28 days as a general rule are plenty

A clean slate: this was the theme of Martha Stewart’s January issue. Well, we’re two full months into 2007 and I’m still working on cleaning my slate. I determined to finish books and projects underway and to do the things on my “list of things to do” before I undertook anything else. And while I haven’t followed this plan completely (there was that impulse reread of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire a couple of weeks ago), I have made some progress. Bethany, Hilary and David all have had the books I borrowed returned to them. Salvation Army received a load of cast-offs. The sweater I started knitting last fall is inching along again.

Today is the last day of February, and I’m glad of it. The Pirate King in The Pirates of Penzance was right: for such a beastly month as February, twenty-eight days as a general rule are plenty. I’m ready for sunshine warm enough to enjoy outside and not just through windows. It will be a bit sad to say goodbye to scarves and my red suede shoes, but that’s a small price to pay for strawberries, Birkenstocks, skirts and fresh herbs.

On Monday night I dreamed that I was Harry Potter on the night before my final confrontation with Voldemort. Don’t ask how I knew it would happen the next day; I just did. It was evening and hundreds of people were camping out in tents on the Hogwarts grounds (which looked like the lawn surrounding Mt. Olive Presbyterian Church). They had built bonfires and there was a festive sense of expectation in the air, not unlike the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone believed that I (Harry) would be victorious—except me. I was anything but certain of it, and I felt alienated from everyone else. I peeked into the windows of the Riddle house nearby (which looked like my parents’ living room—the Riddles have the same butterfly rug, apparently), and some ghostly flashes of light told me Voldemort was at work.

I would say July 21 can’t come quickly enough, but I’m in no hurry to have this series over. And my dream didn’t make me any more confident about Harry’s chances of survival. In 2005 I dreamed that the Belhaven library accidentally put out their copies of The Half-Blood Prince a few days early, and I had a chance to read it before anyone else did. That’s two dreams about Harry Potter. Can anyone help me? I seem to have a problem.

Them kids are in a funny way

It was about ten years ago that my dad took Wendell, Paula, Micah and me to hear Livingston Taylor play at the Saenger Theatre in Mobile. On Friday night Paula, Tuan and I were privileged to hear him again at the Manship Theatre in Baton Rouge. I grew up hearing Livingston and his brother James on the turntable in the background during family evenings. I remember staring at the cover of Echoes, taking in every detail down to his long pale eyelashes while I tried to figure out if this was two brothers who looked eerily alike or the same man shown twice. Record covers allow a lot more scope for visual contemplation, you know.

On Friday night Livingston took the stage in his characteristic oxford shirt, bowtie and suspenders. He is down-to-earth and approachable. He chats with fans before, during intermission and after the show. After each song he steps out of the spotlight, snaps his long frame straight and bows. His rubber face registers mock surprise when the applause continues enthusiastically, but he seems genuinely honored to be doing what he’s doing. When I’m Not as Herbal as I Ought to Be is met with (relatively) thunderous applause Liv chides the audience, “I didn’t know you liked the cheap stuff! Heck, I wore a bowtie and everything.” The audience is pretty mellow, but when a smattering of applause breaks out at the opening of his children’s song Pajamas, he grins, “That’s right—the hits just keep on coming!”

The audience is almost entirely composed of people my parents’ age. I suspect that most of them are probably liberal. “I am young and conservative,” I think. “How did I get here?” But Livingston himself is an odd mixture of northern and southern, liberal and conservative. He grew up in North Carolina and now lives in Boston. Why Wasn’t I Born Gay? makes me a bit uncomfortable, but before long he’s singing gospel songs, which probably makes other people uncomfortable. At the climax of Step by Step (But Satan has no weapon / No arrow, knife, or sword / That can take away the love / Of Jesus Christ the Lord) the audience breaks into cheers.

