Wall-E

Just saw Wall-E. Loved it. Chris & Lish are right about the short: their best yet. But, I must say, I thought the film itself was great, and contained a full, complete story.

The subliminal (though not subtle) commentary on today's consumer-society wishing to return to the protection of the womb/infant state was provoking - but that wasn't the story. The message about being good stewards over the earth was timely - but that wasn't the story.

At heart it was a LOVE STORY explaining how one person/thing relates to someone/something s/he loves. The love story is complex, and illustrates the dangers of loving someone/something more beautiful/powerful than yourself; how media affects the way affection is shown; how a united loving unit (i.e. family) can overcome nearly insurmountable odds. Indeed, I thought it well worth my time (though a bit expensive). Everything not directly related to this main plot-line is merely the canvas upon this work was painted.

To be sure, it doesn't beat out The Incredibles for the #1 Pixar movie, in my book. Even so, it's still a great show. Any flick that can go - what was it? like 20 minutes? - without dialog (and I don't even notice it) has got to have something special going on.

So: what’s your prime directive? Do you control it, or does it control you?

Paternal Passion

In my family there was no clear line between education and athletics. My father is a teacher and a ball-player who plays his own sports and teaches others.

I’ve spent much of my “adult” (quotation marks used conscientiously) life trying to distance myself from my youthful escapades, and nowhere is that more obvious than in the realm of sports. As a kid, I played soccer, basketball, baseball, and even golfed a couple of times. This was largely due to the fact that my dad is a sports fan extraordinaire. Behind every one of these forays into the world of athletics, my father was my guide. Quite literally. He never hesitated to sign up as coach, if one was needed. In fact, I can’t think of a time that he has ever hesitated to step up and take the lead.

Given that I’ve spent the last 1.5 decades of my life studiously avoiding all things athletic, I was shocked when I found my mouth agreeing to a departmental softball game [Is that my voice? Is that my voice? Oh, well.] about a month ago. I’m glad, now, that my mouth was so agreeable. Not only was it a great time, but I also found myself remembering lessons my dad had taught me. That, and the fabled love-of-the-game actually resurrected itself in me. I ended up hitting 3 homers, and fielding pretty decently too. The result: the grad students squashed the faculty.

It is one of life’s quiet victories to realize that lessons, once despised, are, in fact, invaluable and irreplaceable. My two left-hand-only gloves (the softball mitt and the falconer’s gauntlet) are now peaceably reconciled.

I am grateful my dad taught me how to break-in a mitt. I am more grateful he taught me how to play a few of his most prized games. But most of all I’m grateful for his example of fatherhood: lovingly passing along his passions and teaching something much, much more than sports to the next generation.

Thanks for teaching me to throw and catch;
Thanks for showing me how to overcome seemingly insurmountable challenges, from a severe stroke to (heaven help us) raising two red-heads;
Thanks for being such a worthy hero, pops: I’ll try to teach my young’ns as well as you taught me;
Thanks for still being my teacher.

Local Locomotion

Pulcheria posted that the morning of St. Louis' big quake, I was on the train to Chicago.

Well, the girls went for their first train ride on Saturday, and it was generally conceded to be a big hit. Bree especially loved it. Amtrak, in their usual practice of dys-ficiency, was running nearly two hours behind schedule. They tried to make up time, though, so the scheduled 48 minute trip into downtown Saint Louis took 26 minutes. Bree loved how fast the train went! Adria was not impressed, but bore it in silence.

Ode on January

the month freezes streets
harnesses arctic winds
the person warms hearts, heats my bed’s covers
looks wonderful
hot

the month is harbinger of deep dark nights
the person’s brilliance illuminates desire

the month fights survivors
fosters brittle frigidity
the person encourages life
causes to thrive

the month drags-on
all that grows is frigid
frost
the person changes always
increases in beauty, strength, wisdom
grace

the month is on every calendar
printed paper
gone with turn of the page
the person dwells with me and mine
merged
with my soul

the month sucks happiness like a dementor
the person nourishes joy –
alma sponsa, alma mater



Thank you for nine wonderful years, Pulcheria.

Need a Map?

Okay, here's a real update. I'll make it quick since I'm still working on final projects.

So, on 2 May 2008 I ordered a T-shirt. It was funny and I value humor as a proper exchange of monetary equivalency. Especially if I can wear it. Anyway, I had ordered from the site before, so I knew it was quality.

Here's the tracking information.

Keep in mind that Earth City, MO is only a 25 minute drive from my doorstep. Can you figure out this delivery-path? Grrr. Frustration.

Update

Pulcheria said I needed a new post.

something's afoot

Photo by WildBound ©

Pop-Quiz

As the proud father of two gorgeous girls, I thought I’d use this post to see if you can identify which one of these little ones is not, in fact, my offspring. Any guesses?

