Wizarding World of Harry Potter

The last time I went to a major theme park was a family trip to FL when I was in high school. We visited Disney, Epcot and didn't spend nearly enough time at Sea World (in my own humble opinion). This was a LONG time ago, back before all the proliferation of theme parks in that part of Florida. I hate most rides (I had a traumatic incident on Space Mountain that scarred and scared me), heat, humidity, and crowds ... so I've had no desire to subject myself to such crass commercialism or stickiness.

UNTIL, that is, I heard about the Potter-inspired Universal Studios theme park, which according to the recent New York Times article "will open in the spring and allow visitors to tour Hogwarts, buy quidditch gear and drink butterbeer." Its three big rides are "Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey," "Flight of the Hippogriff" (a roller-coaster that simulates a hippogriff training flight), and "Dragon Challenge" (a Triwizard Tournament-esque high-speed roller-coaster).

Just to make it more attractive ... here's a "fly-through" of what the park will offer.



It may not be Harry's world as I imagined in my head, more of what Warner Bros. has in the movies, but that's fine with me. Now, to find someone to pay for my trip...

Accio sponsorships!

Accio piles of tax free money!

Alohomora deep pockets! 

Banned Books Week

I'm wearing this this week,

cuz I'm cool that way.

Celebrating the Freedom to Read

September 26 through October 3, 2009

Banned Books Week (BBW) is an annual event celebrating the freedom to read and the importance of the First Amendment. Held during the last week of September, Banned Books Week highlights the benefits of free and open access to information while drawing attention to the harms of censorship by spotlighting actual or attempted bannings of books across the United States.

Intellectual freedom—the freedom to access information and express ideas, even if the information and ideas might be considered unorthodox or unpopular—provides the foundation for Banned Books Week. BBW stresses the importance of ensuring the availability of unorthodox or unpopular viewpoints for all who wish to read and access them.

The books featured during Banned Books Week have been targets of attempted bannings. Fortunately, while some books were banned or restricted, in a majority of cases the books were not banned, all thanks to the efforts of librarians, teachers, booksellers, and members of the community to retain the books in the library collections. Imagine how many more books might be challenged—and possibly banned or restricted—if librarians, teachers, and booksellers across the country did not use Banned Books Week each year to teach the importance of our First Amendment rights and the power of literature, and to draw attention to the danger that exists when restraints are imposed on the availability of information in a free society.

Get involved.

Speak out.

Exercise your rights!

Check out or re-read a favorite banned book.
Give one of your favorite books as a gift.

 
Banned Books Week is sponsored by the American Booksellers Association; American Booksellers Foundation for Free Expression; the American Library Association; American Society of Journalists and Authors; Association of American Publishers; and the National Association of College Stores. It is endorsed by the Center for the Book in the Library of Congress.

Graphics and text courtesy of the ala.org

Favorite Fotos of the Fall

Can't you hear him thinking:

My parents are really weird!

A Librarian in training?

Let me look that up for you.

Here comes double trouble!

Introducing: Not me and I Don't Know

Thanks to the fam for letting me "borrow" photos!

Nettie's Nocturne

Overture

Now that the fall season is underway, I’ve been taking advantage of the rich diversity of performing arts options that take place at the Big J and in the City. Last week I attended an organ recital, featuring six rarely heard Bach Trio Sonatas.

Organ, Auntie Nettie? Really? Yes. Organ … More precisely, the Pipe Organ.

Exposition

You see, once upon a time, not only did I used to be a pianist, I was also an organist. Well, almost; I played the manuals—the two to three keyboards that came standard on our (LDS/Mormon) Church electronic instruments. I used the various deep, rich, pre-sets to make it sound like I was using the foot pedals, though occasionally I did manage to use a few of them as a special effect.

As the ward organist for my congregation, I got to sit up, or rather hide, behind the instrument during Sunday services. I would play the preludes, the two to four hymns (we’re a singing people) in the main meeting, and then do a short postlude to usher the congregation out and on to their next meetings. My technique was amateurish at best, especially since piano technique and organ technique are very different. On top of that, my classical training had been a bit “corrupted” once I started playing for the musicals in high school. I would get some interesting looks from my parents as our hymn tempos got a bit faster than normal, or a rockin’ syncopated backbeat would sneak in—not to mention the raised eyebrows I would get when I would improv riffs on the traditional Christmas carols. (Hey, I think Handel would have enjoyed a bit of swing in his songs.)

