Desktop Backgrounds for P&P

These are the official shots, but if you scroll down a bit there is also one in white-and-color. Enjoy! - C.

Back by Popular Coworker's Demand

Well, they finally got Nate to eat an espresso bean. How? They hid it in his lunch burrito. He never knew.

“I want to marry a pirate.” – Casey
“I thought you were going to marry a mail-order groom from Hawaii?” – Christy
“Yeah, but he didn’t come.” – Casey
“Ah.” – Christy
“Anyway, there’s a shortage of pirates. That’s why I’m going to convert.” – Casey
“Convert to what?” – Christy
“Piracy. I can shoot a gun!” – Casey
“But wait, I thought you were going to marry a minotaur…” – Christy
“No, no, that’s a cover-up.” – Casey

“Davy, come over here and kill me, would you?” – Mom
“Okay. A little matricide won’t hurt anything.” – Davy, ambling over

“For that, I will allow you to sniff the mystic purple hyacinth. Abbi brought it for me.” – Christy to Nick

“I’m not dying. I’m just choking.” – Mom

“Hey Christy, Pericles was a hunk, right?” – Davy
“You can’t even apply the term ‘hunk’ to Pericles. That’s just wrong.” – Christy
“But by all that we know of him, was he a hunk? Did he perform hunkly deeds?” – Davy

“So if the camera is Bucephalous, then Mom is Alexandra the Great?” – Christy
“Right!” – Davy

“You are right, but I don’t like you much for it.” – Davy to Mom

“Does anybody have lighter fluid on them?” – Casey

“That’s it! I’m moving to Sparta!” – David
“Is the weather pretty good there?” – Grace

“What am I doing? I’m taking goo off of stuff.” – Casey, in answer to Mom

“Well, we could snuggle.” – Davy to Casey (don’t worry, it make sense in context. “Snuggle” is an InDesign term).

“Oh, isn’t he cute, making the Nile River in the warehouse.” – Casey, with gentle sarcasm, watching Sam splash the contents of his water bowl all over the floor.

“I have a weapon and a defensible position. You just try it!” – Davy to Nate
“Boys, not in the office!” – Casey

Tree or no Tree?

Let Your Voice Fall

I just finished reading Mama's post about this past Wednesday---the day on which she taught her last co-op class.

She's been teaching me for as long as I can remember.

It's so hard to find words for this... the sweetness and sadness of an ended season; the quiet ache in my chest as I try to picture that classroom without her. Impossible! I've had many, many teachers in the course of my academic life, but I think I can honestly say that few of them were as gifted as she is, and none of them will ever love me as much as she does.

How do you explain what you feel for the person who taught you to read?

How do you reduce a thousand-thousand memories to an image that captures even the tenth part of the spectrum?

How do you say "teacher" and convey what she has been to us? How do you say "white" and express a rainbow?

You don't. This is one of those things about which, as she would say, you can only "let your voice fall."

But, in the progression to silence, let me leave this whisper....

She is the noblest woman I know.

Weather Continues Fair and Quotely. Love to All.

“My caps are gone! The cap is the most important part of the pen! The pen just seems incomplete without the cap, and it drives me insane! The insecurity of a pen without a cap!” – Casey

“I’m with you Casey. All the way!” – Abbi

“The French should have to have a license to spell. They throw in letters indiscriminately! They say, ‘Let’s put in a letter here… because we feel like it!’” – Davy

“How did you get to be so much taller than me?” – Christy to Davy
“Practice. Sheer determined application of will and energy.” – Davy, without skipping a beat

“Sam, don’t you get tired of destroying things?” – Christy, thoughtfully, to the dog
“What are you talking about? Destroying things is one of the most fulfilling leisure activities ever!” – Peter
Boys. Wow.

“Sam! Wherefore dost thou bark?” – Nate

“I think I’m getting tired.” – Mom
“That’s what espresso beans are for!” – Peter

“Where are the espresso beans!?” – Casey
“I hid them.” – Christy
“Why?” – Davy
“Because you guys both got sick from eating too many of them yesterday, and you got high on them.” – Christy
“C’mon, let’s find them.” – Davy to Casey
“Right!” – Casey
“Can’t you make them stop this?” – Christy to Mom
“Honey, they’re adults.” – Mom

“It’s my mail-order husband!” – Casey, toting in a big package from Hawaii.

