At least they're learning something.

From my alma mater: A Week of Hot Sex. I am proud.

Sure, but the maintenance expenses for my Leer jet really cut into my disposable income.

Check out these astonishing numbers over at Donklephant concerning the Global Rich List.

A taste of the numbers: If you make $40,000 a year, there are 6,411,789,392 people in the world poorer than you. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling pretty fortunate right about now.

How many of us think of ourselves as being among the monied elite?

To Comma or Not to Comma

Today is National Punctuation Day! To celebrate, let's talk about why you should always use the serial comma.

From Strunk and White's The Elements of Style:

In a series of three or more terms with a single conjunction, use a comma after each term except the last.

Thus, write,

• red, white, and blue
• gold, silver, or copper
• He opened the letter, read it, and made a note of its contents.

This comma is often referred to as the "serial" comma.

From Words into Type:

In a series of the form a, b, and c or red, white, and blue most publishers prefer a comma (sometimes called the serial comma) before the conjunction, whether the items of the series are words, phrases, or clauses. The consistent use of this comma is recommended, for in many sentences it is essential for clarity. [...]

In the examples to follow, the use of the serial comma is necessary to prevent misreading. A series of personal names should have the comma before the conjunction to prevent the first name of the series being construed as a noun in direct address.

• "Anna, May and Walter are here." [Might be read as telling Anna that May and Walter are here.]
• "Anna, May, and Walter are here." [Can mean only that three persons are here.]

Now go forth and punctuate correctly.

Thanks to click for the link.

Hangers and Swimming Pools

There are often days when, come nap time, Sophie and Evie chatter away at each other for long stretches of time before they fall asleep. They sing together, laugh together, throw their stuffed animals around together, and in general have a fantastic time before eventually drifting off to sleep. On those days, I'm reminded of my own almost-sister and how she and I would talk late into the night about everything under the sun.

Any time Heather and I were fortunate enough to spend the night together when we were growing up, we were up for hours talking, even if we'd already been together non-stop for days. We never ran out of things to discuss. When we went off to college together and shared a dorm room, it was the same. Those first few weeks, it seemed like we'd never sleep -- our new experiences and new friends gave us oodles of new late-night-conversation fodder.

Heather has always been there for me. She's been my moral compass, my confidant, my role model, my friend, and my sister in every way that counts. I'm a better person because of Heather. I'm so fortunate to have her in my life. Happy birthday, Heather! I hope this trip around the sun is the best one yet.

No Baggins Here

Legal analyst Jeffrey Toobin has written a new book about the Supreme Court called The Nine.Kind of makes them sound like Nazgûl, doesn't it? The resemblance is striking: They dress in black, they were once human, and they are the Dark Lord's most powerful servants.

A Rainy Day, A Cozy Chair, and Thee

Another fun weekend assignment from Mr. John Scalzi: Here is my towering stack of books TBR, in no particular order. It's missing a few volumes, but these were all I could carry.

Most of these were gifts for my recent birthday, and last Christmas, and probably the birthday before that ... Well, I don't have a ton of time for reading these days. But I will catch up! I will! Maybe when the twins go to kindergarten.

There was a time when I logged no less than a book a month in my book log, usually several more. Now I'm lucky to get through two books a year. If I'd known birthing twins would have such a devastating effect on my reading habits, I'd have thought twice.

Who Are You?

I've mocked other bloggers (with only the kindest intentions) for assuming they know who their audience is, for thinking the readership of the vast blogosphere is knowable. I'm irritated when other bloggers make snide or unfriendly comments about persons who might actually be reading their blog, unbeknownst to the blogger.

I try my darnedest to avoid that sort of thing on this blog, mostly because it just isn't nice to say mean things about people, and partly because you never know who's reading.

The blogosphere might seem ephemeral and fleeting, with blog posts erased by a click of the "delete" button, but that is a false impression. Site feeds send your every post out to the world, even if you only had it up for five seconds. Archiving sites store every entry for future generations to peruse. The illusion of impermanence might lull us into unwise posting, but the savvy blogger knows better.

I say this smugly from my soapbox, but I have a confession: I, too, am guilty of assuming I know who my audience is. I know most of you by name, I have met (and am related to) perhaps the majority of you, and I can see where many of the rest of you come from via tracking software. (It sounds so Big Brother when you put it like that!)

But the fact remains: I don't know who all of you are. Thanks to RSS feeds (which I love -- don't get me wrong), my tracking software can't tell me who all reads my posts, and even the tracking info I do get is incomplete. I get blog hits from the strangest places, from the oddest search engine strings, and even from nowhere, as far as I can tell.

