New Territories

Although I should be reading Because of Winn-Dixie or perfecting my presentation on Rabbit Hill for tomorrow’s Children’s Literature class, a comment by Nick made on my old Writing Territories post (found here) has inspired me to update it.

- Lily - My puppy. She’s a lab, boxer mix, or at least that’s what they told us at the rescue shelter. We adopted her a month ago, and she continues to amaze me. This week, I taught her how to high-five, and now, she attempts to slap one on me every time I ask her to sit. She’s an incredibly smart dog.

- My new house. I could write about last week when torrential rain flooded my basement. I could write about deciding which pictures to put on the wall because they bring up new memories.

- My sister getting married on a whim. Well, not exactly. They’ve been engaged for a year and a half now. Her fiancee is a Marine, and they went to inquire about what they’d need to do if they wanted to get married before he was deployed at the end of August. Who knew they’d walk out of his superior’s office married?

- Gardening. A new hobby. I love the thrill of picking something off of the plant when you know you’ve worked so hard to help it grow. I should also mention the time it takes to water that frickin’ garden!

- The fact that I can’t talk to my best friend because she’s away at “French camp”. It’s good for her, though. She’s a French teacher at a local high school and is attending a prestigious grad school where they only allow her to speak French.

- So You Think You Can Dance - What a great show!

- New recipes - I like to cook? Now, if I only had time!

- My recent trip to St. Thomas for a family member’s wedding. Did I mention that we stayed at the Ritz? Wow!

- The evolution of computers. Have you checked out Wordle.net or Twitter? How about Google Docs? Taken a GoogleLitTrip lately?

- Growing up. It’s amazing to think that my list was so much different and shorter a year ago.

- Fitness.

- Wii victories. (I’m sorry I always win at boxing, Erik!)

That’s a good start. I really should be reading. More to come!

Antartica is Cool

No pun intended. I was reading one of my rubber stamping blogs (yes, they exist), and I found some really cool pictures with an interesting description attached to them. The writer on this Web page says that the pictures are from Michigan.

This is not a glacier, but an Antartic wave.  According to http://www.snopes.com, they’re formed “by waves of water hitting frigid air and instantly freezing in place.”

What’s interesting to me is that the original writer on this page claimed that these pictures were taken in Michigan, not Antartica. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, but it is funny to think of how bad winter in Michigan must be if it encourages this type of hyperbole.

“Ugh! Miss Fowler! Why do I have to use someone else’s ideas?”

Because it’s real. I mean, really; how many thoughts originated in my head? I’ve been exposed to so much that I can’t track some of my thoughts anymore back to their origins, but I know they had to have at least been inspired by someone else. If you want to get right down to it, I wouldn’t have the words to express my own thoughts if I hadn’t heard them somewhere else. Language development and acquisition is a whole other can of worms, though.

Each of my students publishes his or her writing to a blog, and I’ve recently changed the rubric so that they are pretty much forced to include a direct quote. Incorporating others’ ideas is hard, but it’s real. Reporters go out and interview witnesses in order to capture events. If you open the newspaper (in print or online), you’ll see quotation marks all over the place. Magazine articles are littered with direct quotes. We express and create our thoughts because others have inspired us in some way. It’s only tight to give them credit.

With the Senior Thesis (an 8-10 page research paper) upon my Senior classes, I can’t help but thank Doug Noon for posting about Gerald Graff’s book, They Say/ I Say. I was reading his blog, and something just clicked. I guess I learned something new, or he wrote something in a way that made sense considering everything else going on in my little brain. Noon’s review says:

Graff and Birkenstein feel that it isn’t enough to say true things that conform to a thesis statement, and support it with evidence, which is how the essay form is conventionally taught. They remind us that in the real world, people don’t usually express themselves without some provocation. Our writing is improved, they say, when we include the voices of the provocateurs in what we have to say. Blogging, like academic writing, is a conversation. Isn’t it?

In other words, our ideas a better because we back them up with the echoes of the information’s past. Information changes as it is passed down, and allowing our readers to see the change in that information only strengthens what we have to say.

As Noon starts to suggest, blogging stresses the collaborative nature of informational writing and thinking if you incorporate links and direct quotes. You’re a better writer when you work with other people to create new statements. Use your friends, your teachers, your parents, your favorite authors, your local news reporters, your favorite sportscasters, and anyone else you can to improve on what you already know. You’ll be happy you did.

Williams as a Cubist

I’ve been doing a lot of reading for Graduate school as of late, and I had to share my response to William Carlos William’s long poem, Paterson.