Typical Mormon congregational chapels are fairly small and their electronic instruments modest, compared to Catholic/Episcopalian cathedrals hosting larger pipe organs. The only two instruments that we have to compare would be the two housed at the conference centers in Salt Lake City, with the most famous “Mormon” pipe organ the one that usually accompanies the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

There’s no really comparison in the sounds. When you hear a pipe organ in full voice, it can’t compare to all the electronic organs most people have at home or at church. It really needs the proper setting to appreciate it. One of my biggest thrills as a musician was when I got to play on a pipe organ at a cathedral in Middletown, CT with my high school madrigal choir. The cathedral’s organist was kind enough to acquiesce to our requests to use the instrument at least once in rehearsals. Upon determining that I knew enough about what I was doing, he actually agreed to let us use it during the competition/concert. He sat alongside me, working the presets/stops, so I could play the registers and work the pedals. Learning how to pick up conductor’s cues while seated far from the choir, and to learn how to gauge reverb, echo distortions, and balance with the size of the vestry was invaluable to me as a musician.

I always meant to try and take lessons on how to play correctly. My undergraduate college offered lessons and had a large instrument and chapel where I could have practiced. My four-year prospectus/business plan outlined how and where I could later use these skills. However, as the years went on, fitting in the requirements for my major and double minor, plus other life demands conflicted with classes. I eventually even stopped taking piano lessons since there just wasn’t enough time to do everything.

Development

To this day, I’ve always been intrigued by what a trained and talented organist can do. As I sat at this concert, surrounded by a standing-room-only crowd of other organ aficionados, I watched in awe as the musician made it look so effortless. Prodigy and genius are two overused terms, but in this case they were both appropriate. Not only was it a feat of technical mastery (you do see why there are few overweight organists), it was a feat of memorization. Bach counterpoint is notoriously tricky, and the Trio Sonatas created a musical “dance” between both hands maintaining separate lines on separate keyboards, with both feet flying as a continuo on the pedals. At times the interweaving of the melody lines almost seemed “modern” to me, like the techno or electronica that I enjoy.

At the organist’s suggestion, I closed my eyes, so as to not be distracted by the blur of his hands and feet. The music was transporting. I sat there, letting the music wash over me, while the various melodies wove their various ways in and around and through each other.

Suddenly, their melodic mysteries helped me to solve one of mine, one that I’ve been pondering for more than 20 years. It was a wondrous moment, and proved to me that you never know the place, time, or means in which you will receive your personal revelations.

Back to Schooltime Fall 2009

I've been impatiently awaiting the last of the Back to School photos. Bug your family and friends long enough, and you get them! Now fall can really begin ...

Drew's First Day back to Preschool

Doesn't he just look thrilled?

Actually, it's more like:

Take the picture Mom! I can't see. The glare, it is too much!

August 26, 2009

My Blondie Girls:

Stella – 4th grade, soon to be 10;

Trudie (on the Right) & Storey, 2nd grade, newly 8 years old.

Mama quote: "Locked, loaded, lunches made and sneakers tied, violin practiced and reading done"

September 9, 2009

My other Drew's first day of preschool.

His mama says: "He is going three days a week and staying an extra hour each day to each lunch there and learn how to eat with a group of children that are NOT his own siblings."

Drew with the twins, Annie and Izzie, and older sister, Megan

August 31, 2009

Megan's first day of third grade

Her mama says: "How exactly I become the mother of a 3rd grader is beyond me, but I did!!!!"

Congrats to all my "sisters" for surviving the summer with my oh-so-darling nieces and nephews. YOU MADE IT. Gold stars for you all!

Bacon Cinnamon Rolls

What is it about this time of year that makes me crave bacon, greasy fat, and nasty foods? I will NOT be making this recipe.

