Aaarrr!!!
Avast maties, today be National Talk Like a Pirate Day. Shiver me timbers.
Unfortunately, sometimes you feel like talking like a pirate, and sometimes you don't. I woke up feeling decidedly unswashbuckling this morning. Pirates aren't supposed to wake up feeling fragile and emotional!
But a pirate's gotta do what a pirate's gotta do, eh? Hoist the mainsail, ye scurvy landlubbers! Bring 'er round, that's the way, and we be off for adventure!
Due to popular demand (more than one person telling me they wanted to buy me a book for my birthday, but didn't know what to buy), I've created a BooksForPresents page on my wiki. (What's a wiki?)
Today I drove up to Little River Canyon National Park, and hiked (okay, walked) down into the canyon at Eberhart Point. I did not take my camera (the point was to get away from all that), so you'll have to look at other people's pictures (hmmm — perhaps a trip in early Autumn when the leaves are changing is in order).
Little River Canyon is quite amazing - apparently it's the longest river in the US that runs along the top of a mountain (in this part of the world, a "mountain" is anything hill higher than about a ten storey building). The river is always surprisingly warm, and today was no exception. Although it seemed to be running somewhat low, there were still many large, deep pools. The threat of rain seemed to have kept people away, because I didn't meet a soul down in the canyon... wonderful!
I chatted with my cousin Con yesterday, and he encouraged me strongly to visit South Africa when they're down there. I shall have to broach the subject of unpaid leave again with the powers that be. Explaining to Con how little vacation we get in America compared with England was funny, in a sad kind of way.
Speaking of differences between America and England, I watched a good chunk of tennis this weekend. In South Africa, we used to watch Wimbledon every year, and I've hardly followed it at all since we moved here, so Wimbledon is still my picture of what tennis is supposed to be like. The focus on the prize money during the award ceremonies left me feeling a bit disgusted. It just seemed so crass. However, I was totally drawn in by the tennis. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it is to watch. Some of the plays left me almost teary-eyed they were so amazing.
And speaking of tennis, last weekend was probably the first time I've actually played since the two or three times we hit around in college, and the lessons we used to take in Senior Primary (Middle) School. Serving is so much easier when you're 6'2''! I think I might have to play a bit more. I'm sure I could beat Andy if I practiced for - oh - about three years or so!
I'm listening to Bosnian radio over the internet, and feeling weird. Technology brings pictures and sounds perfectly across thousands of miles, connecting suddenly with memories and feelings buried months and years deep. I can see the cobbled streets, smell the cevapi cooking, hear the trams rattling by, feel the snow and ice underfoot.
I had dinner at Chris and Andreja's the other night, with Dani. She's back after her first five-year stay in Sarajevo, which means it's been four years since I lived there on her first year. Visiting in January was wonderful, though. It's a bit of a discipline to focus on the goodness of those moments of feeling at home in different places all over the world, rather than to focus on the badness of those moments of feeling not-at-home in different places all over the world!
Updated words.
We have a new sister! This weekend, Trent and Leah were married in Toronto. It was absolutely wonderful. I may write more later when I'm not wiped out, but here are some pictures for now.
Wow. What a long week at work. I thought I was through with the whole writing-design-documents-as-you-write-code thing when I left the consulting job. I guess it's just part of programming a lot of the time. Not so bad now, though — things are a little clearer now. Just a heck of a lot of stuff to get done rather soon
Tonight we watched Mansfield Park. I just about drove myself crazy trying to figure out where I'd seen the main actress before, until I could get to IMDB and realize that she was the mother in AI. As for the movie, I'm not entirely sure what I think about it. I definitely agree with the girls that it's a chick-flick. Some of the odd developments (like Fanny Price settling down happily to spend her days on the estate after being so obviously shocked by the horrors upon which its wealth was based) are apparently the result of placing themes into the story that were not there in the book (slavery), but which were evidently Jane Austen's viewpoints. Fanny's easy re-connection with her past and family seemed a bit too cute, and again, I believe that is not the case in the book. All in all, it looks like it might be a good read!
As a chick-flick, though, it seemed pretty standard fare. The plot (unrequited love with the perfect guy who doesn't get it until the end, when everything works out) was pretty predictable and, predictably, did a great job of having you thinking, "Come on Edmund!" — emotionally engaging if not particularly challenging. Overall, though, it was pretty decent. The characters were quite strong, and will stay with me for a while.
Now I just need to find some guy friends to hang out with!!
Hmmm. I think God and Mom are colluding. Perhaps Mom has finally given up on perstering me and enlisted the aid of the Almighty.
I was praying yesterday morning, and I've been trying to ask God honestly to tell me anything—regardless of what it is and whether I particularly want to hear it—and to obey. As usual, He comes out of left field, and reminds me that I'm overdue (way overdue) for a visit to the dentist. Haha. So I'm off for the old scrape and grind thing next Wednesday.
Dumbass!
We had a rather large limb fall off a tree in our back yard, so today I borrowed the landlord's electric chainsaw, hacked it up, and carted the pieces to the pavement where they will eventually be collected (according to a schedule we have not been able to divine).
I wasn't sure if it was wise or not, but I wore my old glasses to protect my eyes. Who knows whether flying chips of wood or flying shards of glass is more likely, but it seemed like a good idea. I'd take off my glasses, throw them down on the grass beside the chainsaw, cart some branches off, come back, put my glasses back on, and resume the sawing.
I finished, came inside, washed my hands, made a sandwich, grabbed a tasty malt beverage, and—of course—realized I wasn't wearing my glasses.
I combed the grass, back and forth. I went back to the huge mass of branches, and shifted them from one pile to the other, shaking each branch in the failing light. Nothing. Finally, I took a flashlight, and re-combed the grassy area, hoping that the glass or metal would reflect the light. Nothing.
Out of curiosity, I threw down my new glasses (carefully noting where, of course), and walked around, shining my flashlight to see whether they actually do reflect — no.
And there, as I gave up and bent down to pick up my new glasses, were my old ones, less than a foot away. Weird.
I'm sure there is some kind of meaning — I've been drowning in allegory lately. The disordered mess my room has been in for the last month or two feels most unfortunately allegorical. As do the juggling balls Jim has in the cube he and I are sharing at work.
Aah, but so are the George MacDonald books I've been reading, and the stories and pictures God has been showing me, and it's all good.
That's all for now. (Hi mom.)