Prizes for the Fam

Sometimes inspiration comes at the most unexpected times… and is twice blessed for it. My friend and colleague, Erin (a PhD student focusing on medieval Ireland), brought presents for my family today. Pulcheria’s comment tells the story: “you can tell she’s a mom!” She gave us diapers (sooo necessary - and nice not to have to buy myself) and a device to capture Adria’s size (figuratively speaking). But, she also got Beemer a prize: mess-less markers and finger-paints! She was so excited she insisted upon opening and using them immediately. Here she is showing Grandma how to use the paints.

Thanks again, Erin!

Nomen Ultimum

It turns out that, after I told Beemer her "very own baby sister's" name, she had two comments – one about the first name and one about the middle:

a) Bruno? Like the doggie in Cinderella?

b) Borga? Like the Proletariat and the Bourgeoisie? We're Bourgeois, right Daddy?

Not wishing to encourage too much Marxist/Disney indoctrination (at least not before she is able to explain how both Marx and Rand are opposite sides of the same-exact-erroneous coin), Pulcheria and I now have an official name, and it’s too late to change because the paperwork has already been submitted. This time it’s for real – the post below was merely a joke, and I got some great reactions to it, too!

The name of Beemer’s “very own baby sister” is officially: Adriana Zoe. Pulcheria and I are still working out whether to nick-name her Adri (Aid – ree) or Adria. Beemer, however, has it all figured out: “I’ll call her Anna Montana.”

Grandma, who graciously flew in to supplement my efforts, agrees that she's beautiful, and loves the name (it's Adria, BTW).

B. I. Webb

I’ve decided that 6:00 in the morning, after being up for almost 24 hours, is not the most ideal time to make a decision on a new baby’s name. Pulcheria and I really hope they’ll let us change it. I’m about to go back to the hospital to see if they’ve already filed the paperwork with the notary public. If, for some horrible reason, the Missouri bureaucracy is more efficient than the Utah, then we’ll be stuck. That, or we’ll have to pay to change it. At any rate, in case we’re stuck with the name allow me introduce you to the new daughter of Pulcheria and me – Beemer's “very own baby sister:”

Brunhilde Ingeborg Webb.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

With the notable exception of making the bed (which I can't do until morning, anyway), my to-do list is a has-been-done list. My first semester of graduate work is done. Only nine more to go... Well, hopefully it'll only be nine more.

But, that's all in the future. For now, I'll simply relish the fact that there are no assignments hanging over my head, I get to see my family again, and I can relax for a while. [Breathe deeply - Smile]

World Bird Sanctuary

As per requests and promises, on Friday I took a couple photos of where I volunteer. The Turkey Vulture’s name is Turk, and she really likes to bite. You can tell she's a bigger bird by how far I'm leaning back to counter-balance. The Great Horned Owl’s name is Coal, and he’s a sweetie who likes to hoot. Coal is, quite possibly, the messiest bird at the Sanctuary, frequently dirtying up his furniture, and thus my hands when I handle him.

Ozark Initiation

I came to a realization a few nights ago. Although I really wanted to pig-out on comfort food, I didn’t need it. Although I was offered several places in which said pigging-out could be carried out, I decided to turn them down. What I really miss is my family and friends and wilderness. I could celebrate Thanksgiving with relative strangers, and thus strengthen budding friendships (and thus have more time to work), OR I could celebrate with established friends & family (fun, but leaving no time to work), OR I could get off my butt and find some wilderness. I opted for the latter. I had a hasty breakfast at 5:30, then drove for about an hour and a half and found myself at the trailhead for a section of the Ozark Trail.

It was lightly snowing, and the stream sang for me. All for me, since I alone owned the trail today. The creek greeted me very closely, as I slipped in my crossing. Fortunately I brought a couple extra pairs of socks, so even that trial has turned into a great memory (on the way back, I took off foot gear and crossed it “North Fork,” style, ala WM). My good camera is in Utah, enjoying the family that I miss, so I had to make do with my cell-phone. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! See you soon.

How to Waterproof a Thumb-Drive

Here's my one-hour Saturday afternoon (while Bree napped) project. Yes, this was work avoidance, inspired by Z.1) acquire a (cheap) USB flash-drive

2) carefully extract the innards
3) apply thin layer of waterproof (i.e., non-permeable) epoxy, taking special care to coat the four terminals going into the metal sheath, NB do not epoxy more than a mm. or two onto the metal sheath [no pics here - sorry, my hands were full]
4) wait 20-30 minutes, then apply second layer [again, no pics] 5) (OPTIONAL, BUT RECOMMENDED) wait another 20-30 minutes, then superglue a key-ring (or other such attaching device) and ID-tag6) Final coat over electronics, ID-tag and ring (if you waste too much, like me, this should finish up your syringe of epoxy)
7) Let cure for at least 24 hours before complete submersion

8) Enjoy. If it gets accidentally washed, or soaked in soda, it should still work for you.

