I Like Being a Nerd...It Lets Me Do Stuff Like This

All week, I've been gearing up to write the story of Float Trip 2007: Or, How We Ended Up Bailing Tobiah Out of Comal County Jail For Jumping Out of a Tree.  Not that that's not a great story, but I'm a bit lazy and telling that story would take a lot more time than simply sharing with you the amazing thing I found in the library yesterday.  So there I was, wandering around the current periodicals shelves, when I came across a publication that made me think two things: 1. Which professor (it had to be someone I know) requested the Moody librarians subscribe to this?; and 2.  Why didn't I know about this before? 

Amon Hen: The Bulletin of the Tolkien Society is a tiny thing, published in England by people who I sincerely hope have a healthy sense of humor about their charming obsession with all things Tolkien (says the pot to the kettles).  At the very back of the latest issue, I found something that made me so happy that (not having change for the copier) I ran to the computer lab, typed it out in MS Word, and emailed it to myself to share with you.  Before making any snide comments about my own charming obsession with the wonderful JRRT, please read the following.  I defy you not to laugh.  Many of you (you know who you are), I defy not to entertain a secret sense of "geeking out" (a la The Incredibles) over it.  Enjoy. 

*****

News from Fangorn

Dear Entings,

We’ve got a pretty unique contribution for you this issue.  Rather than try to describe it, I think quoting the original message would probably be best, as it does a better job than I could:

“I was participating in a recent military course in which mid-grade officers study National Strategy.  An exercise in our program requires we write Five Paragraph Orders and a Commander’s appraisal of the situation for a historic battle.  Another officer and I laughed at the idea of writing a Five Paragraph Order for Aragorn following The Last Debate in c.IX of Return of the King. The title of the exercise is Noble Challenge.  After all, Aragorn is norble born, and his sole purpose was to challenge Sauron to battle, drawing off his forces so Frodo had a chance to complete his secret ops mission.  The need for operational security would prohibit any mention of the Hobbits in the order.

The format is designed to present the Commander’s intentions clearly in a standard format, yet leave room for subordinate commanders to plan their portion of the operation, freeing the senior commander from the need to micro-manage.

And so I present:

Operation Noble Challenge

From:     Supreme Commander, Allied Forces West (SuComAlfWest)

To:           All subordinate Commands, Gondor Army, Reinforced

Subj:       COMMANDER’S FIVE PARAGRAPH ORDER FOR OPERATION NOBLE CHALLENGE

1.       Situation:             The enemy’s main expeditionary force in the Gondor Theater of Operations (GTO) has been broken and defeated on the Pelennor Field.  Our fortress at Minas Tirith stands, and coalition force headquarters are intact.  Remnants of an enemy force are still active to the north in Rohan.  The enemy’s central expeditionary force is engaged with Elven forces in Lothlorien and Mirkwood.  An expeditionary force in the far north has besieged the Dwarven army of Dain Ironfoot and his allies from Dale.  The enemy has control of territory on a north/south axis east of the Anduin River, and intends on crushing the Free Peoples of the West.

2.       Mission:                 The Gondorian Army, reinforced by Rohirrim cavalry, will march to the Black Gates of Mordor and challenge the Dark Lord Sauron to battle, drawing his forces in Mordor north to a choke point at the Morannon.  The defeat and overthrow of all enemy forces in Mordor is our objective.

3.       Execution:            The GA(rein) will march from Minas Tirith on 18 March, using a route march to reach the Black Gate via Ithilien in approximately six days.  Sufficient troops, under the command of Faramir, or his designated representative, will remain in Minas Tirith for rear area security and humanitarian relief operations.

4.       Administration:  Aragorn, son of Arathorn, will assume command as Supreme Commander, Allied Forces West (SuComAlfWest).  Eomer of Rohan will command all Rohirrim cavalry and troops, including the Rohan Independent Detachment, Escort (RIDE).  Prince Imrahil will assume tactical control of the Gondorian Army.  Halbarad of the North will lead all scouts and report directly to SuComAlfWest.  A covering force will be posted under Elfhelm to protect the northern flank of the GA (rein).

5.       Command and Control:  All forces will report daily up their respective chains of command to SuComAlfWest.  Gandalf will maintain communications with all friendly forces in the GTO.  Message riders of the GA(rein) and the RIDE will maintain communications with the rear.