If you look at a Cubist painting, you’ll see that the artist has worked hard to pull in pieces from many different perspectives and sources, attempted to say something with and about them, and made something new out of the combinations. William Carlos Williams has done just that with Paterson. Williams creates his contemporary society by selecting people, places, historical accounts, sharing them in multiple sections and perspectives, and he builds Paterson, New Jersey with these pieces.

Like many humans, the speaker, Paterson, in the poem attempts to pull together pieces of his current surroundings and his history in order to make sense of himself, of his world. There is a sensation of struggle for realism in Williams’ poem.

His extended metaphor of the Passaic River is littered with allusions in the forms of letters, fragments of conversation, retellings of news stories, personal musings, and other pieces. His narrative is broken, but he combines voices and styles to create feelings, rather than a cohesive storyline.

While Williams does not have a plot for us to follow in his long poem, he certainly combines topics to build our fractured pictures of Paterson, the man and the place. Many of these topics, such as divorce, struggle for self, and death, suggest separation of things, which goes against the very thing Williams is trying to do in Paterson: unite voices and facets of history to create something new. He includes descriptions of water and fire, elements that do not easily take a form in their described states. There is a fluid nature to his poem, provided by these two forces.

Williams also combines images of objects in his poem. He pokes fun at technology with lines like “the absurd dignity of a locomotive/hauling freight—“ (23) and praises nature in others: “a scent, it may be, of locust blossoms/ whose perfume is itself a wind moving/ to lead the mind away” (96). He also includes images that refer to the labors of a reader, a scholar, a writer: “[a] cool of books/ will sometimes/ lead the mind to libraries/ of a hot afternoon, if books can be found/ cool to the sense to lead the mind away” (96) and “They turn their backs/ and grow faint—but recover!/ Life is sweet/ they say: the language!/ –the language/ is divorced from their minds,/ the language  .   . the language!” (12). The only sense that can be made out of these images is his attempt to build a reality for himself as a writer, as a man. Perhaps the subject of his poem, Paterson, is a symbol for himself, and the facets we see are a product of his own fascination of the town, as we in the introduction: “I wanted something nearer to home, something knowable. I deliberately selected Paterson as my reality” (xiii).

Willliams effectively creates pictures in his reader’s mind, but they are so varied that it seems as though the reader is moving through an art gallery. This gallery features the written images of Paterson, and by the time a patron has finished walking through Williams’ show, they’re left with feelings of disillusionment, which is the reality Williams makes through his combinations. While he unites facets of his reality, his research, he distances his reader through the varied nature of his pieces. Even after multiple trips through the “gallery”, one must struggle to see the connections between Williams’ slices of Paterson.

 

Works Cited

Williams, William Carlos. Paterson. Ed. Christopher MacGowan. New York: New DirectionsBooks, 1992.

 Photo borrowed from amazon.com.

Where Will We Be?

I spent some time this afternoon listening to a videocast (vcast) by Sir Ken Robinson called “Do Schools Kill Creativity?” He pointed out that the students who started Kindergarten in 2000 will retire in the year 2065. Can you imagine what the world will be like at that time? First of all, I hope I’m still alive at that point in time, but I can’t imagine what society and technology will demand of us as humans at that point. Reading Faulkner for the last month has taught me that a lot can change in 60 years, if nothing else.

Robinson asks his audience to think about what the world might look like in five years. With the rapid changes in technology that have happened since I, myself, graduated from high school, I’m not sure I can do that either. iPods carrying the same amount of disk space may be small enough to fit inside our ears by that time. Who knows?

I do everything I can as a teacher to develop skills in my students that they will need when they graduate from high school. There are new forms of literacy (specifically those involving graphics and the Internet) being developed everyday. I ask my students to blog because I know that they will need to connect resources and ideas very quickly (they now accomplish this with links), communicate in appropriate written format with people of all kinds from many different places (comments are an exercise in this), and collaborate with peers at the click of a button to create new meaning out of old ideas (book blogs accomplish this). I know that these are the skills collegiate level educators and bosses in the workplace will expect from our graduates in the next few years, but what will the world look like five years from now? I guess I write this post to ask you that very question. What are your thoughts?

What a Wedding!

Erik stood up in a fraternity brother’s wedding back at the beginning of December. So, we packed up the Civic and headed for White Plains. (The Garmin GPS system his aunt lent to us saved our tushies from a life of wandering around the country at least once or twice.)

For those of you who don’t know, White Plains sits in Westchester County, andis about as close as you can get to New York City without the cabs and sewage rats. It’s ten miles north of Yonkers and about 12 miles from Stamford, CT.

Map borrowed from http://www.bearsystems.com/Westchester/westchester.gif.

We knew we’d be staying at the Doral Arrowwood, and we expected it to be really nice, considering the pictures on their Web site.

 

Image borrowed from http://www.iaccnorthamerica.org/.

