Busy busy busy

Too busy to write much of an entry today, at least. I've had something major going on the last three weekends (band concert, conference, AAU States), and tomorrow I'm volunteering at HSHV's Walk-n-Wag...

... wait a second, the phone's ringing ...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! [slams phone down, pounds head on desk]

Now, generally I'm a live-and-let-live kinda girl, not prone to wishing harm to anyone, but if I could send all telemarketers to a special fiery burning circle of hell right now, I WOULD DO IT!

It's almost worse since the institution of the No-Call list, because now everyone who calls thinks their "previous relationship" with you entitles them to be stubborn when you say no. If I say I don't want insurance for my credit card, let me hang up without the "But it's also this service...." If I say I don't need the extended warantee for my car, let me hang up without the "Yes, but...." If you ask for my husband and I tell you he's even more stubborn about saying no telemarketers, then don't ask me for a good time to call back, and don't keep calling me!

Worst are the charities, because then you feel a little guilty saying no. Still, I don't care if you're from the Fraternal Order of Police, or the Special Olympics, or if you're Mother frickin' Theresa herself, I don't do charity over the phone. And if I tell you that, don't keep going, "but we're not asking for donations..." I don't like being rude to people; I'm usually more pleasant to telemarketers than they deserve (in TSU's opinion), but I figure most of them are just trying to make a living. But if I politely say no, you should listen, let me hang up, and move to the next possibility. If you're not going to be considerate enough to let me say no politely, I'm going to hang up on you. And I'm not going to feel guilty about it, so THERE.

A feline lapse of judgment

Cats are perverse. Anyone who has every been owned by a cat knows this. You think you find a food they like, and two weeks later they turn their noses up at it. You try to read the paper and they come and sit down on it. You try to use the computer and they walk in front of the screen or nudge your mouse. You scoop their litter box and they immediately have to use it. You try to sleep and they decide it's time to play. It's like they're continually requiring you to prove your devotion.

In the case of my masters cats, the perversity is particularly obvious in their choice of lap time. My cats are not overly affectionate beasts. They have some dignity; they're not likely to grovel on the floor and beg you to pet them, and they're not continually following me around, seeking attention. If I'm convenient and they're in the mood, then maybe they'll pay me a visit. Gigi, the former feral, is the least likely to seek attention, and also the most predictable. If I'm sitting at my sewing machine in her upstairs safe room, she will jump on the back of my chair and purr while I scritch her ears. If it's cold out and I'm safely lying in bed, she'll join me for a cuddle—but that's it. For a crazy skittish animal, at least she's predictable.

The other two, however, are crazily perverse when it comes to lap time. Clio, the fat orange one, usually likes one session a day, while I'm sitting in a recliner watching TV or reading the paper. But sometimes she insists on lap time when I'm at the computer, ensuring that I can't type because she blocks access to the keyboard. This never happens in the morning, when I'm farting around, but always in the afternoon, which for some reason is prime brain time for me. Small brown Callie, on the other hand, usually only seeks lap time late at night—and I shouldn't even call it lap time, for she prefers to roost on my shins or ankles, whichever might be most uncomfortable. She has a gift for timing: if I'm thinking about getting up, or considering maybe it's time for bed, she will unerringly sit upon me and prevent any movement.

Of course, there is one rule that precludes all others, and it has to do with what I'm wearing. If I'm wearing black or navy pants, especially slacks, then Clio will seek me out so she can shed little blonde hairs all over me. And Callie, who never wants my lap otherwise, will unerringly climb into it if I'm wearing white pants—all the better to see the numerous black hairs she's leaving behind. Look for yourself: yesterday afternoon I'm minding my own business when Callie insists on sitting on my lap. I don't even have to be petting her; I can be messing around with the camera, trying to get the timer and the angle set; and still she sits. It's like a cat magnet: White pants await, and therefore must I go, says she. Luckily I know a good trick with strapping tape, or else I'd have to wear gray all the time, and that would be boring.

Janespotting: Sense and Sensibility (2008 miniseries)

When PBS announced that they would be airing a new version of Sense and Sensibility as part of their Jane Austen season, I was very curious to see how it would turn out. (Actually, my first thought was, "Why bother?," but I suppressed that in favor of curiosity.) I was particularly interested when I discovered that this version was scripted by Andrew Davies, who also penned the 1995 miniseries of Pride and Prejudice. Give him three hours, I thought, and surely we'd end up with something much more interesting than the 1981 series.

