This week I got a letter from the woman in Afghanistan that I sponsor through Women for Women International. I was actually surprised to hear from her. When you join, they tell you that it's important to write to your sponsoree, but you may never hear back from her because many of these women are extremely traumatized by the things they've been through. My first sponsoree was a woman from Congo, and I did not hear from her.

But this lady from Afghanistan sounds extremely cheerful and excited about the program. She's studying farming in the program, and I'm happy to be able to write that I'm trying to raise vegetables myself and thus have a point in common with her, however slight. My cherry tomato plant has produced exactly three tiny tomatoes, but the bell pepper plants are thriving.

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Jars of Clay is the one band I've never been able to sell anyone on, and yet they've been a favorite of mine for something like 20 years. Their latest CD, Jars of Clay Presents The Shelter, is full of the amazing lyrics and inspiring music they always put out. One day someone out there will agree with me.

(Faves: Eyes Wide Open, No Greater Love, Love Will Find Us, Benediction.)
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My favorite show, So You Think You Can Dance, continues to be the most exciting thing on television. The whole program was great (I especially liked the return of Neil, in the first photo below, dancing with Melanie). But the last piece of the night brought down the house. Sonya Tayeh's monster choreography, executed by Sasha and Melanie, had the audience and judges (including Lady Gaga) on their feet, literally screaming.

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I know everyone and their mother has seen this photo, but I can't help posting it. And the rainbow lights over Niagara Falls? New York rocks.

(And kudos to the photographer of this photo, which I'm sure is being posted everywhere without credit, as it is here. Sorry!)

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It's the one that parks on the shoulder between Rt. 32 and the road into my neighborhood and sells produce from a Catonsville farm. It's there every day. Today I picked up fresh corn, tomatoes, and watermelon. Came home, microwaved the corn, put a little balsamic vinegar on the tomatoes, and mixed up a watermelon sorbet. Heaven. That truck is one of the few things I actually like about summer!
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At the slew of movies we've seen lately (Bridesmaids, Horrible Bosses, Friends with Benefits), there have been promising previews. Most notably, upcoming features starring two of my favorite Taylors: 

Taylor Lautner in Abduction:

And Taylor Kitsch in John Carter:

Here's hoping these are the good vehicles that they deserve.
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The talent lost, the music lost, the life that might have been lived.

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Action!
Cinematography!
Character Development!

Enjoy.

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I got Stevie Nicks's latest CD, partly out of nostalgia and partly because my brother said there was a song on it inspired by Twilight. But the song I really love on the album is the one inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's Annabel Lee:

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Hearing the words "cancer-free."

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And, for the record, 87 is VERY high.

And, natch, spoilers.

1. They get out of their first big jam (at Gringott's) because of a long-standing theme in the series: Hermione's hatred of animal cruelty.

2. How bulked up Ron looks.

3. The silences. Long, unhurried silences.

4. Neville Longbottom, The Hero of Gryffindor.

5. How perfectly they aged the kids for the coda.

6. Daniel Radcliffe, when he is 40, will look Mikhail Baryshnikov.

7. The beautiful cinematography.

8. The romantic notes that were kept very understated.

9. They made room, even if only for a few seconds, for every English actor who's graced the movies with their talents.

10. It was just bloody great.

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This is one of my favorite lines from The Simpsons, as Marge reveals the exotic addition to her dinner dish.

And for some reason I thought of it as I watched the Harry Potter movie tonight. "The Secret Ingredient? Silence!"

Seriously, this amazing movie was one of the quietest movies I have ever seen. An astounding amount of film time had no background music, no sound effects, no dialogue. And the audience sat in awed silence. You could have heard a pin drop in that theater. A gutsy, artistic take on the biggest commercial film of all time. Hats off to you, David Yates.

Neville Longbottom, Hero of Gryffindor:











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So it might not be a massive zombie attack. It might be a wildfire or an earthquake. But the question is, are you, as a good American, prepared for the physical challenges, psychological stress, and sociological fallout of a sudden catastrophic event? Here's a little guide to good manners during a total societal breakdown.

1. Don't blame the disaster on the behavior of people you don't like, just cause you don't like them. Blamable behaviors: lighting a wildfire; setting off explosives in a nuclear facility. Not blamable behaviors: homosexuality; witchcraft.

2. It wasn't the illegals. Just as uncouth as pointing fingers at wiccans is blaming a racial minority. Who knows, it may only be that labor-hardened peach picker from Guadalajara who has the upper body strength to haul your sorry ass out of the floodwaters. Be nice.

3. Have hope. In the zombie movies, it's always those people who are "practical" and "telling it like it is" who are the jerks. Because if there's no hope, then any behavior is justified. Don't panic, think long-term, and don't even try to justify your douchebag behavior by claiming a superior sense of realism.

