Does anyone else ever have problems with how to end e-mails? Letter-writers: same question only with letters. I just had to reply to an e-mail from my organ teacher. That was awkward. Similarly when I had to write to a group of English professors, and a classmate whom I didn't know very well, and the principal of my new school.
It's all very well when writing to family or girl friends. You simply end "Love, Andrea." (Or whatever your name happens to be.) Or, if you're feeling more effusive, you could say something like "I LOVE YOU! Andrea." Or even, "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Andrea." And then you can throw in as many exclamation points as are appropriate to the situation. And of course, you can preface it with many other words of aff.
It gets a little more sticky with guy friends. "See ya" usually works pretty well, or better yet "see you tomorrow" (or Tuesday or next week or whenever you will actually see him). But then you run into problems with such guy friends as may be in the Navy and whom you probably won't see for a good long while. Somehow "See you in a couple of years" doesn't really work so well as a frequent closing. But then, if it's long term you can be a little more pious and close with a "God bless" or "I'm praying for you" or something. And of course, you can always do something a little more informal, like "your pal, Andrea" or "your land lubbing friend, Andrea." Hee hee hee. I just thought of that last one. I'll have to remember that. And as a last resort you can just abruptly stop, and hope he doesn't notice. "And then we all laughed really hard. It was wicked funny. Andrea".
When it comes to professors and non-peers it gets a little more stressful. I've used things like "warmly" (which seems a little more their generation than mine) and "I hope you're having a wonderful, relaxing summer" (which sounds suspiciously like I wasn't sure how to close the e-mail, or worse, like I'm signing their high school yearbook). The best is when you're writing a thank you e-mail. Then you can get away with "Thanks Again, Andrea" or better yet, "Thanks Again (SO much), Andrea." But in all of this I still haven't hit upon the perfect e-mail closing.
Recently (as in, within the past few months) Melissa and I were discussing this, and our conversation began the downward spiral into frivolity, as it is wont to do. We began coming up with all sorts of fantastic adverbs with which to close e-mails. "Concomitantly, Andrea." "Stylistically, Andrea." "Fanatically, Andrea." The next e-mail I sent to Melissa ended "Salubriously, Andrea."
So really the dilemma need not be a stressful puzzle so much as an opportunity for creative greatness. Go to it friends! Write those e-mails! And embrace the awkward closings!
Friday, July 29, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Lamentations
I lament the passage of great words from the English language. There are some words, prevalent in societies past, that enhanced vocabulary to a remarkable degree, and which we, in our society, are poorer without. Words like shan't and wither and wherefore (which means why, just so we're perfectly clear) made conversation so rich. For that matter, it seems that the desire for artistic sentence structure has totally passed from the every day American scene.
I, however, would like to propose the first step towards bringing back the ancient eloquence. We, my fellow Americans, should re-adopt the word FORSOOTH. What flair the word has! What clarity of meaning! What weight it lends to the ordinary sentence! Just think about the possibilities in today's world for all manner of people.
The Red Sox fan: Keep Schilling in middle relief forever, forsooth!
The English teacher: Split infinitives, forsooth!
The Liberal: Allow people to have more control over their own lives, forsooth!
The Vegan: Leather glasses case, forsooth!
You get the picture.
And so I leave you all to contemplate the merits of thus enhancing your vocabulary. Stuck forever in the mindless drivel of unitelligible slang, FORSOOTH!
I, however, would like to propose the first step towards bringing back the ancient eloquence. We, my fellow Americans, should re-adopt the word FORSOOTH. What flair the word has! What clarity of meaning! What weight it lends to the ordinary sentence! Just think about the possibilities in today's world for all manner of people.
The Red Sox fan: Keep Schilling in middle relief forever, forsooth!
The English teacher: Split infinitives, forsooth!
The Liberal: Allow people to have more control over their own lives, forsooth!
The Vegan: Leather glasses case, forsooth!
You get the picture.
And so I leave you all to contemplate the merits of thus enhancing your vocabulary. Stuck forever in the mindless drivel of unitelligible slang, FORSOOTH!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
The Joy of Cooking
Today was my day to make dinner. I haven't cooked a dinner in months, I believe. I pulled out the trusty "Joy of Cooking" cookbook, and sallied forth. It had been my personal opinion that the cookbook's title was a misnomer of giant proportions. Cooking is not fun. It is hard work, and not at all rewarding. I have no flair, and no matter how closely I follow the recipe, something always seems to be a little off. Sigh. But my turn was my turn, so (as I said) I sallied forth.
