(who, by the way, is positively lovely and should be followed on Twitter and by way of her blog by the same name!)
This is a list of the top 100 best-loved novels as complied by the BBC in 2003 as a part of their "BigRead." How many have you read? I'm going to make it a late New Year's Res to read all the ones from here that I haven't already...the ones I've read will be marked with bold type.
1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller
12. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë
13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier
15. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch, George Eliot
28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
30. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion, Jane Austen
39. Dune, Frank Herbert
40. Emma, Jane Austen
41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery
42. Watership Down, Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm, George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
53. The Stand, Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
56. The BFG, Roald Dahl
57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
65. Mort, Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton
67. The Magus, John Fowles
68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
71. Perfume, Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda, Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt
77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
78. Ulysses, James Joyce
79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens
80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits, Roald Dahl
82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
83. Holes, Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
89. Magician, Raymond E Feist
90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo
92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine, Anya Seton
96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
30 April 2010
29 April 2010
Happy Gotcha Day, Bean.
10 years ago today I came home from a workshop to find a spooky little blond girl in the back of a crate in my basement. I opened the door and sat down outside, and in a few minutes the most beautiful greyhound I'd ever seen walked slowly out of the crate and put her face into my collarbone and sighed. Finally, she seemed to be saying, you're here to take care of me. A year ago I arrived in a new country, and the same blond girl hobbled over to me, sank her beautiful face into my shoulder, and sighed. Finally, I'm tired and I hurt, but you're here to take care of me.
Happy Gotcha Day, my Bridge Angel. I miss you.
Love,
Mommy
Happy Gotcha Day, my Bridge Angel. I miss you.
Love,
Mommy
26 April 2010
Hello from the St George's Day festival!
As seen over at Touring Old Blighty, this is "Travels with Daisy, Part Two."
This installment really centers on the great days out you can find by checking on the market schedules in whichever part of the UK you're visiting.
This past weekend, Simon, Daisy and I had a fantastic time at the St. George's Day festival/market right here in Keighley. For those that aren't familiar, St. George is the patron saint of England, slayer of dragon and saviour of fair maiden (that was set up as a sacrifice to said dragon). On our lovely church green in the town centre was set up a market, demonstrations of medevial life/crafts/swordplay and food! We took Daisy with us and she was a star yet again, handling the crowd like a champ. We were also excited to check out the finished products from the Shorn Keighley project, where local artists painted sheep statues in honor of the rich history of the wool trade in this part of the country. It reminds me of the painted bulldogs in Athens, GA at the University of Georgia (go DAWGS! Sorry, Dave.).
While there are many attractions in the UK that will permit dogs (far more than in the US, I must admit), if you have a gorgeous day in England you should definitely take advantage of the weather and get out to some of the outdoor markets. You won't be disappointed, and you may find a treasure or two along the way. If you're lucky enough to be in the UK in the springtime, outdoor markets and festivals/faires are an absolute must because the weather is sunny but not boiling and all the plants are in bloom.
The next installment of Travels with Daisy will be a trip to Skipton this Friday that we've been trying to accomplish for two weeks now...fingers crossed the rain stays away!! We will be cruising the Skipton open market and hopefully heading up to Skipton Castle, which is a dog friendly attraction.
This installment really centers on the great days out you can find by checking on the market schedules in whichever part of the UK you're visiting.
This past weekend, Simon, Daisy and I had a fantastic time at the St. George's Day festival/market right here in Keighley. For those that aren't familiar, St. George is the patron saint of England, slayer of dragon and saviour of fair maiden (that was set up as a sacrifice to said dragon). On our lovely church green in the town centre was set up a market, demonstrations of medevial life/crafts/swordplay and food! We took Daisy with us and she was a star yet again, handling the crowd like a champ. We were also excited to check out the finished products from the Shorn Keighley project, where local artists painted sheep statues in honor of the rich history of the wool trade in this part of the country. It reminds me of the painted bulldogs in Athens, GA at the University of Georgia (go DAWGS! Sorry, Dave.).
While there are many attractions in the UK that will permit dogs (far more than in the US, I must admit), if you have a gorgeous day in England you should definitely take advantage of the weather and get out to some of the outdoor markets. You won't be disappointed, and you may find a treasure or two along the way. If you're lucky enough to be in the UK in the springtime, outdoor markets and festivals/faires are an absolute must because the weather is sunny but not boiling and all the plants are in bloom.