In the "What are they thinking?" category, from This Is Why We're Fat: Where Dreams Become Heart Attacks by Jessica Amason and Richard Blakeley, which goes on sale October 27:

Bacon Cinnamon Rolls

Recipe by Andy Phelan, Photos here:
Ingredients:

One (1) roll of ready-to-cook cinnamon rolls
One (1) container of cream cheese
One (1) container of bacon strips

Cook the bacon in a pan till one side is mostly done but not fully cooked through. Dry the bacon of grease, then slather the mostly cooked side of the bacon with cream cheese. Unroll the cinnamon rolls on a hard surface. Place the cream cheese slathered bacon into the unrolled cinnamon rolls. Roll the cinnamon rolls back up with the cream cheese bacon inside. Place the rolls on a nonstick baking sheet and bake for 17-20 minutes at 350 F degrees. Remove from oven and top with icing provided in the cinnamon roll packaging.

This Is Why You're Fat: Where Dreams Become Heart Attacks by Jessica Amason and Richard Blakeley grew out of a blog on Tumblr, which has been described as "an amazing community where things go viral really fast," in part because it takes only one click to re-blog something. Within two weeks of its start, the blog had millions of hits and is one of the top two or three blogs on Tumblr.

This Is Why You're Fat digs into what the authors call "the old stand-bys, the carnival foods of their childhoods, the sticky mess of a deep-fried candy bar, the indulgence of a greasy burger with all the fixin's."

Etching Advice, An Update

Further to my post of September 1, 2009, I received the following e-mail from the Facilities Department:

Dear All:

The four main elevators in the school will have the wood refurbished over the next two weekends. Beginning Friday at approximately 6pm, and continuing through Sunday of both weekends, two elevators will be out of service over each weekend.


Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

I guess too many people drank the Kool-Aid. Now what am I going to look at in the elevator?

International Day of Peace

The International Day of Peace ("Peace Day") provides an opportunity for individuals, organizations and nations to create practical acts of peace on a shared date. It was established by a United Nations resolution in 1981 to coincide with the opening of the General Assembly. The first Peace Day was celebrated in September 1982.

In 2002 the General Assembly officially declared September 21 as the permanent date for the International Day of Peace.

Anyone, anywhere can celebrate Peace Day. It can be as simple as lighting a candle at noon, or just sitting in silent meditation. The impact if millions of people in all parts of the world, coming together for one day of peace, is immense.

International Day of Peace is also a Day of Ceasefire – personal or political. Imagine what a whole Day of Ceasefire would mean to humankind.

For more information, visit: http://internationaldayofpeace.org/

Retroblog September 19, 1983

Today is Sep. 19, 1983 Time ----

When today is 9/19/83 and I have reached 2 of my four important goal - 2 to go. I will get it done before Christmas.

Till next week.

WELL, today is many years later and I'm STILL annoyed that I didn't write down what the important goals were. I suspect that they were related to Church themes, since goal setting and achievement were serious aspects of the precepts they were teaching girls my age. They may have been things like reading the scriptures, treating my brothers better, practicing my piano, helping my parents, etc., but unless my mother (who has a mind like a steel trap) prompts my recollections, I fear I'll just have to continue to speculate.

My darling nieces and nephews, if you are reading this now or sometime in the future, let these retroblog entries serve as a lesson. Unless you make a record, in an old-fashioned journal/diary, or an electronic blog/new fancy format, you will forget the little details of your life. You don't even have to write about the important life events. Just make notes about little things, like your friends' names, silly goals for Church or school, or funny bits about your parents and siblings. You'll get to a point, when you're not even that old, when you'll have forgotten.

Trust your Auntie Nettie ... even if you think she's weird. Believe me, she knows she's weird, but she may forget ... if she doesn't write it down !

Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day!

I've been hanging on to this photo for MONTHS waiting for just the right day to post it. When I remembered J's annual fascination with Talk Like a Pirate Day, I knew this would be the day when I decided to share it with the world. Can't you just hear him "ARGGGGGH"ing at me? The sneer takes the cake.

While modern day pirates use iPhones, drink water, and aren't ashamed to be seen in public with their sisters, if you need pointers on being a proper pirate, click to the official site here.

RIP Mary Travers

The music of my early youth included the dulcet strains of Mary Travers from Peter, Paul and Mary, courtesy of my mother's vinyls. The notes of "Puff the Magic Dragon," “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “If I Had a Hammer” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” bring me back to a simpler time.

