girl meets GOD

women's book club is reading Girl Meets God, by Lauren Winner.

I finished it today. The author (quite frankly) sounds like my kind of person. She's smart, nerdy, reads too many books, etc.

Her Christianity has far to go, but it has a genuinity to it that cannot be denied. Sometimes I agreed with her, and quite often I did not.

It's an easy and enlightening read. Beware, because she describes lots of boyfriends etc., and though the book isn't at all explicit, it requires maturity.

And now it's really late and I'm leaving for the weekend.

Tata!

Senia's Lament

That's the song you're hearing, and it's by Jerry Douglas. I think it's here to stay.

:)

But this is not Senia's lament. This is Annie's lament:

Woe is me! I have twenty more research notecards due next Tuesday, and I have not enough research left to do!

Woe is me! My first two notecards filled a whole page! and I have thirty-five of them already! And I know not how I shall manage to find twice as many, when I'm almost done anyway!

Woe is me! We're having pizza for supper!

Really. I've had a marvelous day. I experienced, for the first time in my life, breezing through a math lesson in less than an hour.

I finished my whole violin etude (*pant* *gasp*).

And there's book club tonight.

HURRAY!

I've been tagged...

by Elaienar.

And I tag:

Alothe Ilisse
Marigold
Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy
Pervinca
and Daisy.

You are under no obligation to comply, of course. Especially if your blog isn't the free-for-all that some of us create... ^_^

If you do wish to comply, list...

Five songs I'm Currently Loving (mine are not in order of obsession):

~Growltiger's Last Stand, from the musical Cats, by Andrew Lloyd Webber/T.S. Elliot
~The Lark Ascending, by Ralph Vaughn Williams
~Stranded in Kodiak, by Chris Thile
~When You Come Back Down, by Tim O'Brien
~Lake Effect, Liz Carroll

Only the first three reflect what I've heard today.

After emailing Frodo last weekend, I rummaged out our old Cats soundtrack, but we only have Act II (unless you count the old record. and we don't have a turntable).

In spite of that tragedy (Whatever happened to Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer?), I managed to hook Brother3.

Today I played it back in the girls' room. Perv came in about the time Gus the Theatre Cat started. Immediately thereafter I opened the door to greet a loud and rambunctious Fric (looking for socks), and discovered a very cute Frac sitting right at my feet. He was listening to the music through the door. I don't know how he managed to find us so fast!

So we let him in. Cute little guy.

Such is Monday...

Here's a strange phenomena of the human brain: if you think about waking up early (as something that you need to do), you actually will wake up early.

This morning, I woke up at 6:40 without any alarm clock.

I thought to myself, as I went to sleep last night, "Wake up at five, wake up at five, wake up at five." That was at eleven o'clock, however, and who's to be picky when the brain says "YOU MUST HAVE 7.7 HOURS OF SLEEP" ?

Papa comes out of his office when Mama gets up, and immediately goes over to the thermostat. "Who turned the heater on?" he asks Mama. "It's not that cold."

"I only set it on 67," quoth she, "and the heat kicked in as soon as I turned it on. It must have been freezing out here."

Papa laughs a little and looks confused. But then, he's wearing his quilted jacket over his shirt, and he has his shoes on...

I walked and ran the sun up this morning, in my gloves and wool coat, watching the cars clustered at the school-bus stop.

We're running really low on groceries, but we still somehow have bread and eggs in the house, so that's what we had for breakfast. Greg and I made warm egg-and-cream-cheese sandwiches for whoever wanted them (mostly us).

I retired to my room for a few hours of gleaning from Neil Carlson's Foundations of Physiological Psychology, which is a very cool but also very huge book, and made some more research notecards. (give my heartfelt frustration to the research paper, wherever it may be...)

All my research comes off of pages 374-76. It's just CRAZY.

Well, after making a few notecards, I distracted myself. And I read some stuff I didn't really need to know.

Then I tested it on Brother1, since I don't have any white rabbits or lab rats...

A form of conditioned learning, where a neutral stimulus evokes a strong reaction, because of a provocative association.

A practical example of this:

~I stroke brother's forearm with tactile gloves.
~then I give him a pinch: small, focused, and just painful enough to make his muscles tense.

I repeat this in a predictable series, with a short pause in between each.

Soon, his arm tenses as a reaction to the tactile gloves, because his mind tells him that what follows will be painful.