The next installment of Travels with Daisy will be a trip to Skipton this Friday that we've been trying to accomplish for two weeks now...fingers crossed the rain stays away!! We will be cruising the Skipton open market and hopefully heading up to Skipton Castle, which is a dog friendly attraction.
21 April 2010
Lazy Days
There's not a lot to report here at the Lettuce. Work continues as whateverisnormal for where I work. The house continues to not only NOT sell but NOT attract any potential buyers. Daisy continues to need a place to run full tilt and I continue to not have any options in that department. The weather continues to be weird and ever so chilly, and Mills continues to worship at the Gas Fire Altar most nights when I can sneak in and light it.
And speaking of the weather, one thing that seems to not be continuing is the ban on flights in and out of UK airspace...well, down south anyway. I think airports in my end of the country have been open since sometime yesterday, but I wouldn't swear to that. However, since the majority of the flights come through the London airports, that's what is getting the media attention.
Sorry, I need to take a second to remove my tongue from my cheek. It's painful.
There are lots of things that I just don't get about British/European life, but this week's drama with the airlines over the volcanic ash that grounded flights has me puzzled on many fronts, not the least of which being the overwhelming amount of whinging going on on television, radio and newspapers from people whose flights are grounded.
Oh, sorry, whinging=whining.
Really? I get that it's a first class pain when your travel plans are interrupted...when I lived in West Virginia for that one LONG year, there were plenty of times that I had to re-arrange my plans because there were no planes going anywhere near Charleston's airport (usually if someone suspected that there was a vague notion that there could possibly be something that slightly resembled frozen precipitation). But at the same time, I'm so very attached to the fact that I'm still alive that I had to be okay with the cancellations and delays. Give me stuck in an airport over dead next to a smoking pile of melted airplane engine any day.
Another bit that I don't get is the fact that UK travellers are being "rescued" from places that are accessible by train or car, but not from places that are, let's say, across an ocean like the US. It isn't the "why aren't they getting folks onto boats from the US, etc., and back to the UK" part I don't get...boat=slow, I got that part. But why are we sending boats to Spain? Isn't it connected by rail to France, which is further connected to the UK by train and ferry?
I know that on some level I should keep my mouth shut on this because I'm not stranded anywhere and none of my plans were disrupted by the volcano. (But now that I mention it, why doesn't this happen when I'm on holiday in the states?) But that leads me to the third thing I don't get...why has there been little to no coverage of what's going on in Iceland as a result of this major occurance? Are there people near the volcano who have lost lives or family or homes due to the eruption? Why are we so quick to worry about our flights and to forget, almost, that the volcano has possibly affected others in far more critical ways?
Much to ponder. I think I'll go turn on the fire.
And speaking of the weather, one thing that seems to not be continuing is the ban on flights in and out of UK airspace...well, down south anyway. I think airports in my end of the country have been open since sometime yesterday, but I wouldn't swear to that. However, since the majority of the flights come through the London airports, that's what is getting the media attention.
Sorry, I need to take a second to remove my tongue from my cheek. It's painful.
There are lots of things that I just don't get about British/European life, but this week's drama with the airlines over the volcanic ash that grounded flights has me puzzled on many fronts, not the least of which being the overwhelming amount of whinging going on on television, radio and newspapers from people whose flights are grounded.
Oh, sorry, whinging=whining.
Really? I get that it's a first class pain when your travel plans are interrupted...when I lived in West Virginia for that one LONG year, there were plenty of times that I had to re-arrange my plans because there were no planes going anywhere near Charleston's airport (usually if someone suspected that there was a vague notion that there could possibly be something that slightly resembled frozen precipitation). But at the same time, I'm so very attached to the fact that I'm still alive that I had to be okay with the cancellations and delays. Give me stuck in an airport over dead next to a smoking pile of melted airplane engine any day.
Another bit that I don't get is the fact that UK travellers are being "rescued" from places that are accessible by train or car, but not from places that are, let's say, across an ocean like the US. It isn't the "why aren't they getting folks onto boats from the US, etc., and back to the UK" part I don't get...boat=slow, I got that part. But why are we sending boats to Spain? Isn't it connected by rail to France, which is further connected to the UK by train and ferry?
