Bright Spots and Black Holes

Having the Dish Network and, therefore, over a hundred channels to choose from is an interesting thing. First of all, a hundred channels is not as many as it sounds like. A good chunk of those channels are useless. The Jewelry Network? The born-again-preacher-yelling-at-me-in-a-southern-accent channels? Being able to watch CSI:Miami at any time of the day? No thanks.

But there are obviously good things too. There are tons of movies to watch at all hours of the day (which I always like) and plenty of episodes of Phinneas and Ferb (which the girls love.) Suzanne enjoys the Food Network, HGTV, and TLC.

In my ongoing effort to categorize the world, I have to mention a couple of what I consider to be TV bright spots as well as a couple of black holes.

The Bright Spots:

The Ace of Cakes and specifically Mary Alice.


The show is fun because it's interesting to see how the team creates these elaborate, over-the-top cakes but it's also enjoyable because of the personalities involved. Each of the team members is quirky and interesting in his or her own way. Chef Duff, of course, seems like a fun guy to hang around with but Geoff and Anna and the rest all seem like they would be good coworkers and excellent lunch-mates.


I do have to confess though that I have a crush on Mary Alice. I'm not sure what it is other than she's very smart and witty and always seems to have a half-suppressed smile in her voice. She just seems cool. Perhaps she can be my third wife after Suzanne and Van Halen's song "Panama."

Chopped.
Chopped is everything Iron Chef is supposed to be but much, much better. You still get all the tension and excitement of dishes created on the spot, under a deadline, but none of the obnoxious, over-the-top sportscaster stupidness that ruins Iron Chef. Also, unlike IC, the food that gets made on Chopped actually seems like food real people in a nice restaurant might eat. This is the opposite of the creamed-octopus-brioche-brule-served-in-a-bed-of-toasted-oxtail-fricassee-with-a-dollop-of-stewed- gooseberries-in-a-fine-orange-liqueur-in-a-burnished-oyster-shell stupidness that gets created regularly on Iron Chef. Yes, the judges are kind of pretentious and the host guy needs to take a Zoloft but hey, I think foodies in general are kind of pretentious and intense - so let's just go along for the ride.

Man Vs. Food.
This show is fun to watch because Adam Richman knows his stuff without seeming fancy or full of himself and he just really seems to enjoy and appreciate the places he visits. Plus, it's fun to watch a guy start to cry and drool all over himself when he eats Atomic Hot Wings or the six pound sandwich or whatever. I enjoy the freakshow element of the program.



Now, for the other side. I'll be brief because I don't want to dwell on the negative.


Will somebody please, please, please shut this guy up? Please? Or at least get him the memo that he's not 17 anymore? Anyone?

Also (and this goes without saying),


she must be stopped. She's hawking dog food now. Dog. Food. Stop the "striking while the stupid iron is hot" madness. Plus, she talks like she's on crack.

A Few House Pics

There are still things to do - painting the paneling in the kitchen, replacing the flooring in the kitchen, new drapes, etc. But overall it looks great, thanks to Suze!

Was There Friendship Before Facebook?

Thanks to the magic that is Facebook, I've recently gotten back in touch with an old friend from Idaho State, Jeremy P.

Back in the day, when I was a scrawny, pimply, angry, young, just-returned-missionary at Idaho State, I heard that Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the poet and publisher, was going to do a reading in Ketchum. I stood up in my poetry class and announced that I'd be making the drive and asked if anyone wanted to come along. One lone hand raised and it was a guy named Jeremy. He asked if he and his girlfriend, Katherine, could come. It meant company for me and a split bill for gas so I was all for it.

So Katherine, who was a music major, sat in the backseat looking at sheet music and Jeremy and I spent the whole drive over and the whole drive back jabbering. About what, I don't remember but I do remember thinking that he was a funny, smart, cool guy. So, in that magical way that is simple and undefinable, we became friends. We both belonged to the creative writer's group on campus, both worked on the literary magazine, both stayed up waaaaayyy too late in the computer working on papers that were due the next day, and we both read and wrote a lot of poetry.

