Seth Meyers is quickly rising up on my list of favorite late-night hosts. His balance of objective information, humor, and showcasing up-and-coming performers is great! And it makes me feel sorta bad for thinking "Oh, Seth, don't you know you should have stayed behind the desk at Update?" when he first started.
But it's okay; I'm pretty sure he's had that thought, too.
I'm writing so much that's, uh, depressing, that I'll tell something funny here.
Spectre and I ordered an ottoman from Target.
We got a child's pink toy horse.
Recently, my 4-year-old asked me why owls are called "not-turtles." Confused, I asked him what he meant. He said, "You know, not-turtle things that come out at night. Why are they called that?"
Oh, I also made it through a day-and-a-half of March Madness with a perfect bracket. No need to speak of what happened after that, but it was fun while it lasted.
Last October, my coworker, Pete, introduced me to this amazing service called "Scott's Cheap Flights." You see there is this guy (Scott) who runs algorithms on airline tickets and creates alerts when prices massively drop. He then sends out an email to subscribers letting them know about ridiculously cheap flights. I plan trips as a hobby, so this service filled me with endless joy.
At about this time, I realized that I am an independent, single, financially stable human who can travel when and where she wants, given she can get vacation time. Combining Scott's Cheap Flights with this realization was very, very potent.
Fast forward. It is mid-November. For the past two months, I've been debating what I want to do for my birthday. The vacation days are scheduled, but the trip is undetermined. I considered going to Florida, renting a car, and driving the Florida Keys; I thought perhaps I might go to the Grand Canyon or attempt a cruise. However, as my birthday encroached, none of these ideas quite fit the bill or the budget.
It is Wednesday, two weeks before my birthday. An email arrives from Scott, advertising $400 round-trip tickets from Salt Lake City to Barcelona, Spain. Hmm, I've never really thought about going to Spain. That could be fun. Do any of the dates coincide with my vacation days? I wondered idly to myself. A quick look a Google Flights confirms that yes, in fact, they do match my vacation days. Quite perfectly. Within an hour I was booked and two weeks later I was on my way to Barcelona.
And that is the story of how I went on a long weekend jaunt to Spain. NBD
The Soulful Ginger (who may or may not have seen the Barcelona v Madrid game on said trip to Spain. NBD.)
A few weeks ago, I ran across this article explaining that what we think of as "a plant" is not actually a singular entity. It is a complex network of thousands of different organisms, each genetically distinct and each technically a separate creature. However, without the complex networks formed by these organisms, none of them could survive. The plant may exist as a genetically distinct entity, but by any functional standard, "a plant" is really more of a community than a unit.
I suspect that life in general is closer to this model than we realize. No organism can survive in the absence of other organisms. We couldn't exist without our gut bacteria. We also couldn't exist without the plants and animals that feed us. In our human hubris, we like to think of ourselves as distinct and special. In reality, we are just one part of life on Earth, and life on Earth is just one part of the wider universe. It seems kind of trite when I write it out like this, but it came as a major paradigm shift to me, and it's given me both a greater sense of responsibility for how my actions impact the network and a greater sense of peace at my own very small place within it.
Here are some factoids for ya:
- Soteriology is the study of religious doctrines of salvation.
- Through FamilySearch, I've discovered that I'm descended from the ancient giant kings Brân the Blessed and Fornjót.
- I live within a few hours' drive of a micronesia.
And as a new parent, I really appreciated this article.
I wanted to say that my first niece or nephew was born, but that was wordy and also made it sound like I wasn't sure what the gender was. Saying my first niece was born implies that there might be nephews, and there aren't. Also (don't tell anyone), I don't much like "werf."
I looked it up. It turns out in the 50s someone came up with a non-gendered term for the child of your sibling: a nibling.
Too bad no one knows what it means, so it doesn't actually save on wordiness or enhance clarity of meaning.
My third graders are in the process of writing a class mini-opera. Today, we were making a plot outline, and created a story where Godzilla attacks a peaceful forest, and then John Cena and the Undertaker team up to defeat him by creating a giant anaconda in a laboratory and using it to tie Godzilla to a helicopter and drop him into the ocean.
I am so stoked to hear what the songs in this opera end up sounding like.
A fly can still fly away without its head.
My name is Kierkegaard
And I would like to share with you the existential abyss
I have a quick, fun, and blasphemous anecdote that just happened on Sunday.
Andy and I team-teach the Valiant 9 class in our ward. They're great kids, and Sharing Time is way better than Relief Society. For the Sharing Time lesson this week, the Primary President gave all the classes one verse from the Sermon on the Mount. The children had to read it, act it out, and have the rest of the primary children guess what our verse was about (being peacemakers, helping the poor and needy, etc). Some were simple, others were cheeky, but my favorite came from the 10-year-old boys. Their scripture was Matthew 5:44:
But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;
Imagine two rambunctious 10-year-old boys, one of whom is pretend-punching the other, and he says "I forgive you!" Nothing extraordinary so far. Then imagine one of these boys getting on his knees, faux-praying in his best reenactment of Christ praying in Gethsemane, and screaming in the loudest, goofiest, most pre-pubescent, voice crackingest, ear-deafening voice I've ever heard:
Now imagine 20 young children giggling their heads off hysterically, and all screaming at the top of their lungs in unison "Jehovah, Jehovah" for the rest of Sharing Time that day. The teachers were completely frozen, waiting for lightning to strike our Primary classroom directly into the depths of outer darkness. I'm sure the Primary President had a lot of angry parents rushing her door, demanding an explanation for their children's behavior after her lesson that day. All I could do was grab Andy's arm and not burst out laughing right then and there.
Never underestimate a child's ability to blaspheme so enthusiastically.