I know that on some level I should keep my mouth shut on this because I'm not stranded anywhere and none of my plans were disrupted by the volcano. (But now that I mention it, why doesn't this happen when I'm on holiday in the states?) But that leads me to the third thing I don't get...why has there been little to no coverage of what's going on in Iceland as a result of this major occurance? Are there people near the volcano who have lost lives or family or homes due to the eruption? Why are we so quick to worry about our flights and to forget, almost, that the volcano has possibly affected others in far more critical ways?
Much to ponder. I think I'll go turn on the fire.
16 April 2010
Well, it is Friday after all...
This month has been a time of great retrospection in the Dunne household. On 2nd April we celebrated Mills and Daisy's "Daddy Gotcha Day," marking one year from the day when a van pulled up behind our house and deposited four crates with a new pet owner. We wished that H and J were here with us to celebrate and talked about our favourite memories.
On 8th April we celebrated the one year anniversary of my arrival in Keighley, as well as the fact that even if we HAD a car, I could no longer drive legally on my American driver's license. We remembered how I had four checked bags and two pieces of hand luggage, and yet somehow made it from baggage claim to Lou's awaiting car without any of it falling off the trolley. Say what you will, but I am in possession of mad stacking skillz when it comes to luggage.
On 10th April we were quiet and remembered that it had now been a full year since our Jeany Bean left us. We again missed her, wished that she was still with us, and told our favourite stories. There was the one about how many times Simon would spoon feed her water, or the look she would give me when I dared bring her food she didn't like. We reminded Daisy of how she would run up to Jeany in the early days of their relationship, happy and bouncy, only to be backed up by the mere lifting of Jeany's lip.
Soon it will be time to wish my sister a happy...birthday (I won't say how old she is because then the addition of 5 to find how old I'll be on MY birthday would be just too easy, now wouldn't it?) and again to remember my Bean on the same day, for her Gotcha Day was Susan's birthday.
But for now, it's just Friday. The house hasn't sold. My rail pass has expired. We're going shopping tonight and to Nando's in Leeds for dinner after. Daisy is fine, Mills is sassy, and Simon and I are still crossing all appropriate appendages that we'll soon be announcing the countdown to a new Baby Dunne.
Life's not so bad on this Friday. And tomorrow, we'll go to the chippy in the picture there, and we'll do our grocery shopping and all that happens on weekends here in Keighley. Happy weekend, y'all.
On 8th April we celebrated the one year anniversary of my arrival in Keighley, as well as the fact that even if we HAD a car, I could no longer drive legally on my American driver's license. We remembered how I had four checked bags and two pieces of hand luggage, and yet somehow made it from baggage claim to Lou's awaiting car without any of it falling off the trolley. Say what you will, but I am in possession of mad stacking skillz when it comes to luggage.
On 10th April we were quiet and remembered that it had now been a full year since our Jeany Bean left us. We again missed her, wished that she was still with us, and told our favourite stories. There was the one about how many times Simon would spoon feed her water, or the look she would give me when I dared bring her food she didn't like. We reminded Daisy of how she would run up to Jeany in the early days of their relationship, happy and bouncy, only to be backed up by the mere lifting of Jeany's lip.
Soon it will be time to wish my sister a happy...birthday (I won't say how old she is because then the addition of 5 to find how old I'll be on MY birthday would be just too easy, now wouldn't it?) and again to remember my Bean on the same day, for her Gotcha Day was Susan's birthday.
But for now, it's just Friday. The house hasn't sold. My rail pass has expired. We're going shopping tonight and to Nando's in Leeds for dinner after. Daisy is fine, Mills is sassy, and Simon and I are still crossing all appropriate appendages that we'll soon be announcing the countdown to a new Baby Dunne.
Life's not so bad on this Friday. And tomorrow, we'll go to the chippy in the picture there, and we'll do our grocery shopping and all that happens on weekends here in Keighley. Happy weekend, y'all.
07 April 2010
As seen on NERDA's world...My Deaf Family
Check it out, y'all. This is a fantastic idea for a reality show, and it's very well made to boot. Double props to Google for the automatic captioning!!
30 March 2010
As Seen on Facebook: "Just so ya know..."