Here is the set list for Friday evening:
1. Life is Good
2. I’m in a Pickle
3. Letting the Whiskey Do the Talking
4. Never Lose Hope
5. North to Alaska
6. Last Alaska Moon
7. I’m Not as Herbal as I Ought to Be
8. Olympic Guitar
9. Why Wasn’t I Born Gay
10. Kitty Hawk, December, Nineteen-Three
11. There You Are Again
12. Tell Jesus (to come to my house)
13. Pajamas
Intermission
14. Heart and Soul
15. Yes
16. Answer My Prayer
17. Step by Step
18. Best of Friends
19. On and On
20. I Wish I Were a Cowboy
21. Carolina Day
22. City Lights
23. Railroad Bill
24. Our Turn to Dance
25. My Baby Don’t Mind
26. Over the Rainbow
27. Grandma’s Hands

Things are gonna get better in the bye-and-bye

"When we were young," I told my cousin Anna, "and your dad used to play his bluegrass albums, I thought I would never like that kind of music. I remember thinking, 'Uncle Scott is great and all, but he's just got it wrong on this one.' And now look where we are." We were standing in line at Hal & Mal's on Saturday night, waiting to hear Old Crow Medicine Show. Anna laughed and we went inside the smoky room to slip up to the front, ready to hear some good live music. While we waited for the band to start I mentally added bluegrass to the list of the things about which I've been wrong. I'm glad to have grown into an appreciation for rural music. Perhaps a steady TV diet of The Andy Griffith Show made it inevitable.

Old Crow delivered on the good live music. I'm only peripherally familiar with them--I don't feel much ownership of artists unless I own at least one album--through a few mp3s and hearing them open for Gillian Welch at Hal & Mal's two years ago. Back then they were up-and-coming bluegrass newcomers; now they probably have more mainstream recognition than Gillian Welch does. Fiddler Ketch Secor plays with almost Chris-Thile-like intensity, and the band was loud, tight and raucous.

There's a certain dorkiness inherent in bluegrass music. I have to admit I'm surprised OCMS is as popular as they are. Mountain music has been around for a long time; is it because these boys are young and sexy that it's suddenly cool to listen to? One of the things I love about bluegrass and rural music is its acknowledgement that life is hard but still worth celebrating. This view is shared by a lot of traditional folk and Celtic songs (another love I didn't see coming). Some of these have been brought to my attention lately by the lovely Kate Rusby. Her amazing voice wraps around lyrics like, "When Jimmy talks about the wars, it's worse than death to hear him / I must go out and hide me tears, because I cannot bear him" (The Recruited Collier) and our hearts break for the girl who's lost her love to the military. In another Kate Rusby song, Drowned Lovers, William and Margaret lose their lives thanks to meddling mothers and a strong river, but the music urges us to dance.

The bluegrass tradition in general recognizes that God and the Devil are real, the world is broken, and good things come into it but more is promised after life. Dancing to a song like Drowned Lovers might seem incongruous, but a worldview that allows for beauty and pain, fun and death, music and tears lets us do that.

It felt good to be sad and lonely

When winter settles in and a gray chill creeps into everything, an inevitable feeling of sadness comes with it. There are two courses of action to take when this happens. The first is to fight it. This involves things like drinking orange juice, wearing red, forcing bulbs, listening to The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, watching something funny and redemptive like Groundhog Day or Enchanted April and perhaps going for a jog if the sun shines for a few moments at a time—anything to keep gloominess at bay.

The second course is to embrace the melancholy. You accomplish this by reading something in which the characters are hopelessly flawed, like Wuthering Heights, or unhealthily introspective, like The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by eating large quantities of soup, knitting a sweater you will probably never finish, staying firmly ensconced on the sofa and by listening to sad music. I like to be prepared with music appropriate for any situation (I’m still working on this—there are gaping holes in my music collection), so I put together a little “Winter Melancholy” iTunes playlist. The links are free downloads.

Bleecker Street—Simon & Garfunkel
“The fog’s rollin’ in off the east river bank…”
Every Ship Must Sail Away—Blue Merle
This was an iTunes free download from way back.
In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning—Carly Simon
A columnist for the Wall Street Journal said that Frank Sinatra’s album by this name was his best work. I’m tempted to hunt it up on eBay.
Sketches—Daniel Lanois
This sounds like fog, clouding your thoughts and sapping your resolution.
Sho Heen—Kate Rusby
She’s from England, where it is almost always cold.
First and Last Waltz—Nickel Creek
The music sounds far away, like spring.
Old Friends—Simon & Garfunkel
“Winter companions, the old men/Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset”
Gotta Have You—The Weepies
I mean, The Weepies…
Alice—Tom Waits
Death, a frozen pond, insanity, lost love: this is winter melancholy at its best.
Holland—Sufjan Stevens
So quiet and still, like a day when it’s too cold to move.
Dou Way Robyn/Sancta Mater—Trio Mediaeval
Another free download from iTunes.
Love and Loneliness—Wendell Kimbrough
Written in Maryland, where the sun shines even less than it does in Mississippi.
Mary’s Waltz—Over the Rhine
It’s been said that OTR’s music makes sad people happy and happy people sad.
The Survivor—The Normals
Maybe it’s just because there are bare tree branches and a gray sky in the album art, but Coming to Life has always felt like a winter album to me.