While originally a John Denver hit, this seems appropriate today.

Thanks Mary.

Chocolate Chip Cheese Bar

After my kitchen catastrophe last weekend, it was nice to redeem myself with this deliciousness.

I've been going through the pantry, freezer, and fridge cooking my way through the odds and ends that appear to be left-overs and left behinds. To be thrifty, you know, plus to use stuff up. Noodles appear in soup. Brown rice is in soup. Jello is used in, well, jello, AND cookies as a subtle flavoring. Salad dressings are used up. Casseroles are created from ALLL sorts of things. Experiments have to be successful, since I have no choice but to eat them.

But what do with the 8 oz block of cream cheese when I don't have the energy or mad-skills to attempt a cheesecake? I turned to the handy cookbook my s-i-l Kelli gave me, oh so many years ago, to search for the answer.

5 Ingredients or Less: most in under twenty minutes! compiled by the Professional Home Economics Teachers of California, Nevada, Arizona and Utah, c. 2002 California Cookbook Company.*

Chocolate Chip Cheese Bar
by Gale Hooper of Casa Roble High School in Orangevale, CA

1 tube of refrigerated chocolate chip cookie dough
1 (8 oz.) package of cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg

Cut cookie dough in half. For crust, press half of the dough onto the bottom of a greased 8 inch square pan. In a mixing bowl, beat cream cheese, sugar and egg until smooth. Spread over crust. Crumble remaining dough over top. Bake at 350 degree for 35-40 minutes or until a toothpick near center comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack. Cut into bars.
(Supposed to serve 9-12)

To be thrifty, I didn't purchase the refrigerated cookie dough. I used up the last of the chocolate chips from my freezer and used the other ingredients I still had in the pantry. The dough was fresher -- and I think there was a bit more than what would come in the tube. I did chill it down while I made up the cream cheese layer. As you can see, it cooked up over the sides of the pan, so I had to use a knife to check the center. I could have baked it a bit more than the 45-50+ minutes I baked it (my stove runs slower than normal), as the center did settle in as it cooled and when I transferred it out of the pan. But is is soooooooo yummy. I had to test it, you know.

My officemates will be saving me from myself with this creation. I already scarfed down a whole edge. They need to eat the rest or I'll never forgive myself.


*recipes do reflect ingredients and brands not available in other parts of the country, but you can find some substitutions.

Snacking in the Subway

If you are ever on the subway and have a sudden thirst, fear not. Libations are closer than you think.

Just look up!

At this location, you have your choice of two types of water, some sodas, or Nescafe. Or you may choose to go with the mystery mixers.

Good people of Gotham, while we applaud your generosity in sharing your drinks, and in keeping the floors and tracks clear of debris, this is not the appropriate location for discarding your bottles and cups.

PLEASE!

Kitchen catastrophes

You never know when the lessons from your youth are going to come in handy. Take this weekend for example …

I have never been known for my gracefulness. It can be said (and there are police reports and facial scars to back me up) that I’m more than just a little accident prone. There was no point sneaking into my house as a teenager because I would inevitably stumble over, or drop something, to give it way. To this day, my parents SWEAR they’ve never heard so much noise as when I visit, because I’m always knocking something over in the kitchen or bathroom. (I say the latter is because I’m used to my own stuff in my own tiny space. There’s more walls and stuff at their house that gets in my way!)

In an earlier stage of my life I worked for a major fast food chain, where I got a thorough education in many, many things (some not suitable for innocent nieces and nephews to ever learn about.) In addition to learning that “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean,” I got the first of my marriage proposals (more on that MUCH LATER). One of the oddest things I remembered from my time in the grease pit came back to me in a big ol’splash one day this past weekend.

It was one of the first autumnal days we’ve had this season, with tropical rains and winds making it seem like it was late November instead of mid-September. I got in the mood to cook, so I was spending time in my teeny tiny kitchenette. On the stove top I had a large cauldron of black bean soup bubbling away, and the oven was full of scarily spicy peanut butter cookies. Since my minuscule sink was full of dirty dishes, I was bustling around to put things away to make room. As I blindly reached down to put pots and pans away on my rolling shelves/counter top, I wasn’t really paying close attention. Suddenly I heard a large splat and saw that somehow I’d managed to knock over the gallon jug of olive oil … and it was glooping and glopping its contents across my kitchen floor and onto the walls … and the puddle was getting bigger and bigger! Hysterical panic set in, as my paper towels ran out and no newspapers were to be found. I just wanted to scream “CLEAN UP IN AISLE 1!” and let someone else deal with the mess. Alas, no one rode their mop to my rescue.