The Return of the Prodigals

Let it be known that the exiles have announced that their diaspora will receive a temporary respite. The Webb family, expatriates of the state of Utah, July 28 – present, will return to their fatherland. Ahenobarbus, Pulcheria and Beemer will all stand on Deseret’s sacred soil on December 18, 2007.

“It’s a mixed bag. Going back behind the Zion Curtain fills me at once with both excitement and anxiety,” said Ahenobarbus, the paterfamilias. “I want to play with Landon and Oakley,” Beemer has been found saying, followed occasionally by “is it Christmas, yet?” Merrily foreseeing babysitters, Pulcheria simply smiles with glee at the prospect.

See you all then… Hey, who wants to volunteer for airport pick-up duty? I may ask Tristano to haul me down to his place for the night so I can hit Diamond Fork (aka. Fifth Water) Springs! Who wants to come with?

Fun with Books

Last Monday, for FHE, we went to the local library. We read books with Beemer for about a half hour, then she picked out some for us to take home. She grabbed Frog and Toad are Friends and Pizza Fun. Pulcheria has liked Toad and Frog for a long time. I don’t remember reading it, but am a fan, now. Superb beginning reader. We were both skeptical, however, about the pizza book, and tried to talk her out of it, seeing as how it didn't have what we perceived as "staying power."

That silly pizza book has also proven a surprising find. Not only were we pleased to find that Beemer continues to look at its pages, but we actually tried a couple of the recipes today. Delicious looking tigers ensued (as you can tell from Bree's territorial roar, below)!

The Formal Flower of Academe

golden flowers stand in formation
at attention on a faded blue field
ever they face the rostrum of knowledge

erudition penetrates
gently the ears, violently the mind

scholars sit slouched in chairs
hunched over notepads
feet shuffle on floral carpet
pens pretend to scribble

the air charges with cerebral energy
synapse fires
neurons flash

fact and invention infuse
fill already overflowing brains
condense on aural canals

drips sink in, streams retreat
shower down information
on the fleurs-de-lis
as they, rigid, attend the speaker

Ex Am In Nation

Secretly, I’m glad that Pulcheria asked me to post this information up. It’s a great pretext to letting you all know, not only what’s going on in my life lately, but also that I’m starting to get my bearings. It’s about time, too.

For me, one of the greatest feelings in the world is to set a goal, then work my tail off to achieve it. This is how I lost 70 pounds in roughly 8 months. It's also, coincidentally, how I got into my MA program here in Missouri (my top choice of schools). Complementary to that great feeling is the panicked frustration when I am in over my head. I was feeling fairly pathetic here, questioning my ability, my intelligence, and my sanity. Things are starting to change - slowly - but that's enough for now. So, every MA history student at SLU must pass a foreign language competency exam before receiving their degree. This is usually taken the last semester before graduating. For students of medieval history, this test must be in Latin, and has a surprisingly high failure rate. Well, as I mentioned, I was feeling fairly inadequate to the program since my knowledge of medieval Europe isn’t nearly as strong as everyone else’s (my BA was primarily in Classics) but I needed to feel like I was actually working toward something: moving toward a goal. Therefore, in order to feel like I was making some form of progress I took the test on my second Friday here.

So, today I’m sitting in class and I ask my advisor how soon I would hear back about my test, and he said, “Oh, you aced it. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. I graded it that weekend.” Nearly two years ahead of schedule, too. So, I guess that’s one thing I can check off my list, right?

On that euphoric high, I went on to present my research into the obscure little event I’m looking into and my thoughts and interpretations of the primary documents. The class seems more interested than they have been, probably because I finally feel that I have some sort of rudimentary grip on the material, now. My advisor even said that it sounds like I’ve put my finger on something that could change the way historians of the fourth crusade view my event (i.e. the “crusade” of Walter of Brienne), which is high praise, indeed, seeing as he’s generally recognized as the authority on the fourth crusade.

So, all in all, a pretty darn good day in graduate school for me. Hopefully this meteoric trajectory will continue.

30 Years

As an indulgent present to myself I gave myself a lunch hour with my gorgeous family. I really miss the time with them I used to enjoy. It was great eating and hanging out with them, even if only for a little while. I’m thinking of taking a few off tomorrow, too, to go to the zoo. If that ends up happening, I’m sure y’all will be subjected to photos.