Conversation at work

Sometimes when I'm at work I take a break from beating small children and explaining the "Copy/Paste" function over and over again to computer users. During these breaks, sometimes I will deign to converse with other library staff members.

Yesterday I chatted with the 19-yr-old working the circulation desk and mentioned that the Spice Girls were getting back together. I forgot, when I said this, that my coworker friend was probably still wearing diapers when the Spice Girls were popular. Silly me.

Me: "That's just so funny. When I was in college the Spice Girls were this huge big deal."

Girl: "Woah, wait. You were in college way back then??"

Me: "I was a freshman in '97, and that's when they were big."

Girl: "Seriously? I didn't realize you were that old!"

Me: "Okay . . . "

Girl: "I thought you were like 25, maybe."

Me: "Well, I'm 27. Which isn't that different from 25."

At this point she started looking really uncomfortable, like I'd forgotten where I was or had just asked her to change my Depends.

Girl: "No, sure, of course it's not." (Don't get her angry! Don't get her angry! Old people are notoriously unstable!)

Me: "I'm actually turning 28 in a couple of months. So . . . menopause should be kicking in any day now."

By this point a guy who looked about 30 had come over to check out some stuff. At that last statement he looked like he didn't know whether to laugh at my joke or Run Away Really Fast before Something Bad Happened.

Girl: "You just -- I mean, you don't look that old. You look younger."

Me: "Thank you. That's very nice of you to say."

Then I placed a call to the agency that supplies me with young vestal virgin blood, which is what I bathe in so I can pass myself off as 25. I finally got their number from my mom after months of begging.

But I can't really blame the girl. When I was 19 I didn't think 25-yr-old single Mormon girls existed--or if they did they were sent off to some Failure Farm so as not to throw off everyone else's groove. So for this girl it was probably the equivalent of listening to her grandma talk about the guy she hooked up with after a round of Jello shots the night before.

I'm here because I have to be--what's your excuse?

Today is an absolutely, absolutely gorgeous day. It's sunny, warm, slightly breezy, and it is the kind of day that makes me want to call in sick to work and sneak off to the pool. I would, of course, be sure to slather my white, blue-veined body with enough sunscreen to protect an army of newborn albino babies.

My sister Spitfire has a swimming pool at her complex but I haven't been in it, yet. That needs to change, I think. I finally caved and bought a new swimsuit through Land's End's big clearance sale. I don't think it looks that great on, but it looks better than my old suit, which I bought 3 years ago at Ross Dress for Less and has now stretched out so that when I get out of the water the front goes all saggy like I'm hiding a set of old lady boobs somewhere in there. Not that you needed that image, ever.

Anyway. The point is that I would rather be at the pool right now. And I cannot even comprehend why people would be choosing to come to the library to play Runescape when they could be outside having a good time instead.


pic from the Renaissance Aruba Resort & Casino

Traitor to my generation

I watched Rent a few weeks ago and have been meaning to say a few words about it.

My reaction? Meh.

Maybe if I'd seen it on the stage when it first came out I would have felt differently--I dunno. It came out when I was in high school and everyone made such a fuss over it. I'm sure part of the appeal was that it dealt with issues (like HIV and homosexuality) that hadn't really been addressed in contemporary musicals.

But here are my gripes:

I didn't love the music. Only a few of the tunes (like Seasons of Love, Tango Maureen, Out Tonight) actually stayed in my head after the movie was over. Also, I just like Tango Maureen. I like tangos. I like how they executed it where suddenly everyone's dressed all swank and tangoing in a ballroom. And Idina Menzel is my favorite anyway.

I don't love Adam Pascal's voice. And his long hair was lame. He looked better in the flashbacks where he was short-haired punky androgynous boy.

Maybe I just can't get into the thing because I've never been an HIV-infected young unemployed person in New York. Except I've been able to identify with other characters that were completely, completely different from me. I seriously felt like I'd become a cane-wielding old woman on a porch, shrieking, "Get a job, you punks!" Because really, they don't pay rent! And they think they shouldn't have to even though they're living in this huge loft that people would pay millions for. And we're supposed to admire them for their stance.