“Dave, I have no desire to make this thing. Pay me to do something else, please?” – Jen to Davy, who is her boss.

Pride and Prejudice Poster

Danya whipped this up for me in about two hours of pure creative genius. Isn't he cool?

Lampstand on Steroids

It's only been Spring Break for one day, and already... oh my!

“Be quiet and eat your checkers.” – Mom
“How ‘bout I eat my chocolate instead?” – Christy
“That works.” – Mom

“Sometimes, Elijah, you’re born to suffer.” – Nate
“Is that your wisdom for the day, Nate?” – Christy
“Yeah, pretty much. Suffering is good for you. Builds character. At least, that’s what Calvin and Hobbes tells us.” – Nate

“Whoa! It talked!!!” – Casey, staring at a cell phone.

“If Rhapsody dies, I’m going to kill it!” – Casey

“God is bigger than a pdf…” – Casey, to the tune of God is Bigger than the Boogieman.

“Casey, are you happy?” - Christy
“Yes, I am!” – Casey
“Who gave you permission to be happy?” – Christy
“The Lord!” – Casey
“Good one! For that, I will open the quote list.” – Christy

So Casey has been trying all day to get Nate to eat a chocolate-covered espresso bean…
Nate doesn’t do coffee.
“Come on, just open your mouth! It’ll make you a big boy!” – Casey
“I already am a big boy, Casey.” – Nate
“Come on, it’s not coffee!” – Casey
“What is Casey trying to get Nate to do?” – Abbi
“She’s trying to get him to eat this.” – Christy
“What is it?” – Abbi
“It’s a chocolate-covered espresso bean.” – Casey
“Oh, and Nate doesn’t want it because it’s coffee?” – Abbi
“Right.” – Casey
“You just said it wasn’t coffee!” – Christy

“The kitchen wench would like to make an announcement! Everybody listen!” – Mom about Becky, who is apparently our kitchen wench now.

“My heart, you ripped my heart out, you who were once a great teacher in my co-op class!” – Davy to Mom, paraphrasing lines from Euripides’ Trojan Women. We are so incredibly overeducated around here. :-P
“Well, I was in Trojan Women. You were too? Wow!” – Davy to Peter
“We were pretty much all in Trojan Women at some point.” – Christy

“I’m telling you, the whole play is about Talthyboeus.” – Davy
“Trojan Women, Dave. Women!” – Marjorie
“You know, the play is pretty much misnamed.” – Davy

“I should’ve known better than to ask you to draw someone you would want to be in 20 years!” – Christy to Danya, who is being recalcitrant about drawing the professor that we want to use as our “Classical Education” character in Mom’s speeches.

“….So that’s the moment of the day. Praise the Lord, you all love me for who I am inside. Bye!” – Jen, somewhat cryptically, on her way out the door.

“Does one spell ‘desert’ and ‘dessert’ the same way?” – Mom
“Um… one has one ‘s’ and the other has two…” – Christy
“I never can remember, and the spellchecker doesn’t help…” – Mom
“You really are unusually cute; did you know that?” – Christy

The Lane

We've gone to two services at church, and today most of us went to the 9 AM service. This meant that, even after Sara's birthday breakfast, we still had about 40 minutes to kill before the others (mostly Nate, Mike, and Jessica) got home from the 11:30 AM service.

So, we decided, a walk was in order.

Danya, Churdee, Burgee and I set off in the other direction, on the path that leads beneath the culvert and across the road. We scrambled up an embankment, idled for several minutes on the rocky top, and then struck off northeast along the flank of the hill. Soon enough, we came upon an old lane, so old that one only knew it was a lane because of the very slight depression in the center, and because no trees grew in the middle of it, though they were all around.

