book-o-rama

Recently (read: since last week), I've been on a reading binge. Big time binge. Why? I'm here, in the same place I was last summer and the one before that and it's hotter than sin outside. And The Rock goes to bed at the unseemly hours of 8:30 or 9. Can adults do that of their own free will? (I know, I know, plenty of people do just that every night.)

So here's a list of some books I've enjoyed in the past weeks, (and a shout out to you if you recommended them):

• Empire by Orson Scott Card (p.s. I'm not an Orson Scott Card maniac. Just FYI.) You want action? done. You want some political commentary (or at least thought provoking look at American politics)? done. Fast moving, not space alien sci-fi like some of his others. If you read it PLEASE tell me so we can chat about it.
• The China Study by T. Collin Campbell and son. One man's attempt to prove via gobs and gobs of scientific studies that diet can prevent cancer, heart disease and many other ailments. If you already suffer from those things, his theory is that a change in diet could actually reverse or at least lessen the impact of the problem. There's a section on how food manufactures and lobbies impact what and how we think about food. (does anyone know if this has been challenged? I'm guessing yes...)
  
• The Changeling Sea by Patricia McKillip. A short, sweet and definitely fantasy story. You can read the official summary yourself, because if I give one, it will just spoil it for you.
  
• The Ear, The Eye, and The Arm by Nancy Farmer. A mystery/adventure story set in Zimbabwe in something like 2120 (or was it 2021?). The kids of a defense leader are kidnapped and three detectives with special powers attempt to find the kids. The story is mostly focused on and told from the perspective of the kids (so I'm not sure why the detectives stole the title).
• And Moo, who is refusing to write anything on the blog right now due to a bad case of goo-goo eyes, has recommended Love in the Driest Season by Neely Tucker--the story of how a couple adopted a child from Zimbabwe. NPR did a story on it, so if you want a summary, look it up on NPR (I'm being lazy about posting a link for you all, sorry). I just checked out the book today, so I'll give you an update when I'm done.

Housekeeping

So, a few of you have sent in comments on the last post...They are great. I love reading comments. HOWEVER, I'm having difficulties with my computer, so the comments won't show up right away, but I am reading them and appreciating them.

As for my real housekeeping issue: there is a smell at my house. It's new, it's exciting, and it's bothering me! It's not a rotting smell, it's not a stinky feet smell, it's a synthetic smell. I don't think it's our bikes (which live in the house, the rationale for which anyone in Tucson will readily discern), and it's not our "new" couch. What is this mystery smell?

Once I had a different mystery smell (my neighbor smoking in his apartment)--the smell itself wasn't the mystery: our apartment smelled like a motel--you know that odor of someone-has-smoked-here-just-not-right-at-this-minute-smell? That one. The mystery was, Where was the smell originating? Mystery solved: the neighbor. During that time, I was wondering if I was imagining the smell sometimes, so I asked a friend if my house smelled funny. She said, "Well I don't know what it smells like in here normally, so I don't know." Good point.

So I'm stuck in the same position once again, except the uncertainty of WHAT is causing the smell is almost more troublesome than the smell. Until I figure it out, I'll be at my apartment taking up-close wiffs of everything it might possibly be (so far I've smelled the couches (twice) and the bikes, and the garbage (ok, I just took it out, because I've already tried that before and regretted it.) What else is there to smell? --Lu

chicken mania

Once I thought I might want to own some chickens. This started when I was reading the book Flipped by Wendelin Van Draanen (I found a copy of it at a thrift store for 25 cents! I love that kind of price!) . (it has a chicken right there on the front cover...subtle indoctrination from the start!) It's a teen fiction book, it's a short, light read, and the main character owns some chickens. And that is where I learned that chickens lay eggs whether there is a rooster or not (I know they need a rooster if you want chicks, but I didn't know the egg laying was spontaneous. Pitifully ignorant, I know.) The book also contains the notion that eventually, hens lose their drive and egg-laying begins to peter out. That got me thinking: Is that true? So I started an unofficial poll. (it's a fun poll to take because you can really catch people off guard by asking, Have you owned chickens?) The answer I've come to is that chickens' desire doesn't drop off just because there isn't a rooster around (if you have had different experiences...let me know because, well, read on...).