When Roger doesn't want to start a relationship with Mimi, his friends all act like he's the biggest jerk ever. But I'd think that if his last serious relationship was with an HIV-positive drug addict who died, it would actually make sense for him to avoid starting another one of those, especially with a girl who seems so completely reckless and oblivious about how to take care of herself. So yeah, I thought that was actually kind of right-thinking of him. Also? Shut up, Rosario Dawson. And put some clothes on.

Taye Diggs is the character you're not supposed to like--the one who sold out to The Man. Of course, I liked him. (If they were going for unlikeable then they should not have chosen Taye Diggs. I'm just sayin'. That man would have charisma if he were dead.) As I watched I kept thinking, "What! He's got a 5-year plan, people! He's the only one of you who is actually doing something! Also? He's just hot."

I think a big mistake was that they cast most of the original Broadway actors. Sure, they're great, but they're also in their mid-to-upper 30s now. It's harder to buy them as young struggling idealist kids who think they'll live forever and Only Need Their Dreams. Instead I wanted to yell, "Dude, you're 40! Don't you think it's time to grow up?"

Not that I'm unpatriotic

But I think I'm more excited for what's coming after the 4th of July. On the 6th (Friday) I'll leave work early and meet up with Jen & Co at IKEA, where I will return some goods and then purchase many, many more.

On our way down to Happy Valley we're stopping at Chadder's for dinner. It's the new In-N-Out knock-off in American Fork and we need to go now on account of In-N-Out is already suing them. Only I'd like to know what they say is the exact copyright being infringed. "We own hamburgers!" "We own short menus!" "We own fries made with real potatoes"

I think it's more like this one: "Stopit stoppit stoppit you guys are jerks and you're not even being fair!!!"

My favorite bit is the part where In-N-Out has now decided to open up a store in St. George, UT. Yeah. Now they get on that.

Saturday will be Lavender Days at the Young Living Farm in Mona, UT. I'm way excited about it because I've wanted to go to another lavender farm ever since I went last summer in Yorkshire with Lady J. The one bit I'm not excited about is the elf or whatever on the "Lavender Days" page. I hope she's not there.

I do however, hope I meet the person who writes for their website. My favorite passage is this one:

Peaceful and tranquil, the Young Living Lavender Farm in Mona, Utah, is a beautiful oasis located on a stark, high desert landscape. Old cottonwood trees know the history of this land. Beautiful, lush herb gardens near the Visitors Center whisper healing secrets from times past.

From now on when anyone asks me a question and I don't know the answer I will say, "Old cottonwood trees know the history of this land."

So, you know, go ask them.




pics taken by moi at Yorkshire Lavender

Slacker Monday

Sorry, friends. I'm going to try to get some work done today so I may not be posting til later.

Here's a bit of sweet Ioan-y goodness to get us all through the morning.

I suppose this is the tiny bit of Alaskan in me talking

Last night I was reminded that it was, in fact, the longest day of the year. My first thought?

It's all downhill from here.

Because I hadn't been fully aware that it was, in fact, summer solstice, I forgot to plan any pagan rituals or Naked Moonlight Forest Glade Dancing. Which is a shame.

I did, though, go to a famous local spot for lunch, which must count for something. It's called Hamilton's and is Logan's fancy restaurant.

We splurged on the double stuffed potato spring rolls (Official description: Creamy mashed potatoes with a touch of green onion, bacon, and melted cheddar cheese. All rolled in a crispy Asian wrapper, served with sour cream.) It was like a fancy heart attack on a plate.


Spitfire got the Italian Grill Sandwich, which included grilled tomatoes, basil, fresh mozzarella cheese and garlic aioli.


I had the best Wedge Salad ever.

And then the Potato-Rosemary Crusted Halibut (Official description: grated potato and rosemary crusted halibut filet grilled and topped with a citrus butter compound.)

Note: I couldn't actually taste the citrus butter. But those sweet potatoes were the best I've ever had. I'd like to bathe in a vat of those things, I think.

So. Without realizing it, I did find a way to celebrate and it did not involve nudity. I'm sure the staff at Hamilton's are grateful for this.

Maybe on sushi night.

Please understand that I love my mom the most

And if anyone else talks smack about her they're gonna get clobbered. But Jenny and I realized last night that neither of us have told this story and it's too good to keep in.

