I saw my first "First Night 2007" sign Monday morning. And then that afternoon Mary Alice was talking about New Year's Eve plans. Oy, planning.
I also registered for spring semester.
I forgot to mention when I posted about Messiah that the program says "Les traducciones en Español del texto del Mesias se pueden obtener en el lobby" and near the beginning I was watching two women sitting at the front of the audience, one signing to the other. This made me want to be fluent in a language other than English (a recurrent desire, though one that has been dormant for a while). One problem, of course, is that I know without practice I would lose any language skills I acquired, which makes taking classes less appealing.
Also: I've been thinking again (in part due to one friend's prompting) about what to do with my massage table. I should really look into purchasing Japanese screens so I could cordon off the living room in my apartment. Though I know from experience that the appeal doesn't actually translate into practice for a lot of people. [This of course also brings up questions about whether I want to try to pursue an actual certification in massage therapy.]
In honor of the snow, I put flannel sheets on my bed for the first time this season. Though I've had dark purple sheets on my bed all summer (brill, I know), so seeing the light purple on there now weirds me out.
Inspired by one of the icons I have, I GoogleImage searched for "aurora borealis" and added the text of Isaiah 9:2, creating a future-dated Christmas entry, in the expectation that I will lose my Advent joy at some point during the season and will want a reminder. (Though Jennifer Walters has a blog entry problematizing the light/dark dichotomy.)
My mommy sent me back with cookies this weekend, and I've been sharing them at lunch. Eric's favorites are the sherry cookies [aka Gram Reese Cookies, or cookie cutter cookies].
Michelle: "Where did these come from?"
me: "My mommy made them. From scratch."
Michelle: "What kind of time does your mom have that she makes cookies?"
me: "Actually, she kind of doesn't. But this is what she does, instead of buying Christmas presents for people."
Michelle: "But these are the prettiest cookies ever."
Eric: "She made them for me."
Andy (to someone looking for Prof.B.): "We've got the brains of the operation right here -- Elizabeth."
Katie (after doing a batch of scanning): "These are done. The other two papers have like a chastity belt on them." [Referring to the industrial strength staples.]
Trying to read/review Ulysses this week(end), I was hugely not into it (cue also: worry about what to write my paper on), but class tonight was enjoyable. We did some dramatic readings [yes, we're still on the "Circe" chapter]. Larry sits in front of me and when we were leaving at the end of class said to me: "Next stop, Broadway?"
One section we did was when the ladies accuse Bloom of obscenity (starting mid-p.380 in the Gabler edition).
The prof asked for a volunteer to be Mrs. Bellingham. When no one responded, he said, "She's the one who has the line about 'Venus in furs.' " I raised my hand. He had us read our own stage directions, and she enters: "in cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff" Tamar (sitting behind me) laughed and I felt a bit chagrined that I hadn't gotten the naughty pun before :) [Oh, musesfool, I thought of you 'cause Lenehan uses the word "quim" at one point in the chapter.]
Hi, can I take Lisa home with me? She's always really smart and she's good at dramatic readings, and the stage direction for her character (p. 381): "in amazon costume, hard hat, jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, fawn musketeer, gauntlets with braided drums, long train held up and hunting crop with which she strikes her welt constantly." Oh, and she said "Don Juan" the Byronic way, which wins points with me. That passage also has one of the funniest lines in the whole book: "sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still."
I saw silvermousepad at the T when I was coming home.