The Lisa Life

An Offering From A Guest

My father-in-law, Peter, like my husband and myself, is a great reader.  The three of us have very diverse taste in reading materials but sometimes, we catch something all of us like.  Into Thin Air by Jon Krakhauer was one such example, as was Blue Blood, by Edward Conlan.  Both Peter and Martin read the entire Patrick O'Brien series that the movie Master And Commander was based on.  Twenty-one books that were a total snooze fest for me, although I only tried to read one and stumbled through one chapter before giving it up as a bad thing.

They've also muddled through the Horatio Hornblower series as well.

I guess I'm just not Anglo enough to enjoy all these sea-faring adventures.  My ancestors were busy building sewage systems and hosting bacchanals and being miserable over their Oedipal complexes.

Anyway.

Peter reads a fair bit of poetry.  Every once in a while, he will come across something he will share with me.  I must admit, I used to read poetry.  Indeed, I made attempts to write poetry.  Horrible attempts that make me laugh out of sheer embarrassment now.  I don't read poetry like I should, though.  I had a college professor declare quite seriously, that American poetry has been dead since the last century.  I took that to heart.

I couldn't name a contemporary poet if you held a gun to my head.  Do haikus written on blogs count?

Peter gave me this poem and suggested I post it on my blog and I liked the poem and it's thoughts and what it conveys, so here it is.

Oh, any if anyone can suggest some contemporary poetry I should read, please do.

Reflections Of A Peacemaker

This season brings a reason for solemn contemplation.

This season brings a reason for joyful celebration.

This season brings a reason for gentle realization.

That the season brings a reason for peace in every nation.

The reason for the season is a miracle in life.

The reason for the season then can bring an end to strife.

The season and the reason are the answer to each prayer.

In all seasons, for all reasons, we much touch our world with care.

Let this season be the season that throughout the year

Let our reason be the reason that unites us

Beyond fear.

Let us join our hearts together and with those near

Let us live this gentle moment in

Each moment.

Not just here.

Mattie Stepanek

The Mystery Of Karaoke

I can't sing.  I have never claimed that I could sing.  I don't even sing in the shower or in my car unless I have the windows rolled all the way up and even then, I pretend I am Ashlee Simpson without the bad orange tan and horrible hair extensions and mostly, I just lip sync.

It would never occur to me to sing in public.  I even hummed the lullabies to my children.

When I moved back to Michigan from Pennsylvania, I was utterly confused to see so many bars advertising Karaoke Night in great big letters.  I had no idea what Karaoke was. 

After asking friends and receiving the definition, I was horrified.  "Why," I implored them, "would someone want to do that willingly?  And why would other people want to listen to it?"  After being assured that it was great big fun, I assiduously avoided any drinking establishment I tended to frequent on said karaoke night.

I eventually relaxed that rule when karaoke started popping up everyone and people I knew actively participated.  In fact, the sister of one of my friends seems to think it's like being on Star Search, except no one will ever discover her and she'll never get to meet Ed McMahon no matter how many times she butchers Star Dust Woman while dressing as Stevie Nicks.

Personally, I find I can make a fool out of myself quite easily with alcohol involved.  There is no need to employ a microphone and tv screen scrolling lyrics I am too drunk to follow while attempting to sing.

The Santa Train

NOTE:  A fairly bad picture of me but the best of a bad lot.

Today, Martin, Margaret, Peter and I took Mia for the Santa Train Ride.  The train goes from Howell to Byron, and when it arrives in Byron, Santa gets on the train and visits the children.

We figured we had a fifty-fifty shot with Mia.  Either she would think Santa was The Cool Guy In The Red Suit or she would be terrified.  As soon as Santa got on the train, Mia was so excited she was jumping up and down.  She repeated over and over what she was going to tell Santa she wanted for Christmas: "Toys, please!"  in ever-increasing volume. 

When Santa finally got to Mia, she instantly clammed up and her eyes got as round as saucers.  No way was she getting on his lap.  The Santa was very sweet and gentle and tried to coax her, but no luck.  Santa did say to me, "God has blessed you very much." 