And no matter how bad winter is, at least I don’t have to deal with this.

So what would go on your winter playlist?

You get so hacked, that you pay no mind to the great big sign that says oversized load.

It happened while my brother and I were driving in the car. I had to spit. There was no swallowing, no other course of action to take; opening the car door and spitting was the only solution. I explained my predicament to Wendell, and at the next four-way stop I quickly opened the car door and spat on the street. Then I slid down in shame, trying to hide from the world. "I'm always so grossed out when other people do that!" I said to Wendell. "And now I'm doing it!" "Well, now you know how they feel," he said. "Next time don't be so hard on them."

This happened years ago, but I still think of it whenever I see someone spit out of his car. "You know how it feels when you just have to spit," I remind myself. There are so many situations I find myself in that I thought would never happen to me, so many things I thought I'd never do. Whenever I new one turns up I think of spitting in the car with Wendell and wish I hadn't been so critical.

For example, I'm reading Postern of Fate by Agatha Christie right now. It's a Tommy and Tuppence mystery, and they're just chatting away not so charmingly while the plot does little to advance. I was getting irritated until I discovered that this is the last book Christie wrote. It was published when she was 83. Now I see the whole thing differently and will return to it this evening with much gentler expectations. I also know now what it feels like to be so tired at the end of a 9 to 5 office job that you just want to watch TV. I used to be so disdainful of people who would only flop down in front of the TV and watch whatever is on just because it was on, but now I know why they do it. I still don't think it's a good idea, but I understand. When I told my mom this, she wisely said, "Getting older is pretty much a process of learning you were wrong to be critical of anybody about anything."

Last night I made Blackened Chicken Pizza with Yellow Tomato Salsa. It was good, but entirely too spicy--and I left off the jalapeno! The pepper jack cheese and cayenne pepper together was overpowering. I will probably make it again with half plain mozzarella and reduce the red pepper.

I also remembered another book I read last year and forgot to put on the list: The Chosen by Chaim Potok. I really enjoyed it, although My Name Is Asher Lev was more interesting to me because of the art. He was a fascinating writer.

Books Read 2006

Last year one of my favorite bloggers posted a list of all the books she had read in the past year. Even though she reads much faster than I do and finished over a hundred books, I was inspired by her example and decided to try for a modest fifty. I made my goal (only just), and looking over my year’s worth of reading I see that it is a very modest list indeed, including only ten nonfiction books and a great deal of children’s literature.

January
1. The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
2. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
3. The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis (reread)
4. By the Shores of Silver Lake by Laura Ingalls Wilder (reread)
5. The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder (reread)

February
6. On The Way Home: The Diary of a Trip From South Dakota To Mansfield, Missouri, in 1894 by Laura Ingalls Wilder
7. The Moon By Night by Madeleine L’Engle
8. Aunt Jane’s Hero by Elizabeth Prentiss
9. Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen by Julie Powell
10. The Arm of the Starfish by Madeline L’Engle
11. Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell
12. Holes by Louis Sachar

March
13. The Young Unicorns by Madeline L’Engle
14. The Little Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupery
15. The Giver by Lois Lowry
16. Camilla by Madeline L’Engle
17. The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snicket
18. Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli
19. The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare
20. Coming of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody

April
21. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

May
22. The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien (reread)
23. Little Town on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder (reread)
24. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (reread)

June
25. These Happy Golden Years by Laura Ingalls Wilder (reread)
26. A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L’Engle
27. Sideways Stories From Wayside School by Louis Sachar (reread)
28. Cheaper By The Dozen by Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey (reread)
29. Leaving Cold Sassy by Olive Ann Burns

