I've developed a minor crush on Alton Brown. And who, you may ask, is he? He's the host of a cooking show called "Good Eats" on the Food Network, and his show is really cool. One night we watched him after watching "Emeril Live!" and it was such a relief to laugh at a man who is actually funny. He takes a single everyday food item and tells you all sorts of lore about it while he makes easy (and fun) dishes out of it. And he's cute. Of course he's married, but hey, I crush on Rupert Everett too, so why not?

Jessica and I are toying with the idea of getting the season DVDs of Good Eats so that we don't ever have to stay up till 2:30 a.m. to see a new episode. Not that we have $50 or anything. But we've already tried his french onion soup recipe and it rules. My birthday is next month, everybody. Dad H. has already got me a pea coat, so he's out. Somebody needs to buy me Good Eats.

And while you're at it, somebody buy me Kiefer Sutherland. Is it just me, or is he getting hotter with age? If you can't swing him, see if you can get me Adam Arkin. I especially love him in his occasional role as Dr. Stanley Keyworth on West Wing.

But whatever you do, DON'T give me one of those suckerpunch cards with the beefcake guy on the front. That is sooo not attractive. Although it can be funny at times. I don't know. *hits head, trying to dislodge Hemingway* Which reminds me of a great quote from Hemingway, just for Natasha: "The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shockproof shit detector. This is the writer’s radar and all great writers have had it."

*snickering*

I don't usually post serious stuff on here because I'm usually not serious. (This is a new thing to say about myself, as I've always considered myself super-serious. But I really don't think I am anymore.) But the news cycle of the last few days has had me thinking about the perilous times we're in. Not that we are in more or less peril than other times -- I'm no judge of that -- but I've been thinking about how we Americans have been tightrope-walking without a qualm for years...and now we're having qualms left and right. I'm not naive enough to think that such qualms have never occurred before in the world, but I'm wondering how we are going to meet the challenge of these times. They say what you do in the little things is an index of what you'll do in the big things, and when I look at myself, I think the little things have often got me down. Being late for work, spilling my drink, having to wait in a long line, photocopying something wrong and having to start over -- I get flustered and defensive and apt to pass the blame, or invoke martyrdom by heavily blaming myself. Is this what I'll do in a real crisis? Oh, God, I hope not. So my resolution -- my beginning contribution to the war effort -- is to be on the lookout for the terrorists of my mind: whining, chronic dissatisfaction, impatience with myself, fear of imperfection, dishonesty.... Victory starts between the ears.

How's that for a stump speech?

Oy. The first time I tried to load my page this evening, my browser pulled up a photograph of an idyllic farm scene with sheep and geese looking round at the camera. Oh no! I thought, I've been hacked by Hallmark! But it appears not to be true. I tried again and got my own page. Whew.

In case anyone is wondering what has happened to some of the stuff on my website, I'm renovating. I'm not sure yet what's going to happen with the site, but I'll post here when it's revamped.

Okay, because Natasha asked, I will -- modestly, and with much self-deprecation -- post my drawings. I'm quite satisfied with my drawing of Helen, because her face is clearer in my mind, and I find drawing women easier anyway. Jessica thinks my portrayal of Rankin at 45 makes him look seventy and not like she imagined at all, so I drew a younger smartass version of him. When I did that, I realized I was not at all satisfied with Rankin either. I want somehow to capture his mischievous, intense look with my pencil, the way Peake captured Steerpike with a few words, but I'm not even doing his sideways smirk justice. Not that many people have actually read the story yet, though I tell it to anyone who will stand still long enough.

Well, bon appetit, mes amis.

Dad H. and I have taken to walking in the mornings at the mall to get some exercise. We make two rounds of the building, which is equal, I'm told, to two miles. Jessica has come with us once, but she has a job, so it's more difficult for her to make that time. It's good to walk, but not having a job is getting a bit stressful. So yesterday we were on our way home, and I turned to Dad H. and said:

"I know what job I want."

"Yeah?"

"I want your job. I want to be retired."

He started to guffaw at that. "Well, you can't have my job. There aren't any openings."

"No openings, eh?"

"No. And they'd probably say you're not qualified enough."

"Not enough experience, eh?"

"Yeah. Not enough experience. See, you don't have enough stories."

"I can make 'em up."

He laughed at that. "Yeah, I guess you could."

He's right though: I'm not qualified to have his job. Darn.

Inspired by Natasha, I have drawn portraits of my two main characters, Helen and Rankin. I'm thinking idly about putting them up on my website, but demand may not be high. I haven't discussed my story arc much online. Still, futzing around with a pencil and Adobe Photoshop was a great deal of fun, and I'm rather pleased with the results... *grins happily*

Went to South Haven Baptist Church last Sunday to visit, and took Dad H. with me. The service was very good, the people were friendly without being pushy, and the pastor gave a sermon which Dad H. and I found very instructive ("How to Cope with Not Liking Yourself"). I still miss Liberty very badly, however. The singing was nowhere near as good, though you'd have to go a long way to find a worship director better than John Kilgore, anyway. I was singing these songs at South Haven, and there's nothing wrong with them, they're just harmless old-time Baptist hymns, but I started thinking about C.S. Lewis and his impatience with church music, and feeling that I could agree with him. One wants songs that don't lose their meaning after a few years, and don't invite one to mouth platitudes or fake feelings one doesn't have. I've found that the songs that wear the best are those that take their words from the Psalms, or other lyric parts of the Bible. My friend Rob says, "Isn't it great when you can sing theology?" -- meaning that worship is really easy when you are singing things you know to be true about God.