Much to my delight, I discovered a lot of joy along the way! I cannot quite describe the grin of mad glee that broke over my face when I peeked under the towel and saw that my bread was (gasp) rising. And it was so beautiful and puffy and Adams-ish! My goodness.
And then, while I packed the brown sugar into the cup measure, I had a quick flashback to childhood. I was completely entranced when Mama showed me how you pack brown sugar and it comes out in the shape of the cup measure! It was as good as a sand castle. So I continued happily packing, and turned the measure over, and there, sure enough, was that nicely shaped clump of brown sugar! Just like when I was little. The trick had lost none of its charm in 20 years.
This wasn't so much joyful as interesting, but I decided that cabbage is not a sort of food for the wimpy. It is tough, and strong, and crisp, and that probably explains why it's pretty much only eaten by Germans and New Englanders. You have to be pretty tough yourself to enjoy it.
My favorite part of bread making is when you get to butter the top after it comes out of the oven. Mmmmmm. It's so warm and shiny and edible! And did you know that if you have already used both brushes and put them in dirty water in the sink that it's possible to butter the top of your bread with a paper towel? It is.
And so I discovered today that there really is a great deal of joy in cooking. Take heart all you non-flairish chefs. There is fun even for the most basic cookers among us!
And what, you may ask, was I possibly making with bread, cabbage, and brown sugar? It sounds like a most atrocious combination. Well, actually, the bread was for meatball subs, the cabbage for coleslaw (coleslaw or cole slaw?), and the brown sugar for apple crisp. So far the meal has been met with approval, although some of us have not yet returned home from our baseball games to sample it. The suspense continues...
Much to my delight, I discovered a lot of joy along the way! I cannot quite describe the grin of mad glee that broke over my face when I peeked under the towel and saw that my bread was (gasp) rising. And it was so beautiful and puffy and Adams-ish! My goodness.
And then, while I packed the brown sugar into the cup measure, I had a quick flashback to childhood. I was completely entranced when Mama showed me how you pack brown sugar and it comes out in the shape of the cup measure! It was as good as a sand castle. So I continued happily packing, and turned the measure over, and there, sure enough, was that nicely shaped clump of brown sugar! Just like when I was little. The trick had lost none of its charm in 20 years.
This wasn't so much joyful as interesting, but I decided that cabbage is not a sort of food for the wimpy. It is tough, and strong, and crisp, and that probably explains why it's pretty much only eaten by Germans and New Englanders. You have to be pretty tough yourself to enjoy it.
My favorite part of bread making is when you get to butter the top after it comes out of the oven. Mmmmmm. It's so warm and shiny and edible! And did you know that if you have already used both brushes and put them in dirty water in the sink that it's possible to butter the top of your bread with a paper towel? It is.
And so I discovered today that there really is a great deal of joy in cooking. Take heart all you non-flairish chefs. There is fun even for the most basic cookers among us!
And what, you may ask, was I possibly making with bread, cabbage, and brown sugar? It sounds like a most atrocious combination. Well, actually, the bread was for meatball subs, the cabbage for coleslaw (coleslaw or cole slaw?), and the brown sugar for apple crisp. So far the meal has been met with approval, although some of us have not yet returned home from our baseball games to sample it. The suspense continues...
Monday, July 25, 2005
On Hot Drinks
Hot drinks are my ultimate comfort food. It all began with hot chocolate in high school. I was rather stressed out at the time (although it's strange how time changes you perspective - it all looks like a breeze from this vantage point. Knowing how time changes your perspective I actually started off a high school journal telling my future self not to scorn the writings of my present self, but to read with understanding. If my future self belittles my past self, I hope my past self comes and kicks my future self. Dear readers, be sure to judge your past selves with mercy! But I digress...) and at one point was having a mug of hot cocoa every morning and night! It was very comforting, but also very bad for the caloric intake count. So I tried to cut back to not-even-once-a-day.