The best results came about when I sang a note in his ear, then blew a puff of air on his eye.

After three repetitions, I could make him blink just by singing the note.

Of course, I had to do all of Brother2's therapy. cross-lateral patterning, pleoptics, etc., etc., etc....

If you want to completely and totally bore an audience, demonstrate pleoptics.

A formerly interested observer will leave in a matter of seconds.

Why?

Because counting "ONE, TWO, THREE, OFF. ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE TEN" over and over for two minutes straight, doesn't exactly engage the casual observer.

Brother2 and I have taken to skip counting: "TWO, FOUR, SIX, OFF..." But it's still boring.

And that's all I have to tell about today. Except, I changed the song on my blog again. ^_^

Autumnal Amorosities

Is "Amorosity" a word?

In the past few minutes the western sky turned from bright yellow gold to mellow orange gold.

The sun is setting so early!

I love the purple clouds in the Northern sky, and the bright blue air.

I love the way the gold reflects off of tree limbs.

I love the shiny, dew-covered green grass out behind our office window.

I love to climb into a tall thin tree and sway in the wind.

I love to watch the squirrels bury nuts in the back yard.

I love to see the rainbow forming over our hill--red, yellow, green, brown, all shades and shadows.

I love to see the outline of young maples and elms standing against the rosy evening sky, in the light of pure gold clouds (no silver!).

I love to wake up in the middle of the night, chilled because I couldn't keep the light blanket over my arms.

I love wearing sweaters and socks.

I love having hot soup and chili.

I love cold fingers, goosebumps, shivers, and the adrenaline rush that accompanies them.

I love sitting out in the living room with a good book, crocheting something soft and comfortable-feeling, looking out the window.

I love the morning darkness.

I love standing out in the cold black of night, under the stars, moon, and planets.

I love scribbling in my lab notebook with stiff fingers, playing violin with cold hands, working with sore arms.

I love the rush of homework and books, of walking out in the rain and windy chill...

I love my cozy house and cluttered desk.

Farewell Angelinaaa....

The bells of the crown
Are being stolen by bandits
I must follow the sound
The triangle tingles
And the trumpets play slow
Farewell Angelina
]The sky is on fire
And I must go.

Tim O'Brien sings a good version of this Bob Dylan song. Dylan pops up in the most interesting places (Altan, Nickel Creek).

Unfortunately for me, I can't for the life of me figure out the precise subject matter of this song.

I've put it up here for your enjoyment. Turn down your speakers, Frodo!

:D

Also (for Marigold):

I honored National Chemistry Week by not opening my chemistry textbook once. So far. I may break that record today.... >_>

Short funny from Latin class. . .

The sentence was this--

aemilia maritum suum tardum excusat

So, I started translating (impromptu) in English. "Aemilia excuses her late husband..."

"HOLD ON!" says Mr. Spotts.

"What is a Late Husband in English?"

I don't get it.

But then it comes to me, that Aemilia's "late husband" is actually very much alive.

*hysteric laughter*

Class begins brainstorming alternative ways to say "late."

Delayed. Tardy. Delinquent. Player of Hookie.

The last two ideas were mine, proving what I have said all along, that I'm really unworthy of my class... But the first two suggestions came from my (brilliant) classmates, Seth and Tim.

In the end we translated it "delayed." And now I have no idea why I found it so funny.

<_<
>_>

HTML for Smarties: Music Streams

I rejoice muchly at my findings. Therefore I leave them, in this dismal heap of a blog, for your enlightenment.

To find a song for your blog... visit this link. Find the song, right click on its link, and hit "Properties."

Copy the URL address of the song.

Put it into this code:

< src="YOUR SONG URL HERE. COM" autostart="true" loop="true" hidden="true"><>< src="YOUR SONG URL HERE. COM" loop="infinite">< /noembed >< / div>

Now, if this was a real code, it would take itself seriously and hide. So I had to modify it just a bit, so you could see it. Here's how you change it back: Take all the spaces from between the words and the arrow marks (<, >).

Paste it into your template, down below the links etc., in the blank space between the tag inscripted "End Sidebar" and the tag inscripted "End Content."

And if you do all that right, you have a song for your blog. Yay!

Well, bless my boots!

Unfurl your umbrella, and pick your way through an idiomatic brainstorm .

Break the ice.

The natives are getting restless.

Does that ring a bell?

Pie in the sky.

A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

A penny saved is a penny earned.