What we didn’t expect was the valet parking upon arrival. The car was in no condition to be inhabited by anyone else. I actually feel sorry for the valet. Regardless, we ran into snow on the way to the hotel, so we had all of five minutes to change and head out again for the church, which was twelve miles away in Connecticut.

In Buffalo, we’d expect a 12 mile drive to take 20 minutes max. However, when you’re traveling near New York City, travel times are ridiculously multiplied. Needless to say, it took us two and a half hours to drive from the hotel to the church. Poor Erik had to run up and stand at the altar in his pea coat.

There was a dinner back at the hotel, so we turned around almost right away, and it took a whopping 15 minutes to arrive back at the Doral. The rehearsal dinner was as fancy as many wedding receptions I’ve been at, and there were over 100 people there. I can’t imagine what this wedding cost.

 

 

On Saturday, the wedding was rather late, but Erik was booked all day with pictures and boyish events. I relaxed in the hotel room and read some of my students’ blogs, taking a break only for the world-class lunch buffet. They had salmon on the lunch buffet. I’d never seen anything else like this.

The wedding reception was introduced by a cocktail hour where waiters and waitresses offered just about every appetizer on the planet. The ballroom was decorated to look something like this:

Image borrowed from brides.com.

As you can tell, this was not your average wedding reception. It was a four-course meal, complete with dancing between plates. Splitting up the meal made the reception fly by, and each course was heavenly. The menu included a biscuit with beef gravy and mushrooms (I’m sure there’s a much more fancy name), soup, salad, and fillet mignon or halibut. I opted for the fillet. I hope the bride’s father felt like he got the $100+ plate he must have paid. According to brides.com, that’s what the Doral Arrowwood is running these days.

The DJ played every great dance song released in the last 80 years, so Erik and I had the chance to put our dance lessons to good use. We were able to foxtrot and swing!

What I liked most about the weekend was the ability to meet and hang out with Erik’s fraternity brothers. I can see why he was so close with these guys! They’re loyal, fun-loving, and hilarious! Their girlfriends and wives were also really great to me. I felt like I’d known everyone for years.

Here’s one last picture of the two of us at the reception!

(Erik’s really happy because he’d just spilled his wine on my dress, my white, satin sash.)

A History of Graphic Novels

I’ve been reading a lot of comics and graphic novels lately because I’ll be doing a unit on this genre with my sophomore classes.

So, I thought it would be cool to find out where graphic novels came from.

If you think about it, stories have been told through images and words for a very, very long time. Prehistoric men and Ancient Egyptians alike used hieroglyphics to communicate their tales. “Drawings and cartoons were used as a simple way to convey ideas or sentiments to the working class populace” (Tychinski).

As time moved on, and the Industrial Age came into the picture, working class people began to have more time to relax, and they began looking for ways to entertain themselves. People started to read more, and funny newspapers were printed. In fact, Ben Franklin used cartoons in support of the American Revolution in Poor Richard’s Almanac (1732).

The first major graphic novel, The Adventures of Obadiah Oldbuck, was published in 1842. You can see an excerpt of this below. As you can see, the artist, Rodolphe Toffler employed the same panel approach many graphic artists still use today.

 

http://www.treasurycomics.com/so graciously provided the picture above.

After Oldbuck came The Yellow Kid (1895), which became so popular that newspaper sales were boosted by the presence of this comic strip. It was released as a collection two years later.

I thank http://www.forgotten-ny.com/for the picture of The Yellow Kid.

Pulp novels, named this because they were printed on cheap pulp paper, became popular in the US after World War I. These novels usually contained stories about adventures, war stories, western shoot-outs, and sci-fi material geared towards men.

 

This picture of a pulp novel is from http://thething.ca/.

New Funnies was the first comic book to be published. It was released in 1933, and designed by M.C. Gaines.

Thanks to http://www.golfcomicbooks.com/for the picture above.

Action Comics #1 changed the comic industry forever when it was released in 1938. The star of this comic was known as Superman. “Superman paved the way for the comic book’s Golden Age, and a vast array of costumed heroes, detectives, cowboys, and the like flooded the newsstands” (Tychinski). I borrowed the picture of Action Comics #1 below from http://www.coverbrowser.com.

Comic books became extremely popular in the 1940’s, appealing to readers of all ages and genders, and selling millions of copies. In the following decade, television began to draw attention away from comic books, and sales dropped.

In an effort to rekindle the nation’s love of comics, writers marketed titles where TV personalities became the main characters, adding too much violence and ruckus to the product. Parents started to complain, and adults generally stopped reading comics. This is how comics became associated with children.

However, across the globe, in countries like Japan, readers of all ages still enjoyed the combination of images and words. Manga originated in Japan and is now enjoyed around the world. Be sure to read the enclosed information on Manga. Death Note, pictured below, is an example of one such manga series. The picture was taken from http://www.earth-alliance.org.

