Window on the West

Welcome to the Grand Reopening!

2010-04-08T22:24:00.003-05:00

I have decided to reactivate my blog. I know, there are so many of you waiting with bated breath. Took me a while to figure out my password. I think I gave up on the blog back when Google purchased blogspot and I couldn't figure out how to log on. And yet, here I am.

Looks like my last post was from August 2006. My user profile has disappeared, so I have updated that. Might actually get a curious reader. I uploaded a photo. Blogger responded with the message "Fetching photo...". Aren't they complimentary, lol! There are a couple of drafts still saved, one of them entitled "Men are such fucking idiots." Will have to read that one.

Hmmm, so what has happened since August 2006? My first husband died in June of 2006. Maybe that had something to do with the lack of blogging. I was in a very strange place. We weren't even living together at the time, having been separated for two years, but it was still very traumatic. My children were 6 and 3 at the time, and the six-year-old found the body. Somehow in the hazy months that followed I met someone new, someone really special. We married a little over a year ago. And now I seem to have settled in a whole new place, back to me.

So why activate the blog now? Well, I've been doing a lot of reading lately. And reading does two things. One, reading makes me think, and thinking makes me want to write. Two, reading makes me want to write. Some of what I read makes me think, "I could do that!", or even, "I could do that better!" So either way, reading leads to writing. And thinking. And thinking is a very dangerous thing.

E.L.F. 2006 - Sunday

2006-08-18T07:33:00.000-05:00

I'm afraid I was in a bit of a sour mood by Sunday morning. Some of you are aware that my husband passed away on June 7th. We had been separated for 21 months prior to his death, so while my adjustment has been easier than for some widows, I make up for it with extra guilt. His death was unexpected, and planning the funeral in North Carolina and then flying myself and my two children to New Orleans for the graveside service was, to say the least, stressful. I had already scheduled some ambitious travel plans for July, and decided not to cancel them at that late date. I spent the first week of July at the North Carolina Outer Banks with my mother and my children, and it was not exactly relaxing as I ended up as caretaker for all the rest. A week later, I loaded the kids in the car again so I could attend a seminar at Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina in furtherance of my volunteer career as a breastfeeding counselor. Two weeks later, and we're flying to Newark, so as you can imagine, by Sunday I was really wishing the weekend was over and I was back home in my own bed. Instead, I was faced with a room full of unpacked belongings and the prospect of being a Hobbit all over again. At this point, I was wishing I at least had a change of Hobbit clothes, but hey, Billy Boyd deserves us, so I went to work packing and strapped that corset on one more time.

We stored our luggage and then made our way to the convention area. I had decided to skip the charity brunch with Billy Boyd, so the first item on the agenda was Michael Drout's presentation on "From Beowulf to Middle-earth." I am so thankful I joined an online read of Beowulf this year. I never read it in school, and this reading was done in fits and spurts, and is, in fact, unfinished, but I have made it through Grendel, Grendel's mother, and the dragon. According to Prof. Drout, Tolkien's essay "The Monsters and the Critics" is credited with changing the way Beowulf is taught, from a scholarly extant text to a story about monsters. Michael Drout shared with us in his previous presentation how while reviewing documents in the Tolkien archives, he came across Tolkien's unpublished book-length criticism of Beowulf, from which he drew this essay. Unpublished! Tolkien! It doesn't get any better for an English professor. With the cooperation of Christopher Tolkien, he was able to edit and publish Tolkien's text in 2002 in the middle of the film frenzy. You can see some of Michael Drout's work at http://www.michaeldrout.com/

In his Sunday presentation, Michael Drout discussed philology and linguistics and how languages evolve. For example, the "p" sound in the word "pisces", (Prof. Drout gave us the technical description for this sound but I can only remember "breathless" and "stop") changes to the "f" sound in "fish", an interdental fricative (remembered that one!). By noting the rules for these sound changes, one can reconstruct an ancient language. Tolkien was fascinated by devolving the story behind language, and his fantasy work was an attempt to fill in the cultural gaps.

Prof. Drout then connected Beowulf to Lord of the Rings. You may be aware that the Rohirrim had Anglo-Saxon names, the language in which Beowulf was written. (This is noted in Unwritten Tales in the footnotes.) Furthermore, the legendary ancestor of the Rohirrim, Eorl and his people had Gothic names. The Rohirrim regarded the Elves with distrust, calling them witches and sorcerers, similar to the portrayal of Elves in Anglo-Saxon culture. Beowulf was Geatish, from Geatland (pronounced "yaht-land in Anglo-Saxon), which is generally assumed to be the same as Gotland, thus the land of the Goths or Gothic. Hence one could say that Beowulf and Elves are part of the culture and history of the Rohirrim.

I think Prof. Drout enjoyed his moment of celebrity. Instead of a room full of (possibly) disinterested college students with their Ipods and instant message cell phones, he had a room full of interested and knowledgeable adults, albeit dressed as Hobbits, Elves, and Wizards. He got to shill his website and books. He even got to sign a few autographs. And he told a really funny story about why it is important to learn Beowulf. He asks his Beowulf students to memorize the first few lines of Beowulf in Anglo-Saxon, and he had one student who was very uncomfortable speaking aloud in class and struggled with the language. She was only able to pass the course by meeting him in his office and reciting it there, but not before questioning why she needed to learn this stuff anyway. She got her answer while traveling abroad. She found herself in a pub in Australia, and one of the locals promised a round of drinks for all if anyone could recite the first ten lines of Beowulf in Anglo-Saxon. She was the most popular person in the bar that night! Michael Drout has recorded Beowulf in the original Anglo-Saxon. It sounds perfect for those nights around the fire with your comrades.

Throughout the weekend, the convention organizers had been showing fan videos. Most were film footage set to pop songs. One of the most memorable was a lengthy "Middle-earth Idol" with "contestants," all the same actress, costumed as various LOTR characters singing Idol-style pop songs intercut with film footage. On Sunday, they showed a trailer for a spoof film, Dork of the Rings. The producers of Dork of the Rings were making the convention rounds last year with their costumed actors and previews. At the same time, Cliff Broadway and Carlene Cordova were making the rounds with their documentary, Ringers: Lord of the Fans. Apparently the two groups got together and made a mocumentary of Dork of the Rings called Dorkers, thereby spoofing their own documentary on the subject of a spoof of their original subject. Got that? It was pure genius, with so-called experts, comic book collectors, the grandson of the Dork of the Rings author, actor interviews, fan tributes, and following the format of Ringers, a history of Dork of the Rings fandom. They even brought in the actress dressed as Gandalf from "Middle-earth Idols." I think the mocumentary may even be better than the original spoof.

Following the videos, I left for my photo-op with Billy Boyd. Sarah and Joseph were still in their costumes. Sue joined us for a wait in line and graciously French-braided Sarah's hair and adorned it with yellow flowers reminiscent of Elanor. When Billy Boyd came through, we got the same wink and nod we'd gotten from Sean Astin. When our turn came, Billy was very gracious. He talked with both the children, complimenting Joseph on his tartan waistcoat. Then he corrected himself and said "you call it a vest." "Today it's a waistcoat," I replied. He then asked Joseph his name, to which Joseph answered "Spiderman," and proffered his temporary arm tattoo of Spiderman. So we bantered like that, posed for our picture, and then to my surprise, everyone in the room applauded. Can't wait to see the picture.

After the photo op we changed into regular clothes. I would be a Hobbit no more! When we got all presentable again, we headed back to the auditorium just in time for Billy Boyd's talk. He was a bit of comic, repeatedly knocking over the mic stands and noting a "hazard" on the stage, a gap in the platform. When someone arrived late, he quickly ran through everything he'd said and done thus far, noting "and there's a hazard on the stage." He's very physical, and someone asked him if he'd ever done stand-up (a couple of times). One of the first questions he took was to name eighteen things he liked about Dominic Monaghan. He reeled off a few, and then said he would add more as he thought of them throughout the show. Eventually, after the umpteenth time he noted the "hazard", he said that sometimes it was the repetition that made things funny, and this was something he liked about Dom. He told a story about how every time they drove by a sheep pasture in New Zealand (and they have a lot of sheep), Dom would yell "resume your positions!" At first it wasn't funny at all, but after a month it was hilarious. Towards the end of his presentation, Billy dropped a leather bracelet, and there were so many gasps in the audience, he offered it up to the highest bidder for charity. When it got to $250, he turned around while the finalists selected a number, and then he called out the winning number. "Sold, for 250 pounds," he shouted. "No, dollars!" we all replied. Hey, we know our exchange rates!

After Billy's presentation, the convention organizers auctioned off Lord of the Rings pictures, posters, and plaques, including all the vinyl convention banners, while Billy Boyd signed autographs. The banners have film publicity photos or a collage of photos plus the convention information, so they are very limited edition. The two stage banners signed by all the celebrity guests went for about $550 and $650. I joined in the bidding frenzy and got an unsigned stage banner for $120, which I promptly had Billy Boyd sign. I already had two autograph tickets myself, but Billy also generously signed a third autograph on a New York City postcard for my daughter.

After that the show was over for us. I know many of the people stay for Sunday night, and if I could get an extra day off, I would have certainly stayed as well. Instead, Sue offered us a ride to the airport, and after a brief side trip to view the Statue of Liberty, we found ourselves stuck in traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike. After a panicky 20 minutes, we finally cleared the construction and approached the airport, a mere 45 minutes before our flight was scheduled to leave. If you've read my journal of E.L.F. 2005, you may recall that we stayed at the convention to get our precious autographs from Elijah Wood, leaving us little time to make our flight. Even though the convention organizers moved us to the front of the autograph line, we made it to the airport only 25 minutes before our flight left. We had missed the 30 minute rule and the airline would not let us on. We re-ticketed for later that evening and didn't leave Orlando until about 11:00 pm, watching our fellow convention-goers come and then leave again. I wasn't about to miss this flight. I can be pretty brazen when I have to, so I went straight to the curbside check-in counter bypassing the line. When they asked who was next I said "I don’t know who's next, but my plane leaves in 45 minutes," and they checked us in. I gave the guy an extra tip, hugged Sue goodbye, and then we raced to the gate like Hobbits running from Ringwraiths. After a brief tangle in security (literally, we couldn't find the opening in the nearly empty serpentine rope line) we made it to the gate to find our flight delayed twenty minutes. Whew! We loaded up on cookies, chips, and drinks for our nutritious dinner and boarded the plane for home, as another E.L.F. weekend faded into memory.

Postscript: After repeatedly vowing in front of witnesses to abstain from anymore fan conventions until my children were older, I found out the next convention was scheduled for Schaumburg, Illinois July 27-29, 2007. Now I was already toying with the idea of attending the La Leche League International convention which just happens to be in Chicago on July 20-23. I may even be a presenter at the LLLI convention. And LLLI is based in Schaumburg, a suburb of Chicago. Hmmmm, maybe I could just take the whole week…

Thank goodness we missed all the new security rules in the wake of the foiled mass airplane downing in the U.K. And thank goodness we missed a mass airplane downing.

E.L.F. 2006 - Saturday

2006-08-07T22:40:00.000-05:00

Saturday morning dawned late for me. I took Joseph downstairs in search of a bagel and a decaf coffee. The coffee shop only had pastries and cookies, so we availed ourselves of the breakfast buffet in the restaurant. They seated the Reeve family right next to us, and Joseph, who has a habit of throwing any object when it is no longer of any use to him, threw his used napkin on Daniel Reeve. Sorry!

Returning upstairs, we donned our Hobbit dress for photo-ops with Sean Astin. Joseph was not particularly interested in looking like Frodo Gardner, and voiced a preference for "Elmo." (When you think about it, "Elmo" does sound like a Hobbit name.) After some struggle, I got him in his short pants and braces and puffy cotton shirt. When he balked at the waistcoat, I decided not push my luck. Sarah and I, dressed as Rosie and Elanor for the day, laced up our bodices and drew on a bit of feet fur with a body crayon. Sarah can draw an excellent poodle upside-down on her leg, so I let her do the drawing for all of us. I packed a bag for the day with camera, cell phone, shunned waistcoat, and shoes for all. We padded off to the elevator, and when we got to the 1st floor, we were greeted by a crowd of women who squealed with delight when they saw my little Frodo Gardner. He was at first taken aback, but when he realized they liked him, he was quite pleased and happy to wear the costume from then on.

We met up with Sue, wandered around the disappointingly spare exhibit room, and popped in the main auditorium for some of the filler programming. Sue stayed for a presentation by Lynette Porter on "Heroic Hobbits" while my crew went to stand in line for our photo ops with Sean Astin. My kids looked just adorable. Joseph drew "oohs" and "ahs" wherever he went. I thought our outfits looked pretty good, even if they were a collection of found and purchased items. While I have grand ideas, I don't have a sewing machine, and I don't have the time to buy fabric and hand-sew something. I'm certainly not going to be distressing leather or making armaments, or even making real furry feet. Even if I could figure out how to make hobbit feet, what are the chances I could get both kids to wear them? Same with the pointy ears – we're only going to be so accurate. Luckily, Sarah has naturally pointy ears.

Joseph's green corduroy pants with attached suspenders came from the bottom of his closet – they had once been part of his Christmas suit from two years ago so they were now the perfect length for hobbit trousers. I picked up his ivory shirt last year at a Renaissance Faire. It was collarless with a single button, and extra puffy because it is too big, but the suspenders helped to tame it. The eschewed vest was part of the same Christmas outfit. (Wait for it, it reappears on Sunday.) Sarah wore a handmade (by someone else) pink and ivory brocade skirt and bodice complete with a bell hanging from the bodice, also bought at the Renaissance Faire. I thought the bell was a nice Hobbitty touch. I wore a cotton poet's shirt with a large lace collar (actually a nightshirt in a previous life), a mid-calf length skirt with a green floral print, a lacy petticoat, and a solid green bodice. The shirt and the skirt were culled from a garage sale I hosted earlier this year. The bodice and petticoat were purchased, but the petticoat doubles as a peasant skirt, and I actually wear it in real life.

After a short wait, Sean Astin made his entrance and the kids got a wink and nod as he went by. Picture taking goes remarkably fast at these things, and Sean was his usual congenial self. He's very good with kids, and last year he put Sarah on his lap. This year we were standing, but he asked them their names and talked to them. The picture turned out great, and as soon as I get a jpeg version, I will upload it.

After the pictures, the babysitter took the children to change clothes and try out the pool (very cold). I headed back to the auditiorium still in costume for Daniel Reeve's second presentation. He mostly discussed projects other than Lord of the Rings this time, King Kong in particular. We learned how painstakingly difficult it was draw King Kong's head on a map so that it resembled a coffee stain.

Shortly afterward Sean Astin made his entrance. He was his usual genial self. He treats his fans like regular people. He thanked some people in particular for some of the gifts they brought him, naming each gift and speaking directly to the person. He talked about his work on 24. Most of you know that he got the job through a chance meeting at his chiropractor's office, no thanks to his agent. He initially signed on for seven episodes, but the scripts kept coming. He'd flip through them to see if he was killed off yet (and, yes, he's been killed off). Someone asked him if he ever had any "Sam" moments, and he answered with a long story about "saving" his family from a very large spider. Autographs went quickly as he had a plane to catch at 6:00.

You may be aware that Elijah Wood had been scheduled for E.L.F. but cancelled in June. I'm sure that many people bought tickets in anticipation of meeting him, and I am very glad that I met him at the previous E.L.F, or I would have been sorely disappointed myself. On the positive side, Elijah Wood's absence meant no fangirl invasion on the day of his appearance, gumming up the convention for the rest of us. The audience by and large would remain the same group of serious fans each day. Another plus, and I mean no disrespect, but though I can be relatively at ease meeting Sean Astin or Billy Boyd, I turn to mush in the presence of Elijah Wood, and if I can manage audible speech, I get all tongue-tied. So I was really ok with his absence. The organizers tried to compensate the fans, first with a "to be announced" slot on the schedule, which became a video, which then became a live video, which then became an interactive live video feed, possibly overlapping Sean Astin's presentation. None of that happened, not Saturday, not Sunday, for reasons we may never know. All ticket-holders did get autographed photos of Elijah, but I'm sure some people felt cheated. Interestingly, no such attempt was made to compensate for John Rhys-Davies late cancellation the week before.

After getting my autographs, I changed out of my Hobbit costume for an early dinner with Sue and the family. Then it was back to the room to dress everyone again for the costume contest. This time Joseph was happy to wear his vest. Contest entrants included a very realistic Haradrim, father and son Rohirrim warriors, a Gandalf, an Easterling Lady, several Eowyns, miniature and full-size both in courtly white and casual green, a Frodo, various Elves including a trio, though I'm not sure exactly who they were, and a crowd favorite, the Ring. I don't know how the judges decided because all the costumes were excellent, and some were quite detailed. In case you're wondering (or are perhaps looking for Halloween ideas), the Ring costume was constructed out of two hula hoops and a wide band of gold fabric with Elvish writing. The children and I made a nice showing (Sue thinks we should have won), and for our efforts we got a $25 gift certificate and many requests for pictures. Third prize went to Frodo, 2nd prize to the Rohirrim warriors, and 1st prize, a $250 gift certificate, to the Elf trio.

The talent show followed the costume contest, and many of these were costumed as well. Some of the crowd favorites were a young boy who performed Aragorn's soliloquy at the Black Gate, some free-style poetry, a skit involving Frodo, Gandalf and a lawyer for New Line Cinema, and a nice rendition of "Into the West." I'm sure I've forgotten something worthwhile, but the overwhelming winner was a Wood Elf from the costume contest. She sang an original song entitled "I Would be a Wood Elf Myself" while accompanying herself on acoustic guitar. It was very folksy, the microphone wouldn't stay in place, and she forgot some lines and dropped her pick, but it all seemed to add to the charm and humor. Thankfully, I don't have to try to remember all the lyrics, because she posted them here. Wood Elf

After the talent show, Emerald Rose began their set. They are a Celtic Rock band, and they soon had everyone dancing. My kids were like whirling dervishes, but at midnight when Joseph could stand up no more, I finally took them up to the room. Sarah wasn't ready to leave and wanted to return, but it took an hour for Joseph to wind down and fall asleep. By that time the party was over and the remnants had moved to the bar, but for some reason they frown on taking young children into bars in New Jersey. I took the little party animal back upstairs and we went to bed. The next morning she informed me that she would like to have a band at her birthday party.

