About Jack Bauer...

Let me just add that Jack Bauer is easily the most resilient human being who ever lived.

And as my mom pointed out, he's remarkably tan for having spent 2 years being tortured in a foreign prison. He's even tan where he used to have a beard.

And wouldn't you know he managed to secure a cell phone and exchange cell numbers with his new cohort during their brief ride to Figueroa and 6th? When they parted at the train station, I thought, "but how will you find each other again?" Silly silly silly me. Did I learn NOTHING from the first 5 seasons?

Quote of the Day, 1/14/07: Stephen King on 24

The new season of 24 starts tonight, in just under an hour.

First, a line from Chloe, which I think was from last season.

OK, when the alert level goes down, and the terrorists have been caught, we can have some chamomile tea and I'll tell you all my secrets.

Stephen King, whose opinion on suspense and thrillers I may trust above all others, had this to say about his sneak peak of this season:

Day 6 ... is like a book you can't put down...even though there are times when you may want to.
...

There's ... a queasily gleeful subtext to 24 that suggests, ''If things are this bad, why, I guess we can torture anybody we want! In fact, we have an obligation to torture in order to protect the country! Hooray!'' Yet Jack Bauer's face — increasingly lined, increasingly haggard — suggests that extreme measures eventually catch up with the human soul.
...

24 also remains fresh, I think, because it is regularly watered by the blood of supporting characters — the sort who used to be considered eternal.
(Note, King goes on to reference Jack's wife and Edgar Stiles, and eventually to threaten the producers with the kind of vengeance only Stephen King can promise if they go after Chloe.)
...

This time the threat — and no, I'm not going to tell you what it is — seems too plausible. When I got to the shocker that ends episode 4, I could understand Jack Bauer's expression of disbelief; it's a perfectly human reaction to what has just happened. And yet at the same time I'm sitting in my office chair and thinking, This could really happen. And at some point, it probably will.... Really, no one does the old ''We're surrounded by enemies!'' bit better than Fox. Bill O'Reilly's going to love this baby.

Creative Writing: Fog and Stillness

The nice thing about forcing myself to put some of my own writing here each week is that it gives me a chance to edit things I'd written before. The paragraph below, for instance, said virtually the same thing yesterday, but was made up of almost entirely different words. Now I wish I had kept the "before" version to show the difference.

The fog is a familiar visitor on the Maine coast. It can move like a quick intruder, venturing in at the front window, drifting across the house and out the back, leaving the air and surfaces cool and clammy from its damp fingerprints. Other times, the fog sits, heavy and still, infusing the entire landscape with moisture and a weighty silence. In a heavy fog the world grows so quiet around you, so motionless and almost breathless, you might come to believe you're the only living creature left on Earth.

A Little Poetry for You: Thomas

For Poetry Friday I wanted to find a great audio recording of a poet reading his or her own work. I came across this pretty quickly and thought, if Rodney Dangerfield could perform this one so well in the movie Back to School, just imagine how much better the poet might do.

In fact, Dylan Thomas' reading of "Do not go gentle into that good night" makes the poem even more beautiful to listen to than it is on paper or screen alone. I'll put the first verses here for you to read, but I strongly recommend taking a few minutes to click the link and listen. The last verse, and the way Thomas' voice changes to suit the meaning there, is especially effective.

Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Go here for the rest of the poem, and the audio!

(While you're there, you might want to also check out Gwendolyn Brooks' quick discussion and reading of "We Real Cool.")

Caught Ya Lurking!

Over at LadyStrathconn and A Chair, A Fireplace and A Tea Cozy, we're reminded about the joys and dangers of blog lurking.

If you're dropping by and thinking of wandering away without leaving a comment, please reconsider! Click on the comments link at the bottom of this post (please!) and leave a word or two. No eloquence required, I promise!

Do You Smell Something?

Okay, I swear to God, the smell in New York may be coming from New Jersey, but it's not me.

