Katie and Me (and our grand adventure)

This morning Katie called. She had lots to do and wondered if I wanted to take a vacation day with her. I, who had less to do, nevertheless exuberantly agreed. Into the car we jumped and zoomed away.

We had a fabulous day at the mall (where I used my leftover vacation money to buy my favorite perfume! mmmmmm!) and (mostly) in Portsmouth! I'd never really been there to visit, and we had such a good time being touristy. It is a BEAUTIFUL town - awesome buildings, and lovely light (at least today it was). And on the way home we were able to stop for dinner with Linds which was a blast (everyone needs to see how awesome she is as a biker!).

But the bloggerific adventures came with the toll booth. Booths.

I have moved more and more away from cash, and so, apparently, has Katie. Consequently, as we approached the toll on the way to Portsmouth, we were both scrambling. Fortunately, we discovered the toll was only 75 cents, and I had that on me.

On the way HOME from Portsmouth, however, we were shocked to see the toll was TWO DOLLARS! I definitely had 75 more cents, but two dollars?! Yikes. I emptied out every last penny from my wallet, and went diving amongst the sundry inhabitants of the ash tray, while Katie dived into her wallet to sort out yen, shekelim, and dimes. (We knew there was one dime there because we had flipped it to see whether we should go to Gloucester or Portsmouth... and since that worked so well went on to decide other major life choices like whether Katie should convert to Catholicism.) We managed to scrape together two dollars, and handed the toll booth attendant a handful of change.

She looked old enough that she wouldn't get my humor, and grumpy enough that she wouldn't get anyone's, or I would have briefly alluded to the mayhem that had so recently ended. As it was I gave a cheery "thank you!" (which is weird, actually - why would I thank someone for taking my hard-sought-after money from me?) and drove off, careening wildly through traffic to get to my side of the road...

...where I was shortly greeted with a "Welcome to Massachusetts" sign. WHA....???? Oy vay. I had been so engrossed in our conversation about how awesome the skirts are that we bought at a lovely second hand shop in Portsmouth, that I had totally missed the sign for 101.

Gulp. I cleverly avoided getting detoured onto 495, and managed a turn-around. And LO... we had to go through ANOTHER toll! I was sure that if you went through a toll, after which you were supposed to take an exit, that upon turning around you would hit the exit before the toll. But no. Those Eastern New Hampshirites are tricky! And so we, with out wallets empty of pennies, let alone quarters, were forced to take the "last exit before toll" in order to go to an ATM to get money for the toll booth.

Oh the ignominy.

Especially considering there was a $2 fee for using the ATM.

Back onto the highway we got, and found the exit for 101... right BEFORE the toll booth! "A lying sign!" I shrieked. But no, I should never underestimate the Eastern New Hampshirites. There was a toll at the end of the exit. Phew. The ATM venture had not been in vain.

And before I get 47 comments telling me I should keep more money in my ash tray, I will say that I had more in there, but Kimberly was going to bike to the lake to go swimming, and I, in my best Kendra-esque fashion (hee hee j slash k Kendra!) figured she would probably drown if she went swimming alone, so I decided to drive down and sit on the shore ready to plunge in with my great life-saving skills, but I passed her at the golf course (I imagined the worst earlier than Kendra), and realized I'd have a long time to wait at the lake, and decided to go to the General Store and get a drink because I was really thirsty and it was hot, but I didn't have my wallet in the car since I was just driving to the lake, so I checked the ash tray and found money and used that, as well as the shoes I found in my back seat. So that's why I didn't have toll money.

I found out later that the toll is only 75 cents if you don't miss your exit and go to MA, so that was some consolation at least. I guess. Maybe.

Sigh.

Wharton (as in Edith) and Me

So I just picked up a book I've been I-should-probably-read-that-ing for years now: Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth. Oh my word. I was in love by about page two. It's providential that I waited this long to read the book, because its heroine is a 29-year-old single girl (which is what I am, for those of you who don't mark off my birthday on your calendar each year)!

Now I am loathe, in a way, to bring up the subject of singlehood, because I have a touch of angst (touch of angst?) about people pitying me. So I'll just tuck in here that I'm extremely happy teaching ... love my students ... love my friends and family... fulfilled... blah blah blah. There. Done. No need to pity me. (Although not wanting to be pitied is probably a form of pride. Eeeek! Remorse! Okay, that's all taken care of. Now on with the post!)

This woman is awesome. Both the author and the heroine. My favorite humorous quote thus far is by the heroine, Lily Bart: "Younger and plainer girls had been married off by dozens, and she was nine-and-twenty, and still Miss Bart. She was beginning to have fits of angry rebellion against fate, when she longed to drop out of the race and make an independent life for herself."