A couple years ago we were all together at Christmas. Jen was finishing up at BYU and had switched over to some touchy-feely new Family Life major because it was the one that would get her graduated the fastest. At this point she already had one baby and didn't want to be in college for 15 years.

Understandable. I guess.

Slacker.

She and her classmates were being asked to help develop the major and give input about the kind of things they'd like to learn. Jen was frustrated because she wanted the program to be more academically rigorous and address some of the sociological issues associated with the family. Her classmates wanted it to be a continuation of really bad Young Women lessons--the ones where all you really learn is that children are a precious, precious gift and that to save money you should feed your family canned soup. (It's also a good way to give them scurvy. You know, if that's what you're after.)

When Jenny brought up her points and pushed for a more challenging curriculum, the other girls gave her the stink-eye. They were a bit younger than she was and lots of them just wanted to coast through to get their degree because they had zero plans of ever working. This always stuns me because to get into BYU nowadays you generally have to be quite the academic achiever. But I guess the point for those girls was just to get there and then they didn't want to work on anything but their "Mrs" degree, as it is called by old men who need a smack across the mouth.

Anyway, Jenny was venting to Mom about this while I sat nearby, reading smut and filth. Jen was saying how much she hated her new major but she needed to finish now or she never will, and she just hates being surrounded by these girls who think she's a freak for wanting to learn something that she couldn't get from her own common sense--or a trip to the grocery store. ("Guess what, girls? Canned vegetables last longer than fresh! You'll want to remember that.")

Mid-rant, Mom interrupted her and said in a very slow and serious voice, "Now Jenny, you know you have what all those other girls want. You have a husband and a baby."

Blink.

Blink blink.

I had just barely lifted The Eyebrow and began to uncoil from the couch to assume Strike Position when Jenny did my freaking out for me. And since this was Jenny, it was loud and involved many words and a little bit of sputtering.

"MOOOOM! What the heck?? What does that even have to do with anything?? You can't just say crap like that!!" Etc etc.

It felt quite gratifying to have Jen come to bat for me, even though I feel bad afterwards when we've bawled out our poor sweet mom who is just trying to help.

So now whenever Jenny complains about the latest expensive thing her children have destroyed or the ways in which family life is generally sapping her soul, or cries when I tell her I'm going to Prague, I say, "Yes, but Jenny, remember. You have what Every Woman Wants."

And then she feels better. As well she should.

I hate everyone

My friend AuD is on a medical internship in Portland and emailed yesterday to say how things are going. Then he told me this story about an FHE activity the Young Single Adults just had. FHE stands for Family Home Evening, which is something all LDS families are encouraged to do on Monday nights to promote family time & togetherness. They make people in singles wards do it too even though we're not actual family. In the freakish wards they call the organizers of the groups to be "FHE Dads and Moms" or (my favorite) "Mas and Paas." And then they encourage us to date and make out with our dads & brothers, which makes for an odd dynamic, don't you think? That's why I prefer "FHE Group Leader," because it doesn't imply familial relations or incest. And there is no way I will stand in church and be announced as an "FHE Maaaa." I just won't. They'll change the name or I won't do it.

Anyway. His email.

I did have an experience that made me think of you and smile. For FHE we had a activity that would teach us communication. They told us to bring books that we wouldn't mind not going home with. So we get to the activity and we are told we cannot communicate in any fashion but we are to use the books to get across the gym. So people starting walking on books and tearing pages out of old dictionaries to walk on, etc. Upon seeing this I just had to smile as I pictured how you would respond as a librarian to the scene.

I can tell you right now how I would respond as a librarian to the scene:

Not. Well.

What on the earth does the destruction of books have to do with communication? And what if people were opposed to the idea of destroying books for no good reason, as I surely would have been? Next week is it going to be "bring a pet you wouldn't mind not going home with" and then you learn how they did sacrifices back in Moses' time?

Freaks. All freaks. I bet they call them "Mas" and "Pas" in that ward.

Good thing I lead such a sedentary lifestyle

Over a week ago I was using our apartment's little tiny ironing board. It's the kind with the wee little legs so you have to set the thing on the ground or on top of a table to use it. I was sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet, ironing away at a new red fitted sheet to cover my box-spring. (Note: Pictures of new improved fabulous room coming soon!)

