Into Great Silence
Sort of like March of the Penguins. Only more meaningful. And without Morgan Freeman (whose voice I really do like) emoting when an egg gets dropped. Or whatever.

I’m sure I’ll have to go alone for this one. It might be asking a bit much of the boys… Silence is one of those things that is not handled easily by many people. I don’t always do well with silence, as much as I crave it.

Getting over the second cold I’ve had in two weeks, I can only think how long it would take before some sniffling, throat clearing or sneezing would drive me insane in that atmosphere. I’m getting on my own nerves in a not-too-quiet environment. Did I mention I gave up non-essential music for Lent? Or did I say I’m not talking about what I gave up?

Cultivating interior silence is much more work than drowning everything out with TV, CDs and iTunes. I suppose I could try to help my family cultivate a spirit of silence. But I wouldn’t bet on it. Things haven’t been the same since we read in a book for Tourette’s parents that TV at dinner can help create a more calm atmosphere. I despise television at meals, but Rick comes from a family that can’t digest their food without TV, so the Tourette’s book sealed the deal. Sorry…I’m lapsing into kvetching.

Back to the subject at hand.
1) The auteur is Gröning, not Groening.
2) The trailer is well suited to watching at work. (unlike, say, Snakes on a Plane.)
3) I doubt if Angry Alien will be able to do a “Into Great Silence in Thirty Seconds – with Bunnies.” Though I would probably enjoy it.

Fine Art Friday

Monastery Graveyard in the Snow
by Caspar David Friedrich (c. 1817)

Friedrich was a favorite of mine back in the day. Like a lot of my college friends, I was able to 're-connect' via the Internet. What would I do without GOOGLE image searches? And I found an out-of-print D-K book of just Friedrich's work...

*The first rule of Lent Club is - you do not talk about Lent Club. The second rule of Lent Club is - you DO NOT talk about Lent Club….
I love Lent. I just don’t always like talking about it. You know, in the way women will let a discussion of Lenten practices devolve into talk of carbs, fats, calories, etc. I was anorexic during senior year of high school. I’ve already discussed food as temptation enough for a lifetime. And it also just doesn’t seem very penitential to talk your practices to death. (Sister Mary Martha posts some nice thoughts on the addition of the word “besides” to what one is sacrificing during Lent: Here's a good rule of thumb: If the thing you want to give up has an "and besides" behind it, perhaps it's not the thing to give up, as in "I'm going to give up butter for Lent because I slather everything with butter....besides, it will help my cholesterol levels.")

In some other ways, this is the perfect opportunity for subtle evangelization. Two young gentlemen visiting my home last evening were kind enough to tell me that I had quite a bit of a dark substance on my forehead. (Wash face in the morning with Olay Daily facial, moisturize with a bit of Lubriderm and dust with Physician’s Formula Pearls of Perfection…that is how you set the foundation for ashes that last over 12 hours. Or maybe it is just the sinful nature that it clings to. The family members who went to Mass with me at 8:00AM had very little left on their foreheads.) So, yes, I had the chance for a little discussion of Ash Wednesday. Rather than be offended by their ignorance, I chose to be touched by their chivalry.

*Giving up the kvetching is not going so well.

Wardrobe Tip!
If you're under the weather and the house is a little drafty, try putting a turtleneck and leggings under your Lanz nightgown. The look is a little like pajama day at school, but it is comfy. Warm and practical, yet with a delicacy that demands the respect and pity a sufferer of a rhinovirus deserves.

von Huben? von Huben?
Yes, it is Ellyn's day off.
Not as exciting as it sounds. I have a cold bad enough that it is worth it to me to call in sick to work. Not having any sick day or vacation benefits makes me quite introspecitve when it comes to illness. Not to mention a practioner of "presentee-ism." Sick days for me are a matter, "Do I feel like paying $X and hour for the privilege of lying around feeling crappy?" And many times I decide I don't feel that bad and I go to work and I feel fine. But I was sneezing and coughing all night. I'm surprised I survived. That annoying post-nasal drip cough was so bad, that it was quite charitable of my family not to smother me with a pillow.

Once the drgus kick in, I figure I can set up school on the couch and redeem part of the day. Wish I could find some DayQuil...but I'll just have to use what I have. There isn't even any NyQuil. There is the frozen bottle of Jagermeister. That would taste like NyQuil. But I just don't see Jager as the drug of choice of the homeschooling mother. (And not that I care too much what others think, but if I took a shot of Jager, this would be the day the Amazon box arrives, too big for the mailbox and the mailman would ring the door bell and, well , I wouldn't look good. Not that the mailman thinks too highly of us, anyway.

Wishing Mama T a very happy birthday. Check out her birthday related Fine Art Friday selection…

Born on a Blue Day: Inside the Extraordinary Mind of an Autistic Savant
I am finding this to be a fascinating and comforting book. Although the cover blurb by and text references to Simon Baron-Cohen have a wacky dissonance. Kind of like finding a third Ratzinger brother reviewing the latest JackAss movie. Just not what you expect when you see the name…

For Your Consideration...
As fascinating as cinematic errors (fact, continuity etc.) may be - we all love that light bulb in the gas light in Gone With the Wind - I think that some notice is taken by viewers with such a sense of literalism that they can’t think of the action on the screen as taking place in A) a fluid, not static environment or B) the language of metaphor.

