Summer Pleasures

In the hot, humid Southland, it's not so much that it's "summertime and the living is easy," regardless of what Porgy & Bess might think. It's sticky-hot and you wish fervently for a thunderstorm to cool things off, although you know that the harsh reality is that the storm's just going to add to the general stickiness of things.

But we have camellias and magnolias, so there are consolations.

There are other summertime pleasures, too. I decided to sit in the air conditioning and contemplate some of them. They include:

• Air conditioning. I grew up in an old, rambling, non-air-conditioned house and let me tell you, my brother-in-law got it right when he said of his summer days spent a-courting my sister, "I'd stay in the guest room. I'd lie awake at night, drenched in sweat, praying for dawn." So yes, air conditioning tops the list.
• Baseball. A love of baseball doesn't just run in my family; it pretty much gallops. If you have a chance to sit in the shade (careful of those aluminum bleachers!) and watch a chaotic game played by seven-year-olds and some very patient coaches, take it. It's an excellent opportunity to be reminded that sometimes, joy is every bit as important as skill.
• Cheerwine sherbet. I just discovered this recently. Cheerwine is a regional soft drink - cherry flavored and just out of this world! Soft-freeze that and I'm yours.
• Dogs. Especially when coupled with the above-mentioned seven-year-olds.
• Friends. During the worst of the heat, you don't want to go out much, but when a friend suggests that you try Zumba (in the a/c, naturally!) at the local YMCA, think twice before you say "no." Good exercise and you get the added benefit of working out your sense of humor as you figure out right from left to a throbbing Latin beat.

There are other summertime pleasures, I'm sure. Suggestions?

My Father's Eyes

Today is Father's Day. For me, this is a happy occasion. As I get older, I realize more and more how very, very fortunate I was in my draw of parents. I have friends and associates whose luck was more - well, let's be kind and say "varied" in that department.

I resemble my mother in a lot of ways, but when people who know my father first meet me, they almost always burst out with, "You have your father's eyes!" Now, that's an understandable reaction, since both my father and I have bright blue eyes with a distinctly darker blue ring around the iris that really makes our eyes "pop" amongst our features. It's a little unusual and that's what people are referring to. At least, that's what I think.

But I know what I secretly hope they're referring to.

For an explanation, I have to go to my list of Things I've Learned From My Dad. This list is still under construction, as my dad is a smart cuss and I keep adding items to the list. However, among the items on the list are:

• Pretty's nice; smart's better.
• It's not unladylike to know how to change a tire.
• While we're on the subject, don't ride the clutch.
• When buying anything, always ask, "What's the best you can do?" You might be surprised.
• It's okay to make mistakes - and it's much better than not trying.
• When you make a mistake (and you will), own up to it and do your best to fix it.
• Be polite to everyone. Saying "sir" and "ma'am" might be old-fashioned, but it's in style around here.
• You've got advantages a lot of other people don't have and you got them mostly through other people's hard work. Don't look down on anybody. No one has the right to do that; you just know it 'cause I've told you.
• If you can help someone out, do it, even if it inconveniences you a little.
• Life is hard and you never know what demons someone else is fighting, so be kind whenever you can.

Based on this list, yeah - I do hope I have my father's eyes. For this is how my dad views the world. It's rough out there and compassion is in short supply. Look at the other person as an actual person and react with gentleness whenever you can. Take a breath, smile, and remember that at the end of the day, we're all just doing the best we can.

Thanks, Dad.

Take a Day!

When I was just a half-fledged Mockingbird, I would occasionally get sick. Nothing bad - I was always pretty fortunate in that area, but sometimes I'd catch whatever strain of creeping crud was making its way around school. Not too often, but every now and again, it'd be bad enough to stay home and bedridden for a day instead of going to school. I liked school (still do, although I'm now on the other side of the desk), so I had to be pretty far under the weather to miss it. Also, my parents were very much in favor of their kids being in school as opposed to at home, so staying at home meant a fever or other such tangible evidence of physical ailments. Once I was better, my mother would send me back to school with a note explaining my absence.

I think I need a note today.

Not for sickness - I'm actually quite hale and hearty - but because sometimes you need a sick day. Let's call this one a mental health day - I can take a day off now before I get too scorched, or I can do it later in the form of my body calling a screeching halt to my running about with my hair on fire.

Oh, there's plenty to do. My house is cluttered and messy, crowded with unanswered mail and clumps of dog hair. Stacks of research material are piled both hither and yon. Thank-you notes need to be written and wedding announcements still need to be sent. Laundry is piled up, the recycling is threatening to overtake the carport and my kitchen floor is a disgrace to my upbringing.

And it'll all wait until tomorrow. If it doesn't, that means the house sprites have attended to it, which would be fine by me. But they're probably on vacation right now, so the mess will still be there. But by taking a day off from it all, I won't be crazy.

So I'm writing my own note today, temporarily excusing myself from adult 'spsponsibilities. The mess will get straightened, the checkbook will get balanced, notes will be written and so on. But today is glorious and hot outside and sometimes you need ice cream for lunch.