Jeremy, Pat, Dorian, sometimes Andy, and I would meet pretty regularly at Main Street Coffee and news to read poems, be snarky, and laugh. A lot. Jeremy and I spearheaded a summer reading series at Main Street that brought in cool poets and pretty big audiences (for a poetry reading anyway.)

Jeremy got a spot at ISU's then-burgeoning radio station, KISU, with his show, In House. It was a couple of hours of cool, underground,independent music that wasn't like anything else you could hear on the airwaves anywhere around. For a brief time, I was In House's resident "poetologist" and I got to go on the air once a week and read a poem. I always thought J. was both generous and tolerant to allow that.

Anyway, life changes. Things happen. I got married and graduated. Jeremy shifted his major. He went one way, I went the other, and we fell out of touch. We communicated off and on but life always seemed to take over and we never stayed in contact for long.

The funny thing was that when I left ISU, it was to go to Boise for an MFA program in creative writing and, the whole time I was there with "serious" writers and published authors, I never felt for a moment that I had as good of a creative community as I had in Pocatello with Jeremy, Dorian, Pat, and a few others. All the advanced degrees and published books in the world couldn't compete with the combination of smarts, compassion, humor, and friendship that I encountered at ISU.

Years later, I was supposed to go to Jeremy's wedding. (He came to mine. He and Dorian are on my wedding video.) I didn't make it because I had to teach a class that day in Ketchum (that fateful place) and I had a blowout on the way out of town. Les Schwab's service was unusually slow that day and by the time I headed back out, it was too late to make it to the wedding. I've always regretted that. I still have the handmade book I was going to give J and his lovely bride that day. I guess now I can get his mailing address and sent it to him - although, rather than a blank book for two newlyweds to write love notes in, it can serve as a coloring book for Gracie, their beautiful and funny one year old. How time flies, eh?

Anyway, you will notice to the right under my list of regularly visited sites a new addition: OPB Music - Oregon Public Broadcasting Music. After ISU, Jeremy took his In House act on the road and has ended up as a regular feature on the airwaves in Portland. You can stream his show along with all the other music being played in Portland any time you like. If you like music that is new and unexpected, Jeremy is your guy and In House is your show. Give it a whirl.

Meet John Searchers

Over the weekend, I watched two classics - Frank Capra's Meet John Doe and John Ford's The Searchers. To be honest, I got John Doe just because I knew my girlfriend, Barbara Stanwyck, was in it. The Searchers I got because so very many critics call it the best, most important western ever made. When I hear hyperbole like that, I have to investigate.



Meet John Doe was fine. Gary Cooper is charming and the story had the same "little guy makes a big difference" theme as some of Capra's other well-known films like It's a Wonderful Life and Mr. Deeds Goes to Washington. Barbara had little to do in the third act except sob and look ill. It's interesting to see how much difference the role itself makes. She's so powerful and memorable in the roles that give her things to do - Stella Dallas, Ball of Fire, Double Indemnity - but even with all that talent, if the script just calls for her to be a secondary character, then that's what she is. Sigh. Oh well.



The Searchers is the tale of Ethan Edwards, a hard-bitten Civil War veteran with a shady past. He comes to visit his brother, Aaron, and Aaron's family out in Texas and, not long after his arrival, there is a Comanche attack. Aaron, his wife, and their son are all killed while the two daughters are kidnapped. The older of the two daughters is eventually discovered dead but the younger one continues to be held captive by the sinister Comanche chief, Scar.

The film centers on Ethan's years-long search for his niece. Edwards' is shown as an angry, violent racist who, we find, would rather have his niece dead than defiled by a Comanche. It's surprisingly dark and unyielding for a film of the 1950s though it's not without its moments of seemingly required slapstickery and silliness. The real treat, at least of the version I saw, was the cinematography. The version Netflix sent me has been digitally restored and the colors are sharp and the textures are really clear. Ford composed some truly gorgeous pictures for sure.