I am a democrat. I come from a family of democrats. I am probably the most left-leaning liberal democrat in my family, with my sister and her husband a close second.
I believe that it is our responsibility as those that have to care for those that don't. I don't particularly care WHY they don't have, all I need to know is that they are in need. If we have food, water, shelter, HEALTH CARE, medicines, or anything, really and someone else doesn't, it is our duty to share. I think Jesus might have had a comment to make about that, if you give to the least of these, that ring any bells?
I believe that it is none of my business if someone is gay or straight or bi or whatever. I am straight, and that works for me (and my husband, LOL). I believe that love is love, and that we don't get to choose with whom we will fall in love. You are born who you are. See above statement about how that is none of my business.
I believe VERY STRONGLY that it is not my place to judge. I leave that up to my Higher Power. If what you're doing works for you, fantastic. What I'm doing works for me. If what you're doing seriously gets in the way of what I'm doing, then we might have a problem...but it's nothing that can't be worked out.
It is all but futile to try and bend my views toward the more conservative side of the political fence. If there's a tree out there, you're going to see me hugging it. If there's a war going on, you can bet I'm opposed to it and am praying daily that all military personnel involved will come home safe and sound (on both sides) and it will end. I have a work ethic, I work for the money I bring home, and yet I still believe that I could be helping someone else more than I do.
Speaking of a Higher Power, I have no ideas or opinions that the one I choose to worship is the only right choice. I believe strongly that we all follow valid paths to the Divine. Churches that exclude me from their worship because of my denominational choice or my gender or for any other reason really bother me. Exclusion, in my mind, is not a path toward enlightenment.
I am an American. I will always be an American, even if at some point I hold citizenship in the United Kingdom. I will always speak like an American, although there may be bits of vocabulary and intonation that are most definitely British that creep into my speech. I did not care for Dubya and I am a strong and happy supporter of Obama.
Speaking of being an American, that does not mean that I own nor carry a gun. It does not mean that I am in favour of anything less than even tighter gun control laws than the US already has. It does not mean that any of my relatives are married to each other, nor does it mean that I am uneducated and backward. That last one goes double for the fact that I was born and raised in Georgia and consider South Carolina to be home.
I did not marry my husband because he is English. I married my husband because he is Simon.
I believe that sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never, ever hurt me unless I let them.
I believe that it is our responsibility as those that have to care for those that don't. I don't particularly care WHY they don't have, all I need to know is that they are in need. If we have food, water, shelter, HEALTH CARE, medicines, or anything, really and someone else doesn't, it is our duty to share. I think Jesus might have had a comment to make about that, if you give to the least of these, that ring any bells?
I believe that it is none of my business if someone is gay or straight or bi or whatever. I am straight, and that works for me (and my husband, LOL). I believe that love is love, and that we don't get to choose with whom we will fall in love. You are born who you are. See above statement about how that is none of my business.
I believe VERY STRONGLY that it is not my place to judge. I leave that up to my Higher Power. If what you're doing works for you, fantastic. What I'm doing works for me. If what you're doing seriously gets in the way of what I'm doing, then we might have a problem...but it's nothing that can't be worked out.
It is all but futile to try and bend my views toward the more conservative side of the political fence. If there's a tree out there, you're going to see me hugging it. If there's a war going on, you can bet I'm opposed to it and am praying daily that all military personnel involved will come home safe and sound (on both sides) and it will end. I have a work ethic, I work for the money I bring home, and yet I still believe that I could be helping someone else more than I do.
Speaking of a Higher Power, I have no ideas or opinions that the one I choose to worship is the only right choice. I believe strongly that we all follow valid paths to the Divine. Churches that exclude me from their worship because of my denominational choice or my gender or for any other reason really bother me. Exclusion, in my mind, is not a path toward enlightenment.
I am an American. I will always be an American, even if at some point I hold citizenship in the United Kingdom. I will always speak like an American, although there may be bits of vocabulary and intonation that are most definitely British that creep into my speech. I did not care for Dubya and I am a strong and happy supporter of Obama.
Speaking of being an American, that does not mean that I own nor carry a gun. It does not mean that I am in favour of anything less than even tighter gun control laws than the US already has. It does not mean that any of my relatives are married to each other, nor does it mean that I am uneducated and backward. That last one goes double for the fact that I was born and raised in Georgia and consider South Carolina to be home.
