Dissertation Blues

You know you're in trouble when you start thinking that cleaning out closets would be more fun than working on your dissertation.

Disclaimer: No, this is not really my closet.

Beating the Bible

What do Brits say is the most inspirational book ever? According to London’s Daily Telegraph, it's Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. It beat out the Bible, which came in at number two.

Here are Britain’s Top Ten Inspirational Books, as compiled in a UK poll:

1. Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird

2. The Bible

3. Dave Pelzer's A Child Called It.

4: Men Are From Mars, Women are From Venus

5: The Diary of Anne Frank

6. 1984, George Orwell

7. A Long Walk to Freedom, Nelson Mandela.

8. The Beach, Alex Garland.

9. The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffennegger.

10. The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger.

Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus? Really? Are you kidding me?

I'm Back!

Well, it's been a long two-and-a-half weeks, but my internet is finally up and running.

Early two Saturdays ago, lightning hit our house. It was so loud, it woke us both up. It threw breakers in half the house, but the only thing it fried was our internet access--both the modem and something out on the satellite itself (although we didn't know about the outside problem at first). I guess we should count ourselves lucky. A couple of years ago, lightning hit our house, took out many of the major appliances, and forced us to have the whole downstairs rewired.

The aggravation began when HughesNet promised to send me a new modem in three to five business days and seven business days later, I still had no modem. I called. "Yes, ma'am. On its way. But no FedEx routing number available." Two days later, still no modem. Another call. Same response. Of course, each call meant half an hour on hold.

Finally, I call FedEx only to discover they had not yet received the package from HughesNet. All HughesNet had done was print a shipping label. I guess that explains why there was no tracking number. I call HughesNet again--this time an hour on the phone. And I really tried to be nice.

Well, to make a long story somewhat shorter. We finally got the modem only to discover that that wasn't all the problem. When the repairman came to the house, he couldn't believe they hadn't sent him to begin with. He said there was no way my problem could have been solved simply by plugging in a new modem. Why am I not surprised?

Right now, my wireless router's not working. But hey, who ever said life's perfect?

P.S. Happy Birthday, Dad!

Sorry, folks

I'm experiencing technical difficulties. I'll be back soon!

Booking It--Movie Potential

What book do you think should be made into a movie? And do you have any suggestions for the producers?
Or, what book do you think should NEVER be made into a movie?

Oh, this is a hard one. I love novels, and I love movies, but often, the two don’t mix very well. If I’ve read a novel and then see the movie, I’m invariably disappointed over what they’ve left out or what they’ve changed. So, I don’t think I’m going to answer this part. A novel I absolutely love that should never be made into a movie is The Poisonwood Bible. Obviously, it’s way too long to fit standard movie length, but also, I see absolutely no way that they could portray all the nuance and paradox that Kingsolver captures in her work. I’m afraid that it would simply turn into an anti-Christian film, rather than an exploration of how religion, wrongly used, can really destroy people.

Dame Judi

In the British portrait gallery: In Madame de Sade:

The theatre poster:

Playing with Point of View

I thought it was really interesting that the first two plays I went to last week both hinged on point of view. Of course, Wicked tells the Wizard of Oz story from the point of view of the Wicked Witch of the West, and boy do things look different through her eyes. Three Days of Rain starts off with the adult children's view of their parents, and the second act goes back in time, revealing that the parents' actions and motivations were exactly the opposite of how the children had interpreted them. Plays like this remind me to be more careful of how I judge the actions of others. And it makes me wonder how often my own actions and intentions are totally misunderstood.

Five Plays in Five Days

I’ve been to London twice, and both times I’ve been there I’ve gone to a play every night. It’s absolutely wonderful. The only hard part is choosing which plays to see. Here are the ones I saw this trip:

1. Three Days of Rain, with James McAvoy
2. Wicked
3. Madame de Sade, with Judi Dench
4. The Lion King
5. Enjoy

When we were standing in line to get tickets for Madame de Sade, the people in front of us couldn’t decide whether or not to purchase the tickets. They hemmed and hawed, consulted each other, and finally asked the seller, “What’s the play about?”

She replied (with a smile), “What does it matter? Judi Dench is in it!” I almost laughed out loud because, when I heard them ask that, I had answered in my head with the exact same words. I didn’t really know anything about the play, but as soon as I found out that she was performing, I knew I was gonna be there.

The only problem with seeing all those plays is, now I’m in withdrawal!

Lesson Learned

I’m no health freak, but I do try to eat a healthy diet, so when my son was booking our flights and asked if I wanted to make any requests regarding my meal selections, I thought it would be a good idea to select the “Low Fat/Low Cholesterol” option.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Very Bad Decision.

My meals were AWFUL. I mean, they were so bad I couldn’t eat them. We’d had a nice meal at the airport before we left on the flight over, and I had a granola bar in my backpack, so I made it through the first flight okay.

But on the nine-hour flight back, I literally starved. I should have been prepared, but I wasn’t. And they didn’t seat us together on this flight, so I couldn’t even beg leftovers from his tray. By the time we landed in Minneapolis, my stomach thought my throat had been cut and I had an awful headache.

But it’d be okay, I thought. We had a long enough layover to have a meal. By this time, I’m so hungry I’m picturing a couple of courses in a nice restaurant with candles and cloth napkins . . .

Wrong again.

I didn’t factor in Customs—two overseas flights arrived at the same time and they were using only one metal detector. Aaaarrrgggghhh. By the time we made it through, I had to settle for the unthinkable--McDonalds french fries stuffed in my mouth while trotting down the conveyor to our next flight.

Moral of the story? When you fly, just let go and eat the full-fat version.

Uh-oh!

When we got to our hotel to check in, the first thing they asked for, of course, was a credit card. I reached into my billfold to get mine, only to realize that the man I’d purchased the electrical adapter from at the airport had never given it back to me.

Panic.

Now, I don’t know if he did it on purpose (he’d given me my receipt folded to the size of the credit card and I’d placed it in the usual pocket) or if I was just in too big a hurry to get to our train and ran off before he noticed he hadn’t returned it, but either way, I didn’t have it.

Cha-ching. Cha-ching. I could hear charges being made to my account all over the world. I tried the 800 number for my credit card company, but it wouldn’t go through from England. I looked online, but on their whole huge website I could find no place to report a lost or stolen card. I tried calling the phone number on the receipt from the airport to see if maybe they were holding my card and could send it to the hotel, but it went to a central office’s answering machine.

I finally had to swallow my pride, call my husband, confess, and ask for his help. I was really embarrassed to admit what I’d done. It seemed so stupid, and so easily preventable. But he was great. He called and reported it, and we suffered nothing more than the inconvenience of being without our cards for a week until new ones could be reissued.

Whew. It could have been much worse.