Once I hit my second year of college, the coffee monster started nipping at my heels. I did quite well at staving it off, but by junior year wasn't doing so well. When I began giving up breakfasts of dry cereal as a senior, and found it much easier to grab coffee and a muffin on my way to school (this also cut down on the absolute essential time needed to get ready, thus allowing me to push the snooze button one or two more times than usual), things started to get serious. I cut back when I realized I was starting to get addicted. Besides, I was minoring in voice, and caffeine is very bad for your singing voice. Dries out your vocal chords. Of course, there is decaf coffee which works great when you aren't a huge coffee connoisseur anyway (no one who asks for extra cream and sugar can be called a coffee connoisseur - and it is only black coffee drinkers who demand the respect due to coffee snobs, as I like to call them).
But thanks to voice lessons, and to a terrible bout with laryngitis, I discovered the joys of tea with honey! Herbal tea has no caffeine, and honey is great for getting your voice back in shape. Tea used to be just too water-y for me. But with a healthy dose of honey the flavor fills right out, making it a rich drink instead of a thin one.
And Aunt Laura quickly taught me to appreciate chai tea. Some of this is caffeinated, but you can also get decaf chai, which also tastes excellent.
All of these options are perfect for those I-feel-overwhelmed-with-life moments, when you just need to take a little break from the grind. You can encircle that mug with your hands (this is greatly enhanced if a dear friend like Lindsay has given you a hand painted mug of perfect size, weight, and aesthetic charm), drinking in warmth through your finger tips as well as in the usual manner. The steam warms your face as you slowly take a sip (for some, like my grandfather, this cannot take place without the raising of eyebrows - I find this trait particularly endearing), and the rich taste makes you realize that life can't be all bad. Not while hot chocolate/coffee/tea/chai exist in the world.
So friends, if any of you are feeling overwhelmed, may I advise a spot of Chopin, a comfortable chair, and a mug of something warm. (Um, also, this works best when it is not over 75 degrees outside - and for optimum enjoyment try more like 50 or below. Good thing I thought of this in high summer. But I never said I was the most rational creature alive.)
Once I hit my second year of college, the coffee monster started nipping at my heels. I did quite well at staving it off, but by junior year wasn't doing so well. When I began giving up breakfasts of dry cereal as a senior, and found it much easier to grab coffee and a muffin on my way to school (this also cut down on the absolute essential time needed to get ready, thus allowing me to push the snooze button one or two more times than usual), things started to get serious. I cut back when I realized I was starting to get addicted. Besides, I was minoring in voice, and caffeine is very bad for your singing voice. Dries out your vocal chords. Of course, there is decaf coffee which works great when you aren't a huge coffee connoisseur anyway (no one who asks for extra cream and sugar can be called a coffee connoisseur - and it is only black coffee drinkers who demand the respect due to coffee snobs, as I like to call them).
But thanks to voice lessons, and to a terrible bout with laryngitis, I discovered the joys of tea with honey! Herbal tea has no caffeine, and honey is great for getting your voice back in shape. Tea used to be just too water-y for me. But with a healthy dose of honey the flavor fills right out, making it a rich drink instead of a thin one.
And Aunt Laura quickly taught me to appreciate chai tea. Some of this is caffeinated, but you can also get decaf chai, which also tastes excellent.
All of these options are perfect for those I-feel-overwhelmed-with-life moments, when you just need to take a little break from the grind. You can encircle that mug with your hands (this is greatly enhanced if a dear friend like Lindsay has given you a hand painted mug of perfect size, weight, and aesthetic charm), drinking in warmth through your finger tips as well as in the usual manner. The steam warms your face as you slowly take a sip (for some, like my grandfather, this cannot take place without the raising of eyebrows - I find this trait particularly endearing), and the rich taste makes you realize that life can't be all bad. Not while hot chocolate/coffee/tea/chai exist in the world.
So friends, if any of you are feeling overwhelmed, may I advise a spot of Chopin, a comfortable chair, and a mug of something warm. (Um, also, this works best when it is not over 75 degrees outside - and for optimum enjoyment try more like 50 or below. Good thing I thought of this in high summer. But I never said I was the most rational creature alive.)
Thursday, July 21, 2005
"The groves were God's first temples" - Bryant
We have some lovely guests right now, but the conversation has turned to such things as children's naptimes, feeding schedules, and sicknesses, so I decided it was time to bow out. On to new subjects...
I have recently decided that I love woods. There's a lovely path behind the house that leads off into the trees, and eventually arrives at an old foundation. A few of us went off to connect with our inner Deerslayers during the Girls Week, and it was such a charming walk. I loved seeing the sun slant into the green of the woods, making pools of light that give promise of things like fairies and talking animals. The ground is covered in ferns, and the trees overarch the way. It is quiet and peaceful (except for the times where I am screaming down to Jayne, our forward scout, to see whether she's found anything exciting).