Anyway, during the ironing I leaned forward a bit too far to grab some more sheet and pulled back a bit too far with the hand holding the iron. So I backed the thing onto my leg and gave myself a nice right-triangle-shaped burn. I thought I was taking good care of it but it turns out that I didn't keep medicine and bandages on it for long enough. Am back to doing that, but it's kind of not getting any better and looks really, really gross. I'll probably lose the leg.

So on Sunday in Relief Society the teacher was wrapping up her lesson on integrity. (She did a great job, btw.) Near the end, she said we should take private inventory and see where we might be falling short. And that it's not always pleasant to acknowledge our weaknesses but it's better because then we can work on them and ask for the Lord's help.

And then this happened.

Teacher: Now, I hope this analogy won't offend anyone, but I'm a nurse and so it's one that really makes sense to me. Let's say you've got a really bad sore on your body.

Me: (looks down at leg--check)

Teacher: Would you just keep putting the same dirty dressing over that sore day after day and expect it to get better? What do you think would happen if you did that? If you just added bacteria and filth to that open, weeping, crusty sore?

Me: (starting to feel a bit queasy--also my stomach was really empty, which didn't help)

She continued to talk about how the sore would get infected and start to putrefy and smell. And it won't get better if you keep it in its own filth and what you need to be doing is changing the dressing and scraping away the diseased flesh and cleaning it and letting it get air and light.

I started turning green at this point. I mean, it's a very, very effective metaphor but I was kind of about to throw up everywhere. She kept going while I writhed in my seat. But I didn't feel like I could really raise my arm and beg her to stop without looking like a supersensitive wimp or worse.

"Sorry, but this is all just a bit too close to home!" (as I hold up bandaged, diseased leg)

"Sorry, not to be all 'the wicked take the truth to be hard' but I'd like you to stop talking right now about all this 'cleansing our lives' stuff because maybe not everyone wants to hear about that."

"Sorry. I'm allergic to metaphors. They give me hives."

"Sorry, it's just that I'm really hungry and you talking about all that diseased flesh is really doing things to my stomach."

Oh my

Well I'm actually just a bit embarrassed by your response to my birthday blog post. I was expecting a few comments from courageous hitherto-lurkers (and got them--thank you, brave souls!) but didn't expect to hear so many nice things from so many people! Now y'all will think I was fishing for compliments . . . only you don't have to stop. I mean, I would never be one to make you curb a generous impulse, right?

But seriously, that was so, so very nice. And it's great fun for me to read about you cool people I haven't heard from before. I'm thinking we should have a young snarky Mormon librarian summit since it turns out there are quite a few of us.

The lovely Claire asked what my first name is and even though it would be awesome to let the Internet think that my parents named me Nemesis during some drug-fueled comic-book phase in the late 70s, that's not true. Plus my mother has outed me so many times in the comments that there's no sense hiding it now. My name is Stephanie, which I quite like because it meets my "good name" criteria: I could be a serious ball-breaking lawyer with this name. Not that I absolutely want to be, but it's good to have options. Also it's not spelled "Stefinee" or "Stefanny" or any other stupid way, which I appreciate. (Note: if your name is spelled in one of these ways, you're still a good person. Your parents are jerks, but you are good.)

Happy Birthday!

My blog turns two years old today. I've already steeled myself for the public tantrums, the repeated and incessant screaming of "No!" and the smearing of dirty diapers on the upholstery of my car.

I've learned a bit since that very first blog post. And if you don't mind, I will share a few of the most important things:

If you give a boy your blog address and he comes back to you, he's yours. If runs away screaming at the first mention of your cobwebbed ovaries, it was never meant to be. And he's a wuss.

Don't assume that what you're saying about people won't get back to them. Like karma is going to pass up that prime opportunity to kick you in the teeth.

If your stats are going down, it means you're being boring. Or you're just not posting enough. Or you could go with option #3) Everyone else's Internet is broken.

Don't blog about work. And if you do, make sure you're only blogging things you'd be okay with your present boss/potential employer reading. That's why I erased the posts about all the hot snogs I've been having under my desk with the UPS guy. Discretion, people. It's all about discretion.