In the later part of the 20^th century, writers like Stan Lee (The Silver Surfer), Will Eisner (A Contract with God), and Wendy and Richard Pini (Elfquest) produced titles that slowly began to win back an American audience that included adults.

 

http://www.beatlesbandclub.com/provided this cover shot.

Watchmen (Alan Moore) was released in 1985. This graphic novel is now included in almost any comic reader’s collection. It’s a classic. I borrowed this picture from http://www.firstshowing.net/img/watchmen-cover.jpg.

 

On an historical fiction note, Art Spiegleman released Maus: A Survivor’s Tale, modeled after his parent’s experience during the Holocaust. It was presented the Pulitzer Prize in 1992. The excerpt below is from http://www.lagcc.cuny.edu/maus/images/Scanned/MausII-105_bottom.jpg.

 

DC Comics hit the jackpot when they signed Neil Gaiman, author of the Sandman series. He’s produced one of the most profitable series in comic history.

It’s clear that graphic novels have had a profound impact on our culture.

Works Cited:

“Graphic Novel.” Wikipedia. 3 Dec 2007 <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graphic_novel>.

“Graphic Novels.” Bodart. 3 Dec 2007 <http://www.graphicnovels.brodart.com/history.htm>.

 

Trans-Siberian Orchestra Lights Up Buffalo

While many people were storming the malls last Sunday, trying to get the lowest possible prices on game systems and clothing, I was relaxing at HSBC Arena. Trans-Siberian Orchestra rocked the roof off of that place.

For those of you who haven’t experienced the glory this band creates for all of the senses, a YouTuber has created a slide show of pictures from the event last weekend. According to Wikipedia’s records, the poems were written during the 13th Century, but later put to music by a German composer named Carl Orff.

The song in the background is pre-recorded, but there’s something about their version of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” that I can’t resist. Perhaps it’s the guitar singing. Maybe it’s the vocals featured in the song. Either way, I’m quite sure I’ll never tire of this song.

Back to the show:

The first half of the show featured a Christmas story of someone who had lost their way and an angel that reminded him of who he was and the Spirit of Christmas. While it was sometimes difficult to follow the storyline, the music grabbed me and really vibrated my soul. It’s funny how music has the power to affect us so much. As a musician myself, I could truly appreciate the blending of classical and rock happening on stage, bringing a whole new meaning to “classic rock”. Besides “Canon”, I fell in love with an original song called “The Prince of Peace”. The vocalist projected a jazzy, soulful interpretation of these lyrics, and shivers ran down my spine. Judging by the video below, this song was sung on last year’s tour as well.

If you can’t make out the lyrics to the song, TSO has provided them on their Web site.

The second half of the show contained whatever the band felt like playing. They turned more classical compositions into heavy metal music and even

I have to praise the band for their rendition of “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana, the Sabres’ power play song.

Click below to watch “O Fortuna” performed in Ottawa earlier this year.

The tone of this song and the harshness of the melody hint at the meaning of the song. Obviously, there’s angst and determination wrapped up in the song. I found a rough translation of the lyrics on Wikipedia, and you can see them below.

“O Fortune,

like the moon

you are changeable,

ever waxing

and waning;

hateful life

first oppresses

and then soothes

as fancy takes it;

poverty

and power

it melts them like ice.

Fate - monstrous

and empty,

you whirling wheel,

you are malevolent,

well-being is vain

and always fades to nothing,

shadowed

and veiled

you plague me too;

now through the game

I bring my bare back

to your villainy.

Fate is against me

in health

and virtue,

driven on

and weighted down,

always enslaved.

So at this hour

without delay

pluck the vibrating strings;

since Fate

strikes down the strong man,

everyone weep with me!”

If that’s not something to get you into the holiday spirit, I don’t know what is. Perhaps the song was more appropriate for the weekend of Black Friday than I’d originally thought.

One thing is for sure: I won’t be missing TSO when they’re in town again.

Taking Risks for Huge Gains

In a world where so many things can be taken away at the blink of an eye, one begins to wonder what there is to cling to. When money disappears in times of trouble, possessions are picked off by those less fortunate that we, what is there to invest yourself in? Upon first thought, it seems that the people around us are guaranteed to us. It’s nice to think that our family and friends, our loved ones, will be around forever, but the truth is that we all too often lose them to disease and violence.

What, then, can we invest ourselves in? What is worth taking risks for? 