It was certainly more modern; this version opens with the seduction of Colonel Brandon's ward Eliza, tastefully (and briefly) shot by firelight, before moving on to the Dashwoods at the deathbed of their husband/father. Then we are allowed to linger over Edward's visit to Norland, getting a complete picture of his growing relationship with Elinor, including her puzzlement over his reluctance to speak his feelings. The remainder of the series is fairly faithful to the book, including two scenes that were omitted from the 1995 film: Edward's strained visit to Barton Cottage, and Willoughby's attempt to ask forgiveness during Marianne's illness. The latter scene is a bit changed from the novel, with Marianne overhearing Willoughby's confession. It's not the only little addition; besides a few extra scenes between Elinor and Edward and Elinor and Marianne—very nice for developing character—we also get a full rendering of the duel between Brandon and Willoughby that is only briefly mentioned in the novel. Finally, we get many more scenes between Brandon and Marianne near the conclusion, so that we can truly believe her when she says she is marrying him out of love and not just gratitude.

The production values are vastly superior to the older miniseries; best of all is the use of the Devonshire countryside, including the wild, rocky coast. The cast is full of British vets, including Oscar-nominated Janet McTeer (Tumbleweeds, 1999) as Mrs. Dashwood, and they all perform very well. Hattie Morahan conveys Elinor's hidden emotions through a mere widening of eyes, and Charity Wakefield makes for a pretty and passionate Marianne who comes to realize she needs wisdom. David Morrissey is a strong and silent Brandon (who wins in a duel, taking care of that vile puppy—rowr!) and Dan Stevens is an amiable Edward. Strangely, he looks very similar to Hugh Grant's Edward from the 1995 film, which was a little distracting:

Still, overall I thoroughly enjoyed this version, which brought the novel to life—and perhaps a made it a little more lively than the original. I'm not sure I like it as much as the 1995 film, but I'll have to explore that when I'm done reviewing all the other S&S adaptations out there. Definitely, though, if you like the novel and haven't seen this version, you'll want to seek it out.

Photo of the Week--5/4/09

Low tide, red sand, blue ocean, salted tree: one cool photograph. We don't get out and travel as much as when we lived in London, but we took a wonderful trip out to Nova Scotia and PEI in the summer of 2003, and this was some of the lovely scenery we saw. Unfortunately, I don't have any photos of the fantastic tidal-bore rafting we did, as it wasn't healthy for the camera, but this scene hints at the power that the water can generate.

Debating my inner voice-of-doubt

This afternoon I'm leaving to head up to the Michigan State AAU Qualifier Tournament in taekwondo. I'll be competing, coaching, and most likely judging. I'm trying to convince myself I don't have any reason to be nervous. It's a tough sell, though:

I'm going to have to spar, and I haven't won a match in competition in a while.
But you've been training much harder this year; you almost never feel like throwing up during Tournament Team workouts any more.
Still, I'm older and slower than a lot of the competitors; last year they made me spar a master (4th-degree) and she was probably ten years younger.
You're faster this year; you've dropped 15 pounds, so you go, girl!
Well, two years ago they combined weight classes and I ended up sparring someone forty pounds heavier, so I might have more of a mismatch this year.
No use worrying about your opponent, just do your best. What about forms competition?
I haven't exactly been spectacular at States the past two years.
You're doing a different form this time! Two golds in the last two tournaments!
I suppose I do look kinda cool doing that form.* I just have to control my breathing and focus.
That's the spirit! It'll be over before you know it.
But then I have to coach. What if I screw that up? Then it's not my performance at stake, it's someone else's.
You know what you're doing, you've been practicing for months, you know your teammates. You'll be fine.
I hope so. I still think I'm crazy, though.
You're challenging yourself! Eye of the Tiger and all that! Keep moving or die!
Um. Now I think I'm definitely crazy. But it'll all be over tomorrow night, so I think I'll get over it. Maybe. Kinda. Sorta. Or at least, until Nationals start at the end of June.

*Awesome photo by Steve Lutowsky at Shadowline Photography.

The Quilt Files, Episode 10

So what happens after you whip up a scrap log cabin for a surprise wedding? (Besides patting yourself on the back and thinking, "Wow, that came out better than I expected!") Well, as they say on the playground: first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the double-wide baby-carriage! That's right, twins!