Anyway, both films are good though neither really rocked my world. I've got Stagecoach waiting for tonight - another John Ford/John Wayne western. I'm trying to sprinkle my list of things I have to see (westerns, musicals) with movies I want to see (noirs, thrillers). So after I do this stint in the Old West, I'll get Ricardo Montalban as a leading man in the 1949 noir Border Incident. How can you go wrong with that much rich, Corinthian coolness?



I mean, it's this guy:



and this guy:




What else do you need?

Me and All The Good Looking Women In My Life

Chaos In The Print Shop

I have never had enough free time on any job ever to even think of pulling something like this off. But this video is so cool and ingenious, I wish I had. I give you "Chaos in the Print Shop."



What's the point, right? I have no idea. But sometimes things just don't need a reason and if Mr. Printshop man is willing to clean it all up once it's over, more power to him for being willing to make a mess of his place for my entertainment.

Lost Again

(Warning: All Lost non-fans might as well skip this one.)


So Lost is going all out with the time-travel geekery. If ever there was a time for uninitiated people to start watching the show, this is not it. Last night's double episode went back and forth, reintroduced characters long dead, showed bits of storyline from past and present, had ghosts, and just generally really, really embraced its full mythology with no apologies. It was a good episode and I am very glad the show is back, but I will say it didn't hold me completely enthralled the way last season's opener did.

Things that interest me are:

Is Locke really dead? I mean, really?
Is Jin really dead? Really?
Has Sun turned to the dark side? Was her slippery, somewhat menacing discussion with Kate foreshadowing of things to come?
Who are the people Ben has working for him on the mainland?
What was up with the whole opening sequence with the guy from the orientation movies? How is it that Dan Farraday was there, back in time, interacting with people? (I guess interacting with people from the past isn't the same as altering the past but still.)
Is Miles Straum the baby we see in the beginning?
Is Dan Farraday's mother Mrs. Hawking, the creepy mistress of time and fate that we met in Desmond's feature episode, "The Constant?"

There's a lot of Losty goodness waiting ahead, my friends. I can tell already.

My favorite moments, you ask? Well, I'd have to say Sayid's usual helping of butt-kicking at the safe house, the conversation between Sun and Kate, and, most of all, Sawyer slapping Dan Farraday when he's yammering on about the space-time continuum and, when Charlotte tries to step in, growling, "Shut it, Ginger, or you'll get one too." Hee hee. I love violence and misanthropy.

I Once Was Lost But Now Am Found

As Maria once sang, "To-nighhhht, to-niighhhht."

Yep, that's right, tonight, after many endless months of waiting, the Lost season premiere arrives. It's been a long time in the desert but now we're headed back to Freak Island with Jack, Kate, Sayid, Jeremy Bentham, and all the rest.

I. Can't. Wait.

I've asked around in an attempt to be social and tried to find out if any of my colleagues are Lost fans. I thought we'd have them over, eat some snacks, discuss theories of time travel, and questions of Jack vs. Sawyer, Kate vs. Juliet. (Juliet - duh!) But none of my English dept. acquaintances are into it. Most of them scratched their heads and said they always meant to get into the show but just never did. One colleague watches it but only on DVD and she hasn't seen season 4 yet.

So tonight it will be just Suzanne and I hunkered down in front of the blue, digital glow of the television, thrilling to every bizarre turn of events and mysterious reappearance of forgotten characters. It's gonna be sweet. Oh yeah.


"What? The season is starting again? Dang, and just when I was having such success as a competitive beard-grower!"

"Yesterday Was My Birthday, I Hung One More Year On The Line"

It's a bright early afternoon here in the Land of Lincoln. Right at eleven our time, I took my creative writing students down to the cafeteria to watch the inauguration on the big screen tv. We got there just as President Obama was taking the oath of office and stayed until Elizabeth Alexander finished her poem.