Legolas Greenleaf

Chief of Staff,
SuComAlfWest

***The preceding is taken (without permission, but expecting that the authors wouldn't really mind all that much) from:

Johnson, Brent. “Operation Noble Challenge.” Introd. Kim Mantas. Amon Hen: Bulletin of the Tolkien Society 207, July 2007: 31-32.

Summer Trips

 The original plan was to write a 3-part account of my trips to New York, Philadelphia, and Tallahassee. However, that plan also called for me to write each bit as soon as I finished that particular trip, which did not happen. Now I just feel overwhelmed. The new plan is as follows: I will now give brief highlights of each trip. Based on response (or more likely, on my own whim), these highlights may provide fodder for future blog posts, favorite quotes snatches, or "if MZ's telling the story, you really probably should have been there"-style, awkward storytelling.

***
PART I: NEW YORK CITY (Thursday evening, July 19-Sunday morning, July 22)
***

-being asked for advice from a cabby on whether his girlfriend in Pakistan should continue with her English literature studies or switch to something more "practical" (you'd think I'd be used to this by now...)

-fun, trendy, and/or swanky restaurants and clubs (the theme of this trip was overwhelmingly FOOD): Raw Foods place, BEST CUBAN PLACE EVER, The Hudson, NYC's Jewish Quarter version of Cricket's, 4th-floor bar in Time Warner bldg., etc.

-visitingW's and E's places of business (one incredibly upscale, on the 19th floor of the FAO Schwartz bldg.; one which allows employees' dogs in the office)

-MoMA (Modern Museum of Art): way fun sculpture exhibit; original Starry Night; more Picasso than you could shake a stick at

-Harry Potter release party in Time Warner bldg. (which, not having tickets, we ended up watching from outside the roped area; however, I particularly enjoyed the ice sculpture of Albus Dumbledore and the onstage debate between two costumed 9-year-olds on the topic of Professor Snape: Good or Evil?)

-kayaking on the Hudson River

-reading in Central Park (I could potentially live in this town after having had this experience)

-the New York Comedy Club

-flying solo in Ash's apartment (I felt so grown-up)

*EDIT (one highlight I forgot originally): -learning that in NYC, people really couldn't care less what grooming style you prefer, but heaven forbid you walk around with sub-par personal electronics. Erika and Walt both have BlackBerrys (berries?), and would use them to do things like find places, prices, and directions for our activities. Feeling left out when this happened simultaneously, I once pulled out my clunker of a cell phone (it's about the size of a BlackBerry) and pretended to be text messaging someone. E & W, in unison, hissed: "Put that thing away! You're embarrassing us!"

***
PART II: PHILADELPHIA (Sunday, July 22-Friday, July 27)

-Julian's 3rd birthday party: playing with the kiddos while the grownups talked; my crowning moment of the trip (let's just say that it involved a full tray of deviled eggs and an overly full table of food)

-reading Harry Potter 7 after having had to desperately avoid spoilers for FOUR WHOLE DAYS (It was tough; even with totally avoiding the internet and warning everyone in earshot what would happen if they leaked anything, I still ended up knowing two rather important details before reading...but I'm not bitter. Not. At. All.)

-meeting Nothing; watching him finally stand up to Whumpus the Demon Cat

-Adventures in Babysitting (parks, swinging, cooking lots of noodles, and watching LOTS of Little Einsteins)

-sister time: working out, drinks at Tom's tavern, coffee at Steel City, snatched moments when Julian was asleep or distracted

-watching Jeremy lead pit practice at Springford High's band practice and being incredibly proud of what a fantastic teacher/mentor he is (and cracking up at Julian's pride in being Official Metronome Button-Pusher)

-hanging out with my Jewish almost-mother-in-law (my brother-in-law's mother): who still needs to send me pictures of the week!