July
30. A Southern Belle Primer by Marilyn Schwartz
31. Everything That Rises Must Converge by Flannery O’Connor
32. Troubling A Star by Madeline L’Engle
33. Gilbert & Sullivan and Their Victorian World by Christopher Hibbert

August
34. The Moviegoer by Walker Percy
35. Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling (reread)

September
36. Audrey Hepburn, An Elegant Spirit by Sean Hepburn Ferrer
37. From The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
38. The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith
39. The Story Girl by L.M. Montgomery (reread)

October
40. Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper
41. A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
42. Mandy by Julie Edwards

November
43. The Narnian by Alan Jacobs
44. At Home in North Branch by Arleta Richardson
45. Beauty Evolution by Bobbi Brown

December
46. Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield (reread)
47. Lord Peter by Dorthy L. Sayers (reread)
48. Holiness by Grace by Bryan Chapell
49. The End by Lemony Snicket
50. Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

Favorites
I’m not including rereads here, only books new to me.
Maniac Magee—Wrote about it here.
The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency—This was a simple and lovely little book.
A Prayer for Owen Meany—Probably my favorite book of the year.

Disappointments
I don’t usually read a book unless I’m pretty sure I’m going to like it, but sometimes I even I make a bad call.
Julie and Julia—I hesitate to put this on the list because it was an interesting idea, and I don’t regret reading it. Julie Powell turned to cooking to help sort out some of her life questions, but at the end of the year, she hadn’t come up with any really substantial or helpful conclusions.
Troubling A Star—Terrible. I liked most of Madeline L’Engle’s Austin family series until this point, but this was dreadfully boring. I wish someone had told me to skip it, since everything I needed to know was on the dust jacket synopsis.

I have no fixed plans for reading in 2007, other than my usual perpetual list. Do you have any recommendations? What did you read in 2006?

Merry Christmas from J.K. Rowling

The title of Book 7 was announced today by way of a game of hangman.

Pearl Harbor Day

Instead of watching a movie, I remember Pearl Harbor Day by listening to one my favorite Adventures in Odyssey episodes, "East Winds, Raining." Wendell and I grew up listening to stories featuring Mr. Whitaker (Hal Smith), Eugene and Connie, and the original set of kids. If I happen across it on the radio now I listen with interest, but I don't recognize most of the inhabitants of Odyssey anymore. The Barclay family is long gone, and no one now remembers Jack and Oscar, Curt and Lucy.

In "East Winds, Raining", Connie's Uncle Joe reflects on his experience at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Listen to it here today and in the archives later.

Nerdy as a fan club

Look what I found when I googled my name (scroll 1/6 down). Andrew Osenga asked his blog readers to thank Christianity Today for their review of The Morning (listen to it here), and my note got published (sort of). And it's right above Mr. and Mrs. Osenga's!

Her lamp does not go out at night

Perhaps if I had more controversial opinions this blog would generate more interest. Those bloggers who concentrate on politics and religion (or a mixture of both!) have comments by the dozen. Personal anecdotes and recipes just don’t get the heart pounding and nostrils flared, if you know what I mean. I like to keep this blog fairly lighthearted because arguing online is rarely helpful for me. I would rather talk in person about such things. I have, however, unearthed a strong opinion on a religious matter that I’m not afraid to share.

By way of Facebook I came across a group dedicated to the support of Ladies Against Feminism. Most of the articles I’ve browsed through seem to contain mostly good and true information and advice. “More Time In A Day” drew my attention because the desire to get everything done is something with which I struggle. Time management tips are always welcome, and this article contains some good ones. But this advice should raise a red flag:

Get up earlier and stay up later. This is the golden key to success for the round-the-clock homemaker! The famous Proverbs 31 wife and mother rose while it was yet night and let not her candle go out by night - meaning that she got up early and stayed up late…. By getting up earlier and staying up later, you can enjoy more time with your husband and children…. one thing’s for sure: you’ll enjoy the fruits of your labors!

Not only is this not what Proverbs 31 is telling us to do—it doesn’t even work! The author urges us to get a good night’s sleep, but how can we if we’re getting up earlier and staying up later in order to work? (Doing one or the other is great advice—but not both; that’s called “burning the candle from both ends.”) Last week I had a lot of things that needed to be done before I left for the holiday weekend, so instead of going to bed I stayed up late and worked until they were done. The next day I got up and went to work as usual. But instead of “enjoying the fruits of my labors,” I felt exhausted and had to go to bed early that night. Which I knew would happen, because I know my body needs sleep.

