Triumph over the Machine

Victory over an inanimate object shouldn't be this sweet. I've been trying for a couple months to figure out the Slideshow widget on Blogger; today, justice has prevailed.

There are few things more frustrating than being a photographer and not being able to post a stupid little slideshow on your blog. Than having a photobucket slideshow html code and having nowhere to embed it. Seriously, it's up there with undercooked $25 pizza.

Blogger sweetly informed me that a handful of photo-album sites would cooperate with me. Very long story short, I discovered Picassa Web Albums to be friendly to my plight, and look at that! Now, large-ish thumbnails are displayed on right-hand sidebar (go ahead, look at the pretty flashing pictures!) and can be clicked on to view the larger version.

Show your friends, show your family. All photos can be ordered in a range of sizes to add a nice touch to any room. Or, shoot me an email (find it in my profile) to set up a family or individual portrait shoot. The weather is lovely and the location options are wide open.

In other housekeeping, note the subscription widget below the "Places to Click". This blog can now be embedded into Google and Yahoo pages.

The last of the happy news for the day is that another one of my Heart Gallery kids found a home. Keep those kids in your prayers and consider being involved with the Heart Gallery of Lane County.

Happy Anniversary, Us

A year ago today, I married my best friend.

A whole year has gone by - we've experienced the joy of moving in together, adjusting to a life routine, being introduced as "The Lodges." For Halloween, Danny was a contractor; I was a fairy (children's book to follow). We negotiated hiding places for Christmas presents and picking the right Valentine's Day card (for the first time EVER, I had a date on Valentine's). We've read through The Chronicles of Narnia, The Hobbit, Howl's Moving Castle and The Belgariad.

We figured out what to do when the Mormons knocked on the door (it's happened twice now). That it's okay to rent an action flick and a chick flick and watch both together.

I love this man I married, for a lot of different reasons.

1. He can fix anything, from cars to microwaves to children's bubble toys.

2. He makes a terrific paper airplane.

3. He can flip omelets and hashbrowns like a short order cook.

4. He wants to know and understand everything about the world around him.
5. His feet are ticklish.

6. He lets me eat his ice cream and drink his drinks.

7. He watched Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, and the Emperor's New Groove with me.

8. He reads everything I write and talks about it with me.

9. He plays guitar and sings from his heart.

10. Most importantly, he loves me when I really don't deserve it.

There are quite a lot of other reaons, and I'm fairly sure this blog doesn't alot me the memory to write them all.

We've had a wonderful year, and I can't wait for the next.

He just wanted to hold her hand

I need to see WALL-E again. I'm torn between delight over the characterizations of WALL-E and his gal-pal EVE (or as WALL-E says, "Eeevaa!") and the political implications I wasn't expecting.

So maybe if I see it and expect them, I'll feel differently. I hope so.

There's a lot I liked about this film. WALL-E is perhaps the most lovable Disney creation since Bambi. Considering WALL-E is essentially a trash compactor, that's saying a lot for director Andrew Stanton's abilities. WALL-E tools around on Earth, picking up junk and using the compactor installed in his chest cavity to create bricks. Some items are held out; a spork, a shoe, and his favorite movie, Hello, Dolly! His collection reminded me of Ariel's in The Little Mermaid; artifacts from a world he has never been a part of, and yet longs for.

Yes, WALL-E has longings. He's lonely. He would like someone to hold someone's hand. And a someone lands a few days later, in a manner that will remind you of the last time you made a cat chase a laser pointer. It is not love at first sight, but WALL-E is nothing if not committed.

Every moment with WALL-E is precious. The moments without him are less so.

Where are the people, you ask? Hard to say. The Americans, at least (the ones pictured appear to have all been gathered from somewhere in the Midwest) are floating in a spaceship, eating and floating around on hoverchairs. Should they become unseated...the term "beached whale" comes to mind.

Despite the fact that they've been in space for several hundred years, the message is clear; these people are responsible for the desert waste that WALL-E's been working on for so long.