-3 hours on the runway in PHL, then a flight home through multiple t-storm systems (for fans of LOST, my flight was #815...which I'm glad I didn't realize at the time)

***
PART III: TALLAHASSEE (Thursday, August 9-Monday, August13)

-missing the flight out from Houston (due to Houston traffic on top of Nat's and my inability to get going exactly on time)

-Tallahassee humidity makes Waco seem arid

-THE BEACH!!! (crazy old fisherman at the tiki bar; dolphins; jellyfish; all-around awesomeness)

-seeing Whit's FSU life (friends, places, activities)

-many incredible girl-talks

-general bar-hopping (Finnigan's Wake, The Coffee Bar, Waterworks, The Spaceport)

-greatest shoe shop ever (visited during what I truly believe was a monsoon)

-dancing at Tantra ("Don't take this the wrong way, but do they even HAVE dance clubs in Waco?")

-church at E3 (with many of the people we danced with the night before; awesome)

-missing our flight on the way back (storms and wrecks on the drive from Tallahassee to Jacksonville; staying overnight and watching Mean Girls over and over on cable)

***
So, those are the highlights. This got longer than I planned, but whatever. If Marian, Natalie, and/or Whitney had gotten me pictures, I would have posted those to add visual interest.  But they haven't, so I didn't.

Checking In

Dear loyal xanga readers:  I apologize for the lack of posting.  I know that my blog plays a vital (or something like that) role in your daily web surfing, and I have been quite remiss these past few months.  Actually, I don't think I have any "loyal readers" of the kind just described (thank goodness! who needs that kind of pressure?!), so let's skip to the good stuff.

As reported in my last facebook note (which usually, but obviously not always, correspond to xanga postings), I'm having a lazy summer.  The de-stressing time has been wonderful, but I've also had to be a bit creative in filling my days.  True to character, I made a list back during final papers of the things I wanted to accomplish this summer, and some of them have even been crossed off.  I've organized and deep cleaned my room/the apartment, visited some out of town friends, caught up with in-town friends (for the most part--although there are many who I've not yet spent nearly enough time with, and for that I blame myself--sorry guys!), knitted three (and counting) scarves, traveled to Iowa with Mary K. and met her family, spent a lot of time at the pool, and have even worked out some.  Of course, I've also been reading--books for fun, what a glorious thing!  The first year of grad school severely strained my joy in literature, but this summer has done wonders in rekindling it.

Other things on the list, especially things like "edit articles for journal submission," have been blatantly ignored.  This is also true to character.  Finally, things unforeseen have arisen, and either cancelled or changed the list.  Most especially: back during the spring semester, I dreamt of spending a good bit of this summer at the lake, being lazy and enjoying the water.  But then Texas decided it wanted to try out life as Washington State for a while, and the lake has been consistently flooded for the past two months.  This is also proving to be a problem in getting together a trip to float the river down in San Marcos/New Braunfels, but we're all crossing our fingers that it will work out for sometime in August.  Things that have been added to the list include: buying a new TV (very exciting--and very much provided for by school loans; but now we don't have to be embarrassed to have people come over for movie nights anymore; plus, the 27" flat screen does Jack oh-so-much-more credit when we watch Lost DVDs), several books I wasn't expecting to read, taking up tennis again, a fantastic day in Austin (probably the best day of the summer so far), a 4th of July spent at the horse races in Dallas, and most recently, a trip to Sea World that turned out to be even better than expected.  The shows were great, and Mary and I discovered that when it gets close to closing time and the park is emptying out, the trainers all congregate by the exhibits to watch the animals.  You can tell they really love what they do, and that this is their favorite part of the day.  It's neat, in an extremely warm-and-fuzzy way.  So if I ever turn up missing, check all the water parks for new apprentice trainers.

What's left for this summer?  Well folks, we've got some great events on the lineup.  This weekend, we celebrate my mom's birthday, and then I'm joining some of the English School crowd at an IMAX theater in Dallas to see the new Harry Potter flick in 3-D.  Next week, I leave for New York, then several days in Philadelphia--I get to attend Julian's 3rd birthday party (the first one I'll have made it to), go to Ocean City for a day with Lisa and her youth group, meet Nothing the Dog, and also hang out with Marian, Julian's other grandmother that I see even less than I see Lisa, Jeremy, and the munchkin.  Also, the last Harry Potter book comes out while I'm there, so I'm hoping that Lisa and I can share her copy until I can get back to Waco and pick mine up.  That's really the big event left this summer, this trip up North.  However, Natalie and I--and possibly Catherine--will be going to Tallahassee for a weekend to visit Whitney, and then there's the aforesaid float trip tentatively scheduled for August.  Combined with more reading, more movie watching, more poolside time, and mainly more time with friends, the rest of the summer should go far too quickly.

