How You Doin?

Am I generationally marked that anytime someone asks me that question, without the g, I think of Joey Tribbiani? Anyway I'm not really writing about sitcoms today. Tomorrow maybe, but today, no.

When I find myself in various social situations--meeting new people, long car drive, and so on--I have certain conversational questions I like to bring up. Things like "if you could vote a state out of the Union, which one would it be? (and why) because they tend to bring up interesting things about people. What was their reasoning for wanting to vote out Minnesota?

One of the questions I sometimes ask is: What is the strangest/most interesting compliment you've ever received? I have my own answers for this question. I've gotten "You have really nice eyebrows" and "You look good in a bonnet" (granted I was wearing a bonnet at the time, not recreationally by the way). Yesterday I got another strange one: "You look like a painting." I wondered at first if it was something about wearing too much make up, but the complimenter went on to say things about looking "airbrushy" and "without a hint of a wrinkle" and said he could show me on a real painting. It was one of those "ummm, thanks?" moments.



So how about you friends, what's the most interesting compliment you've ever received?

Ward Talent Show Entourage

I know what you're thinking after that last post--Lindsay is really invested in her hair ribbons--but that was all just filler to prepare for the big event: the Ward Talent Show.

Now I'm not really the participating type when it comes to Ward Talent Shows (other than sitting in the audience), but this year I happily fulfilled a supporting role. You could even say I made the talent show. Well if you were in a generous mindframe. Anyway, my roommate Alex is the participating type, and she signed up to sing a song in the Talent Show as soon as it was announced. Then two weeks ago, in a fit of boredom, she wrote a Twilight Musical parody and mused over the idea of performing it instead of one of her "standard" songs. It was clever so I told her she should, and then repeated this edict every day as she vacillated back and forth.

Saturday night the musical was indeed performed, and I just happened to be sitting in the front row so I could get a recording of it (unfortunately I was a little too near the piano and the previous act took to cleaning up his equipment throughout, in case you're wondering who the non-named guy walking around is). This recording was done on my digital camera, so it's not the highest quality, but it's the best I've got.

Her performance was critically acclaimed, she is now officially established as one of the funniest girls in the ward, and she has therefore appointed me to her entourage. I do what I can.

Enjoy the fruit of our diverse labors. (In it's entirety it is only about ten minutes long, I had to cut it in pieces so I could upload it).

Act One: Bella

Act Two: Edward

Act Three: Jacob

I thought Alex's lyrics really were quite clever and my sound quality quite poor, so I'm going to post them in the comments if you want to read them in full.

A Tale of Love and Loss

When I told people I was moving to Boston, I was generally met by two reactions: "You'll love Boston" or "Winters are so cold there." Not once did a single person say anything about the wind. The other week as I was walking from my office to the T to catch a train to class,I was literally pushed of course and held at bay by the wind for the first time in my life. Perhaps wind is simply a part of coastal life, and yes Boston is coastal for me, but considering its prevalence in the weather of this region I would think someone would have mentioned it. The wind is not always inimical, however; I welcomed the heavy breezes that tempered the sultry 90 degree weather we experienced yesterday. April has no business being sultry. But as it so happens, the windiest days correspond with the mornings when, due to some degree of laziness or whimsy, I decide to wear hair ribbons.

Yesterday was one of those days. I'd washed my hair and in a small fit of vanity decided to blow dry and straighten it instead of merely braiding it back. I was in a hurry to catch my bus, however, and after briefly flirting with the notion of leaving my hair down entirely (I had straightened it after all), I fished out my blue ribbon and slipped it on. There is something about wearing a hair ribbon that plays to my notion of femininity, and it did coordinate with the blue in my shirt ever so well if I do say so myself. But in the walk from work to the T and the T to class that afternoon the wind insisted on tossing my hair about this way and that and back in my face, as it is wont to do. So when I got to the building where my class is held I stepped into the ladies room and pulled it back into a ponytail. I decided to leave the ribbon on my head though because it did match and was an interesting little touch that I don't usually bother with--I generally prefer the less is more approach.

After class we wandered around looking for a place for food and drinks--it was the last time Michael Patrick Hearne would be in class--but because it was the last Red Sox vs. Yankees game for this little series here in Boston we had to wander a fair ways a way before we found a place that would suit. I was pleased with myself, however, that the wind and the heat were not bothering me at all. I had shown them! It was not until several hours later, when I reached up to adjust some stray strand of hair that I discovered the wind had had the last laugh after all. My hair ribbon was no longer there. It had been plucked off of my head by that roguish waft and was, as Owen once said, "out in the windy day."

So long blue hair ribbon. I will miss you and the way you coordinated with a surprising number of my clothes, which should perhaps not be so surprising because blue is my favorite color. Wind you may be a rascal and I don't like you in the rain (and perhaps not on a train) but I forgive you because you're a part of Boston life.

Field Trip

Saturday I went to Vermont (and I went through New Hampshire on the way). I admit I rather like this small state conglomerate that is New England; where friends can ask you what you did that day and you can say, "Oh I went two states away and came back" like it's nothing (try that in California). Anyway I diverge from my point. I went to Norwich, Vermont with my picturebook class to visit the illustrator David Macaulay in his studio because, you know, that's the way we roll. I enjoyed going on a mini roadtrip with my school friends, but I rather wish it had been some weekend other than Easter/Conference (even if it was 84 degrees in Vermont).