My younger sister graduated yesterday. She’s officially a doctor. Her college held an intimate ceremony, celebrating the accomplishments of her class in a small lecture hall. The observance paid homage to the members of her program by focusing on their chosen career. My sister is now a Doctor of Physical Therapy. She has spent the last five and a half years of her life in front of books, fellow students, and professors, attempting to absorb everything she can from them so that she can be a better doctor, so that she would graduate able to help others who can’t help themselves.

The ceremony was filled with speakers, hand-picked to share messages of hope and encouragement concerning the future each graduate in the hall had chosen. A professor spoke of the need to be informed, the need to get all information possible before judging someone, before making a diagnosis. An elementary teacher wheeled himself to the front of the room to speak about how people like those sitting with diplomas in their hands had changed his life and given him hope. He reasoned that the field of Physical Therapy had chosen them, that they were destined to be physical therapists. The head of their class offered a few words about how far they had come in the five or six years they had known each other. They’d grown, they’d changed, and they were ready to be free.

While all of these messages were heart-warming, and the weight of them surely holds true, I left the ceremony haunted by the introductory words, given by a young man the students regarded as the class clown. The ceremony began with a brief statement from a young man named Adrian. He mentioned that many people regarded him as a Mexican, even though his heritage stemmed from Puerto Rico and El Savador. People assumed what he was, just based on his appearance. That alone had a powerful message, but he continued to describe his childhood. He grew up in a rough neighborhood in New York City. It seemed as though his home town was a place that people struggled to leave, but only a few were lucky enough to escape. His father worked hard to give his kids a life better than the one he had, and his mother worked to provide them with a warm home. Sadly, his father fell ill, and in the time nearing his death, he called the children together. He knew that the end was near for him, and he wanted to remind his children of one thing. He said to them, “When I go, I will not leave you money. I will not leave you a house or a car, or anything of material value. When I leave you, I go knowing that I have left you with something no one can take away from you. I will leave you with an education.”

This statement brought tears to my eyes. Obviously, Adrian meant to celebrate the accomplishments he and his fellow classmates had made, but I couldn’t help but think about the impact I have as an educator. It is my job to furnish young adults with the information and skills they need to make futures for themselves, for our planet. I am lucky enough to have the opportunity to give gifts that can never be taken away. Even in a court of law, no one can strip you of the knowledge you have obtained. No one can steal that from you. Yes, age and illness can dim our brains, but for most of us, the greater part of our lives is influenced heavily by what we know. Knowledge can provide jobs. Wisdom can change our lives; it can help us out of tight spots. Therefore, I know that the one thing worth investing in is not a part of the DOW Jones. My education is worth some attention. It’s worth making some sacrifices for. I’m still in school myself, and I know that there have been many times when I would rather tune in for my favorite TV show than write a paper or read an assignment. It’s just easier sometimes. However, after hearing Adrian speak, I don’t think I’ll be doing that anytime soon. Each paper and each reading assignment is an opportunity for me to better myself, my future, and the lives of those around me. It is a gift, even if it seems like work. I’m not willing to give up my future for something that seems important now.

Adrian was given an award for his accomplishments later in the ceremony, and I’d imagine that the lessons his father left with him will take him much further than he ever imagined. I’m grateful that I was able to share in what his father left for him.

Vocal Cord Recovery

I’ve heard it said that screaming too loud can make one lose her voice. If that’s the case, I should be mute today. The Sabres buried the Capitals last night at HSBC Arena. During the first period, I was vocally upset because the Sabres shoved 13 shots at the Capital’s goalie, Brent Johnson, but they couldn’t get one of them past him. The Capitals snuck one of their four goals past Miller. Everyone in the arena knew the Sabres were dominating the game, but the scoreboard showed something different. The officiating was less than stellar, and I fully participated in the chorus of “boos” that rang out each time Alex Ovechkin touched the puck. HSBC Arena was rocking with energized fans, that’s for sure.

During the first intermission, I remembered many games from last season when our team went into the locker room down by a goal or two, only to come back in the ensuing period. This gave me a bit of hope, but I was left waiting in the second until fifteen minutes had passed. Then, shots started raining down on Johnston. The 31st shot he faced changed the tone of the game. Defenseman Jaroslav Spacek scored his first goal of the night. Eleven seconds later, Max Afinogenov gave his team the lead. As the puck struck the pack of the net, the entire crowd rose to celebrate. 37,000 plus hands raised in triumph. In the following four and a half minutes, two more Sabres goals sealed the game.

Roy scored two goals in the third, followed by another defensive point by Spacek. The final score was seven to three, and the stands celebrated like it was a playoff game. I love it when the home team wins! The energy is incredible.

