In Rememberance of Zachary Taylor, 1784-1850

Today we mourn the twelfth president of the United States of America, General Zachary Taylor.

Well, we don't really mourn him; we remember him. He was not the most kindred spirit. In fact, I feel inclined to confess that we includes primarily me and my brother Benjamin. We remember Zachary Taylor because he is a distant cousin of ours. We also remember Franklin Delano Roosevelt on the anniversary of his death but we actually mourn him. (He also is our cousin, via one of the Mayflower families.)

Well, keep General Taylor in your thoughts. He died of poisonous cherries and iced milk. I wonder what iced milk tastes like?

(The truth is that I actually hate milk on its own and I doubt that this iced milk would appeal to me.)

~Emily

Kind of Tying Things Up After a Long Break

Well, that was a long break from blogging. I don't really have any excuse except that I've been tired, because my biological clock nudges me into staying up past one in the morning and still getting up on time to greet the day. It makes no sense. (Does anything make sense when you're fifteen?)

Our Independence Day was quiet. I take odd pleasure in listening to other people celebrate, though, and found myself engrossed in the raucousness coming from next door.

I am currently reading Climbing the Stairs by Padma Venkatraman. I'll have more to say when I'm further in but it is certainly very wonderful.

I am also absored in The Handy Religion Answer Book by John Renard and Inside Out by Nadia Shivack.

I hope all my readers had a happy Fourth of July and that no one is suffering from too much heat (it's hot here in RI).

~Emily

Freakish Images

Today the air show is going on in Rhode Island. I've never been to it but take little fancy to the idea of standing around in the humidity plugging my ears. It's really quite loud enough without being directly under the show itself. I don't much like that the Air Show is still going on with the war in Iraq, but it is a benefit to Hasbro Children's Hospital, a place I appreciate very much.

It seems the Air Show always takes place on a hot or humid day. The weather today in RI is both. But I never ever complain about the summertime because I genuinely hate winter. I know people who like it, and I can never understand why (except in the case of children who like to play in snow).

Last night I started reading the graphic novel adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Coraline and found myself, for the first time, fully understanding his comment on how the story would likely give adults nightmares but be a great adventure for children. There is something markedly bizarre and slightly unpleasant for me in seeing the story this blatantly (although P. Craig Russel is one of my favorite artists). The author also once mentioned how it is so much easier for him to be sickened by descriptions because his mind can do so much, but actually seeing something up front didn't bother him nearly as much. Sometimes I feel the same way; sometimes, on the other hand, I cannot bear to look. (I remember beginning his Sandman series for the first time -- not so very long ago -- and having to take several weeks to adjust to the frequent ... Sandmanness of it.) After all, your mind can always tone things down, too.

I have to rush off to do something now.

~Emily

Banging My Head Against the Wall

Because six-year-old William threw up tonight.

http://emetophobia.bravepages.com

All I can say really, is crap.

~Emily

Old Things and Jitterbugs

Seventy-eight degrees today; utterly and gloriously perfect weather.

I'm helping out with a tour of antiques today -- furniture, paintings, and toys. I have a great fondness for very old dolls and books and treasure my German copy of a compilation of Hans Christian Andersens' fairy tales. It has the sweet old-book smell and I have found dry flower petals pressed in between the leaves.

Fortunately, much of the tour takes place outside.

Tomorrow two of my younger brothers (Jack and William) perform in their Wizard of Oz play. I am extremely excited to see nearly-seven-year-old William as a Tough Guy Munchkin (of the Lollipop Guild), Poppy, Winkie, and Twister. I really am. And ten-year-old Jack shall play Uncle Henry. Jack also has to be a Jitterbug (?) and claims to hate the costume with a passion. This makes me curious and very interested to see it.

I hope the weather is every bit as lovely in your area, but I hear it's dreadfully hot in Los Angeles. (Keep cool, Yoga Gal.)

~Emily

Happy Fathers Day

Now, the truth is I don't really like Fathers Day. My own father is really not particularly nice, although all the public ever sees is his pretend persona -- which is genial and loving. I get to be seriously nauseated upon watching him interact with people outside of his immediate family. At home (though fortunately I no longer reside with him) he was always ... you know. Well. Not very nice, as I said.

I would, however, love to wish all my readers a Happy Fathers Day, especially those without fathers or those who are enduring difficult times with their fathers. And also to all the fathers.

Happy Fathers Day.

~Emily

On Sunday I paid a visit to Barrington Books in Barrington to attend a book signing by Kelly Easton, author of Hiroshima Dreams and White Magic (which I reviewed for VOYA), amongst others. It was a very small group -- including her husband and young son, and two of her friends, both of whom were also authors -- and was very cozy and friendly. I've never experienced that kind of atmosphere at a book signing, probably because I haven't been to many, and those I have attended were by very widely read authors. But it was nice -- we all chatted for about an hour. I was very excited when Kelly told me she had actually seen my review in the magazine. The only really unpleasant bit for me was around the end, when my allergies gave a great cackle and lunged for my throat. Sometimes I just start to choke on things in the air, and, however invisible the little demons might be, they make me feel as though I am about to throw up. I have to drink lots of water to keep that from happening; of course I could not hold a proper thanks-so-much-it-was-so-great-to-meet-you-stay-in-touch while I was choking. I kept trying to apologize but couldn't really do it without coughing. My eyes were streaming. It was absolutely absurd. As genuine as she was in claiming that she could sypmathize, it was a very embarrassing moment.

This little episode did not, I might add, spoil my day. I hate to end a post on such a negative note!

~Emily