The place is also swarming with deer ticks. (Those squeamish among you may want to skim.) I discovered three after my little sojourn in the woodlands, and was 0-3 trying to pull them out intact. That meant fun with needles, razors, and tweezers, because it is no good to leave their little mouths in you, even if the rest of the body is removed. Ah the joys of the woods.
I had almost given up on the foundation, since we'd been walking for a long long time (like maybe 20 minutes or so) without seeing it. But then, all at once, we came out into a clearer spot with a stream and a foundation! It was fascinating. I felt this strange connection to the past (reincarnationists would have loved it) as I walked where a family had lived and worked and grown. We discovered the place where the door must have been, the well, the fireplace area. We saw the stone walls they must have worked hard to create. And here we were, all those years later, admiring their handiwork, and being inspired by what they had accomplished. A rewarding end to our wilderness-woman journey.
I have recently decided that I love woods. There's a lovely path behind the house that leads off into the trees, and eventually arrives at an old foundation. A few of us went off to connect with our inner Deerslayers during the Girls Week, and it was such a charming walk. I loved seeing the sun slant into the green of the woods, making pools of light that give promise of things like fairies and talking animals. The ground is covered in ferns, and the trees overarch the way. It is quiet and peaceful (except for the times where I am screaming down to Jayne, our forward scout, to see whether she's found anything exciting).
The place is also swarming with deer ticks. (Those squeamish among you may want to skim.) I discovered three after my little sojourn in the woodlands, and was 0-3 trying to pull them out intact. That meant fun with needles, razors, and tweezers, because it is no good to leave their little mouths in you, even if the rest of the body is removed. Ah the joys of the woods.
I had almost given up on the foundation, since we'd been walking for a long long time (like maybe 20 minutes or so) without seeing it. But then, all at once, we came out into a clearer spot with a stream and a foundation! It was fascinating. I felt this strange connection to the past (reincarnationists would have loved it) as I walked where a family had lived and worked and grown. We discovered the place where the door must have been, the well, the fireplace area. We saw the stone walls they must have worked hard to create. And here we were, all those years later, admiring their handiwork, and being inspired by what they had accomplished. A rewarding end to our wilderness-woman journey.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
We're Baaaaaack! And other observations...
In bracing you all for the fact that I wouldn't be posting during the Girls Week, I should have mentioned I would also be out of commission for the Family Convention. But that would still not have accounted for the past week, since Melissa and I were SPONTANEOUS (gasp) and blazed off in a trail of glory for Georgia! But now we are back, and thus I must resume the great responsibility of blogging.
The rest of the summer will be full of curriculum planning. I am supposed to be developing a Classical Literature course for 10th and 11th graders and a more generic Literature course of 7th and 8th graders. I was on-line today looking at Great Books lists, and dreaming big dreams. I was also on the phone with Danny, and looking at a Lit book Dad loaned me. I am rich in resources. And good thing, too, since this is all so very new!
But I am reminded of how much I love Literature. I love the incredible way that it shows you insights into your own world, and allows you to see beyond your own world into things you would never otherwise experience. Literature can reflect the self and simultaneously transcend it. It can express in concrete ways the things that are often only vaguely troubling the edges of one's consciousness. It can present huge truths in beautiful and lasting ways. It can capture the human condition. It can demonstrate the way of escape. It comes the closest of any medium to expressing what is inexpressible about "this mortal coil." Unfortunately, since I can only appreciate Literature, and not produce it, this little tribute doesn't even do it justice.
So, needless to say, I think I have found my niche as an English teacher. What better career than one dealing with the lasting, the illuminating, the beautiful? And yes, I will be willing to discuss this further at the drop of a hat.
The rest of the summer will be full of curriculum planning. I am supposed to be developing a Classical Literature course for 10th and 11th graders and a more generic Literature course of 7th and 8th graders. I was on-line today looking at Great Books lists, and dreaming big dreams. I was also on the phone with Danny, and looking at a Lit book Dad loaned me. I am rich in resources. And good thing, too, since this is all so very new!