Two examples from IMDB’s Goofs page for Litttle Miss Sunshine:

A) Continuity: When Sheryl is driving Frank back from the hospital, he is wearing a white t-shirt; when they arrive at the house, he's wearing a white button-up shirt. So, life isn’t only happening to the person that the camera is on. Just maybe, at some point, if this were real life, Frank changed shirts. Anyone who has spent an afternoon with a toddler could tell you that real life wardrobe continuity is an ephemeral thing.

B) Errors in geography: The movie ends with the Hoovers driving into the sunset back to New Mexico. However, the sun sets in the West, and New Mexico is east of LA. Well, duh. For one thing, driving off into the sunset is a common - even overused - metaphor. We’re not watching this film to find out where New Mexico is in relation to LA. And, in life, things aren’t always what they appear to be. As those in the midwest who have driven from Milwaukee to Chicago (straight north!) while staying on the Hwy I-94 West are quick to realize.
Not the sort of things that make movie legends. Not like when you drag your family in front of the TV just to witness that light bulb in Atlanta of the 1860’s.

FINE ART FRIDAY
It’s 9 degrees here in Lake Bluff – an improvement over a few days this week. So I think we need a little George Rodrigue Mardi Gras Blue Dog spirit…

YOU CAN'T DROWN THE BLUES
An Original Silkscreen by George Rodrigue, 2006
Benefiting The New Orleans Museum of Art

Bridget is sad…
and there isn’t much I can do. She and her boyfriend of some five years have broken up. I really thought they would get married. And I think she did, too. So now all I can do is be ‘supportive.’ Kinda makes me nostalgic for the days when the big crises were diaper rash or an ear infection.

You were only waiting for this moment to be free...
Rick and Chuck thought it was a squirrel trapped in the chimney that had been making noise all day. Nothing seemed to be there when it was time to let it out...

I had hideous visions of evisceration, carnage and carpet damage when Chuck yelled, “Call Dad, I found it.” But what he found was a blackbird sitting on the bookshelf near the fireplace. (I think it was a blackbird; maybe he was wearing the evidence of a day in the chimney) It sat very still, not carroming about the house the way birds would when they would come down the chimney at the old house. This has happened enough to disabuse me of most belief in the Irish superstition of a bird in the house as a harbinger of death. If we had a death for every bird that got into the house our family would be one tight clique.

Rick scooped it up and took it outside. It made a few squawks of protest and took off. I’m happy for all of us that it didn’t find its way into the living room where the stuffed ‘raven’ is perched. It would be sad to have a traumatized bird on our hands. Or a bird enamored of an objet d’art.

Man charged, accused of being 'Spa Bandit'
It’s amazing what I learn by checking out the Milwaukee papers…To think there is such an unusual criminal in my own neighborhood. I don’t think I know him. I can’t recall running into anyone who smelled that good or was that exquisitely smooth and exfoliated.

Mark Twain said, “There are no grades of vanity, there are only grades of ability in concealing it.” This dude gets an F. And not for "Fragrant."

Lake Bluff, Ill. - The so-called Spa Bandit is now feeling the heat in another way.
Marshall G. Wolbers, 56, of Lake Bluff, Ill., was charged with theft of services after being accused of failing to pay for pedicures and other spa treatments in Illinois and Wisconsin, police said.
He was arrested over the weekend near a train station.
"He ran away from the officers across a parking lot and tried to get into a taxi," Deputy Police Chief David Belmonte said. "That's when he was apprehended."
Authorities said the man received a number of services in at least 20 spas in northern Illinois and southern Wisconsin since last March and left without paying the bill.
He is accused of stealing nearly $1,000 over the past year in body waxings, massages, haircuts, facials, sea salt body scrubs, tangerine body quenches, manicures and pedicures, authorities said.

Whatever a tangerine body quench is, it must be really pleasant if it drives people to break the law. And I thought wrestling with vanity issues meant fighting the urge to take that extra look in the mirror in the morning. (You know, after ascertaining that I am not leaving the house with mismatched earrings, my hair standing on end or my shirt inside out.)

I’m Unique…
Just like everyone else. This news comes through a link from Domenico Bettinelli who is having some identity issues of his own.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 0 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Did you know there are 3,000 people in the U.S. with the first name Ellyn? (That would be about 50 of us per state.) Fortunately, more than 99.9 percent of people with the first name Ellyn are female.
Trying this search using my maiden name yielded 30 Ellyn Smiths. Not too shabby, though not a big enough group to try to organize a convention. And if I knock it back to Ellen Smith, I can come up with 2, 610! Impressive. Perhaps I shall write a song with that as a title…oh, that’s right, there is one already.