So that's that.  Hopefully after the next big thing, I'll be able to post some fun nephew stories, and possibly even some humorous anecdotes about the Texas girl hanging out in the Big Apple.  I usually do at least one really stupid thing in that city, so we shall see. 

For Adam's Contest

OK, I was told I had to participate.  This is the best I could come up with, on short notice.  Forgive me if it makes no sense, and/or has no entertainment value.  Also forgive the strangeness of my imagination; it's that time of the semester, and I can't be held responsible for the quirky things my subconscious comes up with.

Broken Bones

When he woke, Harry remembered nothing from the night before.  In fact, his mind was a blank, and the effort to force his memory to come up with images only produced a blinding glare that made his head ache.  He groaned and closed his eyes against the dim light of the morning streaming through the curtains of his bedroom.  Since it was the weekend, he gave up the halfhearted attempt to get up, and started to roll over to go back to sleep when a white sheet of pain from his left arm paralyzed him.  Cursing (he was vaguely surprised to hear the harsh croak that escaped his lips), Harry sank back on the pillows.  What had he been doing the night before, to end up in this state?  The party must have gotten out of hand, was all he could think.  Really out of hand.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and gingerly turned his head to the left.  Even that movement made his head ache, and he realized suddenly that he ached all over, down to his toes.  When he finally got in a position to look at his left arm, he saw that it was swollen, especially above the elbow, and it seemed discolored.  Just a really bad bruise, probably.  Taking a breath, he tried again to move the arm.  The pain returned, like sheet lightning, covering his arm and side with agony in an instant and leaving behind the first shock a throbbing ache like rumbling thunder.  Harry gasped, then lay absolutely still, breathing shallowly until the pain went down to a semi-bearable level.  Not just a bruise, then.  Maybe a sprain, his mind told him hopefully.

Cautiously, gingerly, he wriggled the fingers of his left hand: they were stiff and a little numb, but seemed OK otherwise.  He reached across with his right hand and gently touched his left forearm.  It felt cool to the touch, and tender the way skin aches when you have the flu.  Above the elbow, things were different: the skin was warmer than normal, and puffy and stiff.  The higher his fingers probed, his arm felt warmer and more sensitive.  Near his shoulder, the skin was hot, tight with swelling, and extremely sore.  With difficulty, he stretched to reach the back of the shoulder, and felt a quick shock of horror.  His prodding fingertips discovered that the pain in his arm was apparently from two sources: one, a hole in the muscle of his shoulder just larger than the tip of his index finger; the other, a ragged, gaping wound that had something hard and jagged sticking out of it.  When he pulled his right arm back, Harry’s fingers were red with blood.  He felt suddenly dizzy, and the last thing he thought before unconsciousness took him under was, what had he done? 

In his dreams, Harry’s memories of the night before started to return: a house in one of the nicer communities on the edge of town, where the houses were set at a distance from each other and surrounded by huge lawns.  This particular house belonged to a professor, who was out of town at a conference for the weekend.  That was how they’d gotten it, actually: the cousin of one of Shannon’s many friends was housesitting, and had been bribed into “hosting” Shannon’s birthday party.  At least, that was what someone had told Harry when he’d arrived at the address on the email invitation.  By that point, the place was already swarming with people, most of whom he didn’t know, and Shannon was nowhere to be found.  Not that it mattered much: he only knew her slightly, from the service organization in which she was the president and Harry the treasurer.  She probably wouldn’t notice if he didn’t talk to her all night.  Harry was quiet and shy, so much so that when he had put his name on the ballot for treasurer, no one had known who he was.  He’d gotten the spot because he ran unopposed.  After that, he’d opened up a little, especially under Shannon’s sponsorship.  She was one of those girls, the rare ones who are somehow beautiful, popular, and unspoiled.  She liked everyone, and everyone seemed happy to return the favor, and she had a special soft spot for the unsocial kids—the angry, rebellious ones as well as the shy, apparently nerdy ones like Harry.  She was the only reason he would ever have come to a party like this, where there were so many people and he knew almost no one. 