The early bird gets the worm.

And, I suppose, you have a bridge to sell me in Brooklyn.

An apple never falls far from the tree.

Sorry to burst your bubble.

He lies like a rug.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

You have a chip on your shoulder.

He drew the line in the sand, threw down the gauntlet.

Jump in the lake! Take a hike!

Now we're in a pickle.

A stitch in time saves nine.

A bull in the china shop.

There's an elephant in the room!

Birds of a feather nest together.

Her tongue is hinged on both ends.

That's one way to skin a cat.

He kicked the bucket, threw in the towel.

Ready to run with the big dogs.

In the blink of an eye...

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

We're dead meat.

Ruffle her feathers.

Drink a bitter cup.

Keep your ears pricked.

He's a live wire. Loose cannon.

I heard it through the grapevine. Or was it straight from the horse's mouth?

She's circling the drain.

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Something's getting his goat.

Wet blanket! Wet noodle!

Sheep-stealer!

He fills big shoes.

His eyes are too big for his stomach. Or, his head is too big for his hat.

Rat-race. Horse-race.

He gave the cold shoulder.

Opened a can of worms, stewed a pretty kettle of fish.

Soaked to the bone.

Cross my heart.

Weighed and found wanting. Featherweight.

Crack the whip.

The grass never grows beneath his feet. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

The chips are down.

He pulled his song-and-dance routine.

Snake-oil salesman.

A wall-flower

She earned her stripes.

Cut the fat.

You cut me to the quick!

Are you pulling my leg?
....

Aimless Amalgam.

Well, I've been neglecting this place a bit more than usual. This post does not reflect the fact that anything I have to say, particularly. It merely reflects my sense of obligation to say *SOMETHING* every now and then.

Rhetoric assignments. Mine are all so awful I'm not posting any yet. So... Ha.

(you all didn't want them anyway.)

A classic brain-free moment:

Papa, while leading a Bible study discussion on the Sacraments: "[Annie], can you define Ex opera operata for us?"

Me: "Well.. um.. Literally? it means... Operated out of the operation. Or maybe operation out of the operated. I'm not sure which. "

(*laughter from the masses*)

Sacred Latin is like that. Ambiguous, nary a verb in sight. Lots of implied words.

If one should translate Ex opera operata into good English, he would say:

Through the (physical) operation, (the thing is) operated. And there's no good word I can think of to replace "operate." Sad, no?

I baked this marvelous pound cake yesterday morning.

Because I very slightly altered the recipe, it is now officially Mine, right? : D

Don't worry. It wasn't weird, didn't taste funny... or any of those lovely words typically attributed to my "slightly altered" recipes.

Now I shall translate the recipe into plain Cooking English for you all. It goes like this:

~set out 3 1/2 sticks of butter to soften.
~and also 6 eggs, so they can warm to room temperature.
~don't preheat the oven.
~butter and flour three loaf pans.

Cream together:
~3 1/2 sticks of butter
~2 c. sugar

Beat in the eggs WELL. One at a time.

While stirring continuously, gradually add:
3 c. flour.

Beat on HIGH for two minutes.

Stir in 1 T each:
vanilla extract
almond extract or lemon juice.

Pour into pans, set in the cold oven. Heat oven to 300 F, and set timer for an hour and a half.

Cool on racks.

Consume, but get some help!

As I (minimally) prepared for yet another standardized test this week, it occurred to me.

The PSAT is supposed to measure potential intelligence.

Yet, they only ask you to define five random words, all of them excessively bizarre. If you don't know the right five words...

Or. They give you a math problem that takes you a half-minute more than you're allowed to have. If you run out of time....

Or, they ask ambiguous questions in the comparative reading section. If you think too hard...

If you commit such errors while taking this test, your scores will still go to the state school boards. And they will know (for sure!) that you aren't as smart as the next guy.

(I already like the sound of this... !_!)

And so, this is really a matter of Providence. I must add that the (mostly) tender treatment shown toward me by standardized tests in the past is completely unwarranted and undeserved. Because I'm not that functional in real life. :-P

Anna and I went over to Kyong's office this afternoon and she notarized our identification papers. A blonde student stood in the door, grinning as she waited in line, while we bantered on about step-dancing (and why we couldn't possibly give her a demonstration....) ... It took awhile longer because part of our ID wasn't there when it should have been. Kyong had to write it all in for us. . .
We wrap things up, and she says:
"Well, now you can take your test, but you haven't passed your dance test yet."