So today I ask you: Who are you? Leave a comment. Say hello. Introduce yourself. Oh, and lest I forget, welcome! We're glad to have you.

And the Moon Is Made of Cheese

I know this one is all over the Web, but I had to add my two cents.



You've got to be kidding me. ABC thinks this woman is a good role model?? Well, probably not. They just think she's good TV. I guess they're right about that, because people are talking.

For more info, go here.

Robert Jordan, RIP

Sad news: Robert Jordan (aka James Oliver Rigney) passed away yesterday. I know this has been pretty well covered by other bloggers, but I just wanted to mention it here.

I've been a devoted fan of the Wheel of Time series since I was 15. Mr. Rigney had been gravely ill, and his passing, while extremely sad, was not a surprise. Yes, I've made some cavalier comments about how he damn-well better finish the final book in the series before he kicks off because I need closure. However, now that the event has come to pass, I find that I'm just sad for his family, sad for his widow, sad that such a talented (and by all accounts good) man is no longer with us. My thoughts are with his family, as are those of his huge legions of devoted fans.

Rest in peace, Mr. Rigney.

Sorting Satire from Scripture

Phil Plait posted about Christian fundamentalist satire sites such as MarryOurDaughter.com, saying this:

[E]ven with sites like Landover Baptist and Jesus’ General, it’s still really hard to distinguish complete over-the-top sarcasm and satire from real fundamentalist lunacy. When you have people — and I use that term loosely — like the truly evil and sick Fred Phelps, then how can you ever satirize fundamentalist religion again?

But then, the Bible does say you can sell your daughters. But who would ever take the Bible word-for-word literally?

Sigh.

And yes, I know other religions have incredibly foolish notions about arranged marriages, selling women, and the like. I will say this out loud and squarely: any institution — government, religion, or otherwise — that treats women as anything less than men should be derided and humiliated publicly, and not issued a deferment because of any notion of social relativism. Anyone who treats 50%+ of the population — or any percentage, no matter how small — as chattel should be taunted out of existence.

Now that I've excerpted basically his whole post, you should go read the rest of it.

I think it's hard to argue with what the Bad Astronomer says. What say ye?

Another Year Wiser

Things to do today:

1. Sleep in. (Check.)
2. Shop. (Check.)
   
3. Eat cheesecake. (Check.)
   
4. Spend time hanging out with my wonderful family. (Lucky me -- it's like it's my birthday every day!)

Thanks for the kind birthday wishes, everyone! I had a great time, got some fab gifts (including some knives so sharp I'm scared of them -- thanks, Mom and Dad!), and ate way too much food. Check out the very sweet birthday greetings posted by Rug's Bug and Heather (who included one super-cute pic of me, Jim, and Heather, and one somewhat-less-cute shot of me in my stylin' letter jacket. Good times.)

In the Now

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Chicagoland. The weather was sunny, breezy, and just the right temperature for hanging out at the beach without frying to death. I cajoled my family into abandoning various video games and heading to the out-of-doors; this perfect weather won't last, and we'll miss it when it's gone.

We grabbed some food and strolled to the park for a picnic by the lake, followed by a romp in the sand at the beach. Why are there no pictures in this post, you ask? Because we forgot to bring the camera. And I spent much of the afternoon thinking to myself, "Damn. I can't believe we didn't bring the camera. This is such a beautiful, perfect outing. The girls are adorable. The weather is bright and sunny. How will I ever remember this day without pictures?"

My consternation was so extreme that it startled me. I actually caught myself thinking, "This is a wasted trip. Without pictures, this day will fade from our memory and cease to exist. We might as well have stayed inside playing video games all day."

At this point, I realized that my crazy thinking had gone too far. What about this moment, right now? What about enjoying each happy experience life hands us? Living in the now? Is life only about collecting memories in some concrete form to hoard and treasure years from now? What's so wrong with spending a few perfect hours with my family on the beach, whether or not it's a day we might all forget?

Do I really want to spend every day with my children photographing and documenting instead of participating and enjoying?

And with that, I put aside thoughts of the camera and focused instead on my consternation at how on earth I'm going to get all that sand out of the twins' shoes. (Which goes to show you that it might in fact be impossible for me to just relax and enjoy a perfect day. But at least I wasn't worrying about documenting it anymore.)

Even now, I'm having a hard time not regretting that there are no pictures, no solid evidence that such an outing took place. I suspect myself of writing this post only to create a record of the afternoon, in the absence of other documentation. This will most likely be an ongoing struggle for me -- appreciate this moment, enjoy this day, trust that living in the now will generate many happy memories that I'll cherish years from now, with or without photos to remind me.