Coming eventually, Sunday!

E.L.F. 2006 - Friday

2006-08-02T14:24:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm back.

I survived another E.L.F. Weekend of Wonder. As the saying goes, if 'ya ain't tired, you didn't do it right. I can now say I partied with John Noble and Daniel Reeve. Had a good showing in the costume contest. Danced the night away Hobbit-style. Learned what a voiced inter-dental fricative is. Got winks and nods from fellow Hobbits Sean Astin and Billy Boyd. Came home with lots of autographed memorabilia, including one of the enormous stage banners advertising the show. And of course, no E.L.F. weekend is complete without a missed or near-missed flight and an O.J. Simpson-like post-9/11 sprint through the airport. And I wasn't even late for work Monday morning.

Friday morning started with an early alarm at 5:00 am. An hour and a half later and I was on the way to the airport with two dressed but sleeping children and Erica my babysitter. We arrived at the airport in Charlotte, NC, checked the luggage curbside, parked, caught the shuttle, strolled leisurely through security, got a cup of coffee and some breakfast, and boarded our plane in a calm and orderly fashion. After an uneventful trip we landed at the Newark airport shortly after 11:00. The entire day was still ahead of us!

After settling in at the hotel, I picked up my registration materials while the Erica and the children entertained themselves. Sarah, my six-year-old daughter, and I caught the tail-end of the first session, an entertaining presentation by Daniel Reeve, calligrapher, cartographer, and graphic artist for the Lord of the Rings movies and other projects. Any writing, any map scattered on a table, any inscription you saw in the films, he did it. He showed us all the fonts he developed for the different characters and cultures of Middle-earth. He talked about how demanding Peter Jackson was. Think it's easy to distress a map? You can wrinkle it, tear it, burn it, and stain it. Then make three exact copies. Huh? But he did it. He showed us a few inside jokes. He would display a slide of Tolkien's map of ME, then his, then a map of New Zealand. They are remarkably similar, so he added an island here, enlarged a bay there, until his map of ME looked exactly like New Zealand! He also showed us enlargements of some of the maps where you could see the names of members of the art department or Peter Jackson on islands and such.

Some of the documents are written in Elvish or Dwarvish. Daniel Reeve had to compose plausible text for all these because they knew that someone somewhere would freeze-frame it and try to translate it. No jibberish, cursing, or insulting the management allowed! He also found himself composing a few more verses to the Lay of Beleriand since Tolkien only composed 5 himself and they needed more verses on the page.

Daniel Reeve was followed by Michael Drout, pronounced like"drought", a professor of English at Wheaton college. He came in through a door in the back of the room, yelled "What?", then began reciting Beowulf in Anglo-Saxon. When he finished his short recitation, he explained that Tolkien opened his classes on Anglo-Saxon in the same manner, reciting the first 50 lines of Beowulf (though he only recited the first 11). This he suggested, was an attempt to scare the less devoted students out of the class, thus leaving Tolkien with fewer papers to grade. He then discussed various kings in legend and literature, from King Hrothgar and Beowulf, to King Albert, often regarded as the first English king, to Viggo Mortensen's portrayal of Aragorn. These kings demonstrated modesty, usually coupled with a firm sense of their birthright. If you are familiar with Beowulf, you know that he declined to be placed among Hrothgar's sons, declined to marry his uncle Higlaf's wife (um, eeewww, was Drout's ad-lib comment), and declined to accept the kingship of Geatland until Higlaf's son was killed in battle. Only then did he finally accept the crown, and continued to rule for fifty years, which in Anglo-Saxon, means a long time. Similarly, Aragorn of Tolkien's book would not take the crown through force nor outshine Denethor, but waited until he had the opportunity to prove himself and the people were willing to accept him as king. Aragorn of the books never doubted his right to rule as he carried the shards of Narsil about, but waited patiently for the right opportunity.

Aragorn of the films however doubted his ability to rule and was initially reluctant to assert any authority. This Aragorn leaves Narsil in the museum.* (Peter Jackson says this is because it would look silly on film for Aragorn to pull out a broken sword, but I think it fits seamlessly with the character portrayal.) Michael Drout opined that because of relatively recent experiences with dictators such as Hitler, the viewing public regards someone sure of his right to rule with distrust. Thus Viggo Mortensen deflated Aragorn's ego to some extent in order to make him palatable to Western audiences.

After Michael Drout I took a short break, missing some of the filler material like trivia contests and skits. On our way to our room Sarah and I ran into John Noble, who played Denethor, waiting for the elevator. I just happened to have some pictures of myself with John Noble that I took last year at DragonCon in Atlanta (what a coincidence!), so I whipped them out of my purse. We talked briefly about DragonCon. He hated it and told his agent never to book it again. DragonCon put all the celebrities in the back of the vendor room, a hot, crowded, serpentine madhouse of swords, circlets, superheroes, and shackles. To his credit, he autographed my ROTK Visual Companion book after his DragonCon presentation to save me the task of negotiating the autograph room. Anyway, I showed him the pictures and enjoyed this brief conversation until I got to my floor.

Next on my agenda was John Noble's actual presentation. He talked about acting, his career, upcoming projects, and so on. Regarding LOTR, he initially auditioned for both Saruman and Denethor, but agreed that Christopher Lee was perfect for the role. One of the hardest scenes he filmed was where he "sees" Boromir over Faramir's shoulder and then falls backward. He first did a sort of stage fall, but Peter Jackson said it wasn't real enough. So then he did a real fall, to which Peter Jackson said, "Great, let's do it again." They had to get the fall from different angles, so after repeated falls he had a terrible bruise. As a treat for us, he recited Denethor's line about "no long sleep of death embalmed …".

After John Noble's presentation, he and Daniel Reeve began signing autographs. Since I was in row D, and each row had 38 seats, this took a while. I finally got back to my room at about 8:00. I ordered room service for us all and then showered the long day's grime away. Several times that day I had been in touch with fellow message-boarder Sue, who lived nearby. We finalized plans to meet for the first time at the dessert party that night with John Noble. The party was sold out, but I had bought a full pass for my babysitter, and she was going to stay in with the kids, so Sue was going to use my second ticket.

I got to the party late, and all the tables were filled, and all the people at the tables were seemingly engrossed in their own conversations. John Noble and Daniel Reeve were slowly making their way through the party stopping at every table, so not much milling about as no one wanted to miss their turn. While I was pondering sit-down parties versus stand-up parties in my head, my cell phone went off. I expected it to be Sue, but instead it was my security service. My alarm was going off, so that was a little excitement while I spoke back and forth with Security Central, the police, and my next-door neighbor and simultaneously navigated a cocktail party. I found one of my row-mates from the auditorium, Karen, and we chatted a while. I got my table-turn with John Noble where I learned he had a 4:00 am flight to England scheduled the next morning. Then Sue showed up. We had a glass of wine, talked, and staked out the door so she could get a word with John Noble before he left. But neither John Noble nor Daniel Reeve seemed too intent on leaving the party. They just kept coming back. We got pictures. We talked. The party ended. We migrated to the bar. And we shut the bar down. John Noble and Daniel Reeve stayed the entire time, soaking up all the attention. We advised John Noble to forgo sleeping and just stay up until he needed to leave for the airport. Daniel Reeve opened his Saturday session with an apology for being disorganized, but he'd had a late night. Sue and I just smiled.

Coming soon: Saturday!

*My comment, not Michael Drout's.

Jungle Love and the Tarzan Movie Marathon

2006-04-18T23:36:00.000-05:00

Out of nostalgia, I recently picked up the DVD collection of the original six Tarzan movies, filmed in the 1930’s and 40’s, and starring Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan and Maureen O’Sullivan as Jane.  So far, I have watched the first three films in the series:  Tarzan the Ape Man, Tarzan and His Mate, and Tarzan Escapes.  I can remember watching these movies as a little girl on Saturday afternoons on TV.  I was as fascinated by Tarzan’s strength and form then as I am now, though I didn’t fully understand the attraction.  Tarzan was beauty and power.  He was protector and provider.  He was innocence and virility.  He was rescuer and fighter.  He was companion and lover.  He was man in his natural, unblemished state.  And Jane was destined to join him in his primitive world.  Some people might think the stories are corny, and I’m sure they strayed from Edgar Rice Burroughs original novel, but the films were an ambitious undertaking, with unbelievable stunts, impressive athleticism, and groundbreaking cinematography.

There is of course rampant racism in the films.  At one point in Tarzan the Ape Man, Jane vouches for Tarzan’s humanity by saying “he’s white,” but this article will not be about the racism in the Tarzan films.  Just know that it is there, that it is a reflection of the times in which it was filmed, but let it not overly mar your viewing experience.  After a brief National Geographic style introduction, the most favorable portrayal of the Africans is that of  superstitious slave-like porters.  The least favorable are the opposing savages who take thrill in the torture and killing of others.  Only one black actor has a role of any consequence, and that is the character of Saadi the overseer in the second film, Tarzan and His Mate.  He sacrifices himself to save a box of ammunition for the white hunters.  Strangely enough, the actor returns from the dead in the third film, but this time with the name of Bomba.  (This also happens with the bumbling Australian hunter Beamish, who returns two years later with the new name of Rawlins.)  Alas, Saadi/Bomba has lost most of his moral fiber as he sells out the white tourists to a savage tribe.

Like the red-shirted guy in Star Trek, you know most of the black guys will be killed off in each movie, at first by falling off the dangerously high and narrow pathways of the Mutia Escarpement, or eaten alive by an alligator, or shot to death for insubordination.  The rest usually meet a gruesome end at the hand of savage African tribesmen.  The white woman in the film always cringes to see such deaths, but more out of squeamishness and fear for her own safety than any sympathy for the poor African.

At times the acting and special effects can come across as a bit hammy to the modern viewer.  The damsel in distress emoting seems right out of silent film, but then again, these films are right out of silent film.  The style of acting was probably what the audience expected.  The special effects are actually quite fascinating and ambitious given the technology of the day.  Some of the animals are real and interacting with the humans on the set.  To see them on the screen must have been a real treat for the movie-goer.  Tarzan is shown wrestling a wildebeest and several large cats.  The animals are live, at least in some of the shots, but there may be a stunt double in Tarzan’s place at times.  The documentary included with the DVD’s will hopefully tell.  In one laughable scene, Cheeta, usually a real chimpanzee, is supposed to hold onto Tarzan’s back while he swims across the lagoon, but he is replaced with a puppet that jerks stiffly from side to side as Tarzan swims.  Puppets are used in other scenes, sometimes as animals with real people, and sometimes as people with real animals.  Most of the puppets are obviously fake.

Raging hippos attack the white hunters and herds of zebras run through the set.  There is one scene with a close-up of a zebra, and a part of me is wondering if they used a painted donkey in a zebra wig.  Maybe it was just a zebra with a lot of personality.

The wildebeest incident is particularly interesting in that the same footage is used repeatedly.  In this scene Tarzan goes out to fetch dinner as if he was going to the grocery store.  He wrestles a passing wildebeest to the ground, breaking its neck.  As he is stripping a large piece of flesh from the carcass, he is interrupted by a hungry lion.  Apparently not wishing to fight over dinner, Tarzan quickly leaves, steak in hand.  You’d think eventually the wildebeest would learn they are a walking supermarket.

Crocodiles figure largely in all of the films.  There are several shots of real ones slithering into the water and a well-known scene where Tarzan wrestles an unbelievably large one.  The filmmakers liked the scene so much, they used it in more than one film too.

Tarzan lives with a group of chimpanzees, the ones who presumably raised him, though the backstory is not provided.  Some of the apes are convincing actors in costume, and some are real chimpanzees.  He’s on friendly terms with the elephants as well, helping them out and occasionally hitching a ride on one.  Some of the elephants are on the set, though some scenes incorporate stock footage, and some scenes are reused.  (Why waste film?) The apes and elephants come to his aid whenever he calls, to fight off savages or crush villages.  Tarzan is truly the king of this jungle.

As blue screen technology is a long way in the future, all of the charging animals are stock footage projected on a backdrop.  In some shots the projection is three dimensional, showing the charge from the front, overhead, and the back.  The actors and the filmmakers do their part to make the scenes as convincing as possible.  I’m sure the target audience was suitably thrilled.  I know my kids, more used to the slick production in the likes of Harry Potter or The Chronicles of Narnia, were just as enthralled with the Tarzan movies.  They didn’t even ask why everything was gray.

Many of the scenes are quite spectacular, fake animal or not, and Olympic champion Johnny Weissmuller is to be commended for his skill.  There is enough movie magic to keep even a Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings fan transfixed, so that the film at least deserves a place in movie history for its ambitious if occasionally cost-effective methods.  Without such films as Tarzan, we might not have ever seen a Star Trek, or a Star Wars or an Indiana Jones.

But the film is not just special effects.  It is first and foremost a love story, albeit one set in a jungle paradise, with wild animals and savages and scheming white hunters.  When Tarzan first sees Jane, played by Maureen O’Sullivan, in Tarzan the Ape Man, he has never seen a human female before, or at least not a white one.  He is fascinated, and deftly steals her away from her father and his company to take her back to his lair in the trees.  Jane is of course frightened and does a lot of screaming and flailing about.  Jane is sure that this mostly naked brute has only one thing on his mind, to steal her virtue and have his way with her.  She quickly realizes that he doesn’t speak, at least not English, which only adds to her fear.  Now she is captive to a naked, dumb, sexually-deprived brute.

But Tarzan surprises her.  He watches Jane struggle somewhat dumbfounded, as if he doesn’t know what to do with her anyway.  After a few minutes, he leaves her there, and settles down to sleep on a nest of branches, stabbing his knife into the wood first, and then clutching the handle as he sleeps.  Jane peeks out, surprised by this turn of events.  Jane seems reassured that the brute has a tender heart, and she does not try to escape.  Perhaps she is reassured that he means her no harm.  Perhaps she is intrigued by this wild man.

Jane’s companions eventually find her, and I wonder to myself if they question her virtue at the hands of the savage.  In the ensuing rescue, a female ape is killed, possibly the one who raised Tarzan, and he lets out an anguished cry.  This confirms for Jane that the brute feels love, and now they have invaded his paradise and brought him sorrow.

After the rescue, the white hunters decide to search for Tarzan.  One of them shoots him, and he staggers off injured while Jane is taken by the apes.  Lions attack the injured Tarzan, and he is barely able to fight them off.  Eventually he is rescued by a friendly elephant, and the apes bring Jane to Tarzan.  She nurses him back to health, conveniently ripping her clothes to make bandages.  There is a good deal of flirting and swimming about the lagoon as he recovers.  We know that Jane has given in when Tarzan picks her up and she lays her head on his shoulder in quiet acceptance.  Fade to black.

Jane is remarkably happy with her jungle lover, but when her father finds her, she feels she must leave.  Jungle adventures abound.  Pygmies, who are really Little People, that is, genetic dwarves, in black body makeup, kidnap our white adventurers and their African laborers.  Tarzan must rescue them of course.  When it’s all over, Jane realizes that she must stay with Tarzan.  When her father tries to convince her that he belongs to the jungle, she tearfully blurts out “Not now; he belongs to me!”  She stays behind when her other companions leave.

If Jane is the worldly Eve, then Tarzan is the tempted Adam.  In Tarzan’s world, he has long been the only man, and all the animals are at his command.  He eats the fruit of the trees, and the flesh of the beasts as needed.  He lacks only one thing, and that is a female companion.  Tarzan and Jane are primal lovers; their home a Garden of Eden in an otherwise forbidden land.  Evil lurks vaguely on the perimeter.  Jane’s white associates repeatedly try to upset the delicate balance.  Each time, Tarzan and Jane affirm their devotion to each other against the outside world.

The female viewer of the Tarzan films gets an uncommon treat as Tarzan swings, flips, wrestles, runs, leaps, and swims through the jungle.  Occasionally he mopes about pining for Jane.  And he does all of this in a teeny loincloth.  His physicality fills up the screen and captivates the viewer.  Johnny Weissmuller, fresh from an Olympic career that included five gold medals and broken records in every event he entered, was embarking on a modeling career when he was cast.  His only prior screen experience had been a small role in 1929 when he appeared clad only in a fig leaf.  He was 28 years old when the first film was released in 1932.  He proved to be very popular with the ladies.

In the second film, Tarzan and his Mate, we are also given the full benefit of Jane’s emergent sexuality.  Though she was flirtatious and proper in the first film, now she has unashamedly abandoned herself to the sexual pleasures available to her.  She wears a loin cloth that is even teenier than Tarzan’s, little more than a flap in front and behind connected by a narrow cord.  Her top is a sort of midriff-baring bra.  In this film, one of her former companions and another hunter try to find her.  They bring her the latest fashions to entice her to return to civilization.  She quickly dons the silk stockings and a beautiful evening gown that is very nearly backless with a plunging neckline even more revealing than her usual bra.  The dialog is sexually loaded, with the white hunters joking about her revealing mode of dress, and Tarzan very obviously turned on by the new stockings.  The scene ends with Tarzan carrying her off, obviously to have sex, though of course, that is not shown.  They wake up side by side the next morning, Jane naked under an animal skin and the evening gown adorning their shelter like a swag.  She puts the dress back on, feeling a need to dress properly now that there are other people around, and they go out for their morning swim.

Jane’s famous, or infamous, nude scene comes up next.  Tarzan pulls off her dress as she dives into the water.  They then proceed to swim a graceful underwater pas de deux.  Underwater, Jane is as naked and graceful as any odalisque ever painted by a master.  Cut from the release of the film and restored only recently, the scene is both beautifully filmed and shockingly avant-garde.  It’s gems like this that make the film worth viewing.  The skimpy clothing, the morning-after scene, and the underwater nude scene aren’t there simply for titillation.  They indicate Jane’s new status as wife and lover.  Jane even teaches Tarzan to call her “my wife.”

