Pride and Prejudice

is my favorite novel. Some of you are rolling your eyes right now, because it's so stereotypical -- a female English major whose favorite novel is Pride and Prejudice? Get out. Shocking. But hang out for a sec, guys. It's not for the reasons you might think.

Lots of people, both men and women, have the idea that Pride and Prejudice is a love story between two perfect characters. I've seen... oh, I reckon at least a half-dozen ranty posts and articles from men criticizing women for liking P&P, lamenting the existence of Fitzwilliam Darcy, the supposedly ideal man. I've also heard countless women talking in (understandably) swoony voices about the (rightly) famous BBC adaptation and Colin Firth's utterly delicious portrayal of one of the most well-known characters in all literature, or the newer adaptation with the equally delicious Matthew MacFadyen...

OK, sorry. I know I lost a few of you there.

The point is, the rather sexy movie/TV serial adaptations are not the book. The book is not even a romance. It's scarcely a love story -- it's really not about "love" as much as marriage, in a society where love was often considered a bonus to that institution, not a prerequisite. You want the bottom line? Pride and Prejudice is a (sometimes gentle, sometimes quite biting) satire of Regency society and relationships, with an especially sharp eye cast toward marriage and particularly men's roles in making marriage successful or otherwise. In plain English: it's about marriage and men, good and bad.

You know the old saw about Austen "writing what she knew"? I don't buy it.

More to come on the marriages and the men of P&P, what we can learn from it, and why men ought to read it.

Lent, Day 18: Downton Abbey!

I am a sucker for the English Country House setting in books, movies, and TV. Murder mysteries, upstairs-downstairs type stuff, overwrought dramas -- you name it, I'll watch it if it's set pre-1940 at a country estate. So when I found out that Julian Fellowes, who wrote the screenplay for my absolute favorite movie (as well as for the heart-stoppingly beautiful The Young Victoria), had developed and written a Masterpiece Classics miniseries about a pre-WWI aristocratic English family with three eligible daughters and an entailed estate, I was sold. It's called Downton Abbey, and all you need to know is that Maggie Smith is in it, and at her gloriously condescending, sharp-witted best. The costumes, score, and scenery are nothing to scoff at either, and the supporting cast populated with faces you'll recognize if you're a fan of Brit flicks of almost any kind. Highly, highly recommended.

A Love Letter To My Record Player

I have been going ON and ON and ON to anyone who will listen (sorry... everyone...) about the amazing record player I bought today.  It's a late 1960s (I'd guess '67 or '68) cabinet stereo with a record player and AM/FM radio, Packard Bell, made of hardwood (I think oak, just from the grain) with a beautiful dark finish, probably close to six feet long.

I've just gotten really tired of that beepy, digitally-compressed computer sound that comes through on mp3s and cds, and fell in love with Kelsey's record player, which sounds so warm and beautiful, so I've been on the hunt for a furniture-type vintage stereo for the last few weeks.  I found a great one thru a site that rhymes with Braeg's Mist for... get this... $60.  That's Sixty U.S. Dollars, people.  I went to an antique mall and bought a dozen records (spent less than $3/ea on average) and have been fooling around with it, trying to figure out all evening how all the little switches and doo-dads work. 

And what a sound.  Sigh. 

From Sunday's Sermon

A paraphrase of Puritan pastor Thomas Brooks, regarding a person believing himself righteous based on being less sinful than the person next to him: When you are in Hell, suffering God's wrath for all eternity, will it comfort you to know that you are better than the person next to you?  Gotta love those straight-shootin' Puritans.

There was apparently a time when people who worked on large wheat farms were taught to escape a sudden oncoming bush fire this way: they were to burn the area around them, stamp out the fire, and try to get down into the dirt as much as possible.  This way the fire would go around and over them but would have no fuel where they were laying, leaving them unharmed once it passed.  In the same way, we cling to the cross of Christ because it is the only place where God's wrath has already been poured out and spent.  When the day of judgment comes and God's wrath falls, we will be safe in Christ.