Proverbs 31 isn’t a list of things for women to complete in order to be virtuous. One read-through will show you it can’t all be done by any one woman. The principle here is to be hard working and diligent. But in order to work hard, our bodies need rest. Telling women the Bible says for them to get up early and stay up late to get their housework done is ridiculous. It goes against common sense and the true intent of scripture.

True or False

It’s time to play a little game called True or False. Determine whether the following statements are true…or false. Correct answers and explanations follow.

1. Christmas decorations may be put up whenever you feel like it.
2. Star Anise smells divine.
3. You can never have too much Bob Caskey.
4. It’s difficult to work a 9-to-5 and bake your own bread.
5. Hancock Fabric is a great place to meet friends.
6. Nicholas Cage deserves our respect.

1. False. Although I’ve begun planning for Christmas, it is not yet time to decorate. Always decorate for the holiday closest to you on the calendar. This means Christmas decorations may be put up on the day after Thanksgiving, but not before.

2. True. I picked up a 99 cent package of star anise at an Asian grocery in Ridgeland on Saturday. I left it sitting in the car while I ran some more errands, and when I came back my car smelled like pho. Some people may not want their cars to smell like pho, but it was fine with me.

3. False. I’m counting at least 7 barn dances called by Bob Caskey that I’ve attended in the past. Then there’s the time I saw him in the parking lot of Wal-Mart, wearing red pants. I’m trying to decide whether to attend RUF’s barn dance on Friday, and I’m thinking I need a break from Bob and his friend Charles.

4. True. What with all the time needed for rising, kneading, and rising again, I found it very difficult to get a loaf of oat bread made and baked. When I saw the recipe I imagined myself coming home from work to the wonderful yeasty smell of baking bread. Of course this couldn’t happen, because I was not there to bake it for myself to smell.

5. True. Who knew that I would run into three friends at Hancock Fabric? My mental associations of the fabric store are linked to memories as a child of (what seemed like) many, many hours spent wandering among bolts of fabric while my mom flipped through pattern books—feeling my brain activity shut down out of boredom. Now I’ll have to readjust that image. Cool people hang out at Hancock Fabric.

6. False. What is he thinking?

Like the monarchs I just knew that we could fly

When I was invited to a costume party two days before Halloween I immediately began casting about for costume ideas. A few easy ones were eliminated when I realized that most of my winter clothes are at my parents’ house. Martha Stewart's instructions for making butterfly wings looked easy and fun, but neither Michael's or Target yielded crepe paper of any kind. "Okay," I thought. "I'll just paint the wings on brown wrapping paper." But the wire frame I constructed couldn't support the weight of the painted paper. The wings were beautiful but not functional. Unfortunately I realized this too late in the game for the perfectionist art major in me to give up and go to the party without a costume (the perfectionist art major is a stubborn and prideful girl). I am ashamed to admit that as my friends left for the party, I refused to go and instead began rummaging around the house for some way to make the wings work. I decided to sacrifice aesthetics for functionality and duct-tape bamboo skewers to one side. With this supporting frame in place, the wings held their shape perfectly. I added ribbon arm straps and was out the door.

Now the wings are hanging on my wall, serving well as a reminder of my own sinfulness and God’s love in spite of it. It’s a beautiful and painful thing to be smacked upside the head with your sin. He turned around my plans to show off, humbling me and reminding me to be thankful for friends who will put up with me even when I’m being ridiculous. I’m much like the wings—they’re really a big mess, held together with duct tape, wire sticking out of one side and staples showing—but there’s an amazing pattern (simplified monarch butterfly) that God designed.

Since I made the wings, references to them are popping up everywhere. Yesterday another blogger wrote, "I drove by a lot of trick-or-treaters to and from Wal-Mart. My informal research seemed to show that butterflies were the “it” costume for girls this year." So I was an it girl and didn’t even know it! My dad sent me this link to a review of a Sufjan Stevens show in Philadelphia. Evidently Sufjan and his band all wore wings! You can see pictures (and read a review of the same show from someone more familiar with his work here. Some might think Stevens takes himself too seriously. Wings? Come on! These people have obviously never worn wings themselves, or they would know how much fun it is.