The teeny-weeny loincloths and nudity were not to last though.  With the implementation of the Hays Code for the third film, Tarzan Escapes, Tarzan’s loincloth provides a bit more coverage, though it’s still daringly high-cut.  Jane’s loincloth and bra have been replaced by a high-necked mini-dress with only her arms and legs exposed.  Inexplicably, the first and third films are on the same DVD, so I actually watched #3 before #2.  It was interesting to watch the clothes expand and shrink.  You can also tell when footage from the earlier films is repeated in later films by checking out the width of Tarzan’s loincloth.

Tarzan and Jane repeat their underwater ballet in Tarzan Escapes, with Jane clothed this time, since it was cut from the prior film.  The filmmakers then take their revenge on those who thought the second film was too racy by filming the most suggestive sex scene yet.  Whereas the sexual encounters in the previous films were merely implied by the slightest glance or movement, here the director wordlessly lingers over the jungle couple, each shown from the other’s point of view.  After a playful swim, Jane reclines on the bank of the lagoon.  Tarzan plucks a water lily and gives it to her.  He climbs out of the pool and stands over her.  His expression changes from happiness to desire, noticeably enough that my six-year-old daughter commented on it.  The camera switches to Jane, bathed in radiant light, her lips parted and moist as she gazes upon Tarzan.  The camera pans to her face, and then follows her shoulder and arm as she releases the flower back into the water.  Fade to black.

Give me a moment.

Ok.  Johnny Weissmuller’s Tarzan was imprinted on my brain at a young age, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to grow up and live in a tree house with a wild man.  Even if I could manage that, it would be hot and sticky, the bugs would eat you alive, and I’d grow tired of killing and skinning my supper.  Eventually I would long for some good conversation and culture.  Meanwhile rebel militias, slash-and-burn farmers, and land developers would encroach on our jungle paradise.  So keep the jungle fantasy on the screen, where the annoying realities of life can be kept at bay.

There is an innocence to the Tarzan films, a belief that the worries of the world can really be put aside.  Even in this world, the occasional cannibal or white hunter comes along to try to ruin everything, but it all gets neatly put back into place.  There is plenty of violence, but it’s the sort that seems to go with movie adventures.  A remake would risk making it too gory or moralistic.  Greystoke notwithstanding (maybe I should watch that one next), it’s ripe for updating with a light-hearted nostalgic touch like the Indiana Jones movies or Star Wars serial.  Taking out the racist overtones is a must.  Correct some continuity problems.  Improve the biological accuracy, that is, put plains animals on the plains, and jungle animals in the jungle.  Leave in the live animal wrangling where possible because it’s part of the charm of the original movies.  Augment with CG to replace those projected back drops, but keep Tarzan as real as possible.

For me, no one can improve the portrayal of Tarzan and Jane.  Johnny Weissmuller was cast more for his looks and athletic ability than his acting, but the part calls for an unsophisticated, strong, silent type, so it works.  Maureen O’Sullivan does most of the talking for both of them anyway, and delivers some classic lines.  Their chemistry and their grace more than make up for the complete improbability of the whole situation.  For two hours you can believe that love can create a sanctuary in the midst of a mythic jungle.  For two hours you can believe that love can create an intimate connection between two people that transcends distance.  For two hours, you can believe that love conquers all enemies and vanquishes all ills.  For two hours, you can believe in love.

Johnny Weissmuller, 1932

2006-04-18T23:04:00.000-05:00

Johnny Weissmuller, 1932

2006-04-18T23:01:00.000-05:00

Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan in Very Tiny Loincloth

2006-04-18T22:56:00.000-05:00

Tarzan and Jane from Tarzan and His Mate, 1934

2006-04-18T22:48:00.000-05:00

Maureen O'Sullivan

2006-04-18T22:39:00.000-05:00

Ralph Lauren Underwe ... Er, No, It's Johnny Weissmuller Again

2006-04-18T20:59:00.000-05:00

Those Elusive Dwarf Women Revealed - Sorry, Totally Different Topic

2006-04-11T12:19:00.000-05:00

Readers of J.R.R.Tolkien have long wondered just what the Dwarf women looked like. Some have speculated that there were no Dwarf women, that the Dwarves just sprang up from the ground. In truth, though Dwarf men outnumber the Dwarf women, they are so alike in voice and appearance, that few can tell the difference. There has even been debate about whether or not Dwarf women have beards. Here is a rare photograph of two Dwarf Women, apparently all prettied up for a party.

Friday Night in Hick Town

2006-02-15T09:54:00.000-05:00

I just read an article in the local paper about the dearth of singles in my town. Most people said, in so many words, “there’s no nightlife, it’s boring, it was so much better in the large metropolis I used to live in, if it (meeting someone) happens, it happens.” The relationship experts replied that waiting around for something to happen doesn’t work – you have to make it happen.

According to the paper, the demographic breakdown for Hick Town is approximately 15,000 each never-married men and women between the ages of 15 and 44. I don’t know why they stuck the 15-19-year-olds in there, because I wouldn’t expect them to be married, and I don’t know why they left divorced people out, because they’re single too. So those numbers aren’t too helpful, other than to say at least we’re not like Alaska with a 7 to 1 ration of men to women. Hmmmm, … naaah.

One lady’s comment about the local men was “They dip.” No, she’s not speaking ebonics, and dip is not slang for “really bad” or “really good.” She means they chew tobacco, which is just gross. She also added they are uneducated. You’re not making a good impression out there, fellas!

So what am I doing? I tried that eHarmony experiment, which you can read about below. None of my potential matches lived in Hick Town, so I’m guessing there’s not many eHarmony users here. Or maybe guys here just don’t know how to use computers. After eHarmony, I tried meetup.com, which is not a single matching service, but a social network for people with common interests. The only meetup groups in Hickory are for bipolar disorders and Budhism, but hey, at least they know how to use computers. So I set up my own meetup group (30 day free trial, 6 months for $72.00) under the interest Renaissance Faire hoping to attract people who like to have a good time and know how to read.

I also had one of my better Friday nights last week. I don’t go out very often because I am trying to maintain an “aura of mystery.” I have changed the names to protect the guilty. Some man with yesterday’s 5:00 shadow immediately glommed onto me and insisted that I needed to have fun and another drink. “Bill” was a bit of a drunk, and a bit of an arrogant asshole, but I took him up on the drink part. His buddy was much more interesting, but I couldn’t get rid of “Bill” to talk to the buddy. And though I have delusions of youth, he was definitely too old. But I talked to them, and “Bill” gave me his phone number and insisted that I call him. I did not.

While I was talking to Bill and his Buddy, an acquaintance of my husband’s came up to say hello. “Cliff” has a little beard, a knit cap on his head, and tattoos up both arms – total opposite of “Bill.” Eventually Cliff invited me back to his table, and I realize tattoo boy is actually interested in me. I think I was intimidating his friends so I didn’t linger. Perhaps if I could get tattoo boy alone…. …. ….

Anyway, by now I’m on my 3rd drink, which means I will say anything to anybody, so I sidled up to the 3rd and final prospect of the evening. I would give you a fake name, but after 3 drinks I don’t remember names anymore, so his fake name could actually be his real name, so I will just refer to him as “out of my league.” “Out of my league” had been talking with a friend of mine, so I felt we were practically introduced. I had gleaned that he had played football for a large state university, and we had a nice conversation about football rivalries, rap music, and probably some other stuff I don’t remember. He was tall and good-looking, probably too tall for my 5’2” frame, and probably too young, but I as I said, I have delusions of youth. Isn’t “trying” the whole point of this? He even said he would meet me the next Friday night at the same place, but that day has come and gone and I couldn’t get a babysitter. So I am either playing hard-to-get, which they tell me is the thing to do, but it always seemed counter-intuitive to me, or I have screwed that opportunity up.

Guess I will have to wait another 4 weeks before I find out. Got to maintain that “aura of mystery.”

eTuition

2006-02-02T17:03:00.000-05:00

eTuition: a feeling that something online is not quite right; useful for guarding against scams, phishers, urban legends, chain e-mails, and cyber-stalkers.

I completed my eHarmony questionnaire, paid with my credit card, and started communicating via their guided communication process. I stayed up to 3:00 a.m. two nights in a row, answering and sending various questions. By the third day though, my intuition was telling me that something wasn’t right, and I always listen to my intuition.

Something about the process seemed ---- backwards. They take everyone in the universe, and then match them up based on their personality profiles and a few other attributes, like location, age, and attractiveness (which, btw, is self-reported). Then these matched pairs pass a few lame questions back and forth. Sample: “What is your idea of a dream vacation?” Somehow, you are supposed to decide if you like this person enough based on a few answers to some situational questions. If you decide that someone who is more afraid of speaking in front of 500 people than their boss (actual question) meets your criteria (?), then you can send them a list of attributes that you “must have” in a partner, and a list of things you “can’t stand.” To create each lists, you are allowed to select only 10 attributes from a much longer list. Some of the qualities they think you might like to see in a potential partner include “emotionally healthy,” “strong character,” “financially responsible,” and “conflict resolver.” No, I want someone who is emotionally equivalent to a turnip, possesses no morals, throws money away, and has to win every argument. Shouldn’t those attributes be a given? Yet I have to waste 4 of my 10 on those basic qualities leaving no room for “loyal” (another given I didn’t even have room for), “shares my interests,” and “artistic.” I also may have been a tad anti-Frank (my ex), selecting anything he wasn’t, which made it sound like I wanted a financially responsible, industrious, always agreeable robo-husband.

The “can’t stands” are actually worse including such qualities as “depressed,” “lies”, “takes advantage of people,” “rude,” “lazy,” “mean-spirited,” “petty,” “racist,” “has poor hygiene,” “addicted,” “undependable,” or “infidelity”. I’m already up to 12. These should be undebatable base-line qualities. And who’s going to actually admit to being any of these things? What would be better is a list of potential deal-breakers that might vary from person to person, like gambles, foul-mouthed, or lives with mother. Those first two are actual choices, but heck, I’d prefer a foul-mouthed gambler as long as he wasn’t a depressed, lying, rude, lazy, mean, petty, dirty, unreliable, drug-addicted white-supremist cheater.

What it comes down to is eHarmony is a match-making service. If they existed in real space instead of cyber-space, they would sort all their registered users into different rooms based on compatibility and a few other limited requirements. Everyone is naked, but with blinders on, so they can’t actually see each other. Everyone is shouting at once:

“I want to have 15 kids and stay at home”

“I’m looking for someone who’s sexually adventurous.”

“I need a trophy wife.”

I just want to say “People, people. Calm down. Why don’t we get to know each other first before we start shouting out our deepest desires? Now who here likes bowling? Ok, you guys go over to that corner. Who likes Civil War reenactments? You’re meeting over here. Extreme sports? Up front.”

“Excuse me, miss. I like Civil War reenactments and bowling. What should I do?”

“What about bowling on Tuesday, Civil War on Saturday?”

“Good idea. I’ll meet twice as many people.”

What I’m trying to say folks, is can’t we do this the old-fashioned way?” Meet someone with a shared interest, get to know each other, hopefully feel a little chemistry. Then once you’ve got ‘em hooked, start divulging all your quirks. They will have either already bought into you, and will find these qualities to be interesting and endearing, or they will back off and say it’s not working out. That’s what dating is for – to determine compatibility.

So I cancelled the eHarmony subscription. I am now looking for men who share my interest in family, travel, intellectual pursuits, Lord of the Rings conventions, and so on. Once I find one, I’ll let you know.

eTernity (The Time it Takes to Fill Out the eHarmony Questionnaire)

2006-01-22T01:58:00.000-05:00

I have finally reached rock bottom, I am going to try computer dating. This is so embarrassing. I have been going out on occasion, and I have determined I am not going to find what I am looking for in a bar. And what am I looking for? For starters, a man with a job and decent looks, who can take out the trash without being asked. Yeah, that describes the bartender. What do I bring to a relationship? Honesty, faithfulness, dependability, a sense of humor and fun, and a willingness to breed. There, that should scare off the light-weights. All I really want is a 2nd chance at happiness, now that I actually know what I want out of life.

I started entering a profile on eHarmony, which I should complete by the time my youngest is in middle school, so at least getting a babysitter won’t be a problem. I am torn between being painfully honest and putting in answers that might actually get me a date. I feel like I have so many upfront negatives, it’s going to be hard for anyone to get to the positives. I’m also just a little jaded. Most of the questions ask you to rank a statement that potentially describes you on a scale of 1-7 from “not at all” to “very well”; for example, “when I have an argument, I like to win.” Who in their right mind doesn’t? And does this mean they will only match me up with people who do or don’t? I got stuck on the question, “list the 3 things you are most thankful for”, as this will be displayed to my matches. I think 3 is much too small a number. You are only going to get trite, obvious things like my children, my family, my religion, my country, etc. If they asked for 6, you might get some illuminating answers like “chocolate, double-shot iced cappuccinos,” “my incredibly huge wanker,” and “George Lucas.”

I went ahead and crammed as much as possible into my 3 answers, putting family relationships in the first spot, institutions in the second, and experiences in the 3rd. Towards the end, I got to list 5 things I couldn’t live without. Since I’d already covered the big concepts, I took the question literally, and listed 5 objects: books, laptop, car, frappucinos (I really like them), and blue jeans. Peter Jackson did not make the list.

If you ever actually complete the questionnaire, they will try to tell you what you are looking for in a mate. They got it partly right, though I’m sure it was my whacked answers that messed it up. I was agreeable but not pleasing, kind but not sweet, adventurous but controlled. I’m either an anachronism or an average. I do want a man who is kind, honest, reliable, and committed to family, all the things my first husband wasn’t, They will match me up with someone who appreciates my need for personal space and will give me sufficient time to feel comfortable about opening up. And as for my argument question, they will match me up with someone who tries to keep the peace but will stand his ground when necessary in order to gain and keep my respect, so they perfectly matched my ambiguous answer. However, somehow my answers have pointed me to someone “who is so set in his ways that he sometimes finds it hard to compromise” and “you will appreciate the fact that you will always know exactly where he stands on an issue from day to day,” in other words, someone who is always wrong. Where did I say I wanted that?

And here’s the worst part. I put a lot of stuff in there about how honest, and faithful, and reliable I was, but I lied on my application. After slogging through their interminably long questionnaire, I finally get to the part where I list my marital status. I have been separated since September of 2004. eHarmony does not match separated people who are still married. Damn. There goes three weeks worth of effort. So I lied. That’s going to be a potential deal-breaker. Oh, well. I don’t actually expect to get married out of this effort. It’s really more of an experiment.

I could get divorced very easily. My husband was in fact suing me for divorce until he figured out his marital behavior excluded alimony. It’s just a matter of coming up with 60-70 grand to pay out his half of the marital assets, which by the way, I earned. Since I have no imminent plans to get married, I don’t see the point of giving him half of what I own. If you know anything about my personal situation, this makes perfect sense.

I’m all for compatibility, but sometimes a little contrast is good. Just because I sometimes feel tongue-tied and awkward doesn’t mean I want someone with the same lack of smoothness. Just because I’m not competitive, doesn’t mean I want a man who’s not competitive. Aren’t some qualities a little more manly than others? I got a very wishy-washy answer on artistic interest; appreciates art but would prefer something else for entertainment; will go to a museum while traveling while neglecting the one at home. Excuse me? I’m a patron of the local museum, and I think an art opening is great weekend entertainment, despite the fact that most of the attendees are old ladies and queers, hence my experiment with eHarmony. At least I got “he will appreciate the time and effort you put into your appearance and be happy with the end result, but ultimately he is more concerned with who you are than what you look like.” That sounds promising.

For the most part, they got what I wanted in a partner right. I just hope my matches actually live up to these expectations (and I to theirs).

I was curious how far I could go before actually paying any money. I filled out the entire questionnaire and input my personal information. Then their little computer set to churning and spit out my matches. I got 5 initially, all at least 60 miles away. Two sent a first request for information that same day. When I tried to answer their questions, I was finally routed to a screen requesting payment. They had done an ok job so far, so I opted for a 3-month plan for $111. In case you’re interested, the cheapest rate is $21 a month for 12 months.

So they let you read about your potential mates first. A couple were intriguing. Apparently. I’m not the only desperate one out there. Notably, the youngest match was 43. I’m ok with older men, but I’m only 41. Are there no eligible men between the ages of 35 and 40? Does eHarmony have a policy against matching women with men a few years younger, but not the other way around? If so, that’s sexist, and I disagree with it.

I am reminded of a truism I read once: Don’t you just hate that as you grow older, your looks begin to fail, and you find it more difficult to attract those members of the opposite sex who at one time barely met your minimum standards?

Oh, crap.

Tidbits from the Alan Lee sketchbook (part 1)

2005-11-11T13:40:00.000-05:00

I've started reading Alan Lee's new book, The Lord of the Rings Sketchbook, and I am learning some interesting things about Alan Lee, his art, and his work on the films.

Does anyone know what Alan Lee's job was when he was 17? (answer at end)

I am not visually artistic myself, so the book gives me the opportunity to get inside the mind of a graphic artist. I learned that Mr. Lee does not make lists, even for mundane things. He sketches pictures, so if, for instance, he needs to remember what to pack in his suitcase, he will draw a picture of a suitcase and all the little things he needs to pack. This habit came in handy while working on the films designing all the little props and artifacts. To quote, "Because of my lack of sympathy for lists – they just don't seem to generate a serious response in me – my own notes took the form of a page or two of small, quick drawings. These would be eased from my grasp at the end of a meeting, ..." I would have liked to have seen them doing this!

More comments later as I have time.

Answer: gravetender (and he decided he liked drawing a lot better)

My Alan Lee Prints

2005-10-26T12:58:00.000-05:00

At long last, here are my Alan Lee signed and numbered prints.

Dragon*Con Pics with Bruce Hopkins (Gamling) and John Noble (Denethor)

2005-10-26T12:00:00.000-05:00

Bruce Hopkins (Gamling) and John Noble (Denethor) on stage at Dragon*Con in Atlanta, Sept 4th, 2005

Me (with Joseph asleep in sling) with Bruce Hopkins and John Noble

Bruce Hopkins and John Noble with a fan

Bruce Hopkins and John Noble with some Elves

More Boobs than a La Leche League Convention

2005-10-25T16:14:00.000-05:00

Yaawwwwn.