I was feeling kind of bad tonight because I had a serious drop in visitors today here on the Journeywoman blog. I know I've skipped a couple of days of Quote-of-the-Day posts, and I've been a little quieter than usual, but really, are people that fickle that they'll up and leave in just 3 days???? (And do you really come here for Quote of the Day?)

So after a brief sulk, I checked closer, and it turns out that according to the stat counter NOBODY visited after 11 this morning. Not even me. And I know that's a big fat lie, because I did visit myself several times today, in the course of checking comments and editing stuff.

So now I know you still love me, and I didn't say anything bad to make you abandon me, and I can sleep happy.

THANKS FOR YOUR VISIT!!!

Tedious Reading

I just started listening to the third of my five Cybils-nominated YA books. Listening, rather than reading, because I got this one on CD just yesterday.

I usually make no distinction between the experience of reading and listening, when it comes to the quality of a book. In this case however, I'll have to go get a hard copy, just to be sure it isn't the audio-reader that's making this "read" so difficult.

Update: It got much better in the second half.

Trust Snape, Indeed

Check out Leila's new t-shirt design over at bookshelves of doom!

Contest - Rename a Book, Win a Prize

Lisa Yee's got a fabulous contest going.

Entering is simple, just think of a children's book, then change the first letter of one word in the title, and explain what that book would be.

Example:
A Wrinkle in Lime
Meg's a fashion design protegee who just made the biggest fashion faux pas of the decade.

See? It's that easy!

Go! Enter the contest. Or at least read the entries, because many of them are much more fabulous than mine.

Via Gottabook.

Who is that Masked Man?

This is cool.

I know, I know, Greg over at Gottabook already posted it. But really, my mom sent me this on Sunday, and I should have posted it then but I was too lazy.

It's a bit of performance art, and it's strange, beautiful, mysterious, funny, weird, and as I said earlier, cool.

Go see: Jerome Murat

(Just the intro is in French, then it's just music and performance.)

Forgotten Treasure: Old Mother West Wind

Do you ever have one of those moments when something from your childhood that you had long since forgotten flashes into your head? Maybe a person you forgot you ever knew, an event you'd let slip from your mind, or a book that suddenly came back to you?

A few months ago, I remembered how much I used to love the Katie John series.

The other day, I flashed back to Thornton Burgess.

Did anyone else read Thornton Burgess? I was captivated by his stories as a child. It didn't hurt that he wrote about "Laughing Brook" and the park where his house was, named Laughing Brook Park, was just a short drive from where I grew up. But I truly loved the stories about Johnny Chuck and Little Joe Otter and Grandfather Frog.

Anyway, on Sunday I searched online and reread all the stories from Old Mother West Wind. You can too! Or, you could buy a boxed set of Burgess for a child who likes furry creatures.

What are your forgotten treasures? If you can remember, of course....

Blog Lazy

I'm being blog-lazy these past couple of days. Bear with me and I'll get back on track ... any moment now... yawn....

Tanga Puzzles: January 8 - January 14

The guest-puzzles have begun, and they're tough!

Here are the daily clues for the Tanga puzzles this week. To see the hint, highlight the space to the right of the date.

I don't give away answers here, just a small hint each day to help get you started or past a rough patch. If you want stronger hints, you can check the blog on the Tanga site itself, which is chock full of spoilers.

While I avoid giving away the answers on this page, be warned that there may be spoilers in the comments to this post, so open those with care.

Good luck!

January 8: The first step is pretty easy to see. A good knowledge of set theory will help with the second part.

January 9: It's important to remember the most famous line of this movie. And I don't mean "Ouuuuuuch...."

January 10: Read "Badgers" as a verb, not a plural noun. I solved this puzzle with only the third and fifth clues answered. Oh, and there's a pun in the answer.

January 11: Pretty straightforward to figure out what to do, but some of these are tough. 10/12/5 is easier if you say it out loud. For 15/2/3 try accenting the first HO and adding an echo.

January 12: Once I read the words out loud, I was able to make a connection for each word.