Now, I suppose I should have been glad to hear they were coming ahead of time. This being pre-Facebook days, I often had to rely on family scuttlebutt for news coming from other states. This news was not always very timely, like the time I didn't find out my great-uncle had passed until we were discussing a family get-together three months later. (I'm told they weren't deliberately keeping it from me, they had just all assumed that someone else had given me the news.) So anyway, I found out about the twins before they were born: good thing.

And twins are exciting news, right? A girl and a boy, so one quilt in pink and one in blue. I was excited. I found a pattern I really liked and headed to my favorite fabric shop, where I found a group of pastel prints that all had hints of pink and blue and yellow. Then came the fun part: picking out different blues and pinks to make up the rest of the quilts. I also found the perfect backings: blue moons and stars for the boy quilt, raspberry and gold constellations for the girl quilt. Excellent. I got to work, appliqueing and embroidering the stars and moon, and piecing the rest together.

Then I made a visit to my grandmother. We were catching up on family news, and she said, "Oh, did you want to see a picture of your cousin's boys?"

"BOYS, did you say?" I replied, a bit confuzzled. "I thought it was a boy and a girl."

"Oh, they thought so too, but the second boy was being shy. On this ultrasound they saw two boys." I admired the copy of the ultrasound, all the while thinking, "is the fabric shop open when I get home?"

Whoops. Family scuttlebutt had been slow to arrive once again, and I had a pieced-but-not-quilted pink quilt that was beautiful but not suitable for a boy. Luckily, I had enough of the pastels to make another quilt. I rushed out to the fabric store (such a chore, I know) and secured enough different greens to make a suitable boy-twin quilt. And, as you can see, it came out looking very nice. I'm told the boys enjoy them so much they were suspicious when mom set them out to take photos for me. (That explains the leg in this photo.)

As for the pink quilt? Well, you'll have to wait until next month to see how that came out.

Janespotting: Sense and Sensibility (1981 BBC series)

This is the earliest adaptation of Austen's Sense and Sensibility that I could get my hands on.* It was produced by the BBC as a 7-part series in 1981, with each part lasting around half an hour. Of course, I didn't think it would measure up to my gold standard, the 1995 film, but I hoped that with 174 minutes to devote to the story, it would at least be a faithful and detailed rendition.

It took me a while to get into this version; it was taped, not filmed, and the sound quality/mixing was just dreadful—dialogue swallowed and lots of empty, silent spaces where people were just moving around. That was the style back then, and after a while I got accustomed to it. I also got used to the blandness of the scenery and costumes. Sure, Regency England isn't supposed to be particularly colorful, but in S&S Marianne is always enjoying the beauty of the outdoors, and we didn't get to see much besides sunlit grass and trees, maybe a nice walking path. Pretty, but all very similar in look.

I'd like to say that the actors made up for the blandness of the visuals and sound, but alas! It was all very mannered and stage-y. (I wasn't familiar with any of the five romantic leads; looking them up on IMDb, I saw one appeared on an episode of the new Dr. Who, and another on a couple episodes of Babylon 5; other than that, their credits were all British TV—no future stars like P&P's Colin Firth among the cast.) I don't know if it was the actors' or director's choice to remove all hints of wit from Edward and Elinor, or make Marianne seem flighty instead of passionate, but in any case, it sucked a little more life out of the story.

As far as using the luxury of time to be faithful to the novel? Well, I was disappointed there, too. They completely cut out the character of the third Dashwood sister, Margaret, who sets up some of the story by accidentally revealing the initial of Elinor's favorite to Mrs. Jennings and Sir John Middleton, who then tease her mercilessly. This provides some amusement at their indelicacy, but also tension after Elinor discovers Edward is engaged to another. I don't know why they removed the character—they didn't want to deal with a child actor, perhaps—but as a result it sucked just a little more wit and drama out of an already bland production.

I don't mean to say that watching this version was unbearable. It was pleasant enough, and it was interesting seeing some of the scenes that didn't make the feature film, such as Willoughby's confession while Marianne is sick. Still, this version is bland and has little of the sparkle and wit that I think distinguishes Austen's work. I'd rather spend the time and re-watch the 1995 version (twice). Here's hoping that the recent BBC adaptation is more worthwhile.

*There's also a 1971 BBC adaptation, but it's not available in the U.S. I'm very curious, since the actress who plays Elinor is Joanna David, who played Mrs. Gardiner in the 1995 P&P miniseries and is also the mother of the actress who played Georgiana. But I knew I wouldn't be able to access every single adaptation, so my curiosity will have to go unsatisfied.