I don't think South Haven Baptist is quite up to having dramas, either. But it was a very sweet church and I'll probably go back to investigate the Sunday School. Sigh. Finding a church is a complicated business.

I've been reading other people's Friday Fives over the months and have decided I want to do this week's questionnaire myself. However, in two hours I will probably come back and think -- I should have put something else!

1. If you could only choose 1 cd to ever listen to again, what would it be? Right now, it would be my compilation of Bach favorites. There is always something new to hear in Bach. In two hours: I'll be dithering over Dvorak's New World Symphony, Grieg's Piano Concerto in A, and Charlie Peacock's The Secret of Time.

2. If you could only choose 2 movies to watch ever again, what would they be? The Secret of Roan Inish and Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth one; which one were YOU thinking of?).

3. If you could only choose 3 books to read ever again, what would they be? Man, this one is hard. I'm tempted to just copy Rebecca so I don't have to think about it, except I'd choose Voyage of the Dawn Treader instead of The Silver Chair. Well, okay, I'll work at it. The Bible. The Hiding Place. Then I think I would hide The Man Who Was Thursday inside my copy of Pride and Prejudice so I can cheat and read them both -- but not at once. Boy, that would be weird.

4. If you could only choose 4 things to eat or drink ever again, what would they be? This one is easy. Bread (REAL bread), cheese, chocolate, and water. I practically live on these things anyway. I'd miss tea, strawberries, lemons, tuna, and leaf spinach, but hey, this is hypothetical.

5. If you could only choose 5 people to ever be/talk/associate/whatever with ever again, who would they be? The difficulty for me is not cutting people out, but cutting people in. I'd be all by myself 24/7, except I know it isn't good for me. So instead, I am making a list of 5 people (not exhaustive) I have let into my life in the last six months. Dad H., who is cool. Dustin, Mark, and Jenna from church. One more...oh, yeah, Talva from church, too. Suddenly I really miss Liberty Church, sniff.

I found out today that my friends Val and Nathan are now the proud parents of a baby boy, Austin James, born last Thursday. Hurrah! For me, it feels very strange to have friends become parents, but I know they will be a good mom and dad, and I look forward to the baby news.

Well, I was just going to post on here when Jessica came in to tell me that she found out Catherine got the job at SMS. Which is cool, because Catherine needs that job to go back to school, and I have no intention of studying anything at SMS, and if I had to lose out to someone, that's a really cool way to lose out. But still, it's a bummer.

Today consisted mostly of helping Dad H. put wooden paneling up on the ceiling in the back porch room. We had quite the rodeo yesterday putting the first one up, so today he jerryrigged a "preacher's seat" -- a sort of splay fork made of wood strips -- for me to hold up a panel with while he guided it into place from the ladder. Dad H. is like my mom: I call her "a woman of infinite resource and sagacity" -- from Kipling, you know. Dad H. is 71 and he is paneling ceilings. Mom invents craft projects all by herself, and rigs other things so that they work better -- that is, when she's not run off her feet. Dad H. has the advantage of being retired and not in particular demand around the house. Neither of them are particularly rich, which I think lends toward becoming a person of infinite resource and sagacity. My career of resource and sagacity so far has consisted of covering a very ugly couch with a set of queen-size sheets. And I expect I will be growing in resource and sagacity, as I am likely to be not-rich for quite some time. Sigh.

Katrina is a very intelligent cat. I played tag with her today when I wasn't helping to panel ceilings. She chased me into a room, and I chased her into another room, and then I went and hid around a corner, and then she followed me, and then I chased her, and then she hid from me, and then I found her, and then we did it all over again. And then I shared my tuna with her, but Frank got into the act on that one. I think Katrina enjoys playing with me more than with Frank. But she doesn't approve of my putting bubbles into my bath, unless I can poke my finger out of the foam for her to bat at.

I have a new idea for a scene that I plan to flesh out tonight.

I've just reread Justice Hall for the first time since buying it and devouring it over and over. And I really don't understand why some people on RUSS-L disliked it so much. I mean, sure, it doesn't have sexual frissons and an abundance of banter, but really, the only place those things occur in the books is in MREG, and part of LETT. When Russell mentions sex in MOOR, I feel sure it's part of her over-protest that things are fine between her and Holmes. I was sure the conflict between them would be magnified in JUST, but it wasn't -- well, it's nice to be wrong once in a while -- yet I found their comfortable marriage a delight. I loved the story -- the house -- the return of Ali and Mahmoud -- the intrigue...what's not to like?

More later.

Book Recommendation time!

You simply MUST READ John Dunning's Booked to Die, and its sequel, The Bookman's Wake, featuring Cliff Janeway. I'm not one for American hardboiled detective fiction, and the paperback cover for BTD looks like -- well -- ye gods! but they are marvelous. Dunning's a brilliant writer: his prose is effortless and his banter is to die for. I've known about these books for several years, but have recently reread BTD and have to spread the word. The sad thing is, he hasn't published another Janeway in the several years since TBW, and the door's wide open for more mayhem. Come on, Janeway, you can't peacefully ride off into the sunset, you know you want more trouble. I'd give him some trouble, heh heh. Not really, Janeway would just laugh at the likes of me. *cough* Anyway...just go read, you clowns.