Frankly, I resent the implication that the destruction of the Earth is the fault of the U.S., although blaming it on the Midwest isn't as bad. But consider that even at the height of America's pollution output, we were nowhere near China on a so-so day. Global polution is a global problem, but still those darn Midwesterners are floating around in space.

By the time the term "stay the course" is uttered by Corrupt Corporate Man I was poli-ticked-off. WALL-E deserves better.

The film does get back to he and EVE, and there's a fantastic sequence involving flying and a fire extinguisher. Putting any of the scenes into words is tough; the visuals are so rich, so layered, that writing about them seems silly. In fact, the rest of the movie was so completely enjoyable that it seems shallow to be poli-ticked-off by Corrupt Corporate Man when there are moments like WALL-E seeing space for the first time.

Which is why I need to see it again.

P.S. The film short, "Presto," is completely wonderful beyond words. Possibly one of my favorites, although I did love "Boundin'". There is a possibility that the wonderfulness of the film short contributes to my need to see WALL-E again.

A Book of the Terrifying Kind

There's something scary about the beginning of a good book. It all starts out so innocently - you laugh at the first couple pages, agree with some of the narrative and if you're me, read it to the person sitting next to you.

Words progress, and you become emotionally involved with the character, admiring the witty dialogue, and find yourself reading more than you planned.

Then forty-four pages in, this terrifying realization sinks in: you really like this book. You'd recommend it to other people, but you can't - because you don't know how it ends.

That's the kicker - the better the beginning, the greater the disappointment if the writer screw up. Some examples -

Avoiding Prison, and Other Noble Vacation Goals - flat out hilarious, depressing (sorry, "disquieting") at the end.

Hypocrite in a Poufy White Dress - again, the beginning deserved to be framed. Then I wanted to clap my hands over my eyes during the middle, while the end was pretty good. But can you recommend a book when the entire second act inspires a gag reflex?

There was another book I can't remember the title of, but it was a modern take-off of Jane Austen's Persuasion. Loved it, until the author slipped in a scene that I'd rather like out of my head.

I'm also finding the ones with the most disappointment potential are the ones with the best title. The book inspiring this riff is Tolstoy Lied: A Love Story. And it's really, really good so far. As in, I want my own copy. And I'm petrified that author's going to get in the way of my transcendental experience.

Moral of the story: writing a book is hard. One scene can make the difference. The lack of a scene can make the difference. Writing is putting something down, then calling everyone who read it to make sure it's okay and you still qualify as a writer. It's ensuring that you're not cheating your readers. When someone's placed their faith in your prose to read your book instead of mowing the lawn, watching Desperate Housewives on DVD or staring at the ceiling, it's your responsibility to make it worth their time.

Scary stuff.

Pitter Patter of Small Army

Seriously, the babies are everywhere. I've been tooling around on facebook (code for procrastinating finishing a chapter rewrite) and commenting on pictures. Mainly baby pictures. Because that's mainly what there are pictures of.

(This particular picture is a snapshot of my husband that I'm rather partial to. Funny thing is, he still gets that look on his face, that "whadya know, that's pretty cool" look, mainly when he's reading his Popular Mechanics or his wife comes up with a fascinating new plot twist while making lasagna).

But I digress. Lots of babies, and more on the way. After two years of pregnancy speculation, Nicole Kidman is slated to deliver "any day now." Angelina's looks ready to pop, but isn't due till August. My cousins are expecting a little girl that same month. Another friend is due in September. I have a pregnancy shoot coming up in November.

At first I wondered if there was something in the water; then I thought about it. Count back nine months ago from August to November, and what do you have?

The Writer's Strike.

Case closed.

And then there were four

They hatched! They've actually been hatched for a while, but there were periods when I didn't see Cecelia (the adult female) or hear any sounds from the nest. I didn't want to say anything, then have to follow up with a "birds are hatched but dead" post - I really don't write avian tragedy.

Thankfully, I don't have to. And it's fun having them out there - the closest thing we have to pets. We see Cecelia less often, but I'm pretty sure she's out finding food.

So now we have four baby birds. Names, anyone?