Say what you want about Obama's politics or his plans but I don't think anyone can argue with his abilities as a speaker. We all know Bush's unfortunate disadvantages when it comes to, you know, talking so maybe part of my elation at hearing the inaugural address is just the speech equivalent of coming up for air. I've been suffocating under the heavy water of Bushisms for the last eight years and suddenly I can breathe again. It's pretty nice.

Anyway, when Obama was speaking, the cafeteria fell more or less silent. People leaned in to listen and, generally, students were rapt. What struck me as really funny was that as soon as the poet came up to do her thing, all the noise, all the card playing, all the noise of the cafeteria immediately came back. As a recovering poet, I thought it was amusing.

On another subject, Saturday was my 35th birthday. As usual, I don't feel any different. 35 feels much the same as 34 did and 33 and on and on. Still, it's always good to step back and have a look at things on a birthday. It's a good time to assess things.



As a person, as a teacher, as the head of a family, I'm very much in a place of starting over and, while it's nice to get that fresh start, it's also unsettling and challenging. I'm experiencing moments of elation and moments of uncertainty. Teaching seems like something I can get a handle on, but prepping for my PhD stuff seems particularly daunting all of a sudden.

My kids are growing up and really becoming lovely young girls but, at the same time, they're struggling with their new surroundings and the challenge of finding friends. Suzanne and I are working on how to comfort them and help them while still maintaining a sense of order and routine. It's hard.

The house is beautiful and Suzanne has done a really terrific job making it comfortable, warm, and striking. But now all the issues become apparent - the sun room is really drafty. The garage door on the right side is all cattywompus. None of the windows open. None of it is the end of the world or beyond repair, but it's the kind of stuff that preys on your mind at night when things are quiet.

Our ward is really good. People have been helpful and friendly and I think if we put ourselves out there a bit, we can make some really good friends. Suzanne and I are speaking in church this Sunday. We're supposed to address "the blessings of serving a full-time mission and the blessings of missionary work in general."

Physically, I'm heavier now than I've ever been in my life. At one point, just after the move, before our fridge was delivered and we were eating out for two meals a day, I weighed in at 239 lbs. Another couple of microwave burritos and I would have crossed over into 240-ville. It's not the number that bothers me. It's that leaning over to tie my shoes makes me breathe hard and I've got that middle-aged guy gut that pushes my pants down and makes my shirts come untucked all the time. Mainly I'm concerned about my weight just because it's uncomfortable and inconvenient. I'd rather not break out into a sweat every time I have to climb stairs. I'd rather not wear out my pants from simple strain on the seams.

I'm taking Luvastatin for my cholesterol and, thanks to my maze-like new workplace, I'm walking all over freaking creation. When it gets warmer, I'll definitely get out on my bike again. Maybe I can drop a few pounds and, more importantly, not have a borderline heart attack every time I have to jog from the parking lot to the building.

Anyway, despite all the second-guessing about our house and the girls' school and all the slight but pervasive discomfort of "the new," things are startlingly good. We are all healthy (more or less), happy, and together - and those things, that last thing in particular, are more important than just about anything else.

My New Approach to Teaching

toothpastefordinner.com

Welcome to Hoth

It's day three of inclement weather at-home-ness for the girls. I say inclement weather because these aren't "snow days" per se. The first one, Wednesday, was - drifts, blowing snow, very low visibility, etc. But Thursday and today have both been diamond-bright - clear, blue skies, plenty of sun, etc. So why are they home, you may ask. Well, it's because even though the sun is out, it is utterly ineffectual. We might as well have a GE Soft White 60 watt bulb hanging in the sky for all the warmth it offers.

This morning it was 8 below zero with a wind-chill of 35 below. Tonight it's supposed to be 14 below with a wind-chill of 45 freaking degrees below freaking zero. You hear me? 45 freaking degrees below freaking zero.

