, for beauty.

So, to try to preserve...I don't know...the memory of those wonderful times, I carried a stool into his room, and stood on it with my iPhone, and tried to capture the window. But the moon was too bright, the contrast too deep, for even the remarkable camera in the phone to capture. Instead it is blurred where the moon was a perfect white sphere, clean-edged and brilliant. The limbs that were drawn with the pen's precision have the soft edges of the painter's brush, or the blended lines of the batik artist.

It is a beautiful photo. I can look at it and be glad I took it, and treasure it. But it is not the image I was trying to capture, no more than the view was a view we shared. It is like, but not the thing itself. It is itself. A thing of beauty, as were the others, but not what I reached for, which like the moon, remains eternally beyond my grasp.

Randomie

Jan. 22nd, 2013 07:57 pm
meirwen_1988: (Default)
Why are people who are for the reasonable regulation of firearms widely characterized as "anti-gun" but those who believe in the reasonable regulation of intercourse (i.e., against child porn, for statutory rape laws, in favor of restricting to appropriate/non-public venues, etc.) not considered "anti-sex"? Or people who believe in licensing, insuring, and inspecting automobiles not considered "anti-car." There are people who are anti-gun, but I'm not persuaded the people described above meet the qualifications.

When did proposing and signing unpopular laws become "impeachable" offenses. Recall petitions I understand--but impeachment? In the words of Inigo Montoya, "I do not think that means what you think it means."

I really think someone needs to put a sock in the mouth of the gamin-faced George Stephanopoulos. He may have been the model for Sam Seaborn on The West Wing, but Lowe's character Nick Andros in The Stand consistently had more cogent and worthwhile things to say in the eight hours of the mini-series than Stephanopoulos has had to say in his entire 13 year tenure as a media personality.

And, while I'm not generally a Roger Federer fan, his Mercedes Benz commercial is "da bomb."

Okay--time for a dose of Bourdaine and Lawson. Cheerio!
meirwen_1988: (Christmas House Mouse)
During Christmas break I gorge myself on Christmas themed novels--mysteries, period pieces, Regency and modern romances--and in that way refresh my somewhat academically bruised psyche so I can walk into the Spring semester refreshed.

For reasons I haven't quite discerned yet, that did not happen this year to the usual extent. I had the books, but the reading did not happen as much as I wish it had. However, here are the last three of this season. A very mixed bag in terms of quality. I almost want to read one more, but Memory of Light is singing a siren song, and it's time to call my Warder and get to work. (Now, where did I put that shawl....)

Snowbound Wedding Wishes: An Earl Beneath the Mistletoe\Twelfth Night Proposal\Christmas at Oakhurst ManorSnowbound Wedding Wishes: An Earl Beneath the Mistletoe\Twelfth Night Proposal\Christmas at Oakhurst Manor by Louise Allen

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Usually romance books of this sort (collections of novellas around a shared theme) start with a strong novella, then move to a weaker one, then end with one that is either very weak, or one that confounds a convention (for example, the Regency heroine wears glasses, or is plain, or the hero is a schoolteacher, not titled, or nerdy rather than athletic, or the characters are Jews in nineteenth century England...).

This volume confounded that convention. I found all three novellas A) well-written, B) with engaging characters, and C) a pleasure to read.

Merry Christmas to me!!



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A Christmas Journey (Christmas Stories, #1)A Christmas Journey by Anne Perry

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I came to the Anne Perry Christmas novels late, and so am reading them out of order. I look forward to them every year, and eagerly opened this one.

*Sigh*

Of all of these I have read (about 5, including this one), this one I enjoyed least. I didn't like many of the characters, I thought the plot was "forced," and the usual sense of place and context I find in Perry's Victorian world was missing.

I am glad I came to this novel late, because it is the first, and if I had read it as my first experience of the series, I never would have read the others, and one of those became one of my favorite Perry novels. So, next year I'll hope for better.



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A Christmas PromiseA Christmas Promise by Mary Balogh

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I really liked the premise of this book, but was less enamored of the execution.

Still, in the great, wide world of Regency romance writers, Mary Balogh is one I can rely on to respect the English language and her readers. Her prose is always good, and her plots are never stupid. She has a deft hand with giving minor characters depth, and manages to avoid getting so detailed in descriptions of the scene and artifacts that the stories leave center stage.

So, all in all, worth the time I put into reading it, but not much more.



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meirwen_1988: (Queen)
One of my friends on Facebook (a friend long before there was a Facebook) has been going off on people, ungracious, and sometimes downright mean. I know her life sucks right now (hubby working far away all week long, menopause, economy is trashing her business), but I might just have to hide her until she stops being...irrational.

Saw The Hobbit in the 48fps 3D version today. Very mixed ideas about it. I think I want to see one of the 24fps versions before I pronounce judgment on the technology. And I want to re-read the book up to the point the movie ends before I pronounce judgment on the script or direction. Two points I will make now though, are the "Riddle Scene" was brilliant, and Richard Armitage as Thorin Oakenshield was a revelation. I will never look at dwarves in Tolkein the same way again, and I mean that in all good ways. I was very nervous about his casting, but in this Jackson was right, and I was wrong. I can't say I feel that way about all of it, but in Thorin's case, I do.
meirwen_1988: (Queen)

Stoopid spoilery people are stoopid. Whether they're spoiling it for me or others is irrelevant. It is a particular kind of "Nah-nah" and is no less unattractive than the rich kid in school flaunting something they have,or the sibling ruining the Christmas present by telling what it is before the day. Just KNOCK IT OFF.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

1 of 52

Jan. 5th, 2013 10:29 pm
meirwen_1988: (scifi)
Altered CarbonAltered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


I'm not sure what I expected when I decided to read this book. I honestly don't remember why I put it on the shelf, or what mood I was in when I picked it off the shelf. I remember not being all that happy with the beginning scene. That scene felt tired, and cliche, and hackneyed.

