Smiley People

You know the type. I have resolved this year to smile stupidly at everyone I meet for no good reason at all. The world needs more smiley people.

The worst is when you're swing dancing with someone who sort of looks off into the distance with this concentrated frown for the WHOLE SONG. I mean, give me something to work with here! Am I not doing well? Is it that bad? No one made you ask me to dance, you know. Do you hate dancing? Or are you just really concentrating? I try to assume the latter. I prefer to keep a sort of encouraging smile while dancing because, after all, dancing should be fun.

My smiley resolution was inspired by this girl who is a patient at physical therapy. The other day I was told to keep an eye on her while she was doing exercises. She passed me on the way to her next exercise and when I looked at her she gave me this smile, teeth and all, and I thought, "Wow, I should do that more." So...here I go.

Here's another gem:

"The Elements of Style"

More from the "Sacred Diary."

In this excerpt, Adrian is talking about his son, a teenager in a band called, "Bad News For The Devil." Here 'tis:

"Went to Unity Hall tonight to hear 'Bad News For The Devil' practising. When I got there, stood outside for a moment listening to a noise that sounded like a piano falling down a lift-shaft with someone trapped under the lid.

Turned out to be a number called 'Peace Will Come'.

Privately thought a better name for the group would be 'Rather Encouraging News For The Devil'."

I have an on again/off again enamoration (is this a word?) with a little book called "The Elements of Style" by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White. It's a grammar handbook we were required to have at AACS, but I like to read it for pleasure sometimes when I'm bored. Before you judge me, let me explain that it is sardonically clever and really good entertainment if you like that sort of thing.

Since I am in the middle of a book excerpt phase, here is one from "The Elements of Style":

"Inexperienced writers not only overwork their adverbs, but load their attributives with explanatory verbs: 'he consoled,' 'she congratulated.' They do this, apparently, in the belief that the word said is always in need of support, or because they have been told to do it by experts in the art of bad writing" (p. 75).

Ha!

Found this picture on my camera yesterday:

They're looking at Dorothy.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

(You should be getting higher in pitch as you finish awing...)

The Sacred Diary of...

As it turns out, it's quite a good feeling having a clean range.

The other day, Cristina lent me "The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass" to read. She obviously knows nothing of my addictive reading problem. It's a short book, though, so not too much time has been wasted on my part. I read it rather quickly, which, as anyone who knows me will tell you, is quite unusual. "Fast" describes virtually nothing I do. (Unless you've had the rare opportunity to witness me playing the piano after 2 glasses of Mom and Dad's iced tea.)

I started the book Saturday after my friend was gone and was finished by Sunday evening. Bursts of late-night whooping laughter characterized my experience with this book. (Sorry neighbors......By the way, I have an ongoing love relationship with parenthesis.)

To give you a flavor of the book, here is what I read on the opening page:

"Our church is getting like an auction room. One blink and you get ministered to. Sit still and keep your eyes shining-that's my motto. This morning was Edwin Burlesford's fault. Forty-five minutes on 'sin'! A record nine-fruit-gum talk. Halfway through, I was checking supplies when Edwin suddenly shouted 'LUST!', and made me drop the packet under my chair. Put my head down between my knees to locate it, then couldn't get up because Doreen Cook pressed her hands down on the back of my head. She prayed that 'our despairing brother would move from darkness to light'. I was all for that-I couldn't see a thing. When she let me get up she had one of those roguish Christian smiles on her face. Came very close to really giving her something to forgive me for. Everyone thinks I've got a big lust problem now..."

As predicted by Cristina, I love it.

(In other news...Dorothy took a bottle on Friday!)

Home on the Range

Today on the way home from church I passed what looked like a dead porcupine on the side of the road...except that the spikes were much thicker and sinister looking. I wonder if it is a sign.

I was not feeling very worshipful in church this morning and found myself judging a rather exuberant worship leader. Stupid of me. I was predisposed to grumpiness because of being 5 minutes late. (5 minutes?! Really, Em, you couldn't have gotten yourself together 5 minutes sooner?) Then I made the mistake of following some people into a different parking lot, thinking they knew something I didn't. Turns out, they didn't know anything I didn't and I ended up trudging through snow trying to get to the real parking lot and then having to walk around the back of the building in the freezing wind plus I dropped my pen. (I am always dropping my pen in church. I really must find a better way of securing it...) Anyway, worship seemed a bit...fake for me this morning.

On my way home I decided not to buy gas, which I will most certainly regret tomorrow, but so be it. I wanted to get home before Karen so I could do my devotions without distraction. I got as far as making myself some hot chocolate (I've been putting Cuban coffee in my hot chocolate lately. Hot dog, that's good!) and reading about the details of Solomon's palace. Why is this in the Bible? I know everything is there for a reason...but really, why? After describing the details of the temple, can't they just say, "And Solomon's palace was really great too." I can understand why the temple details are important, but why must we know that Solomon's hall was lined with cedar? How droll. When Karen got home with Andrew, I gladly interrupted my devotions at the prospect of lunch.

During lunch-making, Karen delicately suggested that I might consider cleaning the range (stove-top, that is). This will be a difficult task to complete without singing "Home on the..." Sometimes I think that living with Karen must be a bit like being married, only without all the commitment. She has all the intuition/motivation to do things around the apartment that women normally posses and I seem to be doomed to blindness with regard to apartment upkeep issues. I'm glad to help when I can of course...I'm just not good at realizing what needs to be done. Case in point, I'm not sure I ever would have thought of cleaning the range had Karen not suggested it be cleaned. Today, because of a very dusty episode with my curtains, I asked Karen if she ever washed her curtains. She said no, but she does vacuum them. Hmmm. Unfortunately, I fear mine need washed. This means I've got to disassemble the curtain rod/cardboard wrapping paper tube get up that I've rigged. Hmph.

Last night I had a new friend over. We had dinner and watched "Emma." It was nice. I actually had a friend over in Towson. Wow! I've been finding that, due to my efforts to keep up my friendships in Annapolis, I don't actually have very many friends in Towson. I'm trying to remedy this. Then I won't be so lonely when I'm forced to stay in Towson of a weekend. (What the heck? "Of a weekend?" Am I living in 18th century England?)

I suppose I'll do something useful now. Sigh. I didn't do half the things I meant to do yesterday, but I did spend an inordinate amount of time dancing around my bedroom to swing music. Heck, this entry is crazy long.

I'm glad I wore happy socks today.