When I Fail My Classes ...

... Could someone please remind me that I decided to go to a jazz concert at the Kennedy Center instead of studying on Friday afternoon?! And that I would make the same choice again?! Because getting dressed up (i.e., showering, doing my hair AND putting on clothing without an elastic waistband) to listen to entertaining music while sitting in the presidential suite sure beats staring at my computer screen in my pajamas and pink fuzzy slippers. Also, I needed another box of presidential M&M's ...

P.S. I know, I know, enough with these ?!. But question marks bother me lately, so I have adopted a new policy of adding an exclamation mark after each one. Perhaps this means I am trying to make my questions seem more exciting and less bewildering?! (Or that I am just weird. Apostrophes bother me too these days. Does this mean I like to be difficult and traditional in avoiding contractions or that I am not possessive enough?!) Or that I should stop analyzing my punctuation quirks and start studying ...

Thanksgiving Dinner ...

I am not home for Thanksgiving. For the first time. Ever. But I still know exactly what will happen. Nana will make her delicious rolls, cinnamon and orange varieties, and worry about bringing too many or too few. (Note to Nana: You will have a few more cinnamon rolls to pass around this year, thanks to my absence.) Mom will arrange fabulous centerpieces and themed name cards (I got mine in the mail, so I am not excluded here, thank you very much). The boys will watch football and occasionally run an errand to the basement or the grocery store. Everyone will eat too many potato chips loaded with clam dip, while Uncle B. shares the latest tidbit from the National Enquirer. Aunt J. or B. might be brave enough to ask R. or T. or D. or A. or S. about their dating adventures. (The other S. and H. might get off this year. But they probably have the most to tell. At least according to Facebook. M. will be glad she gets to avoid this topic for a while longer.) Mom will announce three times that Thanksgiving dinner is ready and the television must be turned off. Now. Dad will carve the turkey and mix the cranberry and Sprite drinks. The dinner conversation will vary from a heated discussion about the latest government bailout to news about B. and her boys to a plea from Nana for everyone to be quiet and grateful for a few minutes. In the end, the women will survey the scene and note the exact number of minutes it took for their hours and hours of work to be consumed, and the men will briefly help with the dishes until, they imagine, invisibly returning to the couch and the football. Then there might be some discussion about seeing a movie, or maybe playing a good game of Apples to Apples, which will be won, of course, by whoever gets the card for "mold" or "smelly socks." Then Aunt J. will bring out her pies and ask what everyone wants. A little sliver of each for me, please ...

Some Stuff ...

It suddenly became cold in my neck of the woods, as Mr. Roker would say. So today I wore a fuzzy sweater, with toasty boots and my glasses (instead of contacts ... this has less to do with The Cold than my itchy-eyed worry that I am getting A Cold). I felt plenty warm all day, to be sure. And my neck itched from the sweater, my socks annoyingly fell down in my boots and the glasses gave me a headache. But then again, I saw snowflakes for the first time here this year, talked to J. (alas, on the phone) while snuggled in my yellow comforter and finished it all with a mug of Nana's special hot cocoa. A rather fabulous end to a regular day ...

P.S. For those who asked: I am reading A Room with a View by E.M. Forster. A sample passage thus far ... and no, I do not know what happens ... I have yet to read the last page:

"This she might not attempt. It was unladylike. Why? Why were most big things unladylike? Charlotte had once explained to her why. It was not that ladies were inferior to men; it was that they were different. Their mission was to inspire others to achievement rather than to achieve themselves. Indirectly, by means of tact and a spotless name, a lady could accomplish much. But if she rushed into the fray herself she would be first censured, then despised, and finally ignored. Poems had been written to illustrate this point.

"There is much that is immortal in this medieval lady. The dragons have gone, and so have the knights, but still she lingers in our midst. She reigned in many an early Victorian castle, and was Queen of much early Victorian song. It is sweet to protect her in the intervals of business, sweet to pay her honor when she has cooked our dinner well. But alas! the creature grows degenerate. In her heart also there are springing up strange desires. She too is enamoured of heavy winds, and vast panoramas, and green expanses of the sea. She has marked the kingdom of this world, how full it is of wealth, and beauty, and war -- a radiant crust, built around the central fires, spinning towards the receding heavens. Men, declaring that she inspires them to it, move joyfully over the surface, having the most delightful meetings with other men, happy, not because they are masculine, but because they are alive. Before the show breaks up she would like to drop the august title of the Eternal Woman, and go there as her transitory self."

This Post Is Too Important For A Title ...