A little strange, but okay, I'll take whatever blessings I can get.

There was another bit of drama on the Santa Train Ride.  We had left the depot in Howell to change engines on the train.  When we passed the depot again, the train stopped rather abruptly.  Everyone was a bit puzzled until it became clear that a vehicle in the parking lot was on fire.  Thankfully, it was in the covered bed of a pick up truck.  A generator was to close to a cardboard box but that sucker was burning like crazy and it was scary for a moment.

In Which The Author Lands A Real Job

Yes, dear and gentle readers, you read that right.  I landed a real full time job today.  In keeping with the tradition of not getting dooced, I won't tell you where I am working other than in the most vague and general sort of way.  (NOTE: Dooce was featured in In Touch magazine with a full page photo in an article called Women Who Blog.  How cool is that?  She is the High Priestess of Blogdom, amen.)

I am working for a company that distributes windows and doors.  I will be doing bookkeeping and order co-ordination.

Am I excited?  HELL YES!  I think I will really enjoy this and I liked the boss type people very much.  And I even get to wear big girl grown up work clothes.  As in slacks.  And a blouse.  Or sweater.  And real shoes.  Not Red Wing work boots. 

I must stop typing now because I think I'm going to faint from sheer joy.

Where The Hell Have I Been?

Hello dear and gentle readers.  No, once again I am not dead in a ditch nor did I fall into a snowbank and freeze to death.  My life has just been quite mundane lately and I've not had anything blogworthy to write about.

Things that have happened, boring as they may be:

Martin and I have been on a movie watching marathon the past week-end.  We've watched Schindler's List and Gone With The Wind yesterday, back to back.   I haven't seen Schindler's List in years and it's an incredibly compelling movie.  And in true confessions of a dark and dangerous mind, I've never seen Gone With The Wind in it's entirety.  I've never even seen many bits and pieces.  I expected it to be cheesy and melodramatic and silly, since I am no fan of romantic movies.  I was very surprised.  It was good.  Humorous in parts and Vivian Leigh and Clark Gable were both great.  Yes, there was a bit of melodrama, but nothing over the top.  Over the top would be the costumes Vivian Leigh wore.  Hilarious.  I can not imagine dragging all that stuff around in Georgia in the summer.  And Clark Gable.  Well, he's hot in a bad boy sort of way.  Enough said.

We also watched Delores Claiborne with Kathy Bates and Jennifer Jason Leigh and John R. Reilly (who is in every other movie made these days it seems like, great character actor.)  I originally saw this back in the theater and had read the book.  It was very dark and exactly the type of movie I love.  Both Ms. Bates and Ms. Leigh are excellent.

Martin watched the Moby Dick version with Patrick Stewart, while I read a book and knitted, so I couldn't tell you how good or bad it was.  Moby Dick was never one of my favorite books.  He also watched a movie called Passage To India, that neither of us had ever heard of.  It's a British film about when the Brits ran India and I thought it was a bit of a snoozer although Martin quite liked it.

I've broken my little toe on my left foot.  It was a Stupid Lisa Trick, I slid on the ceramic tile in my sock feet  while chasing the dog and stubbed my toe into the door jam.  It's huge and purple and ugly.  Hurts quite a bit, as well.

I scored a second interview for tomorrow with one of the companies I interviewed with last week.  I think the Thank You card paid off.  I really hope this job happens.  It's something I would like to do and I think I would do well at.

In other news, Sam will be home on Friday on leave through the holidays and we are planning on a night of dinner and hanging out on Saturday.  I can't wait to see Sam.  I've really missed him.

It's taken me an incredibly long time to write this fluffy post because I have a two and a half year old surgically attached to me like a tumor. 

The Godfather Trilogy Marathon

My husband has recently been on a kick of watching movies that are Mafia related.  Being the nice Dago (heh) girl I am, I love these movies.  Because you know, if you are Italian, everyone thinks you are automatically mobbed up.  Just like they think "Dago" is derogatory.  NOTE: People, it's not like using the N word.  Really.  Get over your damn selves.

Anyway.