In his dreams, Harry felt again the nervousness of that first hour: wandering around the grounds, avoiding the little knots of people on the lawn and looking in vain for a glimpse of the girl he adored.  Somehow, he halfway knew he was dreaming, and he felt embarrassed as he watched himself repeat his actions of the night before, the way he’d eventually stationed himself at the drinks table and gulped down far more alcohol than he’d ever had before.  At this point, the dream shifted, becoming hazy and incoherent, a jumble of random images that seemed to mean nothing and which he didn’t remember when he woke: the trees behind the house, dark shadows and bright moonlight, a wisp of cloud covering the full moon, a sound of twigs breaking, a woman’s husky voice, splashes of bright color fading into greys and blacks, an owl hooting above his head.  They swam before his eyes, flashing in and out of each other and repeating in odd sequences.  All the time, he heard a wolf howling in the background.

The next time Harry woke, he forced himself to sit up—the blood from his shoulder had dried to his sheets, and pulling the fabric from his skin hurt almost more than the mere act of moving.  His left arm was now swollen to twice its normal size, and he realized that the hard, jagged thing he’d touched must be the end of a broken bone.  The thought made him queasy, but he fought it back and stood up.  He took a shower, dangling his left arm and yelping as the water poured over the holes in his back.  Afterward, the bleeding started anew, and it took him the better part of an hour to find a way to bandage his arm, eventually coming up with a makeshift dressing and sling made out of a couple of old t-shirts he tied together (with difficulty) and a washcloth soaked in rubbing alcohol and neosporin.  For the first time, he fully appreciated the way his mother restocked his medicine cabinet during her biannual visits, although he howled as the alcohol set to work on his wounds.  He grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and headed for the kitchen.  He grabbed a bottle of water, swallowed four or five pills, and reached in the cupboard for a box of cereal and staggered back to bed. 

He spent the rest of the weekend there, slipping in and out of fevered sleep.   On Monday, he was feeling more alert, but the pain in his arm wasn’t getting any better.  It wouldn’t, he knew, until he got to a doctor and had the bone set.  Deciding this was slightly more important than class, he began the search for his car keys to drive himself to the school clinic.  After twenty minutes, he gave up.  He changed into fresh boxers and jeans, and pulled a baseball cap over his shaggy hair.  He hadn’t bothered to shave since Friday before the party, and he wasn’t about to move his arm enough to put on a clean shirt.  He knew he looked terrible, but at this point, he didn’t care.  He stuffed his wallet and keys in his back pocket, and left his tiny apartment to trek the five blocks to campus. 

The clinic was on the opposite side from his apartment, and by the time he got there, he was sweaty and out of breath.  He felt dizzy again as he struggled to write his name and school ID number on the sign-in sheet.  Then, he had the usual hour-and-fifteen wait, sitting on the uncomfortable, out of date orange chairs next to the usual collection of colds, sinus infections, migraines, potential pregnancies, and student athletes waiting treatment at the Quack Shack.  They all stared at him, but Harry was too dazed to notice or care if he did.  Finally, a nurse called him back and led him to an examining room.  A few questions—“Yes, it’s my arm.  I think I’ve broken it.” “No, I don’t remember how.”—and the nurse left.  When she returned, she removed Harry’s makeshift sling and cleaned and re-dressed his wound.  She frowned when she saw the second hole in his arm, but Harry couldn’t tell her any more about that than he could the bone jutting out of his tricep.  She took a few X-rays, gave him a real sling for his arm and prescriptions for antibiotics and a pain reliever, and sent him home with the promise that someone would be in touch with him that week about his X-ray results.  This seemed a bit slow to Harry, but she assured him the clinic staff were quite backed up at the moment, and were doing the best they could, you know how it is.  As soon as they could, they would be in touch.  Somehow, this seemed like the last straw to Harry, and he stood arguing with the nurse until he realized he was actually frightening her.  Mumbling an apology, he gave up and left.

On the long walk home, Harry tried again to remember the events of the past Friday night.  With effort, he worked his way back to arriving at the party, and looking around for Shannon.  He caught vague snatches of himself wandering around on the fringes, and of getting a glass of punch from a table inside the main hall.  He figured the punch was spiked, but one glass shouldn’t have affected him that much.  Still, he must have ended up amazingly drunk at some point after that, because of the memory gaps.  What on earth could have happened to his arm, though?  Had he gotten in a fight somehow?  No bruises or cuts anywhere else on his body pointed to a fight.  Fallen?  That made more sense, but he couldn’t prove that either.  Also, a fall wouldn’t explain the second wound in his arm.  His car wasn’t at his apartment, he realized as he got back from the clinic, which partially explained the lack of car keys (maybe he had had to get a ride home, or take a cab?).  His head spun with theories, and each one struck him as being no more likely than the rest, while some of them he dismissed as outright wild.