Of course, all of us knew perfectly well what was up the lane. But we went anyway, and came to the old ruined barn, and then, a little further, the remains of a stone house, which has only a few walls and half-window openings left, and where trash is scattered about, deep-tangled in grass.

It was so quiet, all age and other lives lived, except for the spring birdsong.

"We should build the manor-house at the top of the lane," I said, continuing the game we had been playing.
"Yes, but we won't build anything here." Danya poked an old glass bottle. "That is---we'll get rid of the trash, but this should be a garden."
"Oh, yes!" Everybody said. "We couldn't build anything else just here."
How I longed to buy up the land, and make a great estate of it, and clear the trash out of that wonderful, lonely, memory-full place! It was a moment out of my childhood, when many such longings came and went in the course of a spring morning, and many castles were built on the earth-and-moss-covered foundations of old farmhouses.

And then we all stood still for a few moments, feeling solemn.

And then we came home, Davy and I straying in the back, talking of grown-up things, while the girls pranced on ahead and sang in high operatic voices under the culvert, where their voices would echo.

It was like being thirteen again, and those lovely old ruins stirred me as I have not been stirred in years. They called to me, truly, and taught me again the secret of how to play. I said yesterday that I had forgotten how, but now I remember. Today I could be a nymph of the forest, barefoot and serene, and a little wild, and merry as the day is long...

Yet soft, no, wait, it cannot be. As Danya reminded us when it was time to go:

But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep

I could be a forest girl, and my dearest dreams of Heaven often include something akin to that life. For now, however, I have promises to keep. And I am not sorry.... only perhaps, sometimes, a little wistful.

Spring Break? What's That?

"So, are you gonna goof off over spring break?"

I got this question a lot over the last few weeks, and my answer was always the same. A faint, ironic smile. A sensation of being about to say something counterintuitive. Then, "No, I'm going to be in the office all week."

It isn't that I regret the fact. I love my office, I enjoy writing Lit curriculum, and I don't mind making lots of money. Sure, I regret that I can't accept the invitation to join a few girls in a cottage on Chincoteague Island, but there will always be cool vacations to pass up, and why stew about it?

Today, however, I ran into a bit of a wall. It's Saturday, and because all next week is Spring Break, I don't have homework. I finished all my cleaning, ate lunch, and suddenly realized...

I didn't have anything to do.

Uh-oh.

I grabbed my car keys. "I'll be at the office if anybody needs me, Danya!"
"Hold on a second!" My little brother said, much aggrieved. "You're going to work on Saturday?"
"I don't have homework and I don't have anything to do... and I think I've forgotten how to relax."

Davy had a fit. He dragged me downstairs, forced me to pick out a movie, and chained me to a chair, with a stack of comic books on my lap, in front of the TV.



"But I don't want to watch TV! I don't even like TV!"
"Tough! Good grief, it's spring break! You've got to relax!"

Mom came in and backed him up. Traitor. "Good for you, Davy!" She said approvingly, and went off to enjoy her own packed-as-usual schedule. I gave the huffle of a miffed snail.

After awhile, I did manage to escape. My three younger siblings are still downstairs watching the movie... I think they're somewhere in the middle of the third hour of our six-hour copy of Ivanhoe. I wish them joy of it, but I just remembered that I have a 15-page paper due at the end of the semester.

No time like the present to start work on it. :-D

Davy would have another fit if he knew....

But he doesn't. ;)

I guess the only thing about all this that bothers me a little bit is the fact that I really, truly, honestly don't know how to just "have fun" any more. I'm always on the move, and extra time is bewildering to me.

Somehow, I don't think that's quite right. :-/

Nonsequentiality

In other words... no two units in this text will logically follow one another. I think I just made up a word!

-- I don't really know what Facebook is good for.

-- I spent all day working on Reading Assignment Charts, but I'm not really going stir-crazy. Go figure.

--I never, ever, ever want to block a stage kiss again. Apologies to the directors, but... YUCK! Oh well, I guess I'll have gotten over it tolerably well in ten years.

--Today, Nate and I traded spaces. He got the big splendid oaken rolltop desk, and I got... um... well, 34" x 17" worth of screen, acres of surface area, and about 7 square feet of soon-to-be corkboard. Not bad, actually.