The air is hot in Florida

It’s hard to believe that on Saturday I was on the beach making drip castles and getting sunburned, and on Monday morning I bundled into corduroy and denim, shoving my feet into brown leather shoes that have been packed away for months. I went to Florida this weekend with Paula, Leigh and Anna. We played hard, and I came back tired, refreshed and a little poorer. Paula’s aunt kindly allowed us the use of her weekend home on the bay. On Sunday morning I crept out to stand by the water and discovered that we seemed to be in the migratory path of some butterflies. When the first zoomed past my face, I didn’t think anything of it. But as I stood there looking out over the bay, dozens and dozens of orange and black butterflies flew past—all traveling parallel to the water’s edge and heading east into the sunrise. Where were they headed? I wondered. Maybe they knew that cold weather was coming. Making one last dash to the beach was the perfect way to say goodbye to summer. We drove the open Jeep on the beach, dug our toes in the sand and consumed mass quantities of seafood.

Now I’m back in Jackson, and the cool temperatures have rolled in, reminding me that it really is time to start making soup, planning holiday projects, and take up knitting again on that sweater I began this time last year. It would be embarrassing have to take it with me to my grandparents’ house at Christmas.

RELATIVE: Hey, Caroline. What are you working on?
CAROLINE: A sweater.
RELATIVE: Weren’t you working on a sweater last time you were here?
CAROLINE: Yep. Same sweater.

I don’t want that to happen, so maybe I can find the discipline to finish this one up before jumping on to something else. In my recent projects/reading/listening, here are some things I’ve found worthwhile and would like to recommend:

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving.
This was a bestseller in the late 80’s. It’s the story of the friendship between two boys: the narrator, John Weelwright, and Owen Meany. Owen’s small size, “ruined” voice, dominating personality and unshakable belief that he is God’s instrument make him a fascinating character that kept me thinking about him and the story all the time I was reading the book and for days afterwards. I’m still thinking about it. If you’ve read this, I would love to talk about it. And if you haven’t, please consider it.

Cranberry Banana Oat Bread
I’ve made this twice lately. It’s that good. And easy.

Photographs and The Morning—Andrew Osenga
Fall is time for Andy O.

Barkeeper’s Friend
I saw this on Martha Stewart’s TV show. “How do you keep your stainless steel pans looking brand new?” someone asked. Martha recommended Barkeeper’s Friend and demonstrated its cleaning power on some dirty pots. “Hmmm…” I thought. I have a wonderful set of stainless steel cookware I got for Christmas last year. But one of the pots got a brown stain cooked onto it some time ago that I had never been able to get rid of. “I wonder if this stuff would work on that stain?” I thought. So I got some Barkeeper’s Friend at Wal-Mart (under $2) and put it to work against the ugly brown spot. It scrubbed away in seconds. “You are kidding me!” I exclaimed. After all that internet research, trying different methods, and just plain elbow grease, all it took was one little can of white powder. So I’m telling you this, gentle reader, to save you the trouble I went through. Barkeeper’s Friend made all my pots and pans look shiny and new! Well, there you go, folks. It’s not called the felicity of unbounded domesticity for nothing.

The DA

I have to admit...this makes me a little bit giddy.

View more stills at Mugglenet.

When fall comes to central Mississippi

I was glad of my green sweater this morning as I rolled the trash can to the street in the early morning chill. The plants on the back deck, still wet from yesterday’s rain, looked ready to face a new day. While all my plants receive the same amount of attention, some thrive and others languish. After each rain one plant in particular looks as if it could take over the world. It floors me when I see it, its leaves seemingly twice the size they were before. I make a Kramer-like jump and gasp, “The Healthiest Plant Ever!”

Meanwhile, my mint has died on me for the second year in a row (if anyone has any mint-growing tips, please pass them on!), and the grassy plant from Eudora Welty’s garden is in its ebb. I think of it as the phoenix plant because it dries up to almost nothing before shooting out fresh green spikes and beginning over again. The first time this happened I was alarmed. After all, it’s not every girl who has a cutting from the Welty garden. What if I killed my one plant with a pedigree? As the pattern repeated, I relaxed. I know that what it really wants is to get out of its pot and into the ground, but alas, I’m a renter and must content myself with container gardening.