I did not marry my husband because he is English. I married my husband because he is Simon.
I believe that sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never, ever hurt me unless I let them.
27 February 2010
See What I'm Saying
All I'm gonna say is I saw this movie finally and it blew me away. I've been on the email list, I'm a FB fan, and I couldn't believe that it was being premiered at UGA while I am in the states. GO SEE THIS MOVIE. I came away from it with a happy reminder of my second family, my second culture...and with stabbing, stinging pain at not being a part of that anymore. Go see the movie and hire a deaf entertainer. You'll be glad you did. Both.
11 February 2010
Verbal Torrents in the Train
I was taught, in my undergrad, that if you are ever in a room with a Deaf/HOH person that you should be signing if you can as well as/alongside of speaking. I attended Deaf Club events where I was one of only a few hearing people, and I got to feel what it was like to being the odd person out who doesn't understand the conversation.
Today, on my ride home on the train, I had a taste of that feeling again. I got on and started looking for a seat. First car was full to the gills so I moved on, but got stuck in the vestibule between cars. There were two women there with their pushchairs blocking most of the passage way through. They didn't notice me at first nor did they make any effort to clear the passage, so I stood on my toes to look past them into the next car. Seeing it was full, I let out a frustrated noise that unfortunately got their attention.
One of the women, looking at me like I'd sauntered over and snatched her bald-headed for blocking my way, started huffing about and trying to move her pushchair. I immediately apologized for my outburst and made it clear that the noise I'd made was frustration at the full train and NOT at them. I chose to stop talking before I said "...not at you two, since you're taking up all the room in this walkway and no one can get through due to your decision to not fold up your pushchairs, even though your children are in your arms..."
Anyway, I decided I'd just stand. It was only about 15 minutes to where I was going anyway. The women went back to their conversation...in French. Aha! I thought, that's why they looked at me like that, maybe they didn't understand me! I was all set to launch into self deprecating inner monologue, and to wonder when I could have ever become so arrogant as to assume everyone on a train would speak English, etc., when I happened to overhear something I recognized. I can't quote it exactly because my French is really abysmal at best, but the jist was that the one woman was wondering aloud why that stupid American had thought it was okay to talk to her in English.
Properly incensed, I glowered for the other nine and a half minutes until the train stopped. How dare she? How did she know I didn't speak French fluently? Etc. etc. etc...until the cold air hit me in the face and caused me to really think about what had happened. All I'd needed to say was "No no, that's okay," when she started to move the pushchair rather than, "No no, that's okay, you're fine where you are, that noise I made? That (insert sound of frustration here)? That totally wasn't at you, that was at the full train, that's all. Sorry about that." Yeah, I would have rolled my eyes at me too. Ugh.
But more importantly it reminded me that I never know who might sign, and if I'm going to say something I should make sure I can say it in front of whomever is around.
Today, on my ride home on the train, I had a taste of that feeling again. I got on and started looking for a seat. First car was full to the gills so I moved on, but got stuck in the vestibule between cars. There were two women there with their pushchairs blocking most of the passage way through. They didn't notice me at first nor did they make any effort to clear the passage, so I stood on my toes to look past them into the next car. Seeing it was full, I let out a frustrated noise that unfortunately got their attention.
One of the women, looking at me like I'd sauntered over and snatched her bald-headed for blocking my way, started huffing about and trying to move her pushchair. I immediately apologized for my outburst and made it clear that the noise I'd made was frustration at the full train and NOT at them. I chose to stop talking before I said "...not at you two, since you're taking up all the room in this walkway and no one can get through due to your decision to not fold up your pushchairs, even though your children are in your arms..."
Anyway, I decided I'd just stand. It was only about 15 minutes to where I was going anyway. The women went back to their conversation...in French. Aha! I thought, that's why they looked at me like that, maybe they didn't understand me! I was all set to launch into self deprecating inner monologue, and to wonder when I could have ever become so arrogant as to assume everyone on a train would speak English, etc., when I happened to overhear something I recognized. I can't quote it exactly because my French is really abysmal at best, but the jist was that the one woman was wondering aloud why that stupid American had thought it was okay to talk to her in English.