It was in that instance when the lessons learned at the fry vat suddenly came to mind. In case of major grease spillage, look for the salt box! Not the salt shaker, but the large container of salt that hides in the recesses of every pantry or kitchen shelf somewhere in most of the world. Grab it, open it, and spread the content around on the spill, very very liberally. Not only does the salt seem to absorb the oily mess, it adds some traction to your shoes while you run around and try and contain the rest of the disaster. (This is akin to using sand and/or kitty litter to get traction in the snow in the winter.) It also buys you a moment or two to take stock of the situation.

As I was contemplating the cleanup of my kitchen catastrophe, the perfect storm of conditions continued to hit critical mass. With one hand dripping in oil, the other caked with salt, and me trying to figure out how to get the almost burning cookies out of the oven or how to get the pot to stop from boiling over, wouldn't you know it? The cell phone rang. Rather than let it go to voice mail, I just had to answer it. (You know, ‘cause I’m conditioned that way. D**n it PAVLOV!) I believe that’s when the hysterical laughter--AT MYSELF--began to emerge. [Sorry about that, Jenn. Thanks for understanding and for calling me back.]

Once calmed, I managed to find a way to gloss over the situation. I rescued the cookies, turned down the soup, and then turned to tackling the huge salt and oil slick on the floor. I also very carefully put the gallon of olive oil BACK in the pantry … on the floor … away from the ministrations of my bumbling self …. .

Plus I took pictures to remind me of the mess, though they don’t quite capture the Technicolor wonder of the olive oil contrasting with my nasty linoleum.

After many minutes making salt "castles" on the floor, followed by the services of my Dust Buster sucking gross stuff out of crevasses and grooves, and lots of scrubbing with Lysol wipes, the floor has a nice sheen to it. Is it me though, or does everything taste oh so slighty ... salty?



Nah. You’re imaging that Auntie “Grace,” along with the phantom grit that you’re feeling when you walk across the floor …

Wakeup Call

What's better than four alarm clocks, running for an early train, and/or a caffeinated beverage to get you going in the morning? FREEZING COLD SHOWERS!

Our building is full of college students and working stiffs; two groups of people who hate the morning for various reasons. Getting up is difficult, so any help is appreciated. ... well, almost any help. (reference above)

The following notices went up around the building last week.

Like this time of year isn't hard enough, what with school and depressing anniversaries, and the health warnings about washing up properly so as not to get the H1N1 virus, now there is NO HOT WATER? Eh, at least we got notices this time. Usually we find out the hard way. ... Canyou say, shrinkage?

Mr. Landlord,

If you must "motivate" us in the morning, I would prefer an ice cold Diet Coke over an ice cold shower.

Just a suggestion.

Hugs and kisses,

Auntie Nettie

Retroblog September 12, 1983

Today is Mond 9/12/83 Time ------

Todays o.k. I am going to school now. Labor day we went to the Woodstock fair. I loved it. There must have been thousands of horse. Beautiful horses -- Till next week

One of the things that miss at this time of year is all the agricultural fairs. While I was horse obsessed in 1983, now days I would be obsessing over the crafts and food displays, away from the dusty animals.

There are no fairs in the area of New York where I live. One of my colleaques lives across from fairgrounds in New Jersey and has been over dropping off baked goods in the competitions for pies. I'm a little jealous. I'd be over dropping off afghans, or getting a inferiority complex from the knitters.

September 11, 2001

Not forgotten

No time to blog

Busy busy busy busy busy busy busy ...

must.get.back.to.work

Retroblog First Day of School 1981

1981/Fourth Grade

Almost thirty years later (and that hurts), and some things haven't changed too much.

I still have to get up by 7:00 a.m. (though I can't!);
I still have to wear nice clothes, usually a skirt/shirt, and/or dress/suit (though I rather be wearing jeans); and
I am STILL undecided about how I feel about being back in school, even if I'm working at one, not attending it as a student.

