Finals Week: Straight No Chaser

Trying to put the finishing touches on a long and arduous semester. Wishing you a Merry Christmas and offering up the one thing that's given me a little holiday joy this week. Enjoy!

Flowers for a dog: It's not barking mad

That's right. My puppy got a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a get-well note last week. "Being under a car can make you feel under the weather," says the note, adding that hopefully Bella will be chasing balls again soon. Bella is - amazingly - back to her old self after tasting the front bumper of the neighbor's minivan. I was sure she would be dead, but I arrived in tears at the emergency animal clinic that night to find her limping and shaking, but otherwise OK. A set of X-rays the next day confirmed that there were no broken bones, and she had no signs of internal injuries. Now, almost two weeks later, her limp is gone. She has no signs of trauma, save for a need to stay a little closer to my heels. We are unbelievably lucky.

I used to silently mock people who treated their pets like people, who pampered them and dressed them and spent hundreds of dollars to keep them alive in situations more dire than this. "It's just an animal," I used to think. "Get a little perspective." I just didn't get people who were devastated by the death of their pet. Let me tell you something: Having my little friend with me for the past 10 months has taught me a lot about having a judgmental spirit. Bella has brought great joy to my heart during a stressful, difficult season. She reminds me what pure love is, and she makes me laugh when the world makes me want to cry. She has reminded me that you never really understand what someone's going through unless you've walked the same road. Now I understand those people I used to inwardly mock. I understand the love for an animal that makes you weep when you think they've died. And the same lesson applies to any number of situations. Single parenting is harder than married or single people can fathom. Difficult marriages are harder than happily married people or single people can imagine. Singleness is harder than happily or unhappily married people can believe. We are so, so quick to judge. Bella has taught me more about humility and extending grace to others than I ever would have dreamed.

So thank you, little one. And thanks for the flowers, Auntie Lee.

Bella survives head-on collision with minivan

My beautiful pup got hit by a minivan last night after she darted out the front door. Scared her poor mama to death. More later on her condition. Before her brush with death, she annihilated my computer's power cord, so my minutes are numbered.

Tapping my inner Michelangelo

I am up far too early on a Saturday, thanks to an exuberant puppy who was too well rested to let her mama sleep in. I could be doing something productive with this time, but those who know me understand that I am not functional before 10 a.m. (And that's an improvement from the old days!) So I did a load of dishes, sent out some school-related e-mails, and am now curled up in my new jammies and looking for an amusing way to procrastinate.

Enter: drunken painting.

Turns out Alabamans relax by purchasing cheap wine and doing Monet impersonations. When I visited this summer, I thought I'd give it a whirl. (The painting, not the drinking.) There is a nifty little business called Sips n Strokes. You arrive with a beverage of your choosing and check your artistic insecurity with the coat girl. You are commissioned a small set of brushes, a cardboard palette (with stern instructions to start with no more than two pumps of each color) and - the piece de resistance - your own paint-splattered smock or apron worn by the last 200 tipsy customers who regretted not spending more of their youth at renaissance festivals or hookah lounges.

Our task: paint a ballerina. No men showed up for this particular lesson, though I'm assured they do attend when the image is less threatening to their masculinity. There were about 15 women stationed at long tables and small, tabletop easels with white canvases. The instructor demonstrated each step in the evolution of the ballerina, and surprisingly enough, four hours later there were a couple dozen rosy-cheeked artists proudly displaying 15 very distinct bipeds in tutus.

I think the Alabamans are onto something.

Pool of water + cell phone = no more talky

I was distracted when Bella barfed in my car while I was cruising down I-35. E-mail me your phone number if you want to talk. When I get a new phone, I'll let you know.

Baylor, media and lots of pink ink

Forget the presidential debate. The news was all about Baylor today. Late last night The New York Times posted a story, based on The Lariat story my students broke last week. They ran our editorial cartoon in the print edition and online today. The Chronicle of Higher Education and Inside Higher Ed both ran stories on the Baylor debacle, too. The Dallas Morning News and Fort Worth Star-Telegram both ran the Times story online today. The blogosphere is going nuts. I have no comment on the content of the stories. I'm just proud of the students who are doing professional-level journalism and scooping local and national media outlets. Watch The Lariat for continued coverage. Thursday's story is amazing.