People like being asked for their opinions. And their opinions are quite fun to read, especially when they coincide with my own.

Bloggers are great and amazingly generous. I can't believe how many friends I've made through this thing. Some of them I may never meet, and that's okay. Others are great fun to finally meet because you already know you're kindred spirits. And it's only a surprisingly small percentage who have turned out to be scary mouth-breathing stalkers. I can go with those odds.

So. I've thought about what I would like for my blog's birthday present. If there are people out there who read but have not yet commented, I would love to hear from you. Even if you just wanted to say where you're from and give us a fun fact about you that would be so great. (If you know me in real life or if we have mutual friends that would be fun to hear about too.) I look at my Sitemeter sometimes and see that there are people reading from Belfast and Canada and these places in England that I've never been. And I wonder who you are and how you ended up here and what you think about things.

No pressure, it would just make my blog's day.



pic from Martha Stewart

Manual Labor makes me cranky

Have been hauling books around all morning because we're moving the picture books from shelves to bins. I have some volunteers to help me and they're good but it's not like I can just tell them to have at it. I am slowly learning that it's hardly ever a good idea to tell volunteers to "have at it," especially if they're the 12-yr-old ADD kind of volunteer. Because that's when the badness happens and my brain leaks out my ears when I see what they've actually been up to.

Also, teachers? Wanna do me a favor and quiz your kids on their alphabetizing skills? Because it turns out they don't have any. Or possibly they need glasses.

Anyway, I did yoga this morning from my laptop through the Yoga Today website. They have 60-minute yoga sessions you can download & watch. I've been meaning to try it for a long time--ever since I canceled my community center gym membership because I wasn't making it to any of the classes. This morning's class was pretty good, and it turns out that I needed a bit of meditation/centering/remembering why I take yoga when I have to bend my knees to a 90 degree angle in order to touch my toes and even then I can hear terrifying creaking sounds. Also this is better than a class IRL, because I can wear my pajamas (or, hey, nothing at all) and there are no instructors to come around and adjust my body in ways that hurt me and make me want to say The Swear Words at them. So when the instructor in the monitor says "Good, that's beautiful." I can just nod and smile, even if I'm actually sitting on the couch eating cream cheese with a spoon.

So. What can you do?

So the lesson in Relief Society yesterday was interesting. It was based on the concept of "provident living" and these were the 5 main areas the teacher covered:

1. We are responsible for our own social, emotional, spiritual, physical, and economic well-being.

2. We have been counseled to participate in home food production and storage.

3. We should work for what we receive.

4. We can become economically self-reliant by saving, avoiding debt, and living within our means.

5. Preparedness is a way of life that brings its own rewards.

The problem with these kinds of lessons is that they end up becoming All About Food Storage, and this one was no different. I really would have like to have spent more time on #1, especially about social, emotional, and physical well-being, because it seems like those are things that the some of us in the room are actually concerned about and perhaps struggling with. And it could have been that the teacher wanted to go there but didn't get a chance because the lesson had already veered off into Food Storage and Emergency Preparedness Land, with everyone wanting to share tips and comments and personal experiences.

During the bit about "home production," one girl went off about how a friend of hers asked her for help sewing a baby quilt and it turned out that her friend couldn't even sew a straight line and it was just so absolutely baffling to her. She went on and on about this, and about how stunned she was that her friend couldn't use a sewing machine and doesn't already have a room full of the quilted art she has created.

Only here's the thing. Why is that so baffling? Why should her friend know how to sew? It's not like we learn in school. It's not like the knowledge is passed down through Mormon amniotic fluid or in the Cache Valley water (although, seriously, that last bit wouldn't surprise me). Unless someone takes us aside and teaches us at the age of 6, or unless we have the desire to be all crafty and buy ourselves a machine and figure it out (and perhaps ask a friend for help in getting started), how would we know? Also, what if we don't care? What if we're not crafty? What if we don't want to make our own clothes or tie quilts or create Americana-themed wall hangings for our living room?