Conversations With My Students

My poor little darlins... their brains are just fried from end-of-school craziness.  We were talking today about how our Kindergarten and 1st/2nd grade classes are almost full for next Fall, but there are only a handful of kids in 8th-10th grades.  Bless 'em:

Me: Well, y'all need to pray that the Lord sends us some families with older kids who've been classically educated so y'all can have some more classmates.

Boy: They have to be guys.  And they have to be athletic, so we can play basketball!

Girl 1:  And they have to be cute!  We'll pray for cute guys.

Me (rolling my eyes): Yeah.  Why don't you go ahead and pray that a couple families will move here and enroll at CCA with upper-school-aged boys who've been classically educated and are athletic and cute... and why don't you throw in that they have Australian accents too?

Girl 2 (fists in the air): YEAH!!

Me (as their parents): Honey, I appreciate your newfound interest in prayer, but you've been kneeling there since you got home from school and it's time for dinner.

Yay! Baby!

Emma Roselynn Christine Roberts
Born 6:33 pm MDT
Saturday, March 20th, 2010
Sterling, CO

20" long
7lbs 8oz

Books, Thunderstorms, End of the School Year, and Other Miscellaneous Musings

Last night I went browsing at a couple of bookstores to try to find the Anne of Green Gables series in box set. The school has a few of them, and I've been reading (or, devouring) them this last week. Have you ever thought of books as friends? The Anne books are that for me -- dear old well-beloved friends. Monday night, when I was finishing up Anne of Green Gables, I sobbed -- sobbed! -- through the last four chapters, and laughed at myself for crying so hard, and then cried some more. If you've read it, you probably understand. It's been wonderfully restful to come home from school and sit in my comfy chair and just read for hours. I haven't done that in far too long.

On my way home from the bookstore, I got caught out in the worst thunderstorm of the year so far. Rain was coming down, hammer and tongs, with lightning streaking across the sky and downbursts of wind from the edge of the storm. When it started hailing, I pulled over in front of the Lyndon fire station, got in the rain shadow of the building, and prayed that the doors wouldn't suddenly open and a fire engine come roaring out! I listened in dismay as the hail pelted the back end of my car, and when it subsided, I pulled around to the side of the building just in case and waited for the rain to let up. It was wild! The hail turned out to be in the half-inch to two-inch range -- definitely the largest hail I've seen since I've been here.

I have two more academic days left at school, and then three fun days which will involve a baseball game, a field day, a talent show, an awards ceremony, and a picnic! And then three glorious months of Summer stretching out in front of me, waiting to be filled with cook-outs and visits from family and afternoons when it's too hot to leave the house and days by the pool and sunburns and hot, muggy air, and melty ice cream and all manner of other delights.

Do all teachers get a panicky feeling about how much hard-fought learning their students will inevitably forget between now and next year? Ooh. That reminds me. I need to get my hands on a couple copies of the books I'm assigning my 8th graders (almost 9th graders! Imagine!) over the Summer... Mwahahaha...

An Open Letter To My Aussie Friends

There are a few things you should know before Em and Gwyd get back to 'Straya in a few weeks' time. I thought it would be best if you had a bit of preparation for the stories, rumors, and inside jokes they'll be armed with upon their return.

Here's what you need to know:

1. Em and Gwyd are both pregnant with babies made (Mighty-Boosh-like) from barbecued ribs, Indian food, and Dr. Pepper. The appropriate response to this: jealousy.

2. They will definitely try to explain something called an "orc Elvis" or "orc Elvis impersonator." The explanation will probably involve snippets of Elvis tunes, snarling, and discussions of bouffant hairdos. The correct response to this is mildly-amused puzzlement.

3. They have perfected their imitations of American homeschool kids. The correct response to this is to ask them whether or not the Balrog has wings, if Hobbits can be found in Mammoth Cave, or if the economy can survive without the contribution of Wood Nymphs.

4. Speaking of Mammoth Cave, Gwyd has developed a theory about how Mammoth Cave was built. If you ask him about this, be sure he replies in his American homeschool kid voice.