And now let's move on to other bizarre happenings in the journalism world. Check out the hot pink paper The Lubbock Avalanche-Journal put out in honor of breast cancer awareness. I don't know how much awareness it brought to breast cancer, but it sure brought some attention to the newspaper. Wowzers! What do you think of that?! 

Puppy Pampering (and I'm not talking diapers)

Tonight Bella got a spa treatment in a pre-celebration of her first birthday (Oct. 31). And by spa treatment I mean tooth-brushing and coat conditioner at the PetSmart grooming salon. They even threw in a Halloween bandana with her bath and haircut. Usually it takes them several hours to beautify my baby, but tonight she was the only customer and the center of attention. The groomers are always amazed by her sweet demeanor. The last time I dropped her off, they went through the litany of questions. Is she pregnant? Has she had her rabies shot? Does she have any behavioral problems ... (the groomer peers over the counter) ... aside from being a Schnauzer?

A vet tech once told me Bella must not realize what breed she is, since she's so sweet and calm and loving. Believe me, she has her hyper moments, which regularly include gnawing on the neck of a pit bull and jumping on my head while I'm trying to sleep. But she is a precious little thing and mostly very well behaved. And, like tonight's groomer noted, she likes to give kisses. Slurp!

Tomorrow she goes to the vet to get her bordatella treatment, which to my dismay resembles waterboarding. It's supposed to protect dogs from kennel cough. Instead of a shot, they squirt the medicine right up her little black nose. To her credit, she takes it stoically.

I haven't forgotten the epiphany. I'm letting it simmer so all the flavor soaks in.

I had an epiphany tonight. It tasted good.

Too bad you'll have to come back tomorrow to find out what my brilliant revelation was. I'm too tired to do it justice tonight. But it's, like, so totally profound. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this little video of the house of my (childhood) dreams. Maybe I should consider something similar in my current home search. Would living in a tree make me a bona fide hippie?

A desperate plea for attention

Apparently my blog is feeling neglected. (And rather more masculine than I imagined.) I am ashamed. So very ashamed. I will make it up to you.


This Is Julie's Blog Calling from robin o'shaughnessy on Vimeo.

Stupid comment of the day

Said tonight by a female grocery store clerk to a male grocery store clerk: "I wish I was pregnant so I could take a break every five minutes."

I gave her the same look you have on your face right now.

To quote one of my students, "she's not the brightest cookie in the barrel." 

Nothing is Lost

A bittersweet poem by Noel Coward that I can't stop pondering. Thanks to Stephen Sloan for introducing it to me.

Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told

Lie all our memories, lie all the notes

Of all the music we have ever heard

And all the phrases those we loved have spoken,

Sorrows and losses time has since consoled,

Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes

Each sentimental souvenir and token

Everything seen, experienced, each word

Addressed to us in infancy, before 

Before we could even know or understand

The implications of our wonderland.

They they all are, the legendary lies

The  birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears 

Forgotten debris of forgotten years

Waiting to be recalled, waiting to rise

Before our world dissolves before our eyes

Waiting for some small, intimate reminder,

A word, a tune, a known familiar scent

An echo from the past when, innocent

We looked upon the present with delight

And doubted not the future would be kinder

And never knew the loneliness of night.

From Collected Verse, edited by Graham Payn & Martin Tickner (copyright Graywolf Press)

Holy Helvetica! That's one funny video.

Here's a little copy-editor humor for you.

I'll miss you, Neko

A dear friend of mine died of a heart attack last night. Neko was 45 and has been like a big brother to me since I moved to Lubbock in 2000. His wife, Mary, is one of my dearest friends, and they just celebrated 25 years of marriage. He leaves behind three daughters, one still in high school. Words fail me today. I can't tell you how my heart is breaking - that I wasn't there to say goodbye and that I'm not there to weep with my friend now. Neko loved Jesus, and he's at home now. We weep for ourselves, but not for him.