I find that seasons call for different kinds of reading. Nineteenth century Russian and British novels for winter (Dostoyevsky, the Brontes, Dickens), and Lucy Maude Montgomery is well suited for spring. But autumn is harder to pinpoint. I read Walker Percy’s The Second Coming last fall, and it fit perfectly. I felt Allie’s urgency to prepare her greenhouse before cold weather settled in. This year I am reminded of the Inklings—Lewis and Tolkien understood the pleasures of a chilly tramp through woods and countryside followed by propping one’s feet up in a comfy chair with tea or pipe. So I’m bumping The Narnian and The Two Towers up on my reading list.

Back in black

As I strolled up to the storefront of the Gap last night, a grin crept onto my face when I saw dear Audrey Hepburn dancing across the glass windows. At the same time I was delighted to see her, I felt a tinge of... jealousy, perhaps? Gap has no more right to appropriate her image for commercial purposes than does anyone else. If Audrey were alive, I don't know that she would tell us to shop there, and she certainly wouldn't try to persuade us that every woman needs to dress as she did. She was a firm believer in every woman finding what worked for her, and then sticking to it—though fashions will change, if you wear what is flattering, you will always be in style.

Gap is launching "the skinny black pant" this fall, and who better to show it off than Audrey Hepburn? A commercial featuring Audrey dancing out of the Parisian cafe in Funny Face onto a blank background, then back into Funny Face, is running on TV right now. Inside the store, I noticed the black pant paired with ballet flats and black turtlenecks. Audrey's clean, classic sense of style is one I've admired since the first time I saw Roman Holiday years ago. I just finished reading Audrey Hepburn, An Elegant Spirit by her son Sean Ferrer. It was a refreshing change from most Hollywood biographies; she led a simple, lovely and sad life. The book begins with her childhood in occupied Holland during World War II and ends with an account of her time working as the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) ambassador, and a gentle call to action on the part of the reader.

Audrey Hepburn continues to influences us even after her death. "After so many drive-in waitresses becoming movie stars, there has been this real drought, when along come class; somebody who actually went to school, can spell, maybe even plays the piano. She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something," said director Billy Wilder. After my library reading and Gap shopping, I’m thinking about two things: First, what can I do to aid those in need? If unbelievers can work to help children in poverty, how much more should Christians be moved to action. Prayer first, then maybe Blood:Water Mission as a starting place. And secondly… maybe I should get some skinny black pants.

Free Derek Webb

No, this isn't a movement to get our favorite bald guitar player out of jail. Beginning today, Derek's latest album Mockingbird is available to dowload for free, in its entirety, at freederekwebb.com. Why is Derek doing this? I'll let him explain that. So what are you waiting for? Head over to freederekwebb.com right now, and while you're there spread the word. After all, it's free!

Don't mention the war!

My roommate and I hosted a German girl for a few days this week. She was visiting a friend of Sarah Jo's and gamely camped out in our living room in between visits to the Bass Pro Shop, New Orleans and the local Waffle House. Kat was very cool, fascinating to listen to, and I wish I could've gotten to talk more with her. She was so cool, in fact, that my awkwardness was all the more funny in comparison.

Yesterday evening we were sitting around the dining room table talking. Somehow the topic turned to Americans' perception of European women as not shaving their legs. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "That's not true! Some older women, perhaps, but most younger people do. See!" she said, offering her own legs as proof. We wondered how the custom came into general practice, and I mused that it was probably during World War II, when there was a nylon shortage. American women shaved their legs and drew lines down the back to fake the look of nylon stockings. Halfway though my explanation, I thought, "Oh no! Don't mention the war!" and remembered the most popular episode of the BBC's most popular sitcom: Fawlty Towers "The Germans."

Basil Fawlty, played to perfection by John Cleese, warns everyone at the inn not to mention "the war" when he hears that a party of Germans will be coming to stay. After a head injury (my memory is fuzzy on just how he got hurt—was it a falling moose head?), Basil escapes the hospital with a head bandage that makes him look even crazier than usual. He then proceeds to break his own instructions, mentioning the war at every opportunity and upsetting his guests greatly. When they ask him to stop dwelling on it, he politely reminds them that they started it. “We did not start it,” protests the German. “Yes you did, you invaded Poland,” Basil replies. He ultimately winds up goose-stepping around the dining room, finger held to his nose and long legs flailing, in the funniest impersonation of Hitler on televsion.