January 13: Ouch. Take it slow. If you follow the directions, you shouldn't get lost. Note that when you get to part 2, you might start seeing a word that looks like gibberish. Don't give up on it.

January 14: Ignore the top left picture and this one will be easy for you. Though, if you figure out what that top left picture is, please leave me a comment. (Ooh, I think I know now.)

Creative Writing: Your Angel

This one is tough to write any commentary for, because of the topic. I'll say this. I was told a story about someone I knew only distantly. The story stunned me so much that I wrote the poem as a way of processing my response.

Your Angel

Was he laughing yet?
Did he have your eyes?
Did you never feel the sweet surprise
of soft skin, fine hair,
and faintly whispered lullabies?

Close the lid and close the door.
We can look on him no more.

Could we have stopped it
if we’d known what was in store?

How could you?
Why would you?
Have we so misunderstood you?
Missed the signs.
Read just the lines and not between.
And let your menace march unseen
toward innocence and frailty,
allowing for this tragedy.

You broke. He paid.
A magic number now unmade.
You broke. He bought.
Nothing is as it ought to be.

Maybe a good lobotomy
or lethal injection
would send this scourge
in the right direction.

But it’s too late to give us
the kind of protection we lack.

Your angel has left the building.
And he won’t be back.

Meme - Which Would You Rather

Erin's made me answer these! Which would I rather have...?

Hamburger or hotdog? Hamburger, unless I'm at a baseball game. Then absolutely a hotdog!

A kiss underneath the stars on a clear night, or in the rain? Tough one. I love the rain and I love the stars. If it was a hot summer night, I'd choose rain. A cool autumn/winter night I'd choose stars.

A snowy morning or a warm afternoon? SNOW, SNOW, SNOW

Hot chocolate or coffee? Hot chocolate is the only hot drink I enjoy. I've never grown into being a coffee or tea drinker.

A text message or a phone call? Depends who it's from. If it's work, email is easier because I can keep a record of the conversation. If it's a friend, a call is generally more fun, but a part of me still regrets not being able to "capture" the call.

A limo or a VW Bug? Neither. A Jaguar or a Mini Cooper please.

A long island iced tea or a martini? If I had a couple of tasty margaritas first, then I wouldn't care which of these two followed.

A book or a movie? Wow, this depends on my mood of the moment. If I want to be self-indulgent, I would probably go for the movie. If I want to accomplish something I'd go for the book. Not that books aren't an indulgence too.

Tea or soda? Seltzer. Especially plain seltzer. In a large vat please.

An axe murderer for a friend, or a clown? Let me get back to you on that. Clowns really freak me out.

A peaceful lake or a restless ocean? OCEAN, OCEAN, OCEAN

A singular best friend or many acquaintances? Neither. A few very good friends is ideal for me. I no longer feel like I have to have a "best" friend. I love them all.

A job as a burger-flipper for McDonalds, or as a stunt woman? Both would be serious health-hazards for someone as accident prone as I am.

A dog or a cat? DOG, DOG, DOG

Erin, I'll throw a few back at you, which I'll answer later. Which would you rather have:

A world without words or a world without color?

An empty amusement park or an empty shopping mall?

The mannerisms of an insufferable opera diva or the mind of a mad scientist?

No memory of history or no memory of yesterday?

Cybils Reading Update

I spent this afternoon at Barnes and Noble, reading the 2nd of 5 nominated books in the Cybils Young Adult category.

I've now read Hattie Big Sky and Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Each of these was excellent in completely different ways. I can already see what an interesting discussion the judging committee will have in weighing all the virtues of these finalists.

Still to go:

The Rules of Survival
The Book Thief
A Brief Chapter in My Impossible Life

Quote of the Day, 1/06/07: Headaches

Oof! My head cold has led to a nasty little headache. So I'll throw a few quick quotes out on the subject, and then curl up to sleep. Based on the last quote here, I guess that Emerson would not approve of this post.

Eleanor Roosevelt
I could never say in the morning, "I have a headache and cannot do thus and so." Headache or no headache, thus and so had to be done.