Properly incensed, I glowered for the other nine and a half minutes until the train stopped. How dare she? How did she know I didn't speak French fluently? Etc. etc. etc...until the cold air hit me in the face and caused me to really think about what had happened. All I'd needed to say was "No no, that's okay," when she started to move the pushchair rather than, "No no, that's okay, you're fine where you are, that noise I made? That (insert sound of frustration here)? That totally wasn't at you, that was at the full train, that's all. Sorry about that." Yeah, I would have rolled my eyes at me too. Ugh.
But more importantly it reminded me that I never know who might sign, and if I'm going to say something I should make sure I can say it in front of whomever is around.
07 February 2010
Hello from Daisy!
Sort of, anyway…I was working on posts for my ASL VLOG, Nerda’s World, and Daisy came downstairs to see what I was doing. So, for those that know and miss the little Psycho…here she is:
01 February 2010
Are you there Sock? It's me, Joy...
My brother in law Dave beat me to the punch in sharing about something that happened while he and Susan and Joy were visiting us here in Yorkshire last month. Okay, let's call a spade a spade...I've had plenty of chances to write this post since they left, and just haven't. I could make excuses like "I missed them after they left and it was too painful to write" or "I've been up to my ears with work and getting the house ready to be viewed" or even "my trial sub of MSOffice expired and I lost data," but the truth is that I have been neglecting my Lettuce. And so, in a sort of an echo, let me share with you the rest of the story that Dave cleverly wove into his sermon yesterday.
We were sitting around being amazed that Joy has learned several words, not the least of which is "sock." Susan was keen to show me, while changing Joy's nappy, that she can now keep my perfect niece occupied by asking her what her socks are called and waiting for Joy to respond. It's always a good idea to keep a 13 month old occupied as often as you can, because it lessens the number of times said cherub wiggles off of whatever he or she is perched on in a desperate attempt to GET AWAY.
The conversation shifted to include the fact that, as Dave mentioned, Joy has yet to say Mama directed at Susan. I heard her say it a few times, but it wasn't while she stared adoringly at my sister. More realistically she said it to her mittens, but at least she's saying it. She calls everything either socks or kitties (imagine Daisy's reaction, since to her kitty is something bad that will scratch her eyeballs out, when Joy toddled over and lovingly called her KitKee!) or Dada. Simon mentioned that maybe he thought Joy was just calling Susan "Sock" because, after all, it starts with an S and seems to be something that Joy loves.
My imagination was lit like a powder keg. I mentioned the name of the book that Dave talks about in his blog, but also said that I could imagine Joy in about 13 years, an emotionally turbulent and possibly petulant teenager, gazing into her sock drawer, brows furrowed and knuckles white..."Are you there Sock? It's Me, Joy...why won't you answer me???"
Okay, maybe it was only funny to us.
We had a great time with Susan and Dave and Joy. I had thought and planned and worried over what we could do while they were here to make them absolutely LOVE the part of England where we live...but it turns out that wasn't what the visit was about at all. It was about hanging out with family. It was about watching Joy experience a new country. It was about taking notes for when Simon and I take trips with the children we hope to have.
And it was about the smile you see on that little face in the picture above, and the laughter that followed.
Love you, Dave, Joy, and especially you, Sock. To absolute bits. Thanks for a fantastic visit. See you in a few weeks!
We were sitting around being amazed that Joy has learned several words, not the least of which is "sock." Susan was keen to show me, while changing Joy's nappy, that she can now keep my perfect niece occupied by asking her what her socks are called and waiting for Joy to respond. It's always a good idea to keep a 13 month old occupied as often as you can, because it lessens the number of times said cherub wiggles off of whatever he or she is perched on in a desperate attempt to GET AWAY.
The conversation shifted to include the fact that, as Dave mentioned, Joy has yet to say Mama directed at Susan. I heard her say it a few times, but it wasn't while she stared adoringly at my sister. More realistically she said it to her mittens, but at least she's saying it. She calls everything either socks or kitties (imagine Daisy's reaction, since to her kitty is something bad that will scratch her eyeballs out, when Joy toddled over and lovingly called her KitKee!) or Dada. Simon mentioned that maybe he thought Joy was just calling Susan "Sock" because, after all, it starts with an S and seems to be something that Joy loves.