Retroblog September 7, 1983

Today is Wednesday, 9/7/83 Time 7:40 P.M.

I don't have time. I'll write Tomorrow.

I don't what was so important that I didn't have time to write. Could it have been homework? A novel interrupted? Daydreams? I had time to draw a smiley face.

Craft Talk

This seems perfect for a Friday before a long weekend, that no doubt will be dedicated to ... crafting.

Thanks to Big J colleague from the IT department for sharing this one with me.

Retroblog September 3, 1985

Today is September 3, 1985 Time 10:30

Hi! Boy it's been along time since I last wrote! 2 years in fact. But I've written in my diary. I'm going to write about something that happened to me almost a month ago. It was on August 14, 15, 16, and 17. For almost a year the Young Women had been paying monthly installments for a General Young Women's symposium for Girls 12- ____ from Connecticut, New York, Maine, Rhode Island, Vermont and New Hampshire. It cost $195. The girls who went from our ward were me, Luci, Pam, Mom, Sister Luty, Eva, Vicki, Lisa, Debbie and Lea. Sister Starko went too. On the first nite while we had the bar-b-que I looked around and thought WOW are there a LOT of girls here!

(CON)

that night during the skits Sister Kapp and Sister Ramsas from the General Young Women Board showed up they sat a row behind me. Up to the skit it hadn't hit me that I was actually at the conference But when we all got on the stage and did our things it hit me. The next day when I was in the talent show and I saw the girls from the other stakes it was great we all got close and made friends. When all the girls got to gether and sang the Rianbow Connection. It was GREAT. That nite when we went swimming it seemed as all the girls were wimming. It the Water Carnival the next nite all the girls

(CON)

our ward and stake became closer tring. We got third place! Before we left all the Ashford girls - Mom, Sister Starko, and Sister Luty all bore our testimonies. A very moving experience. As we went home we stopped at a mall - It seemed to me like coming out of a dream into a nightmare - There was porno all over the place YUK!

The best part of the whole thing was listening to Sis. Kapp talk!

Hope we have another!

Although I will still be posting retroblog entries from this volume, this is the last real entry in this journal.

It alludes to the fact that I must have been keeping some entries in another diary, but I know those have been destroyed.

Two years shows some definite improvements in the handwriting, spelling, and ability to write down more details, so it's a shame I didn't keep it up the journal.

The girls and ladies from my congregation have scattered over time. Sister Starko moved away and we still occassionally exchange holiday cards. Sister Luty, a major influence on my musical career, passed away a few years ago, and I know she's keeping that choir of angels hopping up in heaven. Everytime I hear a congregation singing hymns on Sunday MUCH too slowly, or see a kid running through the halls at a church, I think of Sister Luty.

I went through most of my teen church years with Eva and Vicki. The stories they could tell about me, and I pray they don't! Loose the photos ladies, please. (Girls, if you are reading this, forgive me for being so bad at being in touch. Many many congrats Vicki and Gary on your lovely addition! She's beautiful!)

Don't be a boar!

You never know what's going on behind closed doors at the Big J. One day you step out of your office and you see nuns or thespians walking by; another day, a door opens and you see a bunch of boars.

Etching Advice

Dear New and Returning Students:

Welcome back! We hope you had a restful summer. Things were quite busy here at the School. Returning students will notice that renovations are almost complete. We suggest that all students and staff pay attention to room signs and directions, as offices and classrooms have changed, relocated, and/or been added. Maps and extra signage have been placed around the building to help you find your way. (Although it has been suggested, we will NOT be painting directional arrows along the walls, or inlaying compass points into the carpet. You are grown ups, you can figure it out.)

Most importantly, the School's lawyers, counselors, and health officers would like you to pay extra special attention to the subliminal advice that has been etched into every one of the elevator walls.

Please,

do not drink the

(KOOLAID!)

Sincerely,
The Facilities Staff

P.S. If we do find out that it was a student who etched the graffiti into the elevators, we will be a) sending you to the Dean for disciplinary action, b) sending you a bill for the resurfacing of the walls, and c) sending you to remedial handwriting classes.