Back inside the small, one bedroom apartment Harry occupied alone and kept obsessively tidy, Harry paced the floor.  When that made him dizzy again, he sat on the couch and drummed his fingers (the fingers of his right hand) on the cushion.  Eventually, he thought to check his email.  Not that he thought it would contain an explanation—even if someone had taken him home after the party, or gotten him to a cab or whatever, it wasn’t likely they’d have sent him an email to let him know what had happened in his drunken state—but it might distract him from asking himself pointless questions.  Along with a bunch of junk mail, a note from his mother, and reminders from the library that several books he’s checked out earlier that semester were now overdue, his inbox contained an email from Shannon, related to their organization’s upcoming board meeting.  However, it also contained a postscript: “Harry, I’m sorry about Friday night.  I never meant for things to get out of hand like they did, but at least the Hunter was there to bring you back.  Hope you’re feeling better.  If not, you should pretty soon; the headaches don’t usually last more than three or four days. Well, if you have any questions, let me know.”

Mystified, Harry read the email several more times.  Each time he read it, he got more confused.  Was she trying to give him advice on how to get through a hangover?  But then, who was the Hunter?  What on earth was she talking about, “bring him back”?  It made no sense at all.  Harry had no idea how long he sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen without seeing it at all.  Suddenly, his cell phone rang, a call from a number he didn’t recognize.  It was a nurse from the clinic, not the one he’d seen several hours ago.  Her voice was coldly clinical, and she let him know that his fuss earlier might have gotten his X-rays moved up the list of priorities but she, personally, would have preferred to make such a rude young man wait.  At first, Harry felt a rush of shame, but at first she cut off his apologies, and then a detail at the end of her report drove every other thought from his mind.

“Mr. Lupus, you have a complete fracture of the humorus bone.  You will need to schedule an appointment with the doctor to have it set.  At that time, the doctor will also remove the silver bullet lodged in your shoulder next to the bone.  The earliest time we have available is this Friday, and since that is quite a while to wait on setting a broken bone, I therefore advise you to go to the local emergency room for these procedures.  However, it is up to you to decide…Mr. Lupus?  Mr. Lupus, are you there?”

But Harry was no longer listening.  As the nurse spoke, he began hearing the sound from his dreams: a wolf, howling mournfully at a full moon.  He now knew exactly what he wanted to ask Shannon.

I Became a Homebody??!?

Maybe it's just this week, when I cancelled a Spring Break trip to go hiking in Albequerque (sp?) in order to stay around Waco and get work done, but I seem to have become rather...domestic, lately.

Exhibit A: Instead of leaving the house as soon as I get dressed and returning only to go to bed, I have spent several days more in than out of the apartment.  Including right now.

Exhibit B: I have been preparing actual meals, including lunch meals, for several days in a row.  What's more, I've been eating them at approximately 'normal' meal times.

Exhibit C: I now buy groceries, help walk the dog, make pots of tea, and often go to bed before midnight.

Exhibit D: In the past week, I have foregone at least three different requests to go do things, in order to stay at home and work.  Usually, I am on the other side of that conversation.

This is weird.  Really, really weird.  Ask anyone; I'm not exactly the domestic type.  I myself was shocked the other day when I was cooking chicken: first, that I was doing it at all (especially since I was cooking the meat in advance, in order to freeze and have ready for future meals), and second that it turned out really well.  Rosemary, olive oil, a frying pan and chicken chunks--surely I should have screwed at least one of those things up.  But I didn't!

I have to admit: there are things I like about this "quiet life" thing.  It's safe, it's pleasant, it's at least somewhat productive, it's restful, it's predictable, it's...BORING!!!  Ack!  Get me out of here!  I can't take it much longer!  Something's gotta happen soon, or I'm going to go crazy!

So apparently, five days of quiet is about all I can take, barring severe illness.