I have been too tired to blog lately. I've gone to the Renaissance Faire the last two weekends, and I'm pooped. It's over an hour's drive away under good conditions. The first time we went, we got a bit of a late start and then spent over 45 minutes driving the last 10 miles. We stayed until after closing time at 5:30, changed clothes at a rest stop, and then went to eat. We didn't get home until 10:30. The second time we went on a Sunday, because I thought the crowds would be smaller. They weren't, and though we did get off to an early start, about 9:15, we still shut the place down. I don't know where the time goes.

I'm going to suggest an unofficial slogan for the Faire: "More boobs than a La Leche League convention." I spent way too much money on chemises and petticoats and bodices and such, as if such items are an integral part of my wardrobe. If they ever invent a time machine, I can go back to 1500 with a minimum of packing. I can get about 10 looks using the same lace-up bodice. It makes the jewelry I bought seem almost practical. I suppose I can loosen up the bodice a bit and pull up the peasant blouse and pass for a Hobbit easily enough if I should have need to dress like a Hobbit. That would make the costume work for at least two occasions, three occasions if I count Halloween - practically practical. Of course I also got my daughter a skirt and bodice set. I wouldn't go to the Shire without her. Then I had to get my little boy something, so we ended up with a puffy shirt, which can work for a prince, a pirate, or cavalier, and with suspenders, a Hobbit. He looked just like Wesley from The Princess Bride. (awwwwwwhhhh)

We are planning to go back to the Faire one more time, on October 30, for Halloween trick-or-treating. I've got a black velvet gown and a fancy new witch hat for that, so I won't even be wearing all the stuff I bought. After that, I will spend at least one whole weekend at home trying to recover from all this fun.

In other news, I received the check for my inheritance last Thursday, all $695.37 of it. I have decided to hold off on retiring and moving to Belize at the moment.

You may recall in my post dated August 8th, 2005, "More Blogging," I mentioned that I received a letter from a law firm informing me that a distant relative I had never heard of had died, and I was one of a couple dozen heirs. I do not yet understand how I am related, other than that the deceased must have been some sort of cousin to my grandfather. Sounded like an overused movie plot, but the reality was somewhat less glamorous.

There must be some important life lesson to be learned from this inheritance. The relatives on my father's side were, to put it kindly, frugal, and to put it not so kindly, stingy. Life's circumstances for my grandfather and his seven brothers and sisters – an absent father, the depression – left them with a streak of mean and other problems. Their cousins and such faced similar circumstances. Of the eight children of my grandfather's generation, even the ones who were lucky enough to find someone willing to marry them, didn't breed much, resulting in exactly eight grandchildren. Of those eight grandchildren, six were from my father and his brother, which I like to think meant this branch was less f*cked up than the rest. The estates of those who died early were divided among their living brothers and sisters and literally left to rot. The estates of those who died later were divided among great-grandnieces and nephews and removed cousins of the nth degree, who certainly did not appreciate the frugality of their forebears. So what is the lesson? "You can't take it with you?" "Whatever you leave will be squandered on uncaring distant relations?" How about, "Spend freely, and love more." There. That's a good ending.

Canning the Spam

2005-10-03T16:12:00.000-05:00

It seems like I just managed to eliminate most of the spam in my e-mail box, and now I'm getting spammed on this blog. I've turned on the "word verification" which is supposed to eliminate automated spam, but it's still trickling through. I want people to read my blog, but I can do without the spammers.

I've also set the blog to automatically e-mail me any comments, so all the spam gets sent straight to me. Following is a verbatim text of a blog spam. I can't make up stuff better than this.

-----Original Message-----
From: 8709 [mailto:noreply-comment@blogger.com]
Sent: Monday, October 03, 2005 8:37 AM
To: maryjoan@conninc.com
Subject: [Window on the West] 10/03/2005 05:36:51 AM

I skim a lot of blogs, and so far yours is in the Top 3 of my list of favorites. I'm going to dive in and try my hand at it, so wish me luck.

It'll be in a totally different area than yours (mine is about penile extenders) I know, it sounds strange, but it's like anything, once you learn more about it, it's pretty cool. It's mostly about penile extenders related articles and subjects.

What is this? Fill in the blank spam? It’s like some kind of blog madlib.

I've been verb ending in ing your blog and I think it is really slang adjective. I am definitely going to add it to my adjective list right there in the top number.

You should visit my blog www.plural noun.com. It's all about repeat plural noun and repeat noun in singular-related articles and products.

Anyway, I will try to delete the spam, but I may not be able to keep up. If you are a non-spammer, please ignore any spam that gets through. If you are a spammer, be assured that I will never, ever, visit your website, and may your hard drives reformat, your server crash, your network permanently disconnect, and your cpu burn in hell, and you with it.

Updated Elf Pictures

2005-10-03T07:17:00.000-05:00

A View of Elijah Wood from Sidestage

Me looking chummy with Elijah Wood. Demi and Ashton, move over.

Clockwise from top, fellow Prancing Pony regular Joan as Frodo, John Rhys-Davies as himself, my daughter Sarah as mini-Arwen, Me as hobbit wench

Left to right, Sarah, Sean Astin, and Me, looking like a regular family portrait

Joan (Elwing) as Frodo.

Awwww, don't we make a cute hobbit family, with our daughter who dreams of being an Elf, and the littlest hobbit, peaking out from behind mama's skirt. (L-R, Joseph, Mary Joan (me, aka frekotw), Sarah as Arwen, Joan (Elwing) as Frodo)

What were we thinking, posing in front of the ladies room?

When we could have been posing here all along?

Here I am on row K. Joseph and Sarah are the blurs, and that's Patrick at the end of the row.

The costume contest: Sarah is on the front row far left; the winners were the four Japanese girls in front dressed as Sam, Rosie (in blond wig), Merry, and Pippin.

What everyone on stage looks like from row K. This one is Sean Astin, I believe.

Following are the drawings I picked up at the silent auction.

Taking Your Peripherals for a Ride or Computer Repair in 3 Easy Steps

2005-09-27T08:51:00.000-05:00

Perhaps you've seen evidence of this phenomenon. An important piece of computer equipment stops working – your printer, your mouse, your monitor – so you disconnect the faulty equipment, put it in your car, and take it to your computer guy. He plugs it in, connects it to his computer, keys in some secret DOS command, and your equipment performs perfectly. He looks at you like you're an idiot for bringing him a perfectly good piece of equipment to fix, and you swear that just yesterday it wouldn't work at all. He unplugs the hardware, hands it to you, and you put it back in your car and take it home. You are mad at the equipment for making you look stupid, and you suspect that when you try to plug it in, it won't work. You plug it back in the exact same configuration it was in before, and amazingly, it still works. Maybe you just imagined it didn't work before.

I have determined the cause of this phenomenon. You really aren't stupid or delusional. The computer guy is not a genius. Your hardware was simply bored and wanted to go for a ride. It's not the computer guy that fixes it. It's the ride over.

Don't believe me? Having observed this phenomenon before, I conducted a little experiment this weekend. You see, Thursday night, when I powered up my laptop at home, I couldn't get on the Internet, even though on Wednesday, I got on just fine. My network icon said that I was connected to my home network with a good signal, so off I go to the desktop unit to check it out. I click on Internet Explorer, and no Internet. I unplug and disconnect the modem and the wireless router and shut down the computer. I reboot, plug everything back in, and still no Internet. Hmmm, sounds like a cable problem (I have high-speed cable access). I turn on the TV and verify that the cable channels, including the premium channels, are coming in just fine. So I call the cable company. They connect me to a computer agent, and when I say computer agent I mean an agent that is a computer, like Mr. Smith, except nicer and female. She walks me through identifying the problem, my operating system release number, and so on. She steps me through shutting down and disconnecting and reconnecting everything just like I did before, but still no Internet. I note however, that now the wireless router looks funny. It only has one light lit instead of the usual four or five. Then the agent steps me through bypassing the router and plugging the cable straight into the computer. I do this, and what do you know? Internet. The cable company's computer agent tells me with a note of smug satisfaction, that the problem is not their cable, but appears to be a problem with the wireless router.

So I call up the wireless router people. I am on hold for a long time while they reroute my call to a remote village in India. The nice Indian lady tries to walk me through identifying my computer operating system, but my desktop looks different from what she is describing. She is a little harder to understand than the computer agent. I finally suggested we skip this part since I already did it for the cable company. We go through disconnecting and reconnecting everything except with an extra step. Apparently there is a hidden reset button on the wireless router that one can only access with an unbent paper clip or some other small pointy object. In tiny raised letters barely visible to the naked eye, I can now make out the word "reset." We go through this a couple of times, and I still only have one light lit, instead of the usual four or five, and interestingly enough, one of the unlit lights is the power light, yet it obviously has power because it's got one light lit. (Try to say that fast.) Her final word of advice is "Your router is broken. You should get a new one."

I put the now disconnected router in the car, with the intent of picking up a new one some time during the weekend. For the next two days I ponder the situation. The router appeared to be working when the problem initially started, but somehow malfunctioned during the attempted repair. I buy a new wireless router Sunday afternoon, but decide to test out the old one again. I carefully open the new router, since if my theory holds, I'll be returning it. I try out several configurations: new router, old router, old Ethernet cable, new Ethernet cable. I reboot and review the connection chart in the router instructions. Try it all again, and finally I get Internet on the desktop using the old router. My experiment is almost complete. I bring in the laptop and power it up. It has some trouble connecting to the network. Eventually the laptop finds a network called "default," which is strange because my home network is called "home." Maybe it renamed itself in all the reconnecting and disconnecting. A few moments later and I have Internet on the laptop. My theory is proven. All I had to do to fix the old router was drive it around all weekend.

The computer guy is not really a genius! It is the drive over that fixes the equipment and yet he claims all the glory. No more! I have discovered your secret ways and I will never be without Internet again!

100 Reasons Why I Nurse in Public

2005-09-23T08:34:00.000-05:00

This is in response to Christine Flowers op-ed piece in the Philadelphia Enquirer in Sept. 19, 2005. You can access the article at www.philly.com and search on Christine Flowers. I will also copy and paste the text below.

100 Reasons Why I Nurse in Public

1. The restroom is smelly.
2. The restroom is dirty.
3. The restroom is too far away.
4. There's no place to sit other than on a toilet in the restroom.
5. You try sitting on a toilet for 30 minutes and see how your butt feels.
6. I am attending to older children.
7. My other children are playing, watching, eating, or otherwise involved in
an activity.
8. My other children don't want to go to a smelly, dirty, boring restroom
9. My other children don't want to go to a boring, stuffy, cramped nursing room.
10. I am eating too.
11. I am in line and can't leave.
12. I have to pay before I can leave.
13. The baby is crying and can't wait for me to hike someplace private.
14. I am paying for your services by the hour.
15. I am not paying you while I go nurse my baby.
16. You are on a schedule.
17. I am on a schedule.
18. Babies don't understand "wait."
19. Pumps are expensive.
20. It is time-consuming to pump.
21. Pumps are impersonal and mechanical.
22. Why should I invest in bottles and nipples when I'm breastfeeding?
23. Sterilizing baby bottles is time-consuming.
24. Pumped breast milk only last 4-6 hours at room temperature (79˚ F).
25. I have no place to heat the bottle.
26. Formula is expensive.
27. Breast milk is convenient and portable.
28. Breast milk is sanitary.
29. Breast milk is always the right temperature.
30. Breast milk contains all the right nutrients for my baby.
31. Supplementing with formula will adversely affect my milk supply.
32. Feeding with formula is a known health risk.
33. My baby is sensitive to the proteins in cows' milk based formulas.
34. My baby is sensitive to soy-based formulas.
35. My baby is underweight and needs to nurse frequently.
36. Doctor's orders!
37. I'm trying to be as discrete as possible!
38. I don't want to miss ______.
39. I don't want to be stuck in the house.
40. Negative social attitudes toward public nursing adversely affect breastfeeding rates and the health of babies.
41. Get used to it.
42. It is natural and normal.
43. It is not obscene or gross.
44. DO NOT compare it to sexual intercourse, urination, or defecation.
45. The law says I can nurse anywhere I am allowed to be. (varies by state)
46. The law specifically excludes breast exposure while nursing from public indecency laws. (varies by state)
47. My baby's need to eat supercedes your need not to be offended.
48. It's my own damn house (yes, some people are even offended when it's your own house).
49. You see more on the cover of Cosmo.
50. Our culture has sexualized the breast at the expense of its primary function as a nourishing organ.
51. That's what they're for.
52. Breastfeeding aids in visual development and hand-eye coordination in the baby.
53. Breastfeeding enhances the mother-baby bond.
54. Breastfeeding releases hormones that contract my uterus.
55. Breastfeeding releases hormones that relax me and improve my mothering abilities.
56. Breastfeeding aids in the development of the jaw and mouth, lessening the need for braces later in life.
57. My baby refuses a bottle.
58. Introduction of an artificial nipple may cause nipple confusion leading to sore nipples, poor weight gain, frustration, mastitis, and a host of other very bad things.
59. My breasts are engorged.
60. Going too long between feedings at the breast can lead to mastitis.
61. Breastfed babies have fewer ear infections.
62. Breastfed babies have fewer illnesses in general.
63. Breastfed babies' poop smells better.
64. Breastfed babies rarely get constipated.
65. Breast milk is easily digestible.
66. Breastfed babies who are held a lot and fed on cue cry less.
67. Delaying a feeding can reduce my milk supply.
68. There's a reason why a baby's cries are so annoying.
69. Breastfed babies are smarter.
70. Breastfed babies have a much lower risk of obesity.
71. Breastfeeding reduces the risk of breast cancer for mothers and baby girls.
72. The AAP recommends I breastfeed my baby for at least one year and as long thereafter as desired.
73. The World Health Organization and UNICEF recommend I breastfeed for at least two years.
74. Breast milk provides immunity to disease, something formula can't.
75. Breastfeeding reduces the incidence of allergies.
76. Breastfeeding eases the postpartum hormonal changes, making me less moody.
77. Breastfeeding is associated with a lower risk of SIDS.
78. Exclusive breastfeeding on demand suppresses my fertility for 6 months or more (and in this case, "exclusive" means no pacifiers or bottles).
79. Breast milk is environmentally friendly – no excess packaging, no industrial waste.
80. Breastfeeding reduces overall health costs.
81. Government subsidized formula costs you money.
82. Breast milk is free.
83. Breast milk tastes better.
84. Breasts are easy to carry with you.
85. Breast milk never gets recalled.
86. Less spit up.
87. Nurturing my baby boosts my confidence.
88. Nursing in public will inspire more girls to breastfeed.
89. Nursing in public conditions boys to see breastfeeding as normal behavior.
90. Nursing in public inspires other mothers to breastfeed.
91. Nursing in public gets fathers used to the idea.
92. Nursing in public helps grandparents accept and support healthy choices for their grandchildren.
93. I'm paving the way for future mothers to nurse anywhere.
94. I'm doing my part to make a more baby-friendly world.
95. It's easier to feed a hungry baby before he starts crying.
96. Crying babies make my breasts leak.
97. Because he asked to.
98. Breastfeeding is beautiful.
99. Babies are important people.
100. Babies have a right to breastfeed.

Here is the text of the editorial:

Christine M. Flowers | LACTOSE-INTOLERANT
THE OTHER DAY, I was counseling a client on her legal options when, without pausing to ask if I minded, she lifted her blouse and began to breast-feed her infant daughter.

Taken aback and not wanting to interrupt the child's meal, I guided the consultation to a swift conclusion.

There would have been no problem had the client asked if she could excuse herself and take the child to our bathroom or to a vacant office. What irritated me was the assumption that her right to nurse the infant trumped any obligation on her part to be courteous and ask, "Do you mind?"

I would never presume to tell someone what they could do in their bed, in their bathtub or at their dinner table. But what I expect and demand is that people not force their own militant preferences on me in public places.

I actually started this piece at least three times, searching for an inoffensive way to say it.

There was the sensible, statistic-driven approach that emphasized the overwhelming health benefits of breast milk. Too safe, I decided.

There was the acknowledgment that nursing was a unique form of love, representing the eternal bond between mother and child. Too cliched, I thought.

There was even an attempt at humor, as in "I really need to get this off my chest." (Who was it that told me puns were the indication of a deficient mind?)

But the only way to say it is boldly and without apology, girding myself for the onslaught of criticism from the La Leche activists:

Women shouldn't breast-feed wherever they choose.

If I'd said, "Men shouldn't urinate in public," it's unlikely that anyone would vociferously object. But I feel the backs stiffen and the claws unsheath at the mere suggestion that nursing is a private affair.

Infants are magnificent creatures. While certain specimens may eventually turn out to be unpleasant (e.g., the ones who develop into adults like Paris Hilton and Michael Moore), the consensus is that they bring joy and hope for the future.

Without them, in fact, there would be no future. So it is important for us to do whatever we can to ensure their survival.

At a minimum, they need to be fed. Newborns have a lot of time on their hands since they don't hold down jobs, drive or fret about the state of the world, so eating becomes disproportionately important to them. They crave nutrition on an hourly basis, regardless of where they might be.

For nursing infants, "appetizer-entree-dessert" is wherever mommy happens to be when the urge strikes. So unless nursing mothers agree to be trapped in their homes for the first year of junior's life, they sometimes have to breast-feed in public.

That's not the problem. Women should be permitted to nurse unobtrusively in restrooms and other public places specifically designated for the purpose.

The craving for nutrition and the ability to satisfy it are natural and beautiful, as are a woman's breasts. The problem arises when an essentially private activity becomes part of the public domain.

There are, of course, ways to accommodate both modesty and utility, allowing breast-feeding in certain areas and prohibiting it in others, just as we do with any activity that encroaches on the public domain, like smoking and playing loud music.

To those who resent the implication that breast-feeding might be as annoying as cigarettes and blaring hip-hop, I say that bared breasts can make some people very uncomfortable, even when a child is attached to one of them.

There is also the option of using a breast pump to express the milk at home, and then using a bottle in public. This way, the child gains all of the benefits of mother's milk while society is spared the sight of a human Playtex nurser.