Also? What's up with canning and all that? Why should we do it? If I already have a year's supply of peaches from Costco then shouldn't I be good? Why on this sweet earth should I spend a Saturday up to my elbows in sticky nastiness just to give myself botulism? I mean, if you like to do those things and you like knowing where your food comes from and it gives you a feeling of satisfaction, then that's wonderful and I say more power to you. But what if you just don't care?

So that's the question I really wanted to ask, even though there was no time for it: If you really could not care less about this stuff and you can get your food/clothing needs met in other ways, why bother with it? Should we learn just because you never know what might happen and it's good to have as many self-reliance-type skills as possible? Because I actually can accept that as a reason. I just want to know if there are others.

Also, I'd like to know what the guys talked about. Because even though they had the same lesson, I'll bet you money they didn't talk about the important of learning how to sew and can peaches. They probably just said something like, "So . . . try to marry a girl with skills. But who is hot at the same time." And then they went outside and played touch football or something.

ps. The title of this post comes from a sweet overzealous boy I knew once. That was his conversational starter with women. He basically wanted to know if they could sew and can peaches. He eventually did find his dream girl, which just goes to show that this game is rigged.

Nail in the coffin

So remember how I went on another date with the Semi-Stalker-Who While A Nice Guy is Simply Not Turning Out to Be My Type? That is not going to be happening again, bless his heart. The final straw came during that last date.

He asked me about places I've traveled and admitted that he hadn't really been anywhere yet.

Me: "Where would you like to go?"

Him: "The Holy Land."

Me: "Yeah, that's one place I'd like to go too." (Seeking common ground, see how I'm seeking common ground?)

Him: "Or, you know, just anywhere that has a lot of Muslims."

Me: "Um . . . okay . . . the Holy Land would work, then. Or at least that's one of the predominately Muslim areas where you would be allowed to go."

Him: "I just--I think we've got it all wrong in our country and have a lot of misapprehensions. I mean, I know my views are a bit much for some people, but I think there are just as many fanatical Christians as there are fanatical Muslims."

Me: "I'm sure that could be true. I guess it's just that the fanatical Muslims tend to get more of the attention since some of them express their feelings by blowing things up."

Him: "Well . . . I think that depends on your point of view. But, you know, I don't really want to get into a political discussion."

Oh really? Don't you?

That, my friends, was it for me. It "depends on [my] point of view"? So, like, if I have a more enlightened point of view then that changes the facts? And if I weren't such a crazy anti-Muslim racist then I would recognize that there have been just as many recent bombings by fanatical Christians?

That rubbed me so, so, so very much the wrong way. Because from the way he spoke, the right (and only) way to be open-minded and to care and learn about other people is to throw yourself right in the middle of them (or at least say that's what you want to do) and then tell everyone else that their point of view is wrong and that they can't possibly care the way that you care. And this wasn't just about Muslims--it came out in other discussions as well.

And it's not that I feel the need to defend myself here, not really. I know that I try in my own (perhaps small) way to combat racism and bigotry and to learn about other cultures. But I will say this--I'm not sure how you get to be #1 Friend to Muslims when you're sitting in the middle of Utah and have no real plans to actually go out and meet any.

Out for the day

Am embraced in the arms of my lover. Rejoice with me.

Just a thought. Poker: not your game

I really need to work on my poker face. My sister Spitfire tells me that even when I'm trying to look all neutral and calm, I still have eyebrows. And they give me away.

This is not good.

A little more facial control would have been helpful yesterday when my boss came up to the desk and proudly displayed the newest addition to our library collection:


It's quite difficult to drum up enthusiasm when one is dying a little bit inside. I mean, I know that we need to give the people what they want, but do they have to want Norbit? Isn't it better if people just forget about that movie and about other crappy, crappy movies like it? How is there even anything worthwhile about this film? I mean, I'm pretty sure even Eddie Murphy was ashamed of it once his Best Supporting Actor nomination for Dreamgirls came through. As well he should be.

So all I could manage yesterday was a little mouth twitch that possibly could have been construed as a smile. Or gas. Or the expression one makes when one smells fresh vomit on the 2nd-grade classroom floor on a rainy, muggy day.