If you aren't familiar with the name David Macaulay, he won the 1991 Caldecott for the book Black and White as well as writing books such as Castle, Cathedral, and City. Though he is perhaps best known for his rather large picturebook The Way Things Work and its companion The Way We Work, which won the Boston Globe Hornbook Honor award last year (where I just happened to be present because I'm cool and live in Boston and study Children's Literature like that). Like any true artist, he had many random things in his studio, including, but not limited too: fossils, Justice League figurines, tin soldiers, a skeleton, a windmill, and so on. Anyway David talked to us about three of the projects he has cooking at the moment. He just finished reworking his books Cathedral and Castle with new color illustrations to be put in an anthology type book, Built to Last with Mosque. He's also beginning books on Evolution and Inventions.

He demonstrated a quick sketch


and his new computer toys.


We got to see some of the original artwork for Black and White,

and then we took a picture.

(While posing for this picture I realized there is a hidden requirement to admission at Simmons--you must fall within the 5' range, preferably around 5'5" {which I might add is the perfect height, just saying})

A Bee in My Bonnet

While out last night, I discovered that one of my classmates sorts people into Hogwarts houses (mentally) when she meets people. So we all started to ask what houses we'd been sorted into and I got Slytherin! I was incensed and when I asked why all she said is that's who you are. Most people were Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, and only one person was a Gryffindor besides herself. Poor Emily and I were the only Slytherins. So of course this morning, here at work, I had to look up the qualities that might indeed make me a Slytherin.

Slytherins tend to be ambitious, cunning, and achievement-oriented. They also have highly developed senses of self-preservation.^[1] This means that Slytherins tend to hesitate before acting, so as to weigh all possible outcomes of a decision (and how these outcomes would personally impact them), unlike Gryffindors, whose chivalrous natures would likely lead them to react immediately and instinctively.

According to Albus Dumbledore, the qualities which Salazar valued in the students he chose included cleverness, resourcefulness, determination, and "a certain disregard for the rules." Dumbledore noted that all of these were qualities possessed by Harry Potter, who was in Gryffindor.

So what do you think? Am I a Slytherin? There certainly are some rules I disregard, but others I have a very hard time not keeping. And I don't think I have that high a sense of self-preservation. Even with all that, I am a little relieved not to be in Hufflepuff. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Writing Skillz

I know I've been neglecting the blog, and you poor souls who read it, lately. Perhaps you can take small comfort in the fact that I've been neglecting my correspondence, and consequently my correspondents, even more. I've been channeling my spastic writing spurts into work on a novel/project for my writing class and graduate degree. That's right, I'm writing a historical fiction YA novel (yes, I can already feel you judging me across the internet and in the future) based loosely on events from my family history.

Now here's the point where I waffle about whether or not to tell you more because 1) my paranoid self tells me someone somewhere could stumble across this blog and take my brilliant idea and beat me to a publisher and 2) my disloyal-to-my-family self knows that one of my noble predecessors would be made most unhappy to know I'm writing this story with this slant. But family scandals, particularly when they're removed by several generations, are so very juicy and difficult to pass up. And, I justify to myself, I'm changing most everyone's names and making things up freely so as to add some distance between reality and my story and to provide a veneer of privacy/anonymity. So how about this, I'll leave you a few clues and then if you really want to know (I'll measure interest by comments) I'll tell you more.

Though I would love to know what versions of the story you all know and, even better, what tidbits of history you can provide that will enrich my novel. On a side note, I feel so presumptuous throwing around the world novel. As if using it automatically means I'm claiming to be writing a classic work of fiction here (which may be antithetical in some people's views when it's combined with the term YA). I promise I have no such illusions, but a novel it is, or tries to be.

Anyway, on to the clues (which are undoubtedly more fun in pictorial form).

Exhibit A


Exhibit B

Exhibit C

(1,000 points if you correctly identify this clue and you are not Ali or Meg, sorry friends)

That's right. It's a story about everything I hope to receive in my Easter basket: a train set, towels, and Colin Firth.

Book Recommendation

If you liked Hunger Games, the Roanoke Island story (as in the historical incident), Firefly, and/or Up than this book is for you. I know, I know those things aren't very much alike, but hey I have eclectic tastes and I bet you all do too. And if you read the book I think you'll know why I picked those things. Well maybe not Hunger Games, but this book was a real page turner just like that one and its set in the future and there are some really bad guys and I just like that book too (don't mind my conjunction). I would tell you more, but where would be the fun in that? Pretty much my entire writing class gave this a thumbs up and let me tell you that does not happen all that often. But here's the real question people, how am I going to get my hands on the sequel?

And while I'm at it, the week before we read A Northern Light which was very different but also something we all enjoyed. A historical fiction mystery set in the Adirondacks that include a line like unto "Emily Dickinson was a genius. A damn sneaky genius." If I'd even had any doubts up unto that point, I would have been won over then and there. I did not have any doubts, however.