And that means that yes, I could own chickens someday. Fresh eggs, little clucky hens with names like Gladys and Marigold = my future.

This future all depends on there NOT being a rooster involved. My aversion to roosters started the first time I met one. When I visited Karl's work (located in a small southern Arizona town), there was a rooster nearby (read: next door). It cock-a-doodle-doo'ed (you try spelling that and see if you fare any better!) all day long. Every 15 seconds (or less) there was another crowing. My nervous twitch started after 2 minutes and 10 seconds. That is how long a rooster would last at my house--because on second 11 I would be rooster hunting.

In conclusion, I'm wondering if this city-girl desire for some hens of my own is something anyone has advice about...please let me know so I can start making realistic plans for my future chicken coop. --Lu

Fantasy Island

So I've been mountain biking for a little over a year now. And there is a "famous" trail here in Tucson, called Fantasy Island. And I've ridden that trail multiple times (including the "bunny trail" which should be renamed the "boring trail" just so you know). There are some sweet spots on the trail, including one called The Shaft. There is a caution sign right before the descent that shows a biker flying off of his crashing bike, and a vulture flying overhead. Some enterprising biker slapped an Air Evac sticker to the bottom of the sign. So that's the setting for the subject of today's post.

Before you watch the classic film I've posted below, I want to say for the record that I have successfully ridden down The Shaft several times. That said, check out the video:



Yes, I clung to my bike as if it weren't crashing to the ground. If this video is any indication, this girl would have stuck with the Titanic till the bitter end. In my defense, I have crashed before this and always managed to lessen the fall by ditching my bike somewhere between the upright position and the ground. Oh, and that male voice: that's The Rock right before he came to my aid and sympathized with me (he happens to have similar wounds on his arms too from last week's ride on the same trail. BUT he was attempting a Sweet jump at the time.)

This is my biggest crash. But just as there is shame in the fall, there is glory in the injuries. (thankfully they are all "merely flesh wounds." Another testament to the fact that prayers are answered and that helmets and biking glasses are worn for a reason.)

In which a compliation of Moo's emails are set forth

An email from Moo, sent to Lu at 9am today:

It's raining today, and I'm throwing a Sherbert Cake party at 8, and
would you and Em like to come?
The Fiancé is coming home tonight too. Yay!
Cake! Fiancé! friends!
Ok. I go now. I forgot my camera today, or I would send you pictures of the Oscar Meyer Wiener truck that was parked across the street from the Pizza Place last night. A kid in a Scooby Doo costume, (fake head and ALL) showed up at the end. It was great.

Today is Declare Your Own Holiday Day.
Mine is...Sherbert Cake Day.
We can throw it again next week so you won't be left out.

MAAAA!

Love,

Your Koobish (see http://www.smekday.com/ )

AND LATER THAT SAME DAY:
My chest feels all tight and woolly when I breathe really deep. I think I have pneumonia, and boy aren't I glad I paid attention in fourth grade spelling at Franklin. Now I can finally play Invalid, with Wane Cheeks (wheeeeze.....wheeeeeze) And you can bring me white roses from the fields, and Mother, standing in the door will notice the contrast between her sturdy elder daughter with the rosy countenance, and will then look at her thin, skeleton-like younger daughter, and weep without consolation into her apron---for I am doomed to death.

The End. (but say it sad, or it won't work right. none of these exuberant THE ENDS today.)

Good thing I'm going to make the Sherbert Cake of Wellness. Of course this requires walking through the rain and cold wind to get to the grocery store, but bah.

Love you Loo!

you (or Meg) may have my green box with the doves on it if I die.

Moo

[Editor's note: Did everybody follow that? If not, skip to the post o' pictures just below this one. It's pretty straightforward. This is the kind of goodness that comes in email form from Moo to brighten my day. I just love that girl! --Lu]

Speaking of Trees...

Seeing the forest AND the trees

I was looking at a drawing book today on the bus during my morning commute. The guy next to me is covertly checking out what I'm looking at (I know, because I do it too when someone next to me is reading, so I know all the "signs and symptoms"). Finally, after seeing me flip through several pages on how to draw really great trees he says, "So, are you learning to be an architect?" -- Lu