While I nursed my voice with a cup of coffee this morning, I read John Vogl’s take on the game. I really liked one of the quotes he included from Capital goalie, Johnson: “After they started coming at us hard in the second period, it was just . . . I mean, it was almost unbearable for a little bit,” Johnson said. “It felt like the ice was tilted the other way.” Poor guy. I wonder if the Caps will be slapping Olaf Kolzig back in between the posts for their next game. I realize that they were “running on E” from playing back-to-back games, but their performance was dismal. The Sabres totally owned the Capitals with a 53-shot game. Way to go, boys!

Do It Yourself TV

Can someone please tell me where you can purchase a five-bedroom, fully-finished house with a beautifully landscaped yard and pool for $267,000? I’m totally captivated by House Hunters, but I don’t know where the realtors on this show find the houses they do. Since the show is filmed all over the US and the globe, seeing the different house markets is really fascinating. What’s worth $250,000 here could be worth two or three times that in California.

What’s even more exciting about watching this show is the tips you can pick up from the hosts, realtors, and buyers about what to look for in a house and what to avoid. You can learn about everything from porch design to bedroom size. They even give you decorating tips!

My secret indulgence used to be Trading Spaces, but I don’t get as much out of that show since Page Davis left. The article linked here discusses how she may have been canned because of a video that endangered the show’s reputation, but I’ll continue to think they had bigger and “better” plans for the show. In my humble opinion, she made the show with her sparkling personality. Let’s face it, the designers just aren’t as exciting. (I’ll add a note signifying how much I miss Ty Pennington and Andrew Dan-Jumbo. Talk about hotties!)

I’m sure I’ll have updates about the latest episodes soon. Until then, enjoy your home. Make it your own, and make it unique!

The House Hunter’s icon in this post was taken from http://www.pietown.tv/ and the picture of Andrew Dan-Jumbo was taken from http://www.nationwidespeakers.com.

Sabres Home Opener

I was lucky enough to attend the season opener at the HSBC Arena on Friday night. The season began with an intense game against the New York Islanders. There’s no doubt that Sabres Fever had spread throughout the entire Western New York area. More than eighteen thousand people sat “suffering” from the heat inside the arena, and I’m not talking about the temperature. Before the game, excitement was in the air, and there was no denying that the town had high hopes for the team this season.

As the first period started, I sat on the edge of my seat, peering down at the ice from the 300s. It was nice to see “rookies” Paille, Paetsch, Stafford, and Ryan mixing things up. In fact, I was thoroughly impressed with the way Paille came back to cover on defense when the Islanders had possession. He made an effort to get his stick in there and break up the Islander’s offensive plays. Ryan didn’t score on his own net, so that’s an improvement over his first game last year. Paetsch has always been one to play strong on defense and although, he could have been stronger on Friday, there’s always room for improvement.Without Drury or Briere, we certainly struggled, but the team is deep, and we’re not going anywhere without a fight. Tim Connolly is back in full strength and has been given a chance to play with Jochen Hecht and Jason Pominville. I think he’ll be a nice fit there.

I heard on the news Saturday morning that the defense left Miller out to dry, but I’m not sure Ryan (Miller) had his best game of his life either. There’s no doubt that one of the goals is thanks to Tallinder dropping his mark to cover Miller, and he’s the first to admit it. He’s quoted saying, “We played poorly defensively, that’s it” by John Vogl in Saturday’s Buffalo News. It’s certainly clear that they didn’t do their job against Comrie or Hunter.

In my opinion, the entire team played poorly when the third period rolled around. Those twenty minutes were filled with sloppy passes and slow skating. The first period was exactly the opposite. Five minutes into the game, I leaned over to tell Erik that we were lighting them up. I just wish they’d shown up for the last two periods in just the same way.

I’ll admit that Rick DiPietro was impressive between the pipes for the Isles. I swear he was break dancing when he spun on his back to save a quick shot from one of our shooters. He’s fast, and he has a great eye. Last year, I thought the Isles were crazy to sign him for so much money and for 15 years, but it appears they knew what they were doing.

While the Sabres haven’t had the strongest start, I have confidence that they’ll play a great season. We may have lost our captains, but we sure as hell haven’t lost our spirit.

The picture in this post was snagged by Mark Mulville at the game on Friday night. It can be found in the Buffalo News.

Victory in the Queen City

“It’s over. Terrence McGee.” That’s what the announcer, Ian Eagle, said this Sunday afternoon when the Bills knocked off the Jets 17-14. The Bill’s cornerback picked off a throw from Pennington to ensure the Bill’s first win of the season. It’s nice to see that even one week after bruising his ribs against New England, he can still make a great play.

Trent Edwards also had a hand in today’s win. His addition to the starting line-up has been great. A rookie from Stanford, the poor guy must be excited to have a win. His team had a perfect record of losses last season.