When I mentioned this to a friend, she looked at me in horror and said, "But then people would think I was feeding my child formula!" It was as if I'd accused her of being Jim Jones on a Kool-Aid jag.

That seems to be the problem with many nursing mothers - it's more about the image than about the child.

And at the risk of sounding deficient, it feels good to get that off my chest.

Christine M. Flowers is a lawyer. E-mail cflowers1961@yahoo.com.

Too Posh to Push

2005-09-19T12:14:00.000-05:00

(and now for something totally different)

Too posh to push?

Britney Spears Federline has had her baby by cesarean-section, and I heard that she announced ahead of time it was a scheduled, and since it was her first birth, I presume elective, c-section. Wouldn't surprise me if she had an abdominoplasty at the same time. What a sorry state of affairs ACOG (American College of Gynecologists) has gotten us into.

Here's the story of another celebrity birth from the September 5th issue of People magazine:

With the exception of a sudden aversion to red meat and yellow mustard, singer Michelle Branch says her pregnancy "was so easy. I was never sick. I felt great." The delivery itself was another story. After enduring 19 hours of labor, Branch underwent an emergency C-section because her infant daughter's heart rate was slowing down. "Once the anesthesiologist came in, I was like a different person," she says. "I said, 'I'm going to name the baby after you.'" Instead Branch, 22, and her husband, bandmate Teddy Landau, 41, settled on the "tomboyish" name of Owen Isabelle. "To have her come in the world and already have something scare you," says Branch, "I was just so relieved that she was okay."

After spending an extra five days at the hospital to treat a case of ileus, an intestinal ailment that's common following abdominal surgery, Branch returned to her L.A. home with Owen Isabelle…

First off, why does the author have to use the word "enduring" to describe labor? Wouldn't it be enough just to say "labored?" This only contributes to the common misconception that birth is an excruciating experience.

Not having access to Ms. Branch's medical records and not being a medical professional, I can't tell you whether this C-section was due to fetal distress or continuous electronic fetal monitoring. Continuous EFM is known risk factor for C-section. A slowing of the heart rate during contractions is normal, and continuous EFM is a defensive medical practice that too often results in the unnecessary surgical delivery of completely healthy babies. Sounds like this mother could have used more labor support and less technology.

Furthermore, Ms. Branch's experience demonstrates the negative consequences of C-sections, among them trauma for the mother and post-surgical infection. Do you think that five days of hospitalization might have a negative impact on mother-baby bonding? Studies show that anesthesia during birth affects the baby's interest and ability to suck. Separation that causes a delay of only a few hours before the first effective nursing results in reduced milk consumption and reduced milk supply that may continue throughout the entire nursing experience.

Ms. Branch will most likely face these same complications for future births since ACOG revised their guidelines on VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) that a physician must be immediately available for any woman undergoing a trial of labor after a previous cesarean. I'm not even going to get started on how just the phrase "trial of labor" already implies a lack of confidence in the mother's ability to birth. Many hospitals do not have continually staffed operating rooms and refuse to allow VBAC's, though there are ways around this for the determined mother. (see www.ican-online.org)

So now we have a situation where the medical establishment allows a woman to choose major abdominal surgery without medical indication, but prevents her from choosing natural childbirth after cesarean. Britney stands to influence countless young women that elective C-section is the way to go. If my almost forty-year-old soft body can push out two children, then surely Britney's twenty-three-year-old athletically fit body could at least give it a go. I think we need an alternative slogan to "too posh to push." Too privileged to procreate? Too bratty to breed? Too spoiled to spawn? Too powerful for a primary elective cesarean? Help me out here!

Pictures from Elf

2005-09-08T16:04:00.000-05:00

Joan (Elwing) as Frodo.

Awwww, don't we make a cute hobbit family, with our daughter who dreams of being an Elf, and the littlest hobbit, peaking out from behind mama's skirt. (L-R, Joseph, Mary Joan (me, aka frekotw), Sarah as Arwen, Joan (Elwing) as Frodo)

What were we thinking, posing in front of the ladies room?

When we could have been posing here all along?

Here I am on row K. Joseph and Sarah are the blurs, and that's Patrick at the end of the row.

The costume contest: Sarah is on the front row far left; the winners were the four Japanese girls in front dressed as Sam, Rosie (in blond wig), Merry, and Pippin.

Dragon*Con: And they said?

2005-09-06T20:15:00.000-05:00

I guess I should tell you what Bruce Hopkins and John Noble had to say at Dragon*con. (See "Call me crazy but..." below for my report on 2 days of Dragon*con.) Flip-flop shod Bruce Hopkins was a real card. First he joked about how his scene where he sleeps with Arwen was cut. He complained that he didn't get a death scene, just sort of disappeared, but that pretty Elf Haldir did. In response to audience questions, I learned that he had never ridden a horse before filming TTT, most of his prior work was in comedy, and he likes doing improv the best. His latest movie is improvised under direction. His favorite actor to work with was Viggo. He brought an energy to the set whenever he was there. Viggo also spoke fluent Spanish with his makeup artist Jose.

John Noble was a little more serious. He is quite handsome in person. He and Bruce Hopkins were never on the set together. All of his scenes were with Ian McKellan, Billy Boyd, Sean Bean, and David Wenham. The most touching scene that he was in was the one where Billy Boyd sings. No one had heard him sing the song before, and everyone on the set, about 200 people, stopped what they were doing to listen. His favorite scene overall is the one where Sam picks up Frodo and carries him up Mt. Doom. The first scene he filmed was his death scene and it was very exciting and fun to film. He said that he had directed theater, but that was nothing compared to what Peter Jackson did. He would come to the set, break out the story board, and set things up. He had five other television monitors going so that he could see what the other units were doing.

No matter what else happens in their career, they were both honored to be immortalized in one of the greatest films of all time.

Dragon*Con: Call me crazy but...

2005-09-05T20:53:00.000-05:00

I went to Dragon*Con this weekend. It was a last-minute decision, especially since I just went to Elf last weekend. Saturday I finished unpacking from Elf, did the laundry, went to the grocery store, in other words, got everything done I needed to do. I had Monday off for Labor Day, so, on a whim, I called the three host hotels for Dragon*con in Atlanta, and the third one had a vacancy. Sunday morning we got up early and drove to Atlanta.

Let me tell you, Dragon*con makes Elf look like a party in Shire, and that is not a bad thing. I apologize for ever insinuating that Tolkien fans are freaks. I have found the freaks, and they are at Dragon*con. Tolkien's stories are multi-layered, wholesome, and moral. That can't be said for a lot of other stuff out there.

I knew I was in for something different when standing in line for registration, the woman in front of me was wearing shoes, panties, and a feather-trimmed sheer peignoir, and the couple behind me sported furry ears, tails, and body paint. Some of the costumes were very creative and elaborate, but there was also a lot of fetish-wear. Let me give you a Dragon*con fashion tip: even a plump lady looks good laced up in a corset, but you've got to have a perfect body to carry off the chain-mail bikini look.

There were so many different tracks and genres; one did not get the same sense of community that one finds at a single-topic event. There were a lot of people at Elf that came alone, but they shared a common interest with everyone else. Dragon*con was more cliquish and everyone seemed to be attending with a group of like-minded friends or partners.

Since I was only there for Sunday afternoon and Monday morning, I did not have time to get involved in the Tolkien track. The events were spread out over two hotels and on various floors, all with confusing names like convention level, exhibit level, international level, lobby level, lower lobby, motor lobby, et cetera, so getting on an elevator was a crap shoot. I managed to find my way to the 4:00 session with John Noble and Bruce Hopkins, my primary motivation for going. This was their 2nd panel, so this time they elected to take questions from the audience.

I had a seat on the front row outer aisle. Halfway through Joseph fell asleep (thank God!) after about 15 minutes of whining at the end, Sarah even dropped off. At one point when they were showing a clip of a Bruce Hopkins movie, both the actors were standing right next to me. Afterwards several people came up for an impromptu photo session, and I got my picture made with both of them. I don't think they posed for more than 15 pictures. The event organizer got really snippy with the last two people, but let them get their pictures anyway. I waited while everyone got their pictures and then asked them both for their autograph. They normally sign autographs in area just behind the dealers, but that room was packed and I did not relish the thought of navigating it with two children. They did not want to do it, saying that if anyone saw them giving me an autograph, they would all want one, but at this point there were no other fans left in the room. Since I now had two sleeping children, they took pity on me and acceded to my request. I had pages marked with their pictures in The Two Towers and the The Return of the King Visual Companions and they each signed their picture.

Immediately after that session, Ringers: Lord of the Fans were presenting their "making of" trailer next door. I had already seen that session at Elf, but since I was there and the kids were asleep, I went anyway. I'm glad I did, because we were treated to an impromptu acoustic performance by Emerald Rose before the session started. They played the Hobbit Theme music on guitar and flute and then segued into Merry and Pippin's "Drinking Song", which as most of you know is based on "The Bath Song" from the book.

Sarah woke up soon after, so we left and browsed the dealer room. I found a dealer who made some lovely circlets close to the door, and I've always wondered where exactly one might buy a circlet. I selected a simple brass one with two maple leaves and an amber stone, so now I can play wood Elf. I tried to find the Badali Jewelry table, because they had also been at Elf, but they closed the dealer room before I could locate them.

After that we headed back to the hotel room and ordered dinner room service – very smart move. After we had eaten our fill, Sarah and I changed into our princess-wear, and donning my circlet, the three of us headed over to the Masquerade Ball already in progress. I had tried and failed to get a babysitter through the hotel, but I thought since we were there, we could at least go look at the other costumes.

The next morning after packing and breakfast, we headed back to the dealer room. I found even more circlet dealers, corset dealers, and finally Badali jewelry. After chatting there a bit we headed up one floor to the ambiguously named "Convention Level" and visited the TheOneRing.net table. I picked up my free T-shirt, reading "Don't make me get my ring", saving them the shipping, and they threw in a Ringers lanyard for free. Nice. After browsing a few more exhibitors and finding a website on how to make LOTR costumes, we got in the car and headed home. End of weekend.

Elf, My Weekend of Wonder

2005-08-30T13:31:00.000-05:00

I attended the "Elf, Weekend of Wonder" convention in Orlando, Florida, August 26th-28th, 2005, sponsored by TheOneRing.net and Creation Entertainment. Following is my journal of the event. If you attended the event and you are visiting my site, please leave a comment. (Of course, if you didn't attend the event you can leave a comment too.)

Friday

My first day of ELF, Weekend of Wonder, is over. Friday was a pretty low-key day –no big celebrities. The makers of Ringers: Lord of the Fans presented some clips followed by Matt Appleton of WETA. Ringers comes out on Sony DVD in November. It's not just wacky fans, but a look at the cultural impact of the book since it was published to the present day. Somehow, they worked mariachi into it. Definitely need to see it.

I missed the first 15 minutes of Matt's presentation, but he related various anecdotes and factoids accompanied by a slide show. He described his experience playing an Elf at the Council of Elrond and what it was like to be in front of the camera instead of behind. For a change, other people kept adjusting his costume, so now he tries not to do that so much. He talked about the difficulties of the orc armor and prosthetics, and then he told a story about searching through boxes in the prop room until he opened a box with a Frodo puppet inside and got totally freaked out. So orcs don't faze him, but Frodo puppets are scary.

I missed the Tengwar presentation, briefly visiting the pool and pool bar, but came back for what was supposed to be a scholarly look at Tolkien's story development. It turned out to be an informal discussion of fandom by Gary Hunnewell. I joined the crowd again around 10:00 p.m. for the Emerald Rose performance (Celtic music that rocks!). I was planning on going alone, but at the last minute, Sarah, my 5-year-old, wanted to go, so we went together. She turned out to be a great date. I may not be the life of the party myself, but I am definitely raising one. She insisted on dancing to every song, and when the party was over, she still didn't want to go home, so we went for a night-cap in the bar before taking the golf cart home. Hey, it's Florida.

I met Joan, Elwing to the Prancing Pony cyber pub regulars, at preregistration. Here's the amazing thing: We bought tickets about a week apart, me from North Carolina, Joan from Canada, and we HAD SEATS RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER LIKE WE PLANNED IT. It was great hanging around with Joan. She talked me into so many things – like buying the LOTR denim jacket (we can match even though we live in different countries!?), dressing up as hobbits for pictures Saturday (just happened to pack hobbit-wear in the suitcase), and so on. I also bought Sean Astin's book, this beautiful silver and enamel elven ring, and a couple of necklaces for Sarah. She promised to share them with me. I think Joan may have even shopped more than me. We tried unsuccessfully to get together for a drink Friday (I found the bar no problem, but not Joan), but we finally raised a real toast to the Prancing Pony, the cyber pub where we regularly meet, on Saturday night, complete with real desserts.

Flashing back to getting to Orlando, I had to stay at work signing checks until 5:30 Thursday. Then I rushed to pick up my son Joseph, two, from daycare, and my daughter, Sarah, five, from her first day (!) of kindergarten. I pulled in my driveway right behind Erica, the college student I convinced to come help me with the kids. We tossed in her luggage and headed for the Greensboro (NC) airport. About halfway there, I realized I left my phone charger at home, but Erica suggested we pick up a car charger adapter and share it. We got to the airport exit at 7:35 and decided to go two more exits to the Wal-Mart to get the adapter. This wasn't really a bad decision, because we did use the phone charger, but it put us at the airport at 8:00 for a 9:00 flight. I thought an hour would be plenty of time, but curbside check-in was closed, and it took us a nearly the full hour to get our 8 (!) pieces of luggage checked, the car parked, and through security. We barely made our flight, and then the plane was so small, I couldn't even get a drink (too small for alcohol), and I really needed one by then. In the rush I cut my hand between my thumb and index finger, and it was stinging.

We got to the hotel about 11:30, and to the room about midnight, the exact time the gift shop, pool bar, and room service all closed. Foiled again. I understand Elijah Wood had the same experience Saturday night, so now we have that in common.

The Wyndham Orlando Resort has an unusual setup. There is no main hotel building, just a lobby with restaurant/bar/snack bar and meeting and convention space. All the rooms are in large outbuildings, 16 of them, situated on a large landscaped campus. Each building is two stories and as a large as a motel. The units seem more like time-share condos than hotel rooms, but they are nice and roomy. I had to switch from a king-sized bed for me and the kiddies to two doubles so the babysitter would have a place to sleep. Oh well, they practically sleep on top of me anyway.

Saturday, Sean Astin and John Rhys-Davies are scheduled, so should be a busy day.

Saturday

Woo-hoo, what a day!

The cut on my hand appears infected.

Joan talked me into dressing up for the photos, so I went as hobbit wench and Sarah as Arwen in a lovely burgundy velvet number with train. Joan went as Frodo. I was surprised that complete strangers wanted to take our pictures, but we posed for several. Made me feel like a celebrity. Or a freak.

Got a photo with John Rhys-Davies first thing after a short wait. Joan and I collaborated and all three of us posed in each other's photo. We just switched and put Joan in front with hers and me in front with mine. JRD found Sarah to be quite charming, and goosed me and Joan (he gooses all the girls). After the photo ops, we went to the auditorium to hear JRD speak. He was wonderful of course, and he was followed by Sean Astin, who was also quite entertaining. After their hour-long talks, they started signing autographs, going row by row. As we were in row K, this took quite a while. I managed to finally make a break for the bathroom, and we sent Erica for a quick snack since we hadn't eaten since breakfast. We finally got to Sean Astin and he very quickly signed a copy of his book for me and a glossy photo for Erica. Then we got in the interminably long line for JRD, who takes a little longer to sign. We had no chance of getting his autograph before my scheduled photo op with Sean Astin, but he was still signing, so we waited until we got a number for our place in line and then left.

Since we also had late lunch tickets with JRD at 4:30, we got to go to the head of the line for the photo, without Joan this time. Sarah got to sit in Sean's lap (he's good with little girls) and then we worked our deal for the luncheon.

I only had one lunch ticket because it was originally a morning brunch, then a Friday late lunch, and then a Saturday late lunch. They would let Joseph in for free since he's two, but they wanted to charge me the full price of $65.00 for Sarah, five. Erin, who works for Creation Entertainment and is "the man", got Sarah in for free and I bought a ticket for Erica, so we all got to eat together. I had a brief moment of panic when I couldn't find my ticket in my little lanyard wallet, but I finally found it in my "important papers" envelope, one of my many completely absent-minded moments.

JRD came to the lunch and visited each table in turn. We were the last table, but Sarah again got special attention. She asked him to say something like Treebeard, and he came and knelt beside her and told her a private story about the field mice who tickle him. A Japanese lady at our table, Masayo, snapped a great picture and she's going to e-mail it to me when she gets back home. JRD thrilled Masayo by speaking in Japanese to her.

Speaking of pictures, it was not a good camera day for me. I finished up the remaining film in my camera and then I could not get it to rewind. Not that it really mattered at this point because Joseph also pulled out the trailing end on my new roll of film and exposed it all. I managed to get one blurry photo of Sean Astin on my camera phone, but it went dead before I could get any of JRD. Thankfully, Joan took lots of pictures, and she will e-mail them to me. Finally bought a disposable camera after the day's events but before the evening party. Yes, I actually crossed a busy street and went into Walgreen's dressed as a hobbit wench. The next day I figured out the problem was operator error. I went in the bathroom and shut the door to manually rewind the film, and discovered there was none.

Oops.

During the luncheon they had a silent auction for charity for some LOTR memorabilia. Most of the bids were pretty high, around a $100 or more, but there were several charcoal drawings of the movie characters that were a little more reasonable. I upped a bid on a set of three pictures – Boromir, Faramir on his desperate ride, and Aragorn and Arwen together – from $47 to $60 and got it! I'm going to get Boromir scanned and then uploaded to my blog www.boromirsblog.blogspot.com.