My imagination was lit like a powder keg. I mentioned the name of the book that Dave talks about in his blog, but also said that I could imagine Joy in about 13 years, an emotionally turbulent and possibly petulant teenager, gazing into her sock drawer, brows furrowed and knuckles white..."Are you there Sock? It's Me, Joy...why won't you answer me???"
Okay, maybe it was only funny to us.
We had a great time with Susan and Dave and Joy. I had thought and planned and worried over what we could do while they were here to make them absolutely LOVE the part of England where we live...but it turns out that wasn't what the visit was about at all. It was about hanging out with family. It was about watching Joy experience a new country. It was about taking notes for when Simon and I take trips with the children we hope to have.
And it was about the smile you see on that little face in the picture above, and the laughter that followed.
Love you, Dave, Joy, and especially you, Sock. To absolute bits. Thanks for a fantastic visit. See you in a few weeks!
31 December 2009
The Beginning, at the End.
It's almost 2010. Twenty-ten, two thousand ten, or next year, whatever you want to call it, it's almost here. As usual, I've got a handful of resolutions that mostly have to do with my weight, how I eat, and my attitude in general. None of those will last past the end of the day tomorrow, but there is one that I'm going to try my best to keep. 2010 is going to be the year that I go back to writing.
I have so many ideas floating around in my head. Novels, short stories, epic adventures and children's picture books. This year my focus will be on sorting through the hive of bees in my head and making some strides toward categorizing and committing them to paper.
I'm easing myself back into this mindset by reading. I hate to use this analogy but I can't think of a better one...I'm like Helen Keller at the water pump. I can't stop wanting to read, and for once I'm reading all sorts of things rather than my usual sci-fi/fantasy books. It's the words...I truly can't get enough of the words. I can't wait to see how things will be described or what one character will say to another.
I'm blogging more, and in two languages. I've gone back to my ASL V-log, Nerda's World, and I have every good intention of keeping up with it this time.
2010 is going to be the year of re-kindling my literary fire. I'd lost my voice, in terms of my writing, for many years and I'm so happy to see it coming over the horizon, headed for home. Just wait and see what happens when it finally crosses the threshold. I know I can't wait.
Happy New Year, Lettuce-Heads. See you in the new decade.
I have so many ideas floating around in my head. Novels, short stories, epic adventures and children's picture books. This year my focus will be on sorting through the hive of bees in my head and making some strides toward categorizing and committing them to paper.
I'm easing myself back into this mindset by reading. I hate to use this analogy but I can't think of a better one...I'm like Helen Keller at the water pump. I can't stop wanting to read, and for once I'm reading all sorts of things rather than my usual sci-fi/fantasy books. It's the words...I truly can't get enough of the words. I can't wait to see how things will be described or what one character will say to another.
I'm blogging more, and in two languages. I've gone back to my ASL V-log, Nerda's World, and I have every good intention of keeping up with it this time.
2010 is going to be the year of re-kindling my literary fire. I'd lost my voice, in terms of my writing, for many years and I'm so happy to see it coming over the horizon, headed for home. Just wait and see what happens when it finally crosses the threshold. I know I can't wait.
Happy New Year, Lettuce-Heads. See you in the new decade.
22 December 2009
21 December 2009
The latest from Old Blighty
Please ignore my lack of lips in that picture and enjoy my latest contribution to Touring Old Blighty:
"Number Eleven for Christmas in Yorkshire"
I work in retail (in a mall) and my store is a bus and two trains away. The other day I was working and had popped down to the food court in the mall for some lunch, when I was treated to some lovely Christmas carols performed by a brass band set up by the entrance to Morrisons. Then today, as I was coming down the escalator at Leeds station, in a hurry and admittedly cranky with the crowds of shoppers and people with large luggage traveling for the holidays, I had a chance to be still and just listen. A brass band was playing Christmas Carols outside of the ticket barrier, and I will further admit to missing the Carlisle train because I lingered there, under the big board, feeling more in the Christmas spirit than I had all day.
I'm a sucker for a brass band, and I'm lucky to live in Yorkshire where bands come in all shapes and sizes and ages, from the colliery bands still playing together despite the end of that era to the village bands that blend old and young performers. But there's something about "Ding Dong Merrily on High" played by a brass band in the acoustic perfection that is a concrete and glass railway station that would make Scrooge and the Grinch both smile. Merry Christmas from the land of whippets, flat caps, and brass bands!