Obviously you don't know your audience

So I realize that I tend to tell stories about the crazy people I run into at church. I don't want anyone to get the idea that all Mormons are crazy from these stories. The fact is that we're quite down-to-earth, reasonable people, which is why the weirdos tend to stick out and get remembered. Over at Mormon Mommy Wars, a discussion got started about crazy things people have seen happen at church, including the married couple who kissed 41 times during a 1-hour meeting, and the lady who hit a squirrel with her car on the way to church and put it in her pocket and took it to church with her. That post now has 180 comments.

I realize that there are nutters everywhere. It's just that in our church we invite them to get up in front of everyone and say what's on their mind. I refer specifically to the practice of Testimony Meetings. On the first Sunday of every month, members of the congregation are invited to come up to the front if they wish and spend a few minutes sharing their feelings about and testimony of Jesus Christ. This can be a wonderful, faith-affirming time for the people who share their testimonies and for the people who hear them.

Unfortunately, not everyone sees this as "testify of Christ" time, which is why we get things like these:

• Roomate-imonies: "I just want to say how much I love my roommates, blah blah blah." Dude. Tell them, don't tell me.
• Confessionals
• Political/social soapboxes
• Bragging sessions
• Travelogues
• Calls to repentance
• Inspirational (read: crap) stories that they think are true but which totally came from Internet forwards, like the one about Mel Gibson being The Man Who Had No Face. No lie, someone used that one once.

If anyone starts saying anything really crazy then the Bishop can get up and kindly escort them down, but I've never actually seen that happen.

Because I'm a giver

I got the following comment/request last week:

OK totally off subject. I haven't read your blog for a few weeks and found the "holding out for a hero" video very entertaining. But wait! I don't recognize some of those people! I thought I had seen most everything out there. So, please have mercy on me and help me compile a list of movies of that genre that haven't seen yet! Thanks! -a loyal but anonymous reader.

How can I refuse such a request?? I give the people what they want. Especially if what they want is my most favorite thing ever: Sumptuous Literary Adaptations. (See also: Regency Man Candy. Or Victorian Man Candy.)

Here are the movies featured in the Holding out for a Hero video as created by YouTube user (and my kind of girl) loony29.

Sense and Sensibility (1995) -- Brilliant, brilliant movie. Emma Thompson was nominated for Best Actress and won for Best Screenplay. She basically wrote the thing and got all her friends & neighbors to come be in it (Hugh Grant, Hugh Laurie, Imelda Staunton, etc.) Which, really, sounds like a fabulous idea to me. Remind me to do that. Kate Winslet snags her first of many Oscar nominations. Ang Lee directs. Hugh Grant minces around with a riding crop up his bum. Alan Rickman purrs that one line about the aaaair being fuuuullll of spices, which makes me pass out in my chair. Good times all around.

Mansfield Park (1999) -- The Austen purists hate this one. But it's hard to have much sympathy since the novel actually did need a bit of spicing up. I don't think it necessarily needed boobs, but oh well. Without a bit of artistic liberties, all you would really have is a movie where the heroine spends all her time going, "But that would be wrong!" What you get instead is a great movie w/some fabulous performances--especially Alessandro Nivola as Henry Crawford, who is supposed to be the bad guy but is so darn hot & appealing that lots of women wish Fanny had just gone ahead and picked him anyway. I'm not in that camp, but I understand that some women are.

Northanger Abbey (ITV 2007) This is the one that premiered on the telly in the UK this year and will be making its US debut on Masterpiece Theatre, along with the new Mansfield Park and Persuasion. You can watch it on YouTube now, though, if you can't wait til then. Which, let's be honest, I couldn't. The heroine is Catherine Moreland, who has a very active fantasy life from all the trashy gothic novels she reads. This movie includes one of the sweetest first kisses I've ever seen. It'll make you giggle it's just that precious.

Persuasion (ITV 2007) Okay, seriously? I have already talked about this movie, and if you people keep not watching it then we just can't be friends anymore. Really. It is absolutely wonderful. And I swear that Rupert Penry-Jones (Captain Wentworth) gets hotter and hotter every time I see him. Last time there was steam rising off my body. Go here now and start watching it.

Mansfield Park (ITV- 2007) Haven't seen this one yet and I understand it's the weak one of the three. Also the guys are hotter in the 1999 version. I'm just saying.