After the auction, it was back in line for JRD autographs. I think he had to catch a plane so he was a bit rushed by then. As soon as we got his autograph, Sarah went on stage for the costume contest. I didn't feel that my costume was elaborate enough so I didn't enter myself. There were only three children in the juvenile division, Sarah, a Legolas, and a Frodo, and they were all so cute they gave them all first prize, a $20 gift certificate. Sarah was ecstatic and people made lots of pictures of her. The winners in the adult category were a Gandalf (3rd), and Eowyn (2nd), and 1st prize went to four Japanese girls dressed as Merry and Pippin and Sam and Rosie. They were great! In fact all the costumes were great – mostly Elven princesses, but a few Frodos and other assorted characters.

We went back to our room after the contest to rest a bit and to change, and then it was back to the desert party. Did I mention they have a cash bar at these parties? After a bit of mingling and meeting up with Joan again and our row-mate Patrick, the TORn staffers organized an LOTR quote contest where people get up and act out their favorite quotes. Most efforts are silly and the winner was Frodo being chased by Ringwraiths and then jumping on the ferry. "Frodo" actually threw herself on the stage/ferry. A close second, for me anyway, was Cliff Broadway's (Quickbeam on TORn) interpretation of Celeborn as a robot.

We played several rounds of trivia, and I finally won one! Yay! Free t-shirt! Winning answer – a neeker-breeker is a kind of cricket. I knew reading the books again right before the convention would pay off!

The people here at the convention are so friendly – it's like we’re all family. From Lisa with the flaming red hair and Dan who animates 3-D Godzilla spoofs (an oxymoron?), to our row-mate Patrick who was never bothered by our constant traffic in and out, to Masayo from Japan, to Etienne and Marianne from South Africa, to various Elves and Hobbits, to the panel experts, to the TORn staffers, to the Creation Entertainment people, to Mark in the airport – everyone was great, but I want to make a special mention for Erin "the man" who was everywhere all the time and did everything in his power and beyond to accommodate our needs. Thank you Erin!

I should probably relate some of JRD's and Sean's presentations. If you want to know everything they said, then you should have been there. JRD talked a lot about his low expectations for the films and how he slowly realized he was part of something that was going to be truly incredible. During audience questions, he talked about acting as a profession and gave us a sample of how he would do an audition. (Acting!) He talked in general about the morality in LOTR and moral climate in Hollywood, and stated that the debate on morals is a good thing. It at least shows we're thinking about it. He added that there are only two countries in the world engaged in moral debate – Israel and the U.S. - and that we should be proud. Someone asked him if he would show us that tattoo that supposedly all the fellowship actors got. He replied that he did what any actor would do when asked to do something foolish, painful, and dangerous – he sent his stunt double!

JRD on Gimli's fighting prowess: "He doesn't know he's small."

JRD on Gimli's manners: "He can hold his liquor, but not his wind."

JRD on Gimli's taste in women: His song about "swimming with little hairy women" was his "perversion bubbling to the top."

Sean was very personable and entertaining. He related how JRD introduced himself as being from the Isle of Man, "'otherwise known as 10,000 alcoholics clinging to a rock.'" He talked about his daughters and the difficulties of being separated from his children for work. He told a story about his daughter seeing one of his publicity photos from when he was 17 and he was all buffed out. She asked what those bumps were on his belly (muscles), and then said "'but my daddy has a soft furry belly.'"

Sean by the numbers:

The TV show he's been signed for next year: 24

How many episodes he's seen of fellow hobbit Dom's TV show Lost: 1

How many months he's been caffeine-free: 6 (He drinks decaf chai at Barnes and Noble now)

Approximately how many times a year he sees Elijah Wood: 7

What's tattooed on his ankle: #9 in Elvish

He explained that he watches TV shows by waiting for the entire season to come out on DVD and then watching it all at once because he doesn't like to be held in suspense. As soon as Lost comes out on DVD he will watch it. He talked about his book some, and said that he published it quickly in order to capitalize on the interest in the movie, in other words, for the money. He admitted that some people remember things differently from him, but that's going to happen (some of you may remember what I am relating differently). He said that it felt good to get all those emotions out and behind him. Someone thanked him for his efforts to promote literacy and asked him what he was currently reading. He replied that he had the most pompous answer for that question because he read the first three chapters of The Brothers Karamazov on the plane ride over. This impressed Joan most of all because she already thought he was pompous, and if you can admit you're pompous, well, that brings your pomposity down a notch. Lastly he asked us to tell Elijah "hi" for him the next day (which we did).

Sunday

Woke up early yet again. Packed. Got breakfast. Hottest day yet. The cut on my hand looks better. Checked out. Got a golf cart ride and stored the luggage at the bell stand. Ate lunch. Fatigue is setting in.

Joined the line for the Elijah Wood photos just before 2:00 and the line was huge. Daytrippers, fangirls, whatever you want to call them, were out in force. EW is definitely the money-man. By this time though, I recognize and greet all the people who've been there all weekend. WE ARE THE HARDCORE. YES!

A photographer from the Orlando Sentinel took about 20 pictures of Sarah in costume, and we made it in the Monday print edition. Too bad they weren't taking pictures Saturday when we were both in costume. Or maybe that's a good thing.

Everyone gets a picture with Elijah though, no matter how long the line. I was wearing street clothes this time, but Sarah elected for her burgundy Arwen dress again. I planned to put both kids in the picture since Joseph hadn't been in the ones the day before, but Sarah started insisting on holding her lavender stuffed poodle dog, and I wouldn't let her. By the time we got to EW she was crying, and I finally got my first glimpse of him in person. He will hate me for saying this, but he really does seem hobbit-like in person. I knew he wasn't tall, but he's skinny too. Well then, not exactly hobbit-like - he doesn't eat enough food for a hobbit! He was wearing ripped jeans, black boots, and a yellow t-shirt. Even his feet are small. His dark hair was a little spiky with long sideburns setting off perfect pale skin (see pic below). He was smiling and upbeat, seemingly unfazed by the long line of people. I told him that Sean held Sarah in his lap, but when he picked her up she just cried more. Not wanting to hold up the line I stepped away, tried to calm her down, even tried the purple dog. She said she was just tired of getting her picture taken, "tired" being the operative word, so I handed Joseph off and posed by myself. It's not the first time girls have broken down in tears in front of him I'm sure.

Quite some time later, EW came on stage for his presentation. He started off by taking pictures of the audience as we took pictures of him. Then he called Dominic Monaghan on speaker phone and chatted, followed by a call to Billy Boyd. We sang "Happy Birthday" to Billy Boyd. After that he pretty much had nothing prepared and just took questions from the audience. The audience delivered Sean's message, and he said "what, we're communicating through fans now?" He was also asked the tattoo question, twice, and both times he showed us his #9 located on his lower abdomen. EW pulling his pants down. Cool.

Nordicay was right. I am a pervy hobbit-lover.

He talked a little about his movie Hooligans, which is creating some controversy in England. Someone asked him to describe his past week, and he did, in detail, from a movie premier in the U.K., to where he slept each night, to Comic Con in Canada, to arriving at the hotel in Orlando Saturday at midnight. He said he loved airport delays, which would unfortunately proved prescient. He talked about the "tog" game that Dom and Billy tried to teach him, but every time he thought he had it, they came up with a new rule. Six months later they finally told him they made the game up. He compared his film experience with LOTR like going off to college because it was the first time he'd ever been away from home and living on his own. He talked about the practical jokes the actors played on each other. One night they came to him and suggested trashing Viggo's trailer. He was like "ok", and then explained that they made a poo and put it on his steps, then backtracked and said not a real poo, but some stuff from the WETA studios. He said the f-word about 3 times, and then apologized each time, saying he knew there were kids in the audience, and he was trying to cut down. He talked extensively about his taste in music and said he wanted to start a record label.

The questions and answers went on for about an hour and a half, which was about half an hour too long. Joseph fell asleep as he did every day, and Sarah was so tired she just about fell asleep in her chair. I'm afraid she was a little bored by the presentations and has had enough of actors for a while.

All weekend I had been worried that EW's presentation would go long and we would miss our autographs and our flight because our plane was scheduled to leave at 6:45. When I booked the flight, I had no idea that EW would be speaking so late. I figured the show would wind down about 4:00 Sunday afternoon. We explained our dilemma to Erin on the first day, and he said he thought he could work with us. Meanwhile I checked on a later flight with the airline and found out if necessary, we could catch a flight at 9:45, and if we waited until three hours before the scheduled take-off, we could reticket for only $25 a ticket. This seemed like a good back-up plan, but it would put us home at 1:30 in the morning. Since we had both work and class the next day, we wanted to do everything possible to make the earlier flight. We packed and stored our luggage with the bellman at the hotel, and I asked them to have our luggage loaded in a van taxi by 5:45. It seemed like a plan.

Towards the end of EW's talk, Erin told us to come up for our autographs. EW kept going though. At one point he stopped and was ready to leave, but they told him he could take two more questions. Erica and I nervously looked at our watches. I snapped a couple of photos from close to side stage, and then my camera batteries went dead. This was not a good camera weekend.

Erin got us in first for autographs, which was very cool. Elijah had just gotten backstage and hadn't even sat down yet, and looked at us kind of quizzically when we were the first to walk in. The rest of the encounter seemed to go in slow motion, so try to read it s l o w l y.

I walked in first and in response to EW's look, I said "We're special." He asked us if we had an early flight, and I said "yes." He's probably thinking "who would be crazy enough to fly down here with two children?" I handed him my FOTR Visual Companion and a glossy photo and said I couldn't decide which I wanted him to sign. He was nice enough to sign them both. Then I started babbling about how I had a plan for autographs, but then I got Sean Astin to sign his own book and that messed up the plan. Like he cares. About halfway through my babbling I realized that I was babbling and that I had a sleeping baby strapped to my belly in a smiley face sling and how that's probably not something Elijah sees every day. Sarah wouldn't look at Elijah, but at least she wasn't crying. Why can't I think of anything clever to say? I should say something about New Orleans. I used to live there, and he said he had friends there and the hurricane is coming. Then he signed a photo for Erica. They are not supposed to take the time to personalize the photos, but Erica asked him to write "to Erica." He looked at her, and she just said "with a 'c'", and he did it. Then she said "I like your shoes." Smooth.

Of course now I can think of million things to say. "Where do you go when you're in New Orleans?" "Where do your friends live?" "Here's the addy for my blog."

As soon as Erica complimented Elijah on his shoes, time speeded up. We raced out of there to the lobby where I had instructed the bell captain to have our luggage loaded in a van taxi by 5:45. It was at least 5:55 by now, but when we got there our luggage was not loaded. This may have been the crucial flaw. Perhaps the bellman couldn't load it without seeing our claim tickets, but I thought I had it all worked out. The taxi driver made a valiant effort to get us there, but neither the sky cap nor the ticket agent would accept our luggage or let us on the plane because it was less than 30 minutes before the scheduled take-off. We had no choice but to wait until 6:45 and book the next flight at 9:45. Then this flight was delayed until 11:35. So we were the first to get autographs and probably the last to leave Orlando that night. Well, maybe Elijah will remember us since we were first. And like Pippin who thanked Denethor for Boromir's brave but futile defense, I could not be more thankful for Erin's assistance in getting us our autographs. If only airlines could be as helpful.

We finally got on the airplane. Sarah was over her hyperactivity by now and quietly colored her My Little Pony magic coloring book. Joseph sat next to me and smiled and jibber-jabbered and reminded me that he is the best boyfriend I will ever have. After a while Sarah told me that she just wanted to go home. Then she asked my why she had to dress up like a princess every day. I guess that crown gets heavy after a while. She composed and sang a song which I'm going to reproduce here – remember, she's only five. A few more lyrics and I think this thing will really rock.

"Take the world away. (repeat)
You can't hold the world up.
Only God can cause it's so big.
It's just a ball in outer space
And we can't leave.
Bring the world back. (repeat)"

We landed about 12:30. I got the car out of the parking lot at 1:00 a.m. We loaded the luggage and the kids, and they were asleep by 1:15. Erica and I went over the events of the weekend and then she dozed a little. I did ok until about the last 20 minutes, when the lines on the road started to converge and the lights on the cars in front of me turned into red zigzags. Finally rolled into town about 2:30 a.m. Unloaded the necessities and plopped the kids in bed. Plopped myself in by 3:00 a.m. and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

So was it worth it?

Here's the tab:
$551.24 cash (I made it home with $49.76 out of $600)
$245.52 various charged items, most from the vendor room
$242.40/tkt for 4 airline tickets
$100 to reticket when we failed the 30 minute rule
$514.64 hotel bill for 3 nights
$349/tkt for two Wizard Level tickets
$65/tkt for two for the Charity Lunch with JRD
$60 photo op with JRD
$60 photo op with Sean
$70 photo op with EW
Grand total: $3398.00
Shit. I am a freak.

But, yes it was worth it. We had a great time and met a lot great people. We got to meet our idols, Treebeard for Sarah, and Elijah Wood for me. Erica and I have already agreed we want to do it again. Next time I would like to spend less time in line and more time in some of the discussion groups, but I'm not sure what I would give up to do it. I would buy my tickets sooner to get closer to the front. I would have a better autograph plan, like getting them all to sign the same picture. I would slip the celebrities my website address (still kicking myself for not doing it when I had the chance). Maybe get matching costumes made for the whole family – it's fun and it gets you noticed. And I would definitely schedule a later flight.

Elijah Wood at Elf

2005-08-30T12:26:00.000-05:00

Elijah Wood speaking at Elf, August 28, 2005

More Blogging

2005-08-08T11:47:00.000-05:00

I have decided I really should update this blog more often. I started it as more of a repository, but I should take the time to record more daily observations. For example, back in May, I had the privilege of driving my mother's Mercedes. Es. What is the plural of Mercedes? Anyway, first I drove her emergency back-up Mercedes, a two-seater convertible, that even with the hard top on, has enough wind rushing through the cracks to simulate open-top driving. The next week I drove her main Mercedes. Felt like a little kid steering a parked car in the driveway.

Later that month, I got a surprising letter in the mail from an unfamiliar law firm. Seems I have another here-to-fore unknown relative who has passed away, leaving me as one of a couple of dozen heirs. It's like something out of a movie, but Mother says not to expect too much. Last time this happened I got about $3000 from the sale of "Grandma's" house. "Grandma" was my father's grandmother, and she had a most unusual will. She had eight children and an AWOL husband, so she stipulated in her will that her home was to remain unsold for the use of her adult unmarried children, and that under no circumstances was her husband to have any claim to it. When the last of her children died, it could then be sold and the proceeds distributed to her grandchildren. The last surviving child is still living, but she signed off on the sale because her only child stood to inherit the largest share. There were only five grandchildren total, and two of them are deceased, including my father, so those shares were further divided among the great-grandchildren. Hence my $3000 share.

I also need to document my summer "vacation," when I took my children alone to a 4-day educational conference. That's going to take some time, but obviously, the children and I survived, with no meltdowns, no threats of beatings…Well, it was a parenting conference – I couldn't very well spank them right in front of the gentle discipline folks. After the conference I took them to the beach so we could "relax". Hotter than hell, and we didn't get to do a whole lot of relaxing, but the kids had fun. Payback I guess for sitting quietly in conference sessions for days.

And now that I've caught you up, my latest observations…

2005 Summer Movie Season

2005-08-08T11:37:00.000-05:00

Do the movies this summer suck or what? Where is a Spiderman, Harry Potter, or Pirates of the Caribbean? Everybody's already seen Star Wars. Batman Begins is not doing it for me. Ioan Gruffudd is hot, but not enough to get me in to see Fantastic Four. I considered the chick-flick Must Love Dogs, but it seems like something I'd rather see on cable. March of the Penguins has been a surprise hit, but I think I would rather rent it. I do want to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but I want to take the kids to that one. I think is saw the original War of the Worlds and the story's been told in dozens of incarnations. I liked it better when it was called Independence Day anyway. How can Hollywood survive when everyone evaluates the theater-worthiness of each film? "Should I wait and catch it on the cable I'm already paying for, rent it and make an evening of it, or go for the full movie experience, complete with hot buttered popcorn and those little mini-Butterfingers I love? Guess I'll just have to wait for the Christmas season for Narnia and the next Harry Potter. They sell those little Butterfingers at Blockbuster now anyways.

Hobbity Weekend

2005-08-08T11:32:00.000-05:00

I had a very hobbity time this weekend. Friday night I went to a church function that included a dinner outside and ended with fireworks. The food was not quite up to hobbit standards – hot dogs and such – but the fireworks were delightful, not the sort one might see at a 4th of July show, but something closer and more intimate. I couldn't help but think of Gandalf at Bilbo's party, especially when the explosions released what looked like dozens of fluttering birds.

The weekend before, I took the children to an amusement park up in the mountains. They had fun, but it was a long, tiring day. We couldn't seem to get everything done, never ate a decent lunch, and left exhausted, so this Saturday, I decided to go on a picnic. I packed a blanket, some fruit, a cooler full of drinks, and some fried chicken. We drove back up the mountain to a park, about an hour away. Being as it was a Saturday in August, it was pretty full, but I found us a secluded little spot right under some trees on the bank of cold creek. The air was fresh and the breezes cool. The children waded and threw rocks in the stream. I sat and read and watched the butterflies flit around and leaves float down the current, not unlike an afternoon Frodo might have spent in the Shire. It felt great to slow down and do nothing in particular.

I need to find more ways to bring the Shire home, slow down, and enjoy the simple pleasures.

Letter Published Re Ten Commandments

2005-07-01T09:15:00.000-05:00

Got another letter published! This one appears in the July 1st edition of the Charlotte Observer and is available online for the next 7 days. Go to

Charlotte Observer

and search for the title under recent news.

Here is copy and paste of the text:

Wanted: Mascot for commandments
The Supreme Court has approved religious holiday displays if mixed with secular images such as the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus.

What the Ten Commandments need is a cute mascot. Any nominations? The badger of justice? The law llama? The fairness fairy?

Mary Joan Vaccarella

Hickory

The Culture of Middle-earth

2005-06-11T00:02:00.000-05:00

There are many cultures that make up Middle-earth, and each culture has its strengths and weaknesses. There is the Shire, simple, pastoral, and with a strong sense of community. The flip side is insularity and suspicion of strangers, friend or foe. They desire peace and merriment above all other aspirations, and so stand strong where others fail.

