Wrong Numbers Can Make You Smile

So Monday I got home from visiting a friend and hit the play button on our answering machine. The second message made me laugh - it was a teenage boy and the transcript is something like this:

"Hello? Ummm...hello? ...Kevin, seriously, why're you talking like a girl? ...Please tell me this isn't your mom's number...or your home number...I mean, your mom sounds young...and HOT...but can I have your number now?"

I promptly called Tim and let him know that not only did I sound young, but also hot. I figure this is one of those things like getting a little thrill when you still get carded that is just a sign that age is creeping up from behind.

In Search of an Alpha Male

I've been on a bit of a sci-fi/fantasy kick in my reading lately. The authors in this genre I tend to prefer seem to have female protagonists rather than male (e.g. Anne McCaffrey, Mercedes Lackey, Elizabeth Moon, etc.) I've always assumed that this was because the authors themselves are female and so they tend toward female main characters.

My sister loaned me Eragon. It's something I've been wanting to read for a while but never quite gotten around to, so after a rash of re-reading some favorites, I picked it up. And then promptly put it back down as I encountered the problem I have with so many fantasy books where the protagonist is male: whining.

Whining is what kept me from reading more than three books in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. Seriously, Rand Al Thor, suck it up. You're the Dragon. Stop whining and move along.

Whining is what ultimately stopped me after six books in Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series. Again, suck it up Richard. You're the Seeker. Deal.

Whining has killed off many a series that others have highly recommended...and it's only today that I think I've realized the problem: there is no alpha male. And when you have a male main character, he needs to be a man, not a whiny little child. (Exception being, of course, if he is actually a child - Bastian Balthazar Bux (in the Neverending Story - the book, not the movies) is a bit of a whiner. But as he's...eight? Ten? I think some excuses can be made. The early Harry Potter is a bit of a whiner - and in the early books I forgave it, as he got older and kept whining it got irritating.

So the question arises...is it possible for a male fantasty/sci-fi author to create a male protagonist who doesn't whine? I'm open to recommendations, if you've got them.

Already Overplayed

There is a burgeoning tradition here in the Sleepy household to listen to Christmas music all day while the decorations are being festooned hither, thither and yon. And it came about that on Friday, Tim hauled the various tubs and boxes down from the attic and tuned the satellite Sirius to their "Holly" holiday channel. As we began to sort through the various and sundries, Tim heard the first "waa-waa-waaas" of Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime and dove across the room for the remote so he could change the channel without having to listen to what he considers one of the biggest travesties of Christmas music to date. His beef, it seems, is with the cheesy 80's keyboard effect. I contend that since it's from the 80s, you can't be biased against said cheese, since at the time, it was tres cool. (I actually happen to like the song...and might have sung it, loudly, several times this weekend just so that he couldn't completely escape.)

Shortly thereafter we both raced for the remote on hearing the opening strains of Do They Know It's Christmas. This song irritates me. First off, the song was intended to raise money for Ethoipia. According to Wikipedia (and ok sure, maybe not the best source out there, but it's all I feel inclined to look up), 61% of the population is Christian. So yes, 61% of them actually do know it's Christmas. 32% are Muslim. They probably know it's Christmas but they don't actually care. As for the rest of Africa, well, it's probably a similar type of mix, though leaning more heavily on the Muslim or "traditional religion" numbers. Point being, it's a stupid question. Then there's the whole "won't be snow in Africa this Christmas", well, Mt. Kilimanjaro has snow year-round, so that's out. But other than that, given that the majority of Africa is in the Southern Hemisphere, Christmas falls pretty much at the start of summer...so you wouldn't expect snow in the first place. And ok, sure, I know that my whole irritation with the song is missing the point of the song, but seriously...you'd think they could've come up with questions to ask that weren't simply annoying if you happen to investigate the answers (rather than leaving them rhetorical).

And then there's Elvis. Seriously people, the man was obsessed with blue. First he whined about his Blue Suede Shoes and now he's whining about a Blue Christmas. I would like to just take Elvis and Picasso (both dead, BTW) and put them in a blue box and leave them there.

So, in self defense, we dug out the Christmas CDs and popped them in the changer. Our newest addition is the Celtic Woman Christmas CD - and it comes highly recommended. But, if you're already fed up with the repetition of the same old holiday scholck, may I suggest that the remedy might just be something a little bit lighter?

Happy Thanksgiving!

We Gather Together

We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known.
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing.
Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;
So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!

We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,
And pray that Thou still our Defender will be.
Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;
Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope that you all have a delightful Thanksgiving, filled with all the things for which you're thankful.

We'll be having the Sleepy and Not-Sleepy extended families over for our annual gorge. And while I'm not planning anything super gourmet this year, I'm thinking there will still be good times for all.

Friday the tree is going up. (We did cheat a little and put the snowman head on the light post yesterday...but he was too cute to leave in the garage.)

I'm not planning on blogging again til Monday...but you never know, shenanigans may occur. And if they do, well, they must be chronicled.

Sometimes He Pretends He's Still in College

When Tim rolled out of bed at the crack of noon this morning, the following conversation ensued:

Me: What time did you make it to bed last night?
Tim: *mumble mumble* after midnight.
Me: What happened to "be right up?"
Tim: I blame Rodney
Me: How's this?
Tim: I was all set to go to bed when Rodney said "What are those?" and I said "I think they're pigs" and then Rodney said, "Oooh. I'm gonna go kill me some pigs."
Me