But I am reminded of how much I love Literature. I love the incredible way that it shows you insights into your own world, and allows you to see beyond your own world into things you would never otherwise experience. Literature can reflect the self and simultaneously transcend it. It can express in concrete ways the things that are often only vaguely troubling the edges of one's consciousness. It can present huge truths in beautiful and lasting ways. It can capture the human condition. It can demonstrate the way of escape. It comes the closest of any medium to expressing what is inexpressible about "this mortal coil." Unfortunately, since I can only appreciate Literature, and not produce it, this little tribute doesn't even do it justice.
So, needless to say, I think I have found my niche as an English teacher. What better career than one dealing with the lasting, the illuminating, the beautiful? And yes, I will be willing to discuss this further at the drop of a hat.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Call Me "Knit-Master"
Step aside, Liane. I am knitting up a storm. Actually, just a boot. It's supposed to be a slipper, I suppose... but that's a bit of a stretch, since it's oddly sort of square.
I was supposed to learn how to do something new for my training-me-how-to-be-an-effective-tutor-in-the-writing-center class (oh man... totally unrelated, but I had to read a book for that class and the author did that whole hyphenate the world thing that I just did and it got SOOOOOO annoying). I guess the idea is to see what it's like being on the other end of the whole teacher/student relationship (although we're not suppose to teach people who come in; we're supposed to collaborate with them on an equal playing field [and, while I'm on a roll, I apologize for using parentheses to house large chunks of randomness in every other sentence I write]). So anyway, I chose knitting as my "learning project." I went over to visit an elderly woman in our church (we'll just call her Mrs. L to protect the innocent and be mightily mysterious), because she is an expert. I was terrified at first as I watched her fingers flying in all different directions to her running commentary of helpful things like "you just do this, and this, and loop this around here...". But she kindly slowed down and I caught on to the basics before too long.
So, after attempting a few rows of lumpy and holey knits and perls, we decided I was ready for a project. But what do you knit in the middle of the blazing summer? I feel no need for sweaters or hats or gloves or parkas or earmuffs (hmm... knitted parkas and earmuffs... I'll make millions), and as Mrs. L said strongly, "scarves are boring as all get out." So, of course, the obvious conclusion was slippers!! After being fairly warned that knitted slippers are slippery unless you spray some kind of traction-spray on them, I frisked some thick brown yarn from Amy (brown is a cozy sort of color, don't you think?) and began. Man alive, this hobby is addicting! I finished around 1 am last night. I was all alone in my room and kept laughing out loud by myself because it looked so ridiculous. I chuckle even now. I improvised a bit, and tucked some corners in here and there, so now it's kinda cute and vaguely slipper-like. I'm pretty proud of it, and figure I've basically arrived as far as knitting goes. Does anybody know someone with only one foot?
I was supposed to learn how to do something new for my training-me-how-to-be-an-effective-tutor-in-the-writing-center class (oh man... totally unrelated, but I had to read a book for that class and the author did that whole hyphenate the world thing that I just did and it got SOOOOOO annoying). I guess the idea is to see what it's like being on the other end of the whole teacher/student relationship (although we're not suppose to teach people who come in; we're supposed to collaborate with them on an equal playing field [and, while I'm on a roll, I apologize for using parentheses to house large chunks of randomness in every other sentence I write]). So anyway, I chose knitting as my "learning project." I went over to visit an elderly woman in our church (we'll just call her Mrs. L to protect the innocent and be mightily mysterious), because she is an expert. I was terrified at first as I watched her fingers flying in all different directions to her running commentary of helpful things like "you just do this, and this, and loop this around here...". But she kindly slowed down and I caught on to the basics before too long.
So, after attempting a few rows of lumpy and holey knits and perls, we decided I was ready for a project. But what do you knit in the middle of the blazing summer? I feel no need for sweaters or hats or gloves or parkas or earmuffs (hmm... knitted parkas and earmuffs... I'll make millions), and as Mrs. L said strongly, "scarves are boring as all get out." So, of course, the obvious conclusion was slippers!! After being fairly warned that knitted slippers are slippery unless you spray some kind of traction-spray on them, I frisked some thick brown yarn from Amy (brown is a cozy sort of color, don't you think?) and began. Man alive, this hobby is addicting! I finished around 1 am last night. I was all alone in my room and kept laughing out loud by myself because it looked so ridiculous. I chuckle even now. I improvised a bit, and tucked some corners in here and there, so now it's kinda cute and vaguely slipper-like. I'm pretty proud of it, and figure I've basically arrived as far as knitting goes. Does anybody know someone with only one foot?
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