The Dwarves are solid and stoic folk, master craftsmen who cherish ores, gems, and stones, but who also raise their deep voices in song as they bring forth music from instruments of their own hand. Their love of the solid Earth can easily be turned to greed, and their craftsmanship to disdain, but they are loyal, sturdy, fierce to their enemies, and true to their friends.

The Elves are the artisans who bring beauty and grace to everything they do, everything they make, and everything around them. Nothing is too low to be artful, and all that is high and wonderful bears their touch. But all beauty fails, as do the Elves, and so their time, though long, is tinged with sadness as all that they make and are passes away.

The Numenorian Men are the heirs of the Elves, taking on their language, their art, and their architecture, but slowly, inevitably corrupting it. The best of them are true and honorable, and makers of great works, but even they can be tempted to love stones edifices more than family, legends more than life.

The Eorlingas, the people of Rohan, are a culture rich in oral tradition, lovers of horses, and lovers of freedom. They roam their countryside, keeping to their oaths of allegiance. Loyal and true, they make fierce warriors, but they can also be misled and misused.

Our modern-day culture is mix of all these attributes, but layered over by Sarumanesque machines. Almost all that we consume and produce is dependent on engines and wheels, fires and reactions. The challenge is to keep to the positive values of the Middle-earth cultures we cherish. We can start by establishing community, both here in cyberspace, and in the real world. Be producers of works, great and small, but make nothing that is shabby, useless, or ugly. Love the Earth and all she produces, but do not be greedy with her wealth. Cherish and strengthen the beauty that is around us, but do not foolishly insist that it must last forever unchanged, for change it will. The hard heart breaks, but the soft heart yields. Aspire to the arts when you can, for they will expand your vision and enlarge your mind. Build monuments to truth, but put people before things. Cherish freedom and defend it with honor and mercy. Record your histories lest they be forgotten. Sing loudly, dance lightly, and laugh heartily.

Infant Sleep Training Letter Published

2005-06-10T23:53:00.000-05:00

Here is my latest letter to the editor published on May 2nd of this year in response to an article on sleep-training infants.

*****
Parental convenience should take back seat

In response to "Parents try to cope with crying baby" (April 25):

"Sleep training" may eventually get the baby to sleep through the
night, but it also teaches him his needs are unimportant and won't be
met by the people he trusts most. Babies in orphanages don't cry,
either, because there is no one to answer their cries.

Babies cry because they need something. Sometimes it's easy to figure
out -- they're hungry, wet, too warm or too cold. Other times it
isn't so obvious -- they may have a stomach ache or just want human
contact.

Many parents and babies avoid problems by co-sleeping. Other parents
keep baby close by setting up the crib next to their bed or putting
an adult bed in the baby's room so mom can lie down to nurse at the
first waking.

By making sleep arrangements that recognize a baby's nighttime needs,
mom, dad and baby can synchronize their sleep habits, meet baby's
needs for food and comfort and still get plenty of rest.

Mary J. Jordan Vaccarella

Hickory
*****

Here is the text as I originally wrote it, before the paper edited it.

*****

I was dismayed to see your article promoting a sleep training method
that ignores the needs of babies for the sake of the parents'
convenience. This method may eventually get the baby to sleep
through the night, but it also teaches him that his needs are
unimportant and will not be met by the people he trusts most.
Eventually baby will realize the futility of crying and shut down.
Babies in orphanages don't cry either, because there is no one to
answer their cries.

Babies do not cry to annoy their parents. They cry because they need
something. Sometimes it's easy to figure out – they're hungry, or
wet, or too warm, or too cold. Other times it is not so obvious –
they may have a stomach ache or they may just want human contact and
closeness. Breastfeeding and learning to nurse lying down are
essential for a good night's sleep. Many parents and babies avoid
sleep problems by co-sleeping, either all night or after the first
waking. Their night-waking is no more disturbing than rolling over
in bed or getting up to go to the bathroom. Other parents keep baby
close by setting up the crib next to their bed in a side car
arrangement, or put an adult bed or mattress in the baby's room so
mom can lie down to nurse at the first waking. Babies are designed
to get a substantial amount of nutrition at night. By making sleep
arrangements that recognize a baby's nighttime needs, mom, dad, and
baby can synchronize their sleep habits, meet baby's needs for food
and comfort, and still get plenty of rest.

*****

HIV/AIDS and Breastfeeding

2005-03-17T22:39:00.000-05:00

It is nearly impossible to know if HIV is transmitted from mother to child in the womb, during delivery, or by breastfeeding. All babies with HIV+ mothers have the mother’s antibodies in their system and will test positive initially. According to researcher Anna Coutsoudis, about 20 babies out of 100 born to HIV+ women will be infected. With no special breastfeeding management practices, an additional 5 babies will become infected through breastfeeding. One study frequently cited is Dunn (1992) which found a rate of transmission of about 14% by comparing breastfed infants to non-breastfed infants. Another study (Nduati 2000) studied formula-feeding versus breastfeeding. The formula-feeding group was given extensive instruction and support whereas no special instruction was given to the breastfeeding group. This study concluded that the increase in transmission due to breastfeeding was 16.2%. However, only 70% of the formula-feeding group was considered compliant, and at 24 months, child mortality was the same for both groups. Both studies have been criticized for the vague definition given breastfeeding. If the women in these studies followed their cultural norms, they were actually providing a mixed feed.

In underdeveloped countries, poor sanitation may preclude formula and/or bottle feeding. Increased mortality due to the lack of breastfeeding negates any reduction in HIV transmission rates. Some studies even indicate that exclusive breastfeeding protects against HIV transmission.

Another study using subjects from South Africa, Coutsoudis (2001), divided the mother/infant pairs into 3 groups, exclusively breastfed, exclusively formula-fed, and mixed feeding. At 3 and 6 months, the exclusive breastfed and exclusive formula-fed groups had identical transmission rates of 19.4%. The mixed feed group was higher at 26.1% rate of transmission. What this means then is that even though HIV can be transmitted through breast-milk, the protective properties of breast-milk can negate this effect. Mixed feeding may contribute to the increased rate in transmission by allowing tiny fissures in the baby’s gut or by the mother missing a feeding, putting her in a state of sub-mastitis and opening her up to infection. (I have personal experience that a regularly missed feeding can bring on infection.) This has led some to recommend exclusive breastfeeding for six months with optimal breastfeeding management to avoid mastitis and nipple damage, and then quickly weaning to other foods. Note that this group had higher rates of transmission than some other studies due to the poorer health status of the subjects.

There are several factors that affect HIV transmission:

The stage of the mother’s infection (transmission rates are highest at the early and late stages of the disease)
The type of birth (vaginal births have a higher rate of transmission)
The viral load
The duration of breastfeeding
Mastitis and nipple damage
Thrush (yeast) in the baby
Use of antiretroviral medications

I have discovered that exclusive breastfeeding rates are unusually low in Africa. Breastfeeding is the traditional and normal means of feeding infants, but it is a common practice to provide foods other than breastmilk to very young infants. I did not find out what kind of food is offered or the motivation for doing so, so I don’t know if it is simply a common food, or if infants are regularly left with caregivers who must supply alternate food. In addition, some women believe they are diluting the effect of the virus by providing a mixed feed, though the research indicates an increased risk with mixed feeding. Some may artificially feed in private and breastfeed in public. In some societies, a woman who cup feeds or bottle feeds her baby is suspected of being HIV+ and may be abused or ostracized.

Another safe way to provide breastmilk is to pump and heat the milk to boiling. This has been shown to kill the HIV virus and is similar to the pasteurization used for human milk in milk banks. This is an option in developed countries, but in an area without reliable electricity, pumping and storing milk would be nearly impossible. Milk can be hand-expressed on occasion, but exclusive pumping requires a costly electric pump in order to maintain the milk supply. Unless the milk is to be given within the next few hours, it must be refrigerated or frozen.

In summary then, the options for an HIV+ woman include the following:

Exclusively breastfeed for 6 months and then switch to alternative feeding.
Exclusively formula feed.
Antiretroviral therapy.
Express and boil breast-milk to kill the virus.
Use a healthy, HIV- woman to wet-nurse.

None of these methods is as simple as taking your baby in your arms and nursing him when he’s hungry, comforting him when he’s upset, or soothing him to sleep. I would sooner cut off my right arm (and I seriously considered this – if my arm had gangrene I would cut it off), than give up the physical, mental, and emotional benefits of nursing to both me and my baby.

Thus, many recommend that women in undeveloped countries breastfeed their children exclusively, but counsel women in developed countries to formula feed where it is deemed safer. Others feel that that this is discriminatory – that where a woman lives should not determine the feeding method, especially if they feel strongly that breastfeeding is best for babies' health and protects against HIV/AIDS. We get into a situation where the government tries to mandate a health policy without sufficient scientific knowledge and then enforces this policy through heavy-handed tactics. That is why I would counsel a woman – and now I am talking about my opinion - who has no reason to suspect that she would be HIV+ to decline the test and keep well-meaning over-zealous government officials out of her life. If a woman is seriously concerned about her status, I would recommend she be tested anonymously or go to a doctor in a neighboring town. If the test came back positive, she can inform herself and make her own decision without interference. If a woman already knew she was HIV+ but had a low viral load, I would provide her with the latest research that indicates she can breastfeed exclusively for at least 6 months. If a woman in the highly infectious stages of the disease found herself pregnant, depending on the severity of the condition and her prognosis, she may need to consider formula-feeding, the long-term care of her child, and even end-of-life choices.

Part of the reason I feel this way are the stories I read in Mothering magazine showcasing HIV+ mothers' difficult dealings with health and social service agencies . Here is a link to their article. Also check out the links to the sidebars at the top, one of which discusses the same studies on breast-milk and HIV transmission, and the other on avoiding government interference.

Safe and Sound Underground

Mothering has several other interesting articles on HIV/AIDS. Just enter “HIV” in the “find” field.

Here is a website with several presentations and position papers on HIV/AIDS and breastfeeding:

anotherlook.org

Here is a review and fact sheet of the program presented on HIV/AIDS and breastfeeding at the 2003 La Leche League International Conference:

LLLI Session Notes

I will be attending the 2005 La Leche League International Conference where I am scheduled to take a session entitled "Pressures on HIV Positive Mothers' Infant Feeding." I hope to add any new findings at that time.

2005-03-11T13:54:00.000-05:00

Sarah as Arwen for Halloween.

2005-03-11T13:52:00.000-05:00

Joseph as a ghost for Halloween. Nothing to do with Tolkien, but ain't he cute?

Dragons, Dragons, Dragons

2004-12-23T14:50:00.000-05:00

Dragons are everywhere these days in my life. Dragons in The Hobbit, dragons in The Faerie Queene, and now Netsnake (also known as Netscape) has been dubbed the the online dragon (it does eat a lot of posts and probably sits on some jewels). In real life my dragons are metaphorical, or in the shape of large six-legged creatures.

I am now in charge of killing the bugs in my house. I do not like this task, as I have an irrational fear of creepy-crawlies, but I have harnessed my fear and turned it into wrath. Whenever a bug dares to invade the household, I am summoned. I come with my weapon of choice, a broom, chosen for both is strength and flexibility, plus it allows me to keep a certain distance from my prey. In an emergency, I grab the broom from the fireplace set, whose heft makes up for its shorter length. I stealthily approach my prey, raise my weapon, and then in my best imitation of the charge of the Rohirrim, yell "die! die! die!" with each deadly blow. Then, I use my conveniently chosen weapon to sweep up the carcass into the dustpan and carry it at arm's length to the trash can. The children find this all quite entertaining and have taken to imitating me.

How to Recognize a Combatant

2004-12-06T17:06:00.000-05:00

I've got another letter published in the Charlotte Observer, this one on events in Iraq.
You can view it online for 7 days from today at www.charlottte.com, then click on
Opinion/letters, then Observer Forum/Letters to the Editor. They may require you to
register.

Here I will reproduce the text of the letter to which I am responding, followed by my letter
as published, then my original letter unpublished.

(The first letter, published Dec. 2, 2004)
Iraq's spiral of chaos grows with barbaric acts
The writer is chairman, Islamic Political Party of America.

As a Muslim, I condemn the cold-blooded murders of aid worker Margaret Hassan and of the
injured, unarmed Iraqi inside a Fallujah masjid. Both victims met their deaths by actions
that could be described as barbaric and cowardly.

When sovereign nations are attacked with no regard for international law or innocent
civilians, when prisoners are abused, and when a Marine commits murder inside of a house of
worship, we are left in a spiral of chaos.

Jibril Hough
Charlotte

(MY response published Dec. 6, 2004)
Marine had cause to be suspicious

In response to "Iraq's spiral of chaos grows with barbaric acts" (Dec. 2 Forum):Jibril Hough
hooks us with the murder of aid worker Margaret Hassan, but lest we think he is truly
concerned about the beheadings and murder of noncombatants, finishes with a Marine who
"commits murder inside a house of worship." What exactly are they worshipping in there, the
Kalashnikov and the hand grenade? It can't be Islam, because that's a religion of peace,
right?

Mary J. Jordan Vaccarella
Hickory

(My original letter, unedited)
Thank you for continuing to print the propaganda of Jibril Hough and Islamic Political Party
of America. You do the public a service by reminding us what the Muslim-American community
really thinks. Mr. Hough hooks us with murder of aid worker Margaret Hassan, but lest we
think he is truly concerned about the beheadings and murder of non-combatants, finishes with
a Marine who “commits murder inside a house of worship”. What exactly are they worshipping
in there, the Kalashnikov and the hand grenade? It can’t be Islam, because that’s a
religion of peace, right?

The Left Doesn't Get It

2004-11-11T16:04:00.000-05:00

Here's my first political post. I wrote a letter to my local paper, The Charlotte Observer, in Charlotte, NC last Saturday, and they published an extremely edited version of it on Thursday. I was so incensed over the insults and accusations from the liberal left after the presidential election, that I high-lighted all the adjectives in just the Friday paper, and included them, plus the "dumb" headline in The Daily Mirror, London, in my letter. This letter is not directed to my more liberal friends, who have always treated me with respect. Rather, it is addressed to the sore losers who equate insult with political debate, and in the process, turn off even more voters. First I will present my unedited letter from my e-mail program, and then a section from the Observer Forum. I included the letter printed before mine, because this writer included even more adjectives than me, and was probably the reason for the hack-job on mine.

Original E-mail
To: Charlotte Observer Sent: 11/6/2004 3:27 PM
Re: letter to the editor

When will the left get it? Instead of examining the failure of their message, they insult the right and center of this country, hardly an effective strategy. We who voted for Bush are not "dumb," "willfully ignorant," "manipulated," "exploited," "bigoted and prejudiced," or "hoodwinked." Do they actually think 58 million people went to the polls and blindly voted for Bush without considering the issues and the potential impact of their votes on themselves or their fellow man? On the contrary, we examined the issues and voted our conscience. Why don’t you spend your immense intellectual prowess on understanding why we think the way we do and find you so deficient?

Selection from the Charlotte Observer Forum

Posted on Thu, Nov. 11, 2004
Observer Forum: Letters to the Editor

We Bush voters know what you think of us

Enough whining and threats. We understand clearly now: Those of us who voted for the president are illiterate, inferior, bigoted, greedy, deceitful, redneck, stupid, bullying, uninformed, criminal, overly religious, moralistic, Neanderthal, violent, hysterical, hate-filled and myopic -- and we probably have bad breath because of the raw meat we eat in our catacombs.Are we really the ones who just don't get it?

Thomas F. Cochran Sr.
Charlotte

Study, don't criticize, those who backed Bush

Will those on the left ever get it? Instead of examining the failure of their message, they insult the right and center. Why don't they spend some of their immense intellectual prowess on understanding why we in the 59 million think the way we do and find them so deficient?

Mary Joan J. Vaccarella
Hickory

Elwing's Halloween Pictures

2004-11-10T19:16:00.000-05:00

Following are 6 pictures of our fellow Ponyite Elwing dressed as Hobbit and Gandalf for Halloween. They look great, dontcha' think? Elwing, you have perfect Hobbit hair! (I'm assuming the wizard hair is a wig.)

Elwing's pictures were moved offline on 12/02/04 at her request.

Getting Joseph's Walking Papers

2004-11-09T16:07:00.000-05:00

If you have read about Joseph's home birth, then you know my sister, Sandra, attended the birth. She stayed with me for several days, and five days after the birth, she accompanied me to the health department to get a birth certificate. Try to imagine the DMV with needles. Anyway, she was inspired to write the following humor piece. As with all humor, it's mostly true with just a little exaggeration. My doctor's office was not really in a burned-out filling station, but in a converted bank building. Raleigh is the capital of North Carolina. All the dialogue with the health department is near verbatim.

Do You Know Raleigh’s Last Name?

My dear sister, finding herself in the family way, decided to buck society in her own southern genteel way. “I believe I shall have my baby at home” she said. And so began her tangle with beauracracy that would rival a tank movement across the sands of Iraq.

She would have preferred prenatal care prior to her home birth. Yet physician after physician looked upon her in horror as she described her plan. No doctor at birth!! How can it be done? “No thank you” they said as they ran back to their accountants screeching epitaphs towards the audacity of any woman giving birth without paying them first to help.

She ended up finding a lab that agreed to conduct prenatal testing. That is, they agreed as long as she wore a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt, dark sunglasses and pretended not to speak English.

The glorious day arrived and as does generally occur, everything came out just fine. Joseph William entered the world in his mama’s bedroom, amidst the pre July 4th crackle of fireworks with family and friends gathered in his circle of love.

And then we had to prove it...in order to get his government walking papers. These are otherwise known as a birth certificate and social security number. One never knows these days…Junior might go out and get a job at six months of age and NEED these documents to guarantee his payment of taxes or contribution to social security.

So…she calls the Department of Public Health. In her educated, grammatically correct voice, she requested information on newborn metabolic testing and birth certificate application. “Newborn metabolic testing?” says the voice on the other end of the phone. “I don’t think we do that here.” My sister explains to “the voice” that the baby’s family doctor (who by the way agreed to see the newborn baby as a patient WITHOUT first visiting him in the hospital nursery because his office is in a burned out filling station and he doesn’t give a hoot) told her that they did in fact do this testing at the health department. With all of her 65 points of I.Q. “the voice” said, “We will have to check on this and call you back” as she hung up the phone. That return call would have been a lot easier had she taken our phone number…the significance of this we would soon learn.