We recently decided we wanted to watch the Godfather Trilogy.  Only problem?  Our local Blockbuster only had Godfather III.  They didn't have Godfather I or Godfather II and really, what is the point of watching III if you don't watch I and II?  Answer?  No point. 

We asked the clerk at Blockbuster to check and see if they even stocked I and II and if maybe they were shelved incorrectly.  She checked and they didn't even stock I and II although they stocked III and agreed that it was strange and stupid and she would put in a word to order I and II.

We despaired of watching the Godfather Trilogy at any time within the next year.

In the meantime, since Martin and I are both readers, we went to the Brighton Library to get cards, since we could no longer access the Howell Carnegie for free, living in a different zip code.  NOTE: Actually, we can still access the Howell Carnegie since the director is a good friend of Martin's parents and has indeed secured books I have recommended, namely true crime books and in particular, one true crime book written by a friend of mine that is awesome.  However, what a pain in the ass to drive ten miles to go to the library.

While roaming the Brighton library, I noticed that they were heavy on the Danielle Steele and Tom Clancy crapola and light on the non-fiction.  They are, however, members of the Library Network and can order all the stuff I looked for that they didn't have.  (I think I quite pissed off the librarian I was working with when I told her, "You have two copies of every example of  Danielle Steele's trite dreck and don't have more than three books about local history.  What's up with that?  Are all the patrons here illiterate or what?")

I then wandered over to their Media Section.  Now, the Howell Carnegie has a Media Section, but it is filled with Books On Tape and lame A & E programs.  The Brighton Library, however, has a Media Section that absolutely rocks.  Videos, DVDs, CDs of all kinds of music.  And it's all free to check out and enjoy for a week.

And guess what?  We found the Godfather Trilogy.  Martin found the entire yawn-inducing Horatio Hornblower series, as well.  I found some music CDs I am looking forward to (shhhhh) copying and enjoying.

Now, after watching the Godfather Trilogy, I can only say, I made the Brighton Library an offer they can't refuse.

The Storm Of The Century!

We're supposed to get a huge storm this evening, with five to eight inches of snow predicted. This area expected to be on the higher end of the scale. 

The way the newscasters are blathering, you would think this was somehow unusual in Michigan.  Like snow during winter was some rare, occasional thing.  Like it never snows in Michigan and we're all going to die!  Five to eight inches of SNOW!  In MICHIGAN!  In DECEMBER!  OH NO!

I have no where in particular I have to be in the next day or so and we are fully loaded with food, drink and most importantly, toilet paper.  I'm actually kind of looking forward to the snow because if it snows, it won't be so bitterly cold as it has been the past few days.  I may actually be able to take Mia outside to play in the snow without risking her getting frostbite and her face freezing and falling off.

The best part of the whole deal?  I don't have to deal with coordinating the damn snowplowing and being on the Nextel at 2 a.m. trying to raise a co-worker who hasn't had a beer or six to plow the Meijer's parking lot.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

The Restless Sleep

The Restless Sleep; Inside New York City's Cold Case Squad, by Stacy Horn. Viking, pub.

Stacy Horn is a National Public Radio contributor to Fresh Air. I've enjoyed her broadcasts very much and eagerly looked forward to reading this book.  It didn't disappoint.  NYC has at least 8894 unsolved murders and this work gives an inside look at what really goes into solving a seemingly unsolvable "cold case". 

The dogged work of the detectives on the squad and their compassion and diligence to decades of victims is remarkable.

I won't give away any secrets of the book, but I would highly recommend this to anyone who is interested in forensics and crime.  Although the subject matter is grim, Ms. Horn manages to humanize both the victims and the cops who pursue these cases in a rare inside look at NYC's cold case squad.

Two thumbs up.

The Vision Of Scarves Yet To Be Knitted

I am in love with this scarf.  Perfect for the little death hag that I am.  Sadly, my knitting skills are very rudimentary and I don't know if I could tackle this, especially with the felting.  What the hell is felting?  I had to read up on that.  Neat concept.

So, if any of my dear and faithful readers have higher level knitting skills, please feel free to make me a Christmas present!

http://knitty.com/ISSUEfall05/PATTyorick.html