I’ll be the first to admit that I was unsure when I picked the Bills over the Jets this weekend, due to the 0-3 record we held coming into the game this afternoon. However, I couldn’t be happier to hear the outcome of the game. It sounds like Losman will be out for a few weeks with a sprained MCL, but I feel confident with this young guy taking his place. Honestly, I’ve never been much of a Losman fan anyway. In my opinion, the Bills haven’t had a great QB since Kelly wore the number 12. Those were the days.

The picture of Terrence McGee comes from Nfluk.com.

Spirits and Joy Harjo’s Beliefs

In college, I was honored to have James Thomas Stevens as a professor in an independent study course. I desired to take a higher-level writing course, and I needed the independent study to get there. I never imagined that it would challenge me like it did. He requested that I purchase a few collections of poetry for perusal, introducing me to another Native American poet, Joy Harjo. As I read the writings of Stevens and Harjo, a glimpse of Native American culture tugged at my heartstrings and challenged my thoughts.

The Roman Catholic church taught me that there is one Holy Spirit, a part of the Holy Trinity that moves all life forms to do God’s will as a comforter and helper. We were also taught that our Spirits go to Heaven.

The Native Americans, as you might know from Disney’s Pocahontas, believe that everything has a spirit and that all of those spirits are connected. It’s really nice to think that we depend on the deer we notice in meadows and lawns at the side of the road, fish in the Finger Lakes, and the stars over our heads as much as we depend on our neighbors, but the idea that each has their own spirit really challenged my core. That challenge came in the form of my writing. The semester-long course I took with James was an enlightening phase in my writing, although it seemed like the Dark Ages at times. I struggled, I struggled badly. I thought everything I wrote was awful, but looking back, I know that I wouldn’t be the writer today if Stevens hadn’t challenged my entire thought process with his own writing and his reading of and guidance in my own.

Another teacher in my building pointed me to NPR’s This I Believe segment, and I was reminded of the growth I had in James’ course when I saw Harjo’s essay, “A Sacred Connection to the Sun”. She writes, “When explorers first encountered my people, they called us heathens, sun worshippers. They didn’t understand that the sun is a relative and illuminates our path on this earth.” The image of the sun as a tour-guide through life, an illuminated brick road through choices isn’t that far off from the Catholic/Christian Holy Spirit. Perhaps we just call things by different names. I center more and more on this idea as time moves forward. I’m thankful that I am continually challenged by the ideas of others, and I sincerely hope that my students will find themselves in the same position as we embark on this blogging adventure. I implore you to check out NPR’s This I Believe.

I thank Poets.org for the picture of Joy Harjo I used in this article. The stunning sunrise photograph is from wvs.topleftpixel.com.

Be Happy

This is my newest card. I made it for Beate’s 17th Weekend Challenge.  I’ve always wanted to do one of them, but the summer has been so cramped that I haven’t had the time. This afternoon, I was trying to create a set of tile coasters for my cottage, and I attempted to create a card for the challenge while the tiles were cooling from the oven.

I used Rich Regals as a starting point, and chose Taken with Teal as my base. The card is 5.5×5.5″, and I splattered the base with my Taken with Teal Stampin’ Spot, although you can’t see the texture very well in the picture. Then, I chose Elegant Eggplant to be my strip, and cut a piece that was 5.5×2.5″. The Whisper White matte is 5.5×3″.

I created a circle from Rose Red and stamped it with the same color ink using a stamp from the  Priceless set that I just love. The Whisper White circle inside of this one is adorned with an Elegant Eggplant impression of a tulip from Garden Whimsy. Faux stitching adds a little something to the edges of this circle. ‘

As finishing touches, I stamped “Be Happy” from the So Many Sayings hostess set, added non-SU brads that match Rose Red perfectly, and stretched a strip of organdy ribbon  around the bottom of my Elegant Eggplant strip.

Given that this is my first entry in Beate’s challenges, I hardly expect to earn the free set she’s giving to the winner, but I’m happy with the way it turned out and had a lot of fun creating it.

So You Think You Can Dance Finale

While the finale of So You Think You Can Dance? was aired last Wednesday and Thursday (results show), I still think about the amazing dancers and choreographers that allow this show to happen.

Sabra Johnson won the title and $250,000 this season, making her the first female winner in the show’s history. She certainly deserved it. As Mary Murphy, judge, said, “She’s like heaven out there.” This small woman dances with such power and perfection, it’s hard to believe she’s human sometimes.

Here’s a dance she did with Neil, Clarence Center’s own celebrity, during the finale on Wednesday about a deal being made.

What do you think? Was it made under the table?

While I really liked that dance, my favorite from the finale is in the following video. Danny and Neil danced as Kings/Lords of different countries fighting for something. I thought the choreography was fitting for this show, as they really were fighting for the title.