So we came up with plan B. With the father boasting a “Big Johnson” running suit, and us in Led Zeppelin tee-shirts, (Hey! It worked before!!) we approached the Health Department receptionist with baby in tow. “Yes mam” sister said, “Young Joe Bill here was borned at home and we thank he needin’ shots.” More than likely, feeling quite superior after our presentation, the receptionist i.e. “the voice” was able to figure out what to do. We were passed along to the nurses who, after scratching their heads and whispering something about ignorant people, performed all the tests they could think of on the new baby.

We were then escorted to public records. Of course the baby was crying after being poked and prodded by the nurses and wanted to nurse to relieve his angst. After taking a seat, my sister began to nurse. “Mrs. Einstein” began her routine questioning. “Where was the baby born?” “At home” sister said. “Who delivered the baby?” “We did” sister said. “Where do you live?” Sister gave the address of her residence. “We need proof that you live there…either a power bill or a phone bill will do” said Mrs. Einstein. “How about my driver’s license?” sister said. “No, I need a power bill or a phone bill” “Well, my husband has his drivers license; it verifies mine…will that do?” “No” said Mrs. Einstein, “I need a power bill or a phone bill to verify your address.” “Well…my checkbook also has our home address that verifies both of our license’s address…how about that?” “No, really” Mrs. Einstein says, “I need a power bill or a phone bill.” My sister, starting to get frustrated says, “Here are the documents from the lab that did my prenatal testing. It lists my address as the same that is listed on my driver’s license, my husband’s driver’s license, and my check book…is that not enough?” And once again, Mrs. Einstein says “What I really need is a power bill or a phone bill...hmmmm…let me call Raleigh.” Which she does and is quickly told that with two driver’s licenses, a checkbook, and a lab bill all having the same address, we are pretty much sure to live at the address listed.

“OK” says Mrs. Einstein, “I need a notarized statement from someone in the community who saw you pregnant.” “Well” says I, the aunt who has kept her mouth shut so far, “I actually saw the baby born. Will my statement suffice?” Of course, Mrs. E’s response was “No, I need a statement from someone in the community who saw her pregnant.” Husband pipes up and says “I cut the cord, will that, along with the aunt who saw her give birth, be enough to satisfy your statement?” “No” says Mrs. E., “I need a statement from someone in the community who saw her pregnant.” Unable to stand it any more, I finally declare “ The last time I looked, both the father and I were part of the community…I mean, we ARE listed in the phone book you know…the phone company seems to be fairly important to you all.” Looking puzzled, Mrs. E finally says “Let me call Raleigh…I have to make sure the baby is yours.”

So her end of the conversation goes like this. “Yes, I see the baby…Yes it is obviously a baby…I see it with my own eyes…her sister, the aunt, claims to have seen her have it and the husband says he cut the cord…No, really, I SEE the baby…actually I see the baby breastfeeding…yes, the mother says it is hers…well, she had to have a baby sometime because she is obviously breastfeeding…OK…well, If you are sure” Blah, Blah, Blah.

So…by the end of the day we had a birth certificate and, believe it or not, a social security card. And more than that, we had some important knowledge here to for unknown to us. First, the power and phone company are the final word on where one actually lives as well as one’s standing in the community. However, I wouldn’t recommend handing a phone bill to any police officer who stops you for speeding…you might get arrested for improper I.D. Second, the fact that one is carrying around 45 extra pounds from pregnancy, that one’s milk has come in, that one is obviously post natal in condition is NOT proof that one has had a baby. The only proof of pregnancy is if Raleigh SAYS it happened. Finally, we decided if sister was ever going to have another baby at home, we might ought to call Raleigh first. If it is a boy, we might even name him Raleigh because Raleigh is apparently quite intelligent. If we could just figure out Raleigh’s last name…cause he is probably listed in the phone book…and that makes him pretty darned important…don’t ya think!

The Birth of Joseph William

2004-11-09T14:51:00.000-05:00

File this under "childbirth." This may be considered graphic by some, with words like "perineum," but this story is meant to encourage, not scare. BTW, that's me and Joseph in the picture titles "black&white" in this same journal.

The Birth of Joseph William

I woke up Thursday morning, July 3rd 2003, at 5:48 a.m. experiencing my third contraction. I dozed through the first two, thinking I needed to get up and go to the bathroom, when I suddenly realized, these were the long-awaited labor pains. The last few weeks of our pregnancy had been difficult, and I became convinced you would come early. I was certainly big enough. But your due dates came and went with no signs of pre-labor. I was off work for the week of July 4th, and I began to mentally prepare myself for returning to work on Monday, still pregnant. I started joking, I wasn’t really pregnant, just very, very fat.

Starting about week 34, I began suffering from sciatic nerve pain in my right hip, and I could hardly walk. I started getting weekly massages, and they made me feel a little better. Week 37, I went to confession on Saturday, to mass on Sunday, and got the annointing of the sick on Sunday afternoon. We even got a bottle of holy water to sprinkle on the bed for good measure. By week 38, the nerve pain was gone (a miracle?), but my joints and leg muscles ached from your weight and the weeks of inactivity. Finally by Thursday of week 40, I felt my strength returning. Then on Friday, I fell at work and severely bruised my tailbone. I couldn’t sit, and began to worry that the tail bone would cause me excruciating pain in labor. I began to appreciate that you were a little late. It would give me some time to recover.

On Wednesday of week 41, I had my weekly appointment with the midwife. We discussed all the things we would do if you still weren’t here by week 42. Before the appointment, Sarah, my three-year-old, and I had spent a rousing hour dancing and playing instruments to Herb Albert’s Tijuana Brass. I don’t know if it was the music or the conversation, but apparently you decided it was time to come out, so I woke up Thursday morning in labor.

First I searched for a watch with a second hand, but I couldn’t find one. You’d think with months of preparation for your home birth, I would have taken care of this tiny detail. I finally woke up Frank, your Dad, to ask him to find his watch, which he did. We timed a couple of contractions and called the midwife, Karen. She had me call the second midwife, just to give her warning. I was instructed to eat something, keep in touch, and let her know when the contractions were five minutes apart, one minute in duration, and regular. Frank and I rushed around, getting me juice, making me soup, and preparing frozen orange juice chips. We called my sister, Sandra, first because she had an hour-and-a-half drive to get to us. Frank called my friend Julie in a panic, and told her to come right away, even though I told Frank that we didn’t need anyone to rush over just yet. I called Lisa, the massage therapist, and told her to clear her schedule, I was in labor.

Julie showed up first. I told her I was fine, so she left to get breakfast and a cup of coffee. Sandra showed up next, then Julie returned, then Lisa arrived. A period of female bonding ensued as we discussed ex-husbands, current husbands, birth experiences, kids, and home décor. Sandra was convinced she was pre-menopausal and having hot flashes, until I pointed out that she was sitting next to the crock pot with steaming water.

My contractions were strong and effective, but variable. If I sat up, they were four minutes apart. If I went to the bathroom, they came back-to-back, but then they were followed by a short mild one. If I laid down, they were 8 minutes apart. Sometimes they were 45 seconds, sometimes 90, so I didn’t know whether to call the midwife or not. She had told me she had an appointment at 2:30 and would come by afterwards, but around 12:45, I started feeling queasy, and suspected I was in transition. I called her and asked her to come check me before her appointment. She said she was getting in the shower and had to put on her makeup (she still thinks she’s going to make her appointment!). I said, “don’t worry about the makeup, no one’s got it on here!” In hindsight, I should have insisted she come earlier that morning, but I learn something from each birth. Besides we were having so much fun.

Karen showed up about 1:30, checked my dilation, and announced she wasn’t going anywhere, I was eight centimeters. (See, I knew it.) She put my helpers to work, calling the second midwife, heating blankets, setting up instruments, et cetera. I was having contractions, hot flashes, and a little nausea. Lisa massaged, Julie fanned, and Sandra wiped my brow with a wet cloth. I only felt my tailbone injury for a short time during transition as you descended, but it was just an achy, numb feeling, so I felt fortunate there. Soon I felt the urge to push, but you were in a poor position, facing the wrong way.

With my tailbone injury, I could not sit in a reclining position, so I tried pushing in a side-lying position. The midwife grabbed my top leg and sort of wrenched it back and forth, trying to get you to turn. We needed more gravity, so the midwife insisted I get up and told me that she was going to march me up and down the stairs. Well, I informed her that not only was I too nauseous to stand, but there was no way I was walking up and down stairs. (This is the labor talking.) She said not to worry, they were going to support me the whole time. She pulled me up and I struggled to stand, hunched over and nauseous.

Next began the “stair walk of torture”, and I am thinking, this midwife is nuts. Karen supported me on one side, and Lisa, the fortunately strong massage therapist, supported the other. Julie followed behind, holding a chub around my backside. Sandra walked behind, mopping up the mess. (Sandra was the one who thought she’d be too squeamish.) I have no idea where my husband was at this time, but I know he was there somewhere. Sarah, my three-year-old, was blithely watching television in the den. Four times they marched me up and down the stairs. Each time when I got to the landing, they had me squat and push with one leg one step higher than the other. This would be an unnatural position for anyone, but was darned near impossible for someone with 40 extra pounds on their belly. But Lisa and Karen held me up, and I marched, squatted, and pushed, protesting all the while. This trick of Karen’s seemed to work, and you turned around. Just shows you the advantage of having a midwife in a home birth setting. An OB nurse wouldn’t have taken me on such a walk, and an obstetrician would have cut me from stem to stern and yanked you out.

Karen led me back to the bedroom, and I decided I wanted to do the rest on the floor on all fours. They spread a comforter on the floor and covered it with waterproof pads. The rest is kind of a blur. My water broke fairly quickly. It was stained light green, causing me some concern. I pushed until I felt my perineum stretching. I followed the midwife’s guidance on when to push and when to blow. My arms and knees ached. It was hard, but I knew it would be over soon. As you crowned, I reached back and touched your head. Finally, with great relief, I pushed your head out. One more contraction and burning push, and your shoulders came out. The rest of you slithered out quickly, at 3:30 p.m. I turned my head to see the midwives working on you, alternately suctioning your mouth and giving you oxygen. The second midwife had shown up some time during the delivery, I didn’t know when. You weren’t breathing, but I didn’t panic, because I knew that it sometimes takes a minute or so for a baby to take its first breath. You were slightly blue, but a blue baby still has blood circulating. A white, limp baby is much more dangerous – it has neither circulating blood nor oxygen. Your umbilical cord was still attached and functioning. I looked up to see my husband Frank in the bathroom doorway. He looked worried. I looked back at you. The midwives were still working on you. I did not know your sex yet, so I reached back and lifted your leg. “It’s a boy”, I exclaimed. Then finally, you cried and breathed.

Sarah was in the room now. She beheld you just moments after your birth. They wrapped you in a warm blanket and put us in the bed together. I tried to put you to the breast, but you weren’t interested. Another contraction and I pushed out the placenta. I felt it this time, unlike with Sarah. I was sore all over, like I had been through a wringer, and I was still nauseous. They cleaned us up, and gave me a fresh nightgown. Sarah and your Dad got in bed with us, and we all snuggled a while. Still, I was a little disappointed that this birth hadn’t been the easy and relatively painless experience I’d had with Sarah. I didn’t have that same the sense of elation, like I’d just reached the mountaintop; I just felt sick and exhausted.

Thankfully, the feeling soon passed. Emptying my stomach helped. One by one the midwives and friends left, leaving just my sister and my family with me. I was just beginning to get to know you, God’s newest creation, Joseph William.

Conclusions on the Birth

Well, that’s the birth story of Joseph. As you have gathered, I chose a home delivery for my second child. Unlike with Sarah, I knew I was pregnant right away with Joseph. I had been practicing (the operative word here is “practicing”!) natural family planning when I conceived, and I could tell there was an immediate change in the mucous signs. I gave myself a pregnancy test and it was positive. Slowly we told family and friends. And then I procrastinated. I regretted two things from my first birth experience, and I wanted to figure out a way to put my lessons learned into practice. I had pushed too exuberantly with Sarah, causing tiny tears too small to stitch, and found myself in the emergency room in intense pain six days later. I eventually realized that not only was my enthusiastic pushing to blame for this setback, but the seemingly innocuous local anesthetic kept me from knowing when to stop pushing . The second thing I regretted was the early separation between me and Sarah. The nurses put her on an examining table naked, and then wrapped her up in a blanket inches thick before handing her to me. Then they took her away because she was too cold. If only they had laid her on me skin-to-skin and covered us both with a warm blanket, everything would have been fine. I read the books; I went to the classes; I wrote the birth plan; but I still found the medical care wanting.

I sorted through my options. I knew I did not want an ultrasound or amniocentesis, but I did want the alpha fetal protein (AFP) screening, which can indicate neural tube defects, Down’s syndrome, and the presence of twins; and I had a certain window of opportunity to make a decision. I could go the traditional route as I had done with Sarah and hope for the best. I could use the midwife from the same practice, but she might not be available when I went into labor, and I would still be subject to hospital policies. I had heard good things about the midwives at a different local hospital, but unfortunately, that hospital was not in my insurance network. There was another good midwife practice at a covered hospital in the next town, but it was a 25 minute drive, and I had concerns about my husband driving me. He has a neurological disorder, and though he drives, he doesn’t drive particularly well, especially under pressure. Additionally, I had never spent a night away from Sarah, and she still nursed to go to sleep. A hospital birth would entail at least a two day stay. As I had few risk factors, a proven pelvis, no desire for pain medication, and we were within ten minutes of two hospitals, we finally decided that I would get the best outcome with a home birth.

I had met a midwife by chance or fate that previous summer at a bookstore. I had taken her phone number, though I wasn’t even planning on having another child. What with a husband in poor health and working fulltime to support my family, my head knew that I didn’t need another person to take care of. My heart however, longed for a child regardless of logic, and thankfully God read my heart and not my mind.

I called the midwife, and we had a long chat. She explained the services she could provide, what she could not provide, her credentials, her experience with pregnant and laboring women, her experience with emergencies, and our responsibilities. Most importantly, she explained that while it was perfectly legal to have a child at home in North Carolina, it was illegal for her to practice direct-entry midwifery, and she could be prosecuted. Therefore, we would not be able to reveal her name to any health or legal authorities, and we would have to be careful revealing our plans to family and friends.

My husband had some reservations about the home birth, and after much probing I determined that he was afraid I would want pain medication and be unable to get any. I assured him that since I did not need any paid medication the first time, I would be just fine. My own fears centered around the baby – what if the baby needed emergency care, and we couldn’t get him to the hospital on time. I figured that any emergencies concerning myself, such as hemorrhaging or placenta-previa could be managed, but what if the baby wasn’t breathing? My fears turned out to be not completely groundless.

We decided to go with the midwife and the home birth. I was to see her regularly for prenatal care, but I had to find my own doctor for lab tests and emergency backup, and a pediatrician for the baby. First I tried the ob-gyn who delivered Sarah. I met with him, explained my plans for a home birth, and asked if he could provide lab tests, occasional prenatal care, and emergency backup. After consulting with the other doctors in the practice, he informed me that their insurance would not allow them to take me as a patient. I was nearing the deadline for the AFP test when my midwife obtained an appointment for me with an obstetrician about a forty minute drive away. This practice told me that they could not take any new patients, which I did not believe, and blamed their fear of malpractice instead, but they agreed to process my initial lab work. After that, I considered going to the health department and just not telling them of my birth plan, but it seemed dishonest.

After considering several family practitioners for the baby, a nurse friend of mine recommended a family doctor who was new in town and building a practice. He worked alone except for his registered nurse wife, and he had obstetrical experience, though he was not currently practicing obstetrics. I explained my situation to them over the phone, and they agreed to see me. At our visit, I explained that I did not expect them to provide my prenatal care or emergency backup, but only to perform certain prenatal tests at my request and to take the baby as a patient after the birth. They were both fine with this, and I transferred all my family’s medical records to their practice. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Would I have a home birth again? Probably. I’m convinced that that the U.S. healthcare system has over-medicalized a natural, normal process. With good intentions, they treat every birth like a major trauma, an accident waiting to happen, when the large majority could proceed with minimal intervention. Education is empowerment. Encouragement is confidence. I still have concerns about emergency care for the baby, but I had no post-partum perineal pain, and I was never separated from my baby, so my two original goals were achieved. I was quite comfortable laboring at home, and though the birth was not the gentle, beautiful experience I had anticipated, the outcome would have been worse in a hospital setting. I would have most likely been in a lot of pain from the episiotomy and the assisted delivery, and the baby would have been whisked away for emergency treatment. Everyone in attendance at my birth assured me that it was a wonderful experience for them, and thanked me for the opportunity.

What's It All About

2004-11-05T02:17:00.000-05:00

I've been toying with the idea of creating my own website for some time now, and this seemed a really easy way to do it. I'm not sure if anyone will ever see it, but I'm going to put it out there anyway. I want an outlet for my thoughts, creativity, and passions. I'm not really sure where this journal is going, but I hope it's a fun ride. I'll be sharing some of my thoughts on Tolkien, whenever I compose something. I'm a frequent contributor to the Prancing Pony message board, which can be accessed through Netscape or www.lordoftherings.net (community). Whenever I compose something of significance for that site, I'll post it here as well. I'll probably mine some of my old posts to get started.
I'm also passionate about breastfeeding, parenting, and childbirth issues. I'll share some of my parenting stories as well as promote natural approaches to parenting. I have two children, a girl, Sarah, born in 2000, and a boy, Joseph, born in 2003. I had them both naturally, the second one at home, and I am tandem breastfeeding them both, if that gives you an idea of where I'm coming from.
I also keep up with news and current events, so I may make occasional political observations as well. I have had several letters published in The Charlotte Observer (NC), so if I am ever moved enough to write them, I'll post it here it too. Just remember, it's my journal, so it's my rules. Let's get started!

2004-10-29T15:39:00.000-05:00

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