I love you and miss you, Neko. Save me a seat up there. I'll see you again.

"Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus all who have fallen asleep in Him. According to the Lord's own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

YouTube videos that make me happy

Please pass the drunken goat cheese

I've been peppered with questions about why my blog has been stagnant these past weeks. Sorry, guys. (But thanks to those who missed me!) Truth is, work went into superdrive after we hired our two new professional staffers. Planning, construction, orientation, a 20-page welcome back edition, etc., etc. I'm also reigniting my stalled graduate studies this week. I'm taking a mass media research methods course and an oral history course. I'm excited but a little wary. It's been seven years since I've been on that side of the classroom. If I last the whole semester, I'll be halfway to my master's degree (minus my thesis). Unbelievable.

But what, you ask, does this have to do with drunken goat cheese? Who milks inebriated goats? If you have to ask, you've never experienced the wonder of Whole Foods.

I was introduced to Whole Foods on my trip to Alabama in July. I've heard of it before, of course. It was founded down the road in Austin. But never could I have imagined the cheese extravaganza laid out before me. The Big Cheese behind the counter told me the company sells more than 400 types of cheeses across the company. 

Mouse nirvana, folks. 

I felt so ... common. A small chunk of cheddar on the deli tray of life.

Soft cheeses, blue-veined cheeses, grating cheeses, firm cheeses, semi-firm cheeses, fresh cheeses. Cheese in wheels, tins, wedges, spreads. Cheese for the stout and cheese for the faint of heart. Whole Foods staffs a global cheese buyer, and while they don't promote it on their Web site, some poor soul must be tasked with ... that's right ... cutting the cheese.

I bought drunken goat cheese simply for the name, which was coined for the use of wine in the aging process. My friend and I also bought a chunk of cheese whose name I can't remember. A thin blue layer trailed through the middle of the wedge, like frosting between the layers of a wedding cake. 

"What is that?" I ask the Cheesehead. 

"Vegetable ash."

"Vegetable ... ASH?" 

"Yep."

"As in charred vegetables?"

"Yep."

A long silence.

"Um ... why?"

"To separate the morning milking from the evening milking."

Silence again.

"It's entirely edible."

The reason morning milk and evening milk can't mix is beyond me. The reason why you'd want to eat vegetable ash is even more unfathomable. But for the novelty of it, and at the recommendation of the Cheese Man, we decided to give it a go. 

Big mistake. That was the rankest cheese a nose hair ever had the misfortune to curl up at. We tried a sliver just to be sporting, but we ended up toasting the drunken goat cheese on some tasty whole-grain bread made with the eggs of free-range chickens. 

We finished up with a stop at the olive oil bar, where my friend and a well-dressed, middle-aged man broke bread and sampled the virtues of wasabi oil. I abstained. Maybe next time.

Back from Alabama. Sorry, no banjo.

I had an amazing four-day weekend with a dear friend in Alabama. I have much to share, from the cheese extravaganza to the vampire ballerina, but I'm exhausted and buried with work and life and other hazards right now. We hired two staffers this week, thank God! (Cue the applause and fireworks.) That means I can become one person again instead of three. Starting next Monday! One of the hires is a photographer I worked with at The Lubbock Avalanche-Journal. We made quite a team back then, and I'm looking forward to working with her again.

That's it for now. Pray for me, friends. I'm tired, body and soul.

Now who can resist a yodeling pickle?

If that doesn't strike your fancy, what about an Angry Mob Action Set? Better yet, try a Horrified B-Movie Victims action set. Too pedestrian for you? There's always the Albert Einstein Action Figure.

Next time I'm in Seattle, I'm going to have to stop by Archie McPhee. It's a novelty store that bills itself as "slightly less disappointing than other companies." I stumbled across a Travel Channel feature on the wacky enterprise, and I couldn't stop laughing. I know where I'm doing my Christmas shopping next year!

Here are some other gadgets "made by pixies," who obviously have lots of free time and a quirky sense of humor.