Hee hee hee! So very human-nature-y! Um. Just as a note. When I shrieked with inward delight upon reading this, I did not have ANYONE pop into my head at the 'younger and plainer' part, so all of you married people reading this, I was not thinking of you! (Good grief, this post has more provisos than actual writing...)

Also of great interest to me is that while I can understand Miss Bart (except for some of the class issues she is dealing with), the last reader (whom I think might have been Danny) marked some of the passages with great censure. I read one paragraph that revealed Miss Bart's intentions of playing the system until it paid off for her, and I was internally nodding in understanding of the human nature there (not necessarily the sanctification!) when I got to the bottom of the page where the previous reader had written "Hideous." Hahaha - whether or not Danny is the one who wrote it, I think it must have been a male. It's easier to sympathize (if not always agree) with Miss Bart if you are (more or less) in her shoes (barring the fact that hers probably cost 14X more than mine). (What did people do before parentheses were invented?!)

My favorite thought-provoking quote was uttered by the hero, Seldon, whom I hope Lily marries (although I'm sure she won't, because this is, after all, Edith Wharton writing - author of both Ethan Frome and the quote: "Life is the saddest thing, next to death." Yeah, I'm guessing there won't be a happy ending there). He is philosophizing about success: "My idea of success is personal freedom." "Freedom? [Lily asks] Freedom from worries?" "From everything - from money, from poverty, from ease and anxiety, from all the material accidents. To keep a kind of republic of the spirit - that's what I call success."

It's a kind of stoicism, I suppose, and not completely sound, but still I was impressed by the idea of the republic of the spirit. With a slight tweak it can become quite the Christian idea of not being taken up with the things of this world... and learning "in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content." I like it.

And so, with great contentment, I go back to my reading of Edith Wharton's masterpiece. I'll try to let you know later whether I really recommend it. I am, after all, only on page 88.

A Thing that I Realized

I really hate it when people complain about Fairwood water. I just do. I hate it when people complain about anything/anyone I love, or indeed, have anything to do with, but it really irks me when it comes to Fairwood water.

Conversely, anyone who sticks up for it wins a place forever in my heart!

Now this is not to say that I think Fairwood water is all good. I think the Main House is good, and my house is good. I cannot say the same for the Lodge or Women's Dorm.

But this doesn't change the fact that it bugs me when people complain about it.

It's like that whole "I can pick on my little brother, but I'll beat you up if you do" kind of mentality, I guess.

I also hate when people complain about people complaining...

Bryant (as in, William Cullen) and Me

I am going to be teaching American Lit next year, and have been studying up on it (since I only took one Am Lit class in college, as opposed to 8 Brit Lit ones!). I found an awesome Literary History of the United States at our very own Dublin Public Library, and have been tooling down there several evenings to take notes out of it (it's reference only).

My latest excursion into literary history saw me crossing paths with William Cullen Bryant (in whom "New England found its authentic voice," by the way), who, it turns out, was fascinated by change - or, as he called it "the eternal procession of mankind." In his old age he talked about how one should approach the grave:

"Go serenely, with an unfaltering trust in 'the never-ending Flood of Years,' a trust in that 'eternal Change' which unites all men, all times, and all events in everlasting Concord."

I nearly threw up my hands and ran screaming from the library. Trust in that eternal Change?! Are you KIDDING ME?!?!??!

Silly William. (Or, more poetically, Silly Billy!)

I was reading this shortly after reliving my old glory days of anti-change-ism, brought about when I discovered that one of the beautiful maples on the front lawn had to be cut down after the ravages of last year's ice storm. I was sad. I do not like things that have been "permanent" since childhood disappearing.

I'm happy to report that it doesn't look nearly as hole-y as I was afraid it would look. The other tree does a masterful job of covering for its absence. Still, it was one of several changes that made me reflect on how much I don't like change.

Silly Billy.

And how thankful I am that I don't have to trust in change! I mean, I admit that it's very faithful in its re-occurrences (sigh), but who wants to trust in something that is painful and grim? That's like saying we should trust in death because, boy howdy, we'll all die.

I'd rather trust in something that's better than change, and better than death! Something BIGGER, and more SOLID, and... UNCHANGING.

And I do. I, Andrea Murray, have totally one-up-ed the authentic voice of New England. I guess that means I am the authentic voice of New England!

(And on that note, you'll all be glad to hear that I won't be teaching Logic next year, as a co-worker needed to add more classes...)