Samuel Butler
If the headache would only precede the intoxication, alcoholism would be a virtue.

Lewis Carroll
I'm very brave generally, he went on in a low voice: only today I happen to have a headache.

Ralph Waldo Emerson
There is one topic peremptorily forbidden to all well-bred, to all rational mortals, namely, their distempers. If you have not slept, or if you have slept, or if you have headache, or sciatica, or leprosy, or thunder-stroke, I beseech you, by all angels, to hold your peace, and not pollute the morning.

Teachers Cooler than The Fonz

Remember the last year of Happy Days, when Fonzie was a teacher? It wasn't a great season, but I really kind of liked the idea of The Fonz teaching.

Anyway, for a list of 100 teachers even cooler than Mr. Fonzerelli, head on over to A Year of Reading, and their fabulous list of 100 Cool Teachers in Children's Literature. They just hit 100, but they'll happily take more suggestions if you've got 'em.

Quote of the Day, 1/05/07: Plath on Poetry

Thanks to Kelly Fineman for posting this quote several weeks ago. I've been waiting for another Poetry Friday to share it again.

Here is how Silvia Plath described the small moments of poetry, and the contrast to the expansive time of novels.

How I envy the novelist!

I imagine him - better say her, for it is the women I look to for a parallel - I imagine her, the novelist, pruning a rosebush with a large pair of shears, adjusting her spectacles, shuffling about among the teacups, humming, arranging ashtrays or babies, absorbing a slant of light, a fresh edge to the weather and piercing, with a kind of modest, beautiful X-ray vision, the psychic interiors of her neighbors - her neighbors on trains, in the dentist's waiting room, in the corner teashop. To her, this fortunate one, what is there that isn't relevant! Old shoes can be used, doorknobs, airletters, flannel nightgowns, cathedrals, nail varnish, jet planes, rose arbors and budgerigars; little mannerisms - the sucking at a tooth, the tugging at a hemline - any weird or warty or fine or despicable thing. Not to mention emotions, motivations - those rumbling, thunderous shapes. Her business is Time, the way it shoots forward, shunts back, blooms, decays and double exposes itself. Her business is people in Time. And she, it seems to me, has all the time in the world. She can take a century if she likes, a generation, a whole summer.

I can take about a minute.

I'm not talking about epic poems. We all know how long they can take. I'm talking about the smallish, unofficial garden-variety poem. How shall I describe it? - a door opens, a door shuts. In between you have a glimpse: a garden, a person, a rainstorm, a dragonfly, a heart, a city. I think of those round Victorian paperweights which I remember, yet can never find - a far cry from the plastic mass-productions which stud the toy counters in Woolworths. This sort of paperweight is a clear globe, self-complete, very pure, with a forest or village or family group within it. You turn it upside down, then back. It snows. Everything is changed in a minute. It will never be the same in there - not the fir trees, nor the gables, nor the faces.

So a poem takes place.

A Little Poetry for You: Jarrell

Poetry Friday is upon us again. Elaine's got the round-up over at Blue Rose Girls. Here's a poem I was introduced to in a summer poetry class during high school. I absolutely love how it starts ... it takes a moment to realize the speaker is not just talking about emotions.

Next Day
by Randall Jarrell

Moving from Cheer to Joy, from Joy to All,
I take a box
And add it to my wild rice, my Cornish game hens.
The slacked or shorted, basketed, identical
Food-gathering flocks
Are selves I overlook. Wisdom, said William James,

Is learning what to overlook. And I am wise
If that is wisdom.
Yet somehow, as I buy All from these shelves
And the boy takes it to my station wagon,
What I've become
Troubles me even if I shut my eyes.

When I was young and miserable and pretty
And poor, I'd wish
What all girls wish: to have a husband,
A house and children. Now that I'm old, my wish
Is womanish:
That the boy putting groceries in my car

See me. It bewilders me he doesn't see me.

Read the rest of this poem by clicking here (especially if you want to know what the title means).