--I think I like James Joyce's style. But don't worry, I won't go dippy about it.

--In spite of everything, Thomas Hardy is still a brilliant writer.

--My Danya is sick. :-( So is Burgee. :*( :*( So is Churdee :0( :0( :0( This means that all three of my younger siblings have succumbed, in order of youngest to oldest, to the flu going around. And, in order of age, I'm next.

--Last of the Mohicans is pouring from my computer speakers. :0)

--Casey and Grace were over the top at the office today. Wow.

--Sarah is moving to Maryland!!!!!

--The play is actually coming along. I have high hopes for it, and I get to spend two whole weeks working on it, from the end of this month through the early part of next month. Oh, joyful, joyful me!

--Mama is still playing If I Had $1,000,000 every chance she gets. Sigh. If I had a million dollars, I'd buy every copy of that song now in existence and have a bonfire. <:0)

--Mama and Daddy and Burgee are leading a tour to Europe in another two weeks. I'm going to miss them!

--Sam is a big, blond, warm, living rug. I sincerely think he must be the cutest thing on four legs (barring Emma).

--I'm not behind on my reading, I had a QT and exercised this morning, and I have caregroup tonight. How's that for grace?

--Today I met a deadline. I didn't know it could be done in the real world. :-P

--Some bright morning, sooner than I realize, I will be back in New England with my Atlantic.

::happy sigh::

On Directorship

Being a director means that you have to get inside the head of every character in the play, and then transfer the contents of that head to the actor or actress sitting in front of you, in a way that they can fuse it to themselves.

Sounds easy, don't it?

I have a cast of 30 people on my hands, and for the majority of them I have exactly 30 minutes of one-on-one time in which to establish a mind-meld between person and character. This results in my having to say some very weird things.

To Mr. Collins: "Well, no, it's sort of like.... Austen emphasizes how he's 'weak in the head,' so you need to be the kind of guy who rolls out of bed and wears his pyjamas all day on a corporate casual dress code campus... but I don't want you to be the guy who gets out of bed and intentionally puts on a vampire suit. And the audience in your head is always responding perfectly to what you mean... it's just that the audience in front of you never does. You're outta touch with reality."

To Mr. Darcy: "You've got all kinds of moons. Miss Bingley is a moon, for example. Jupiter had nine moons! But what you need in your life is another planet. And that's what Lizzy is. So you don't want to draw her into your orbit, exactly... you just want to combine planets."

Etc. And then there are, of course, the directions I give to people when we're running scenes (as opposed to mind-melding sessions):

To Lizzy, in a Darcy/Lizzy scene: "No, no, no! Don't smile! You hate him! He's ruining your evening!"

To Bingley, because he's taken to burbling at me whenever we meet: "Andrew, I said bubbly. I did not say 'falsetto.'"

Also to Bingley: "You don't have a rainbow wig? Well, okay, then the red plaid pyjama pants sound fine. Yes, and the pink silk bowtie and dress shirt and blazer and whatever else. Shoot, I won't have to look at you---I'm not going to be at that rehearsal. So go ahead. Do whatever you have to, but I want you to be over the top. Then we can worry about inching you back down. Okay?"

Casey Told Me To Update My Blog

..... but I'm wayyyyyy too busy right now. So here, have some quotes. :-)

From the book, Are You My Mother?
“So, I’m going to call him and make sure he goes home.” – Casey about Nate
“’Are you his mother?’” – Mom
“No, I am his snort.” – Casey
“Ah. I am his mother, therefore you are his snort.” – Mom
“I am Nate’s snort.” – Casey
“Nate, did you know you have a snort?” – Mom
“I snort frequently.” – Nate
“Yes, but did you know you have a snort? A snort devoted just to you?” – Mom
“I dunno about the ‘devoted’ part…” – Casey
“You mean you snort for other people!?!” – Nate

“Are you speaking sweet nothings into the air? We need to find you an ear to speak them into. I will help you.” – Casey to Christy