Refresh

December has been busy, tiring, sick, sad, and fun at varying times. It's left me rung out and not feeling overly festive (much like Henrietta and Merna). I need to rest, relax, and reflect. Tonight I'm reading and writing and refocusing so that Christmas isn't just one more thing to cross off my to do list. I should be able to get some extended introvert time by the end of the year. Maybe I'll even do a snazzy, year-end, state-of-the-world-as-I-know-it blog post.

So enjoy your family (heck, for many of you reading this, I am your family, so enjoy me) and your Christmas. And don't forget to refresh yourself, whatever way is best for you.

Winter Song

I stumbled across this gorgeously animated music video for "Winter Song" by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. I hadn't heard the song before and it's been chasing me all afternoon. It's so solemn, heartfelt, and harmonious. I will warn you that it might make you want to go sit in a corner, hug your knees to your chest, and cry a single tear down each cheek—the end picks up though. My favorite part of the video is the hot air balloon (which reminds me of balluminaria).


(The video is by Crush at AgencyRush. You can check out more illustrations and animations on the site.)

Would You Like Fries With That?

I was running a little early and feeling a little run down this morning. I decided that a sausage biscuit with cheese from McDonald's was in order.

I pulled up the the drive-thru and waited for the car ahead of me to pull up. They did, and I rolled my car forward to the speaker to order. As I came to a stop the employee said, "Welcome to McDonald's. Can you hold, please?" I said sure, noting that they couldn't possibly be very busy, but oh well, McDonald's is no place to go if you expect efficiency.

A minute or so later the McD's worker returned to the microphone. "Welcome to McDonald's. Can I hold you?"..."Oh sorry."

I so wanted to say yes, or launch into some fictitious sob story about how long it's been since I got a hug, or how my parents never loved me (I said fictitious), or say "Hmm, I didn't know that was on the menu?" "How much does that cost?" "Yes, and I'd like it super-sized." (Yikes!) "Is that good with Big Mac?" "How many calories does that have?" "Yes, with cheese, please." "Yes, but without pickles." "Sounds good. Can I get fries and a coke too?" "That's exactly what I have a buy-one-get-one coupon for!"

But instead I collected myself ordered and pulled up, pretending for her sake like it didn't happen. She was like 17, working at McDonald's at 8am on Sunday, she doesn't need me to make her day worse but rubbing her mistake in her face.

Nonetheless, it's a good story, and I will share it. Plus I needed to use all my good comebacks.

Nice Try...?

HarperCollins is putting out digital books for Nintendo DS, a hand-held video game contraption. (It looks like they might only be available in the UK.) I'm all for ebooks. Well, not for me personally, if other people want them I have no problem with that. If the industry begins to shift further that way, high five! Fine with me. But Nintendo DS, really? I picture a bunch of 5th grade boys with these things playing whatever video game kids play right now. Maybe I have the market wrong, but I can't see this audience choosing to read a book over shooting things. To top if off, they're starting by putting out a collection of 100 Classics. Now I see this kiddo's mom saying, "Sweetie, why don't you read Great Expectations instead of playing Grand Theft Auto." Not gonna happen. Ever. I don't even want to read Great Expectations that bad.

Can the Nintendo DS consumer really be the same as the ebook consumer? Obviously I haven't done the research and I don't know the market, so I could be completely off base. To me, though this looks like the big bosses were saying, "Make some ebooks!" And the underlings did as they were told. Why the classics? Well that's what HarperCollins is known for (in my mind), and since their authors' are long dead HC probably owns full rights to the book and won't have to renegotiate contracts with living authors for digital rights.

But, seriously, I'd love for HC's plan to prove me wrong. I hope this works out, but I'm (as always) a skeptic.

What's Not in the News

This video, a short talk by Alisa Miller of Public Radio International, is an interesting look at how news agencies fuel Americans' ignorance about the world. I'm well aware of our society's lack of knowledge about the world; and, although I try to keep up to date on world events, I know I'm not immune to apathy and ignorance toward the world. Though Miller aims to hold news organizations accountable, I think we can all hold ourselves accountable, regardless of what the news agencies do. It challenges me to go out of my way to find out more about different parts of the world and what's going on there—and to understand and care about what I find out.

Cool Stuff

After that apple on eBay (which you can still bid on for another 44 hours! $0.18 what a deal!), you probably don't trust me to suggest good things to buy online. This post is where I'll redeem myself (at least temporarily).

I spotted these on Boing Boing today: antique books turned into music boxes. Boing Boing truly is a directory of wonderful things, as their tagline says. (They also showcased an Umbuster today, combination umbrella and brass knuckles—which are apparently also known as knuckledusters... I learn so much online.) Here's the musicbox-book artist's site. This is the one I want:
Now, if only I had $165.00 to spend on a book you can't even read.

P.S. I realize that including the Umbuster doesn't help redeem me as a suggester of good stuff to buy, but it was too good to pass up.

Word Pictures

One of my favorite book blogs, litmob.com, has a new series of banner ads that use pictures to depict famous book titles. They kept me entertained for a while. There was one that quite confounded me. I emailed Lindsey and Kelly and Steve and they couldn't get it either. I finally emailed the site to ask and they told me... Let's see if you can get them.

Also, is it just me, or does the city in #4 look Cincinnati-like?

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December Saturday: A Photo Essay

Fluffy new slippers from TJ Maxx.