Yard Sale

Mary Beth was kind/crazy enough to host a multi-family yard sale Saturday, an ordeal she swears she'll never repeat. Despite the beautiful weather and close proximity of several other yard sales and a big ol' flea market, traffic was dismal and sales were slow. From our contributions (boatloads of baby clothes, mostly), we made $12. And spent $14 on lunch. Sigh. At least we have a lot more room in our closets now. Does anyone need three metric tons of baby clothes? Free to a good home!

A Sad Day

Madeleine L’Engle, Children’s Writer, Is Dead at 88

Sing Me to Heaven

Tonight, the Chicago Chamber Choir started rehearsals for our fall concert series. The concert is titled Sing Me to Heaven and features songs about, you guessed it, death.

Non-religious folk such as myself have a very different view of death than what you'll find in every song on this concert, and yet I was deeply moved by the beauty, sorrow, and hope held in these settings. And I wasn't alone: Throughout rehearsal, as we all took our first look at the music and tried to find our way through notes and rhythms and lyrics, distracted by our sight reading, many choristers still found themselves teary-eyed or outright crying, moved by the solemn message in this mournful music. I was particularly distressed by this passage from John Tavener's Funeral Ikos:

But whither now go the souls? How dwell they now together there?
This mystery have I desired to learn, but none can impart aright.
Do they call to mind their own people, as we do them?
Or have they forgotten all those who mourn them and make the song:
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

I don't know why it is, but in all the sad songs about death and mourning our loved ones, the joyous proclamations about going to Heaven in glory, I'm most affected by this passage. The idea that, when our friends and family leave this mortal coil, they might forget about us, is unspeakably sad and upsetting.

I'm not sure what that says about me.

Mark your calendar: Sing Me to Heaven concerts take place November 11 and November 16. On October 18, CCC's rehearsal will be open to the public. If you're in the Chicagoland area, please join us! I promise it will be more fun than this post.

The Truth

Well, it turns out I'm a better liar than I thought. Only Pop-pop divined the true lie. (And he's had years of practice.) Let's take each item one at a time, shall we?

1. Super hearing -- you better believe I have it. And you should have seen the giddy otolaryngologist when he gave me the news. He was beside himself! (I seemed to have gotten extremely lucky in this department. As Aunt Bobby noted, people with OI are prone to otosclerosis and thus poor hearing, but I managed to dodge that bullet.)

2. The ability to predict the twins' troublesome behavior -- please, friends. I wish. I know lots of parents claim to have this sort of skill. But let's be honest. No one has psychic powers. What we do have is a sense of dread when suddenly things are too quiet and we're not entirely sure where our children are. Unfortunately, that red flag doesn't fly until after the misdemeanor is underway.

3. Alton -- you bet your patootie Airan and I would have named a boy-child after Mr. Brown. The other boy name in hot contention: Enoch. Yes, if we'd had boys, they'd most likely have been pummeled on the playground every day. Good thing we had girls.

Success in the Kitchen

An entire week of successful meal planning!

Day One: Anne Glamore's Bulgogi

Loved it. It reminded Airan and me of a restaurant in Greeley, Hunan, where we used to dine far too often in our college days.

Day Two: Sauteed Salmon Steaks with cous cous and tomatoes (prepared mostly by Airan)

Good and good for you. And Sophie ate it like it was candy, which shocked us all.

Day Three: Anne Glamore's Bow Ties with Peas and Prosciutto

I don't do peas. Otherwise, this recipe was great. And half of my kids devoured it. (I think Evie's on a hunger strike.)

Day Four: Anne Glamore's Pork Lo Mein

Delish, and so easy! Thanks to Lady and the Tramp, Sophie loves to eat anything that looks like spaghetti. However, Evie's hunger strike continues. I'd like to get my hands on some real lo mein noodles and try this one again. The vermicelli was good, but I think authentic noodles would be even better.

Day Five: Risotto with Porcini Mushrooms and Mascarpone
(from Cooking Light, September 2007)

Delicious, but it took forEVER to cook. Oh, and as far as the twins are concerned, this is "mac and cheese." Shhh.

Day Six: Rachel Ray's Chicken Piccata Pasta Toss per Anne Glamore's suggestion

I liked it, although I think I like this chicken piccata recipe better. Rachel's was probably easier and faster, and the family seemed to think the two recipes are equally good.

Tonight, it's back to chili-cheese tator tots.

What I learned from this week's adventure:

1. Meal planning is smart! And not that hard!
2. I need new knives in a bad way. (And someone has a birthdaycoming up...)
3. When planning meals, remember to plan side dishes as well. Oops.
   

Now I'm working on next week's menu. Any suggestions?