So, because some of the kids in Maryn and Avery's school either walk or have to stand outside to wait for the bus, they've canceled classes for the last three days. My school, on the other hand, because all the buildings are connected and no one has to walk outside except to and from the parking lot, doesn't cancel for much of anything.

I think Suzanne is starting to crack a little bit. Three straight days of being more or less trapped in the house with a six year old and an eight year old who can bicker about anything is a little taxing. (And I mean anything. Avery takes great delight in contradicting Maryn on any subject, even if she knows she's downright wrong. Example: Maryn "This is my favorite stuffed animal." Avery "No, it's not.") It's good that the weekend is approaching. That way I can be around to run interference so Suzy doesn't have to bear the full brunt of "No, it's not!" "Yes, it is!!" "It is not!!" "It is tooooo!"

On another subject, I've now taught the first session of all of my classes and my students seem like a good bunch for the most part. They're definitely interesting. There's certainly variety and diversity in some ways but there's also a lot of similarities. Everyone owns a couple of dogs. Most everyone likes to hunt and fish. We're in the country, you know? It's not bad - it's just funny to be teaching this bunch after teaching kids who had never even seen a cow, much less helped birth one, raise one, or win a blue ribbon with one. The places life takes you, you know?

What We're Up Against

So I'm from Idaho, right? Land of cows freezing to death while standing up. Plus, I've spent the last two and a half years in Detroit, one of the most inhospitable environments this side of the face of the moon. And yet, here in our new home, I am still surprised and a little awed by the bad weather.

Today, our all-day faculty inservice was cut short by half because the roads are swamped with drifting snow and temperatures are still dropping. Tonight, the actual temperature is supposed to be something like 8 below with a wind-chill of 35 below. Holy crap, right? The girls had a snow day as well so they're at home playing dolls and watching Phinneas and Ferb on TV.

The cancellation of the rest of inservice is actually really good fortune for me as I need a couple of hours to finalize everything for the first day of class - syllabi, assignments, etc. Nothing major but it's nice to have some extra time.

Anyway, on another topic, I'm considering discontinuing the ol' Norse Penny and starting up a new, public blog. It would be the same combo of my ramblings, book covers, movie reviews, and whatever else crosses the arid barrens of my small brain - but it would be public instead of members only. I guess I'm just curious to see what would happen, you know? It's probably mostly vanity that's promoting this idea in my brain but I also like the idea of a fresh start here in this new town/new work environment. Why not? The worst that could happen is I'd retain my six faithful readers (and you know I love you) and I'd maybe gain one or two random folks who like reading the thoughts of a middle-aged, Mormon English teacher. (Who wouldn't?) So we'll see. Maybe it will happen and maybe it won't. I've already reserved the domain name on both Blogger and Wordpress so maybe I'll find the time to put some thought into it and maybe I won't. Classes start tomorrow so I'm not betting it will be any time this week. I'll keep you posted.

And We're Back

Hey there,

I'm deeply sorry about the last two weeks of silence, my friends. But, suffice it say, it was a necessary thing. It's not as though I've been laying around on the couch, eating bon-bons, and reading dime-store novels (or "dinosaur novels" as one of my mission companions used to say). We've moved. We are safely installed in our house on the outskirts of a small town with a population of 700. It's definitely a different experience than living on the outskirts of Detroit.

In the last week or so, I've helped plumb a dishwasher, installed a new 220 outlet, built a dresser, two end tables, and a counter/cabinet, painted three beds, installed a dryer vent, and hung about thirty seven thousand pictures and shelves. We've been busy to say the least but it has been good. It's felt nice to establish ourselves in this new place and make ourselves comfortable. We've been made to feel very welcome by people at my job, people at church, people in the neighborhood. It's been nice.

There's plenty to tell and write about - like, for instance, that Suzanne and I have discovered that Illinois is not only the land of Lincoln, but it is also the land of Diet Rite, double-negatives, and facial piercings.

But for now, I'm going to leave it. There are still books to put on shelves here in my new office and then it's home for dinner. I'll write more again soon.