4.  Stick to routine.  Remember that movie Hotel Rwanda? It told the true story of Paul Rusesabagina, a Rwandan who was working for an upscale Kigali hotel when the genocide broke out. Although 1 million were killed outside, almost all the people who took shelter in his hotel survived. Why? My favorite review of the movie explained it this way:  "Paul Rusesabagina saved his refugees by, essentially, being a very good hotel manager." That is, he got up in the morning, put on his hotel uniform, went through the motions of regular hotel service, and managed to convey, through his own normal behavior, that the hotel was a civilized place where normal, civilized behavior was expected.

5. Tend to the small things. Say thank you and please. Wash your hair if you can find soap. Share the household pet you just roasted on the barbie with the neighbors.

6. Read. History has lots of examples of societies that went to hell:  the plague in Athens, the civil wars in ancient Greece, Nazi Germany. Read up, then do the opposite.
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This is a psychological suspense novel that has gotten a lot of critical attention. It's about a woman with chronic short-term amnesia after a traumatic event that robbed her of most of her long-term memory as well.

I was really taken with the story and read the first half almost non-stop. But then it happened: I hit the moment in the book where I knew, in rough outline, what had happened, and the author denies his protagonist the same insight.

Fans of fantasy fiction often talk about the integrity of the created world, how the world of the novel has to be internally consistent. But such internal consistency is probably quite rare, if it ever happens. It's the nature of fiction to be impossible. There are degrees, though, and it's a book-by-book, reader-by-reader judgment call how much leeway you feel like giving the author.

This is particularly tricky with mystery novels that are "puzzle" novels, where the core of the novel is the working out of some situation based on clues. The writer is put between a rock and a hard place: If the reader figures out what's happened (or happening) but the protagonist hasn't, it can feel manipulative---like the character is being denied an obvious breakthrough because the author doesn't want to tip her hand. But equally dangerous is the temptation to make the mystery impossible to figure out, because then the answer feels random, like the author has picked a name out of a hat. This seems to happen when the murderer is identified because the detective remembers that, way back in chapter 3, the character said he arrived on the 4:30 train, and there is no 4:30 train on Wednesdays in August!

Lots of mystery writers avoid these traps with careful, smart plotting. But even better is to write prose that's worth reading for its own sake.  Then you never feel cheated.
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was the privilege of waking up every morning to a safe, peaceful world, and sunshine, and trees to look at, we'd still be counted among the very lucky.

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Three years ago my friend Julie sent me an email with this subject line. When I opened the email, I found the answer:  AMAZINGLY DELICIOUS CAULIFLOWER.

It's taken me all these years to try the recipe, but it was worth the wait. This is indeed:

Amazingly Delicious Cauliflower

1-2 heads of cauliflower, broken into florets
6-8 T olive oil
1 t sea salt
2 t sugar
1/4 t onion powder
1/4 t garlic powder
1/2 t paprika

Put cauliflower florets in a bowl.
Mix the other ingredients together, and toss with cauliflower.
Spread on a parchment-lined baking sheet and roast at 450 for 30 minutes.

Note: I put some cherry tomatoes in there too. They were delish but probably caused the cauliflower to be more damp than they would have been alone. But the end result was the same: amazingly delicious cauliflower.
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August 1 is the open submissions date for the next issue of the Little Patuxent Review. Send in poetry, fiction, or art for consideration on the theme of social justice for the upcoming winter issue. Check out the blog on their site as well, especially the series of posts titled Concerning Craft.

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On Sunday!

Here are some photos from their semi-final win over France (thanks to the Kansas City Star):

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Happy Birthday, my Romeo!

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1. Let's start easy: self-tanner. You apply a little each day, and within a week you have lost that pasty Washington bureaucrat coloring. Muy importante when you're working the crowd in Key West.

2. Chest waxing: Yes, it's a little painful:

But you're in this to win, right? It will all be worth it when you wowing the judges with this look:

3.  Know your audience: There are two types of women in the world: Team Edward and Team Jacob. You want Team Edward on the panel. Do you research ahead of time; use the photo below to poll:

4. Lastly, if all else fails, don't be afraid to go the tried-and-true route:

Best of luck. The home team is rooting for you!
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Jay's dad gave him an iPod Touch for his birthday, and I feel like I'm living with a teenager. He walks around, almost constantly, with his head bent over his iPod and ear buds hanging from his neck.
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Reading Egil's Saga, there are some lovely bits of poetry interpolated throughout. Here are some samples:

Skallagrim’s poem regarding the importance of getting up early as a blacksmith:


The wielder of iron must rise
early to earn wealth from his bellows,
from that sack that sucks in
the sea’s brother, the wind.
I let my hammer ring down
on precious metal of fire,
the hot iron, while the bag
wheezes greedy for wind.


Egil’s lament for his brother’s death:

The slayer of the earl, unfearing,
ventured bravely forth
in the thunder god’s din:
bold-hearted Thorolf fell.
The ground will grow over
my great brother near Wen;
deep as my sorrow is
I must keep it to myself.

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Writer friends: This is a once-a-month mag that is available on Kindle for only 99 cents per issue. Just got my first issue and really like it. You can subscribe here.

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Why I Haven't Blogged This Past Week