     

     * Cow acupuncture model

     * Gummy haggis

     * Pickle-pults (think catapults)

     * Mr. Bacon vs. Monsieur Tofu

     * Beef bandage assortment (including bacon strip bandages)

     * Commie mustache and beard set

     * Fiber optic mullet wig

     * Shroud of Turin Winky Jesus Card

There are too many great ones to list. Go check out their Web site, "where pickles yodel and lederhosen run free." And before you click your way over there, take a gander at one of their commercials. Who knew garden gnomes were so versatile?

Tapping the Spirit of Writing

Tonight this spoke to my weary writer's soul. Maybe it's time to go sweep behind the couch. 

"I, too, had a pen rolling about somewhere — the seldom-used, the reluctantly taken-up pen of a sailor ashore, the pen rugged with the dried ink of abandoned attempts, infinite reluctance, and put off suddenly till next day — till next week, as like as not! The neglected, uncared-for pen, flung away at the slightest provocation, and under the stress of dire necessity hunted for without enthusiasm, in a perfunctory, grumpy worry, in the "Where the devil IS the beastly thing gone to?" ungracious spirit. Where, indeed! It might have been reposing behind the sofa for a day or so. Or it might even be resting delicately poised on its point by the side of the table-leg, and when picked up show a gaping, inefficient beak which would have discouraged any man of literary instincts. But not me!"

— Joseph Conrad, 

Excerpted from A Personal Record, republished in 

The Spirit of Writing: Classic and Contemporary Essays 

          Celebrating the Writing Life

As I lay melting...

A local coffee shop gives poets the stage every Thursday night, and I was lucky enough to stumble into some vivid, enchanting and often hilarious readings last week. Some classic, some original, some in rhyme, others beating out their own strange rhythm. It reawakened me to the power of poetry to capture the essence of a moment. In honor of Waco hitting the 102-degree mark today, I give you a few lines on summer from Robert Louis Stevenson.

Summer Sun

By Robert Louis Stevenson

Great is the sun, and wide he goes

Through empty heaven with repose; 

And in the blue and glowing days

More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull

To keep the shady parlour cool,

Yet he will find a chink or two

To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad

He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;

And through the broken edge of tiles

Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around

He bares to all the garden ground

And sheds a warm and glittering look

Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,

Round the bright air with footing true,

To please the child, to paint the rose,

The gardener of the World, he goes.

Experiencing 3-D with Mamma mia

Mom and I had intended to see the new musical Mamma Mia this weekend, but the show sold out before we got to the front of the line. So we opted for the 3-D Brendan Fraser flick, Journey to the Center of the Earth. Despite being a child during the pinnacle of the 3-D  era, this was my first experience with three-dimensional filmography. I expected a great vehicle for Kraft product placement (It's the cheesiest!), but I was pleasantly surprised by a decent story line and solid acting. Not to mention very cool in-your-face graphics that made viewers duck and dodge tentacles, dinosaurs and glow-in-the-dark birds. This is one kids movie that the adults will enjoy, too. And if we're really lucky, a few moviegoers will crack their own copy of the Jules Verne classic. 

And no more cardboard spectacles with one red lens and one blue. The shades are much trendier these days. Still, having to wear shades on top of my regular glasses made me glad we were in a dark theater. My bespectacled readers will have to double up, too. Ever wonder what a 3-D movie looks like without the glasses? Much like watching a movie without your prescription glasses. Sure-fire recipe for a killer headache. Click the 3-D link above for a brief explanation of how the technology works. Coming to theaters soon: a 3-D CGI movie about flies on a journey into space. 

Another blast from the past? (Pardon the reference, Brendan.) I heard a piece on NPR this week about John Waters, the man behind Hairspray. Somehow I've made it 31 years without hearing of Odorama, which is how he filmed the 1981 movie Polyester. That's right. Scratch 'n' sniff cards that let you experience the full-bodied grossness of gym socks, dead fish and assorted nefarious bodily odors. It was an interesting interview. Learn all about Smellovision here.