I suppose I’ll have to wait until next May or June for the new season, but it’s totally worth the wait. I wonder if any family members of this year’s contestants will make it into next season. (Last year’s winner’s (Benji) sister (Lacie) came in 4th this year, and last year’s runner up (Travis) was brother to this year’s runner up (Danny).)

Erik and I have often talked of taking dance lessons ourselves, but grad school may get in the way of those plans this fall. I hope to find a listing in a community ed bulletin in the area, as that seems to be the most cost effective way to learn how to move your feet!

My Writing Territories

A list of things to write about when I’m “stuck”:

• My students- how they have helped me to become a better teacher.
• Poetry- I’ve been writing since I was a little girl. I like to try to figure out ways to make writing and reading it less scary for my students.
• Mom- the way she supported me in everything I’ve ever done. She was always there at every event of my life – no matter what it took for her to get there.
• Dad- the provider in our family. Although he wasn’t around as much as Mom, I know he was working to support our family and give my sisters and I a good life.
• Marcia – the medical one in the family who continues to make me proud of her all the time. Her blonde hair can provide me with endless stories.
• Laura- happy, go-lucky girl. Pegged as the “little one,” but growing up so fast.
• Erik- summer, softball games, jet-ski rides, waterskiing, reading together
• Nicole & Kevin
• Young Adult books – I don’t know if I could ever write one, but I certainly like writing about them.
• Making and selling jewelry
• Rubber Stamping
• Short stories
• Song lyrics and music
• Chautauqua Lake
• Teaching in Mayville
• Memories from college in Fredonia
• Educational Technology
• Hiking through Panama Rocks
• Camping
• Sabres
• High school memories
• Going to the gym – how it’s a stress relief for me and I wish I had more time to go.
• How I spend my weekends relaxing and watching movies.
• My friends getting engaged/ married: their love stories, how they met, how they fell in love, etc.
• Lesson plans
• Reflections on my teaching. What worked, what needs tweaking.
• Dairy queen Dilly Bars with GG. She always had them make special ones with chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla for us.
• Grandma Phyllis’s waffles. Walnuts.

Fishing at Chautauqua

This afternoon, the clouds finally parted (as if Moses himself were standing on the shore with his hands in the air), and we were able to get two hours of fishing in. The storm had caused the normally sapphire water to a mossy green by stirring up the affluent weed population in the lake. The picture below was taken off the bow of our boat and accurate shows how gross the water was.

Who wants to go swimming? Apparently, my younger sister, Marcia, had that exact notion in her head. She is an avid wakeboarder and jumps in the water with her board at every chance. I half expected her to be the hulk’s sister by the time she rose up from the water, but the bay she chose to swim in was much cleaner than most of the lake.

That’s the funny thing about the big water: the wind shifts so easily that one bay could be storming and the one around the point could be clear. I suppose that adds to the enchantment of water. I could watch the lake all day; it is peaceful and mind-numbing. It evokes thought about subjects I never knew I even cared about. Then, a blue heron dives for his dinner, and reality hits. I love the lake.

Muskellunge

This is what this week was supposed to look like. My father and sister pulled in this 46″ muskellunge (a.k.a. muskie) on the 4th of July. Looking at this picture reminds me of what nice weather looks like and how beautiful Chautauqua Lake is. The week I pick for a vacation down here turns out to be dreary and cold, but I’m catching up on some blog entries and enjoying some good books. I haven’t been in the boat yet, but I’m hoping the weather will clear up enough for even one fishing or skiing trip.

I haven’t mentioned that Chautauqua Lake is my most favorite place in the entire world. When I was born, my family camped at Camp Chautauqua and continued to do so until I was just about four. Then, my mother’s side of the family invested in a lake-front cottage together. I am inspired by the nature here and enjoy being away from the hustle and bustle of suburbia. I’ve written countless drafts of poems about the water, the herons, the hummingbirds, the childhood memories I created here with friends in our bay. I wish I had inspiration to write about the first “keeper” my father reeled in during his 30-years of trolling for muskellunge on the Chautauqua waters. Someday.

Inexcusable

Let me start out by saying that this is not the type of book I usually read. That said, it has been haunting me from the shelves at Barnes & Noble for months. I finally caved into Chris Lynch’s Inexcusable the night before leaving for a week-long vacation in Chautauqua. I read in no time at all, but I’m not sure the book ever really captured my attention. I couldn’t rely on the narrator because he was having so many problems himself, and I think the narrator is usually my portal into the story, especially when the setting is foreign to me.

I’m sure that other people would love this book, and I’ve already recommended it to a few family friends who are adolescent teenagers. It just didn’t capture my attention after all of the long months it left me pining for it. Perhaps I’d built it up to be more than it actually was in my mind.

I found the picture in this post on Shelfari.com.