Dear Kyle,

So, remember Wednesday night when I came to watch you play basketball!? Yes, our team lost. But I am not referring to that tiny detail. I am referring to the fact that you only made a few shots that night. I think I should apologize for that. I am pretty sure that my presence there, high in the stands of that too-quiet arena, probably flustered you. Because I am pretty sure that you have realized what I have realized. We should probably get married. I know I am not tall and blond and supermodelesque but I bet you get tired of those girls anyway. This way, you would always be the pretty one in the relationship. And think of how good my first name plus your first name would be with your last name. It rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?! Kyle and Callie Korver. I really like that. Also, I come with a red leather couch, a letter from the president and assorted chick flicks. And in three more semesters, a law degree. I bet you have none of those things. So think about it.

Love,
C.

Freedom ...

I like that Veteran's Day comes after Election Day, that it reminds us to reflect and remember those who fought to ensure that we, and others, can debate about our leaders, our values and our direction in peace and freedom. So I especially liked this paragraph from a case today ...

"Those who won our independence believed that the final end of the state was to make men free to develop their faculties, and that in its government the deliberative forces should prevail over the arbitrary. They valued liberty both as an end and as a means. They believed liberty to be the secret of happiness and courage to be the secret of liberty. They believed that freedom to think as you will and to speak as you think are means indispensable to the discovery and spread of political truth; ... that the greatest menace to freedom is an inert people; that public discussion is a political duty; and that this should be a fundamental principle of the American government. They recognized the risks to which all human institutions are subject. But they knew that order cannot be secured merely through fear of punishment for its infraction; that it is hazardous to discourage thought, hope and imagination; that fear breeds repression; that repression breeds hate; that hate menaces stable government; that the path of safety lies in the opportunity to discuss freely supposed grievances and proposed remedies; and that the fitting remedy for evil counsels is good ones."

~ Justice Brandeis, Whitney v. California, (1927)

Reading The Last Page First ...

Much has changed since my last post. (Enough to warrant the supply of peppermint ice cream I purchased today, I think.) We elected ourselves a new president, my little sister turned 21, and the Christmas lights and ice skating rink have reappeared on Pentagon Row. For the record, I like change. Sometimes. In moderation. When I choose it. And usually, when I can see it coming. Which explains why I read the last page first. OK, not exactly first. But almost. I read the last page in any book that I like, as soon as I have decided that I like it. As soon as I forget about my real life and instead curl up on the couch in my pajamas and blanket and read and read and read. And I actually usually read the entire last chapter. I tell myself this would be a compliment to the writer, that I cannot wait until the end to see what will happen to these people who suddenly became real to me. But when I really think about it, no writer would be happy about this. Because as soon as I read the last chapter, and know the ending, happily ever after or not, I hurry through the rest of the book to make sense of it all. And I invariably miss something in the process, some of the magic in the middle perhaps, in my hurry to figure out how The End happened. So I am turning over a new leaf. And reading my current book the proper way, the patient way, the way the writer intended. Just to see what happens ...

And One More Thing ...

My Dad called today. To tell me he was listening to Christmas music. I pushed pause before I answered the phone. I was listening to Christmas music too ...

Election Eve ...

OK, since after tomorrow I will likely never want to discuss this election again, I must make a few Election Eve comments. Mainly about how disgusted I am with the press right now, and its complete lack of even the pretense of fair reporting. Two examples from this Sunday alone:

From the main story on the front page of The Washington Post:
"John McCain faces an enormous task in trying to prevent Barack Obama from winning the White House and becoming the first African American president in the nation's history, according to a final weekend preelection analysis by The Washington Post."

Yes, I am so sure that when John McCain decided to run for president he did not do so because he wanted to become president himself, but because he wanted to prevent Barack Obama from becoming the first African American president. Seriously. Nicely spun, writers.

From Parade Magazine:
"Obama: Chose Delaware Sen. Joe Biden after a long and careful vetting process, rejecting the idea of Sen. Hillary Clinton as a running mate.
McCain: Picked Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin at the last minute, reportedly after deciding that Connecticut Sen. Joe Lieberman, his first choice, would anger pro-life delegates at the Republican Convention.
Bottom Line: Obama put experience and readiness to be President first. McCain made excitement and freshness his top priority."

Sorry, but both candidates picked vice presidents who had the strengths they lacked. Obama already had excitement and freshness, so he needed Biden. McCain already had experience and readiness, so he needed Palin. (Not to say that I am enamored with Palin, and that someone else could not have provided some other strengths McCain lacked. But really. No one knows what the vice president does anyway, right ...)

Autumn Day ...

To celebrate the season we spent some quality time hiking in the Shenandoah Mountains yesterday. And now I am spending some quality time feeling sore. It turns out that going to the gym twice per semester does not exactly qualify a person for an eight-mile hike. But it did not stop me from having a fabulous time ...