The Phantom of the Opera (2004) This was included in the video but I personally don't count it as a must-see. Even though Gerard Butler is smokin' hot and I have thought so ever since I caught him in a late-night Masterpiece Theatre airing of The Jury way back when.

Under the Greenwood Tree (2005) Thomas Hardy adaptation, haven't seen it yet. But I know now that I must. With all haste. Only it had better not turn out to be depressing like the rest of Hardy's stuff. Watch the heroine die under the Greenwood Tree.


Daniel Deronda (2002) I've only caught bits and pieces of this one but what I saw was great. Need to see the whole thing. Victorian costumes = good. Hugh Dancy = goooood.



Jane Eyre (2006) You may have already read my thoughts on this one, but to sum up: Best Jane Eyre Ever. All the other versions can just go home and cry. Ruth Wilson is perfect as Jane, and she even gets to pass out in one of my favorite spots in England. I can absolutely, absolutely get behind Toby Stephens as Mr. Rochester. Yes, he may be too hot. But do you see me complaining? Do you? I respect the filmmaker's craft!!!


North and South (2004) Before you start thinking that I've lost my mind and developed a Patrick Swayze fetish, this is not the North and South that is the miniseries from the 1980s about the American Civil War. At all. It's about the North and South of England, so right there you know it's going to be better. I finally saw this one in the last month, and Oh. My. Gosh. You need to watch this. Richard Armitage plays John Thornton and is amazing. His character makes a bad first impression (which is a departure from the book, movie people) and I didn't know how they were ever going to get me to like him. They found a way--by the end I couldn't decide whether to cry happy tears or make out with the TV screen. Watch out for the "Look back. Look back at me." scene. I dare you to keep it together.

So. Those are the ones from the Hero video. Other notables in my book:

Pride and Prejudice (1995): Duh. This one is pretty much The Mothership.

Pride & Prejudice (2005): Great, even with Keira Hipbones Poutyface McKnightley in it. Especially great for when you need a P&P fix but don't have 5 hours for the "real" one.

Persuasion (1995) Classic and wonderful . . . sigh.

Bleak House (2005) Haven't seen it yet, but it's next on my list and I already know I'll love it.

The Emmas (1996) One stars Gwyneth Paltrow and the other Kate Beckinsale before she turned plastic. They're very different & pick up on different things from the book, which is why you should watch both.

Our Mutual Friend (1998) Very long, but very good.

Twelfth Night (1996) The movie that first made me love Toby Stephens. You'll see. Also I've been to his castle, which means we should probably just get married already.

Great Expectations (1999) Horatio is in this movie. That is all you need know.

The Horatio Hornblower films (1998, 2001, 2003). Horatio is in these, too.

The Forsyte Sage (2002) Horatio is in this but he dies. I don't want to talk about it. The whole movie is kind of tragic.

Wives and Daughters (1999) Haven't seen it yet but want to. The novel is by Elizabeth Gaskell, who also wrote North and South.

Happy Monday, everyone!

update: I forgot to add these to my "want to see" list:

The Way We Live Now (2001) starring Shirley Henderson, Matthew Macfadyen, Cillian Murphy, and Miranda Otto.

He Knew He Was Right (2004) starring the very cool Bill Nighy

Middlemarch (1994) Rufus Sewell. That's all that needs to be said, really.

Oh my flipping gosh heck

So . . . school's out. If you want to imagine what my workplace is like right now, go pepper-spray a pack of chimpanzees and then let them loose in your house. That is what my workplace is like right now. I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this.

Of course, there are the little moments that help. Yesterday a 3-yr-old girl told me that she liked my skirt. (It's the pretty pink one from Gran Canaria with the sequins, which . . . probably just gave you a totally different vision. It's not a clubbing skirt. I promise. The sequins are very subtle. I'm stopping now.)

We're gearing up for the Summer Reading Program, and it's kind of amazing that local businesses will just hand hundreds of dollars worth of coupons over to people who turn up and say they're from a library. Only about 2 places have asked for a letter or anything official. So yeah, if you're ever hungry that's a good way to get some fast-food coupons. Only if you ever do that you will lose so many karma points that you will probably wake up the next morning with your legs coming out your ears and that will be absolutely what you deserve. So don't do that.