"Number Eleven for Christmas in Yorkshire"
I work in retail (in a mall) and my store is a bus and two trains away. The other day I was working and had popped down to the food court in the mall for some lunch, when I was treated to some lovely Christmas carols performed by a brass band set up by the entrance to Morrisons. Then today, as I was coming down the escalator at Leeds station, in a hurry and admittedly cranky with the crowds of shoppers and people with large luggage traveling for the holidays, I had a chance to be still and just listen. A brass band was playing Christmas Carols outside of the ticket barrier, and I will further admit to missing the Carlisle train because I lingered there, under the big board, feeling more in the Christmas spirit than I had all day.
I'm a sucker for a brass band, and I'm lucky to live in Yorkshire where bands come in all shapes and sizes and ages, from the colliery bands still playing together despite the end of that era to the village bands that blend old and young performers. But there's something about "Ding Dong Merrily on High" played by a brass band in the acoustic perfection that is a concrete and glass railway station that would make Scrooge and the Grinch both smile. Merry Christmas from the land of whippets, flat caps, and brass bands!
My Avatar Experience
I want to start this by saying that I was stunned and amazed and thrilled by the graphics and the effects in Avatar. The movie is visually beautiful, the creatures on the created world of Pandora are surprising and the language Cameron created for the natives has the lilt of a cross between Tolkien's Elvish and modern Gaelic.
I don't want to say too much about the move for the folks who haven't already figured out where the plot will be heading and want a surprise. Fair enough. However, I want to comment on the biggest complaint I had with the movie and I'm able to do that without spoiling it for those of you that haven't seen it yet.
I just want to pause for a moment here and say that if you have the chance to see the movie in 3D and/or IMAX, please do it. You'll be glad you did. I caught myself almost swatting insects, the 3D is so convincing.
Right, back to my complaint. I will say openly that now that I'm outside of the US I have become a bit sensitive about the portayal of the Average American in the media and toward the ideas that other nationals have about us. I consider myself to be more or less an average American, albeit a very liberal democrat American. My complaint is that the team of humans that were mining on Pandora, the military presence that resorted to violence at the drop of a hat and packed some serious firepower, and even the scientists who wanted to improve the lives of the natives by setting up schools for them...they were all American. I know that it's an American movie that was made in America by an American director/producer/writer/whathaveyou, but a multinational cast might be more representative of where humanity will be at that point in the future.
I see the effects of this kind of portrayal every day. Several months ago an Englishman told me that he didn't think that Obama would be in office long enough to make any positive changes because "He'll get assassinated. That's what you lot do in America, you shoot people." Today a customer at work insinuated that my family could help me find a book once he learned that I was born in Atlanta. The book was about reloading guns.
Anyway, if you can make it in to see Avatar at an IMAX, do it. The effects will blow you away...while the Americans on screen do the same.
I don't want to say too much about the move for the folks who haven't already figured out where the plot will be heading and want a surprise. Fair enough. However, I want to comment on the biggest complaint I had with the movie and I'm able to do that without spoiling it for those of you that haven't seen it yet.
I just want to pause for a moment here and say that if you have the chance to see the movie in 3D and/or IMAX, please do it. You'll be glad you did. I caught myself almost swatting insects, the 3D is so convincing.
Right, back to my complaint. I will say openly that now that I'm outside of the US I have become a bit sensitive about the portayal of the Average American in the media and toward the ideas that other nationals have about us. I consider myself to be more or less an average American, albeit a very liberal democrat American. My complaint is that the team of humans that were mining on Pandora, the military presence that resorted to violence at the drop of a hat and packed some serious firepower, and even the scientists who wanted to improve the lives of the natives by setting up schools for them...they were all American. I know that it's an American movie that was made in America by an American director/producer/writer/whathaveyou, but a multinational cast might be more representative of where humanity will be at that point in the future.
I see the effects of this kind of portrayal every day. Several months ago an Englishman told me that he didn't think that Obama would be in office long enough to make any positive changes because "He'll get assassinated. That's what you lot do in America, you shoot people." Today a customer at work insinuated that my family could help me find a book once he learned that I was born in Atlanta. The book was about reloading guns.
Anyway, if you can make it in to see Avatar at an IMAX, do it. The effects will blow you away...while the Americans on screen do the same.
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