5. The next time you are around them while they're eating, their "Mmm" noises in response to the tastiness of the food will likely turn into an "mmm"-punctuated laugh fest. They might wipe tears. The appropriate reaction to this is awkward silence. I'm sure you can manage it.

Also be sure to ask them about Andrew's reaction to seeing Androdgo, and who carried the food down to the tuberculosis patients in Mammoth Cave. You have a few weeks to prepare yourselves.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!

They're both doing quite well in America and enjoying themselves. But Gwyd's... found a few American foods he really likes. Yeah, let's go with that:


Yeah...

Amen!

Blessing over Beer from the Rituale Romanum:

Bless, O Lord, this creature beer, which thou hast deigned to produce from the fat of grain: that it may be a salutary remedy to the human race, and grant through the invocation of thy holy name; that, whoever shall drink it, may gain health in body and peace in soul. Through Christ our Lord.

Davidson vs. West Virginia

U.G.L.Y.
You ain't got no alibi--
You ugly! Yeah, yeah, you ugly!

M.A.M.A.
I know how you got that way--
Yo' mama! Yeah, yeah, yo' mama!

Man. Last night's Davidson vs. West Virginia game, the first of the Jimmy V double-header, was the ugliest basketball game I think I've ever seen. The Cats made the Mountaineers look like the JV squad in the first half, ripping up the WVa defense and sending their coach's blood pressure (which seemed to be an issue anyway) through the vaulted ceiling of Madison Square Garden. The balance of the game tipped seriously in Davidson's favor when the Mountaineers' only remaining guard, who had been tiptoeing around the court trying not to re-injure the shoulder that kept him out of WV's last game, slumped off the court toward the locker room six minutes in, with another shoulder contusion.

Then Davidson spent the next twenty minutes trying to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, as Curry went cold for more than a dozen field goal attempts and the team battled against a reinvigorated WVa defense.

The Wildcats (whose roster boasts players from five states plus Quebec, Sussex, Turkey, and Nigeria) seemed to be trying to give up a win to a team playing without their two starting guards, a team that missed 12 of their 29 free throws, and who never had more than a four point lead. But the Mountaineers snagged a massive 32 offensive rebounds to the Cats' 12, which kept them in the game -- though, as a Davidson fan, I'll of course chalk this up to the fact that West Virginia is a taller team at every position.

It was a weird game. Davidson's coach, Bob McKillop, who is a cool character in most situations, exploded at his team during a mid-second-half time out. Even the unflusterable Curry grimaced and shook his head after missed shots, while his cowed teammates tried to keep him fired up.

Finally, in the last five minutes, the Cats gelled, turning up their defense, using clever inbounding strategies, bouncing off screens, and feeding the ball to Curry, who at last sank three after glorious three. I ask you: can that kid cut, or can that kid cut? He's smart, he's fast, and he can stop on a dime; WVa's defenders didn't have a blessed chance against his quickness and shot selection once he remembered how to play basketball again late in the second half. A drive, some fancy ball handling, two steps back... and voila. A hard-fought win.

The Best Christmas Anecdote Ever. EVER.

The Most Hilarious thing happened today. I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things to help with leftover management, and as I was walking in the doors, I heard this... weird music. Like an old electric organ.

Hmm. Electric organ piped through the sound system seemed like an odd choice for the inevitable Christmas music that will be playing for the next month. But, as it turned out, it wasn't exactly what I thought it was.

Organ? Yes. Sound system? NO! INSTEAD, IT WAS A DREAM COME TRUE: Old lady. Hammond B2. SERIOUSLY BAD Christmas music. No, no, no... I don't think you understand how bad it was. Shockingly bad. And every time she played, there was somehow a synth drum in the background. "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." On an ORGAN. With a SYNTH DRUM accompaniment. I was waiting for Dom DeLuise to pop out from beyond the grave and tell everyone at Kroger that they were on Candid Camera.

People. This was EPIC.