Coffee and hot chocolate: the stuff holiday spirit is made of.

My Christmas tree.
(Not too bad looking considering I've only put it up by myself once before.)

Sleeping on the couch.
(I'm faking in the photo, but I did really take a nap.)

The fountain at night from the ice rink.

Found: The Elusive Perfect Gift

Not sure what to get that special someone for Christmas? My roommate Laura's coworkers are eBaying this apple. Apparently someone brought it in last year with some St. Nicholas Day candy. Of course no one ate the apple, and thus, it still sits in their office today. And it can be yours for as little as $0.12 (the current minimum bid). What more could you ask for? According to Laura, it's only in the past month or so that the apple's begun to look bad, so I'd say there's a good chance it's a magic apple. Bid now, before it's too late!

A Language Barrier, Hospitality—and a Liquid Relationship

The first time I drank a whole cup of coffee was the summer after eighth grade. I was on a church trip to Ecuador and was staying with a family there. I didn't like coffee and didn't intend to drink it; but between the language barrier, my hosts' overwhelming hospitality, and the fact that somehow it's easier to say yes than no I ended up with a cup of instant coffee in my hand and two sets of eyes watching to make sure I enjoyed it. I tried to oblige, smiling and drinking it all the way to the end. "Gracias, gracias," I said smiling and nodding awkwardly. It wasn't good; I didn't like it. But they gave me more the next morning and every morning for a week and a half. By the end I got used to the routine—"si," drink, smile, nod, "gracias"—and had resigned myself to the fact that coffee wasn't so bad.

My relationship with coffee began its slow escalation from that summer. In high school my parents brought me rum cream coffee from the Caribbean and I drank it with plenty of cream and sugar. Then a Starbucks opened in Loveland and I discovered frappucinos and white chocolate mochas. By senior year of high school I was studying at Starbucks after school, drinking caramel macchiatos, and waking daily to home-fresh coffee. I even wrote a research paper about caffeine, quoting baristas from the local Starbucks as expert sources.

For graduation Emily got me what was to become one of the dearest friends of my college career: a 4-cup, black Mr. Coffee coffee maker. In the dorm Jo sat next to my alarm clock; I'd load her up at night and hit the on button in the morning right after I hit snooze, waking up 15 (or 20 or 30) minutes later to the sumptuous aroma. I also started cutting back on my coffee additives. I ran out of sugar, milk, and motivation to go to the store all at the same time, but simultaneously needed my coffee more than ever. So I drank it black. It wasn't bad; in fact I kind of liked it.

Since college coffee has been elevated from the status of necessary enjoyment to cherished companion. It's one of the small things in life I've learned to savor in my tumultuous twenties. I long for the smell, the flavor, the feeling—the calming energy. The best mornings are the ones where I decide a cup isn't enough and opt to take my shiny pink thermos to work to sip all morning long (which is one thing I love about having a desk job rather than gulping down thermos-lids full between teaching middle schoolers). On Friday nights like to tonight, I sip coffee and read or take a cup with me while I grocery shop. Sometimes I even crave coffee more than chocolate, but I prefer them both together: dessert's not dessert without coffee. These days I drink it lightly sweetened, no creamer, and I typically get plain coffee or a latte at coffee shops. A year ago for my birthday Mom and Dad got me a fancy Tassimo coffee maker, so I can have individually brewed cups of quality coffee anytime. As a result I'm becoming more of a connoisseur, settling just shy of snobbery.

Who knows where coffee and I will go in the future. Perhaps I'll succumb to the second-grade retort, if you like it so much why don't you marry it, and become Mrs. Coffee when the courts finally legalize marrying inanimate objects. (Although I reject the notion that something so fabulously vibrant—and spillable—can justly be called inanimate.) Come what may, I will face life with a mug in my hand.

That's a short memoir of my coffee life, and thus I was delighted to find illustrator Christoph Niemann's coffee story on his NYT Blog, Abstract City. He has great skill as an illustrator; I love the light tone of his work and his apropos choice of a napkin-canvas with coffee-hues.

A Moose?

Today after work I stopped by Trader Joe's, mostly for a frozen pizza (which I ate by myself in its entirety). Of course, I was tired and hungry and it's Monday and snowy, so I fell under the spell of the gingerbread cookie mix display. Tragic, really. I was able to overcome the peppermint Trader Joe's brand Oreos, but I did not prevail in the battle against the gingerbread cookie mix with its molasses and ginger. Mmmm.

When I got home I set about finding out if I have any cookie cutters. One would think that I'd know for sure if I had cookie cutters (maybe unsure where they are), but I've had so many roommates that have left so many things that, well… I just might have cookie cutters without my knowledge. It turns out that, unbeknownst to me, my corner cabinet contains a bag of cookie cutters. I was excited, understandably, but then noticed that the first one I saw was a pumpkin, then a dinosaur. Gingerbread dinosaurs just won't do. So I dumped out the bag find a few Halloween, a set of dinosaurs, a Christmas assortment (a snowman, a tree, and a bell)… and a moose. Not a reindeer, a moose. I knew you wouldn't believe me, so I took a picture:














I know reindeer are heftier than regular deer, but still. It has a bump on its back, and check out the snout on that thing: it's a moose.

So what holiday is that for? … There ought to be a punchline here, but I'm at a loss.