Oh, bother.

So today in Irish dance class we did all sorts of things, and none of them well. Mrs. Hill took us over the same old jig step, cleaning up our form and teaching us a couple variations. Then we did the four-hand square, with the lead-around and the stars.

And the little class does Waves of Tory remarkably well. I volunteered as an "extra," to round out the odd number of kids. They do the waves very well, but their lines are CROOKED.

Just because they want to pull and run and jostle.

They learn.

Have I said enough yet?

Woman in White remains a predictable puzzlement. Puzzlement, because parts of the plot haven't been explained, and if they have, the explanation has been extremely dull, because I missed it. What was that Secret of Sir Percival's that Anne Catherick mentioned? Surely it was more than just his dire financial straits... And why did she remain imprisoned in his asylum when she didn't really seem insane?

But aside from those two questions, the book remains as predictable as ever. I hope that changes soon. Indeed, it had better, for the I've reached third epoch...

Why am I still reading that old book anyway? Well, that's my Fun Book. Neurodevelopment and psychology don't count. Sorry.

I continue to test Babinski reflexes, as a sort of passive hobby. My enlisted test group is proving a motley lot.

I now wonder if "abnormal" is really so abnormal after all.

And I'd love a book on human reflexes, if anyone knows where to find one. The OSU library doesn't seem to have anything, but perhaps I haven't looked far enough. : P

Of Scones and Resurrections: A Day in the Life of Annie Laurie

Well, about the scones.

I got up very late and made them for breakfast: shiny and chock full of blueberries. Every last one was promptly devoured by a band of cold and hungry siblings just in from a prayer walk with Papa. They made spice tea to go with them.

Resurrections:

First, our bedroom. It has resurrected from its chaotic mass of chaos, and is now beautiful and airy and everything it could possibly be.

And our ribbon collection was resurrected from the walk-in closet. We spent about an hour this morning, snipping and sorting through it all, ironing and winding and taping and bagging.

And last but not least, Northanger Abbey. I came to the church office with a bunch of the other cast, and after recording my *one line* (my other scene didn't need overdubbing), I went down the creaky stairs and posted a "RECORDING SESSION IN PROGRESS" sign on the office door. Then I sat on the bottom step and read one of the books I picked up from Mr. P's table, guarding the door to prevent entrance of any noisemakers.

At some point, a voice hollered down the stairs that recording was done and I could come back upstairs. Apparently we could go no further without the presence of one who was currently absent, so all we could do was wait. So we waited. Discussed Calvin and Hobbes, Foxtrot, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys... and laughed a great deal. Ate doughnuts, drank water and apple juice...

Until the Missings arrived. Then I walked Katie downstairs and said good-bye.... and sat in a non-creaky chair until all the other recordings finished.

Came home. Read Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, until Papa banged on the bedroom door to say SUPPERTIME!

We sang Psalms 145-150 together, and Papa read us Psalm 27.

I gave Fric a shower.

Read my book until Pervinca vacated the computer.

And that's it!

featuring...Liz Carroll...

for all you professional listeners. ^_^

Liz Carroll, The Lake Effect:

Liz is an Irish fiddler by trade. She plays tunes that work as well in a concert hall as they do on the dance floor.

Liz has a tone quality comparable to Winifred Horan: pure, deep and restrained.

Liz has the charisma of Natalie MacMaster: her fiddle lilts and jumps and swings.

But unlike Win Horan, Liz writes all her own tunes. And unlike Natalie MacMaster, she pays a lot of careful attention to the arrangement of her fiddle pieces.

The Lake Effect features John Doyle on guitar. Also, Liz plays the title track with the Turtle Island String Quartet. (If you don't know who they are, look them up. Click the "LISTEN" icon on the sidebar, and do as it says. They are the wierdest, most cool, string quartet ever.)

Liz is a master-composer of the beautiful and unusual dance tune.

Buy this cd, or any other Liz Carroll cd, for that matter. And look her up at www.lizcarroll.com.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sandwich, courtesy of Annie...

the brilliantly disgusting chef.

Here's the recipe:

~two slices of whole wheat bread (tastes better)
~thinly sliced deli ham (lots of it)
~one and a half slices of meunster cheese
~some strawberry jam
~and eight dill pickle chips.

Put them all together and voila!

A very tasty sandwich (if you happen to like this sort of thing).