So go ahead - take a day! I'll write you a note.

Look For Me Over There!

Remember, Gentle Readers, that I am currently attending the 4th Biennial Slayage Conference down in the sunny and supremely humid climes of St. Augustine, Florida.

I'm posting over in unfetteredbrilliance about the conference and other related goings-on. Click here to go there.

Won't you join me?

Back here later!

It's Kinda Quiet Around Here . . .

. . . and you know what happens next in a movie after that line!

Seriously, I'm enjoying a little bit of "quiet time" before the Memorial Day weekend ramps up. We're lucky, in that nothing more strenuous than a dance recital and a cookout is planned. The dance recital involves two good friends (and one goddaughter) tapping like Ann Miller and the cookout involves watching a Kiwi deep-fry anything that isn't nailed down. (And even then, he'll probably pry about for loose nails!)

It's the beginning of full summer around the Nest. Dust off the white shoes, folks.

Memorial Day is an odd holiday. It's really only a "half" holiday - some businesses stay open, others close. My college, for example, will be open for classes. There are some parades, but most places hold off until the Fourth of July when schools are out. There are some speeches and some wreath-laying, but all in all, I think Memorial Day is thought of as potato salad and grill day.

And as I get older, that bugs me.

I come from a family with strong military ties - nothing special there, really. It's true of most American families, at least until mandatory service was discontinued with the rise of the all-volunteer military. My dad served in the time between Korea and Vietnam, one uncle made the Army medical corps his career, and several cousins served in Gulf 1 and the ongoing wars. I have friends who currently serve and a host of students who attend classes under the modified GI Bill. Those are not sacrifices that should be brushed aside. I may not like our involvement in Iraq, but I honor those who serve. (Afghanistan is another matter - I believe we had legitimate reasons for going in, but that hilly hell-land is called the "graveyard of empires" for a reason.) And North Korea is rattling sabers right now, which could lead to who-knows-what version of a mess.

I have a friend, Binary Biker, who is off on a Memorial Day trip to visit his new grandson. He's taking along a chunk of little paper American flags with the intent to visit a cemetery and place the flags on graves that are marked as the final resting places for veterans. It's a good idea - quiet and respectful.

Give it a thought, would you?

Hey, Look Over There!

No, I'm not trying misdirection. Not now, anyway. Rather, I'm reminding you that I maintain a second blog. While the Nest is where I play, Unfettered Brilliance is a little more like where I work. That's a blog devoted to the work of Joss Whedon, who I study and write about. (And always remember, you can buy the book! Click here for details - they make GREAT presents for all occasions!)

That blog doesn't get updated as often as the Nest, but it's about to go into overdrive. Every two years, the Whedon Studies Association throws an international conference to bring together Whedon scholars and it's coming up in about ten days. Among those of us who study Whedon, this is a big deal. People come from all over and the press makes a bit of a fuss over us, although they often paint us as half-whacked. Well, any publicity is good publicity, right?

I, along with FryDaddy, who will be presenting at the conference on Buffy's leadership style and making some comments on its success (or lack thereof), will be leaving for sunny Florida to attend. Here's a draft of the conference program - you can see speakers are coming from near and far! I'm delighted to be one of the keynote speakers (and the only American; the other two are coming from the U.K.), but there is much work still to do on that.

So I'll keep this short and remind you to check out Unfettered Brilliance for updates!

The Circle of Academia

It was graduation last night. Hundreds of students in flapping polyester robes and tilted mortarboards secured by bobby pins. Cameras a-flashin', balloons a-flyin', and air horns a-screechin'. Smiles big enough to crack your heart. Lots of those.

One of which belonged to FryDaddy as he strode confidently across the stage to collect his degree (okay, it's not the actual degree; it's some little scroll thingie that stands in until the final tally of the courses is checked and re-checked by Student Services). He looked quite dashing in his robe. I, on the other hand, looked like a demented peacock in mine - gold braid edging purple velvet bars isn't exactly subtle, but hey! I worked hard for the right to wear that robe and I didn't see any advantage in hiding my light under any bushel on that score. (And I'll fess up to liking the puffy hat with the gold tassel.)

But as one ends, the next begins. Circle of Academia. I need to prep my summer class - a whirlwind tour of the dramatic arts conducted in five and a half weeks, minus a couple of days for the Slayage conference in early June. I've taught it before and I don't see much in the way of tweaking it for this go-round.

FryDaddy is finished (see top paragraph), so he gets to play house-husband this summer - I'm looking forward to coming home and sighing, "What a day! Wow, house looks great, honey - is that supper I smell?" OK - not exactly true. He'll be working some at the school as a tutor for the new developmental English and math courses, which have an extensive computer lab component. And he does most of the cooking anyway. (Readers, hear me well - find a man with a decade and a half of restaurant experience. Good restaurants; you know, the kind where the chef packs his own knives. You'll eat well and be entertained for days by the stories!)

Must go now - in addition to the aforementioned prep work, today is the joyous day during which old papers from semesters past may officially be flung into the trash. Sad that such small things bring me joy, but there it is.