And then the book actually started.

This was a strange ride, in a future universe where the roots in our own are clear, but where the unintended consequences of our technology and philosophies have led to a world that never entered my mind, yet now, having read this book, will never leave it.

This is a futuristic noir detective novel, and I figured out the central "whodunnit" very early, but that doesn't matter, because in the scheme of enjoying the novel that is as ultimately irrelevant as it is to the larger plot itself. This book is about the nature of "self," the value of the individual human life, and the limits of longevity. It is compelling, and complex, and has some very memorable characters. I am immensely glad I read it.

There are more books with this protagonist, but I'm not sure I'll read them. I want this book to stand alone in my memory--a perfectly cut diamond solitaire of a book.



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37 of 52

Dec. 28th, 2012 07:47 pm
meirwen_1988: (Christmas House Mouse)
Cat Deck the Halls (Joe Grey #13)Cat Deck the Halls by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This was a light, fluffy little mystery.

I haven't read any of the other Joe Grey books, so I have no idea if it is typical. The characters are under-developed, the writing is repetitive, the mystery, with nearly no mistakes, I figured out about halfway through.

But it doesn't matter. My standards for Christmas-themed books is that they not offend me (either in content or skill), don't require much attention, and cause me to be pleasantly diverted. This succeeded on all counts.



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36 of 52

Dec. 28th, 2012 07:35 pm
meirwen_1988: (reading)
Mr. Churchill's SecretaryMr. Churchill's Secretary by Susan Elia MacNeal

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I was torn between a 3 star and a 4 star for this book. When it was good, it was delightful. It got much of the incoming "tide of war" feel beautifully. The sense of living on the edge of a cliff, and then falling over as the first wave of the Blitz happens. The changes in aspiration that the war brought to both men and women, in terms of work, romance, promise. So much was beautifully done.

And the mystery itself was interesting, especially in how it took up a thread of intrigue that wasn't the least bit overdone and, at least at the outset, handled it well.

But then it all fell apart. The first half of the book was a delight. The second half devolved into something about as realistic as an episode of The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. I was very disappointed in how what seemed to be the author's sensitivity to the mores and customs of the time just seemed to vanish and instead the book became an implausible mess.

I originally picked this up because I saw Princess Elizabeth's Spy and nearly bought it at Barnes and Noble, until I saw it was the second in a series. So I picked up this novel first. I'm now torn. As I said, the parts I loved, I did truly enjoy. Which part will the more mature writer embrace--the wonderful sense of character and place, or the more cliched action and mannerisms that are exhibited in the second half of the book? And do I want to spend my spare allotment of reading time to find out?



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meirwen_1988: (Scifi me)
Now that Christmas is over, the "lists" have started to pop up. "Worst Books of 2012," "Best Books of 2012," "Best 10 Movies of the Twenty-first Century," etc. I'm suspicious of those. For instance the "Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of All Time" has Lord of the Rings at number 1, and Game of Thrones at number 2. And then people start asking why the 3 volume Ring is first, but GoT is addressed per volume. Which beggars a number of questions, for instance why is it that George R.R. Martin is apparently ignorant that LotR was written as a single book, and it's the publisher who balked at publishing it that way so instead insisted its three parts be published separately. And more importantly, totally skips the question of how one of the top two spots did not go to Bradbury, or Asimov, or Verne, or Wells, or Clarke?

So, in a form of mental self-defense, I started making my own list in my head. But because I'm shallow, it's episodic television episodes, and because of what was in front of my eyes at the time it's not "best" or "pivotal"--it's the episodes that have stuck in my head, years after I saw them, with more than the usual clarity. In no particular order, here they are, pretty much without commentary.

Star Trek: "For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky"
Supernatural: "Swan Song"
M*A*S*H*: "Old Soldiers"
Star Trek: The Next Generation: "Yesterday's Enterprise"
Twilight Zone: "The After Hours"
The Big Valley: "Into the Widow's Web"
Hawaii Five-O: "Once Upon a Time;
Babylon Five: "The Geometry of Shadows"
The West Wing: "Posse Comitatus"
Maude: "Maude's Dilemma"
WKRP in Cincinnati: "In Concert"
The Big Bang Theory: "The Codpiece Topology"


Ho ho ho?

Dec. 16th, 2012 07:12 pm
meirwen_1988: (Christmas House Mouse)

So, tree is up. The little one.

Angel has started coming into the living room, and in the last 5 days has knocked the untrimmed tree over twice. Consequently I needed to make sure that the ornaments I put on were mostly unbreakable. That meant most of the ornaments that most say "Christmas" to me are still in the boxes. And since it's such a small tree most of the fun Hallmark ornaments are too big. I'm blaming the above for my "Meh."

One the other hand, I did put this one on, since, being brass and silver, it's mostly safe.

It was a gift from dear friends, and carries memories of caroling, and singing for Midnight Mass, and a crowded living room full of laughter and food, friendship and love.

Hark! The herald angels sing.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Owwie

Dec. 16th, 2012 06:19 pm
meirwen_1988: (Default)

I wonder if it's the bread, the chicken, or the mayo. Food is not supposed to hurt. :-(

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

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