All this flashed through my mind while I sat at the dining room table with Kat. "Augh! The one thing you shouldn't mention to a German, and you brought it up!" I thought. The conversation moved on, and nothing else eventful happened. Was it awkward? Yes. Was it funny? Oh, yeah.

Friends? I'll give you friends!

The Wonder Years is the first TV show ever to make me consider piracy. I grew up watching it with my family from beginning to end, and it holds a fond place in my heart today. I even remember watching the second episode in Clio, Alabama—my parents crying from laughing so hard at Coach Cutlip attempting to explain the facts of life to his gym class. The fans have been waiting, but Fox has yet to release The Wonder Years on DVD, and—as this article reveals—it won’t be coming out any time soon. This is due to complications with copyrights the extensive soundtrack is bound to produce.

Realistically, we can’t expect the episodes as we saw them on TV to be released on DVD without some music substitutions, but for those of us who remember songs tied directly with scenes from the show, this isn’t a satisfying solution. The Denver Post article refers to a scene my brother and I distinctly remember: Kevin climbs a tree outside Winnie’s window to look in on her after she’s been in an accident, while Bob Seger sings “We’ve Got Tonight.” Would this scene be the same without him crooning “I know it’s late/I know you’re weary/I know you’re plans don’t include me”? Certainly not! Or the summer party when it dawns on Kevin that the reason Winnie’s been acting strangely is that her parents are on the verge of splitting apart. “Are you going to Scarborough Fair?” Simon & Garfunkel softly ask, and Daniel Stern narrates, “That summer Winnie Cooper struggled to keep her head above water.” And what would The Wonder Years be without its unofficial theme song, “When A Man Loves a Woman”?

Then there are the moments that stick out in your memory, but you don’t know who was singing the song. When this happens, I turn to The Wonder Years Music Guide, as detailed a report as any OCD fan could ask for. When I think of waiting years for patched up set of episodes with replaced music, I recall a quote from Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility: "Perhaps Margaret is right. Piracy is our only option."

EDIT 1: Edited for accuracy! 8/10
EDIT 2: Watch the ending of "The Accident" on YouTube.

And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore

Last night I finished reading a fascinating book about Gilbert and Sullivan, whose comic operas were all the rage in the late 19th century. William S. Gilbert wrote the libretto and Arthur Sullivan composed the music for over a dozen operettas. The best known are The Mikado, H.M.S. Pinafore and The Pirates of Penzance, from which my blog title comes. I've loved Gilbert and Sullivan since I first saw a performance of Pirates at USM as a kid, so it was very interesting to get a behind-the-scenes look at life in Victorian England, particularly the business of entertaining. Gilbert's sharp wit and Sullivan's rousing scores complimented each other so well.

In 1878 Sullivan’s airs were heard everywhere, and Gilbert’s jokes were repeated like Napoleon Dynamite quotes. One of the best known comes from Captain Corcoran of the Pinafore:

CAPT. Bad language or abuse,
I never, never use,
Whatever the emergency;
Though "Bother it" I may
Occasionally say,
I never use a big, big D—
ALL. What, never?
CAPT. No, never!
ALL. What, never?
CAPT. Hardly ever!
ALL. Hardly ever swears a big, big D—
Then give three cheers, and one cheer more,
For the well-bred Captain of the Pinafore!

Gilbert & Sullivan and Their Victorian World says that “What, never?” “Hardly ever!” was repeated so much that the editor of a paper in which it appeared about a dozen times in a single issue roared at his writers that he never wanted to see that joke in print again. “What, never?” they replied. “Hardly ever,” he answered helplessly. You can hear a sample of the song at the Gilbert & Sullivan Archive.

If you get a chance to see a G&S performance, don't miss it! Meanwhile, here is a self-portrait Gilbert—who was known for his volatile temper and verbal barbs—made as a gift for a child. Each confession is signed "W.S. Gilbert."

I hate my fellow-man.
Everybody is an ass.
I am an overbearing beast.
I loathe everybody.
I love to bully.
I am an ill-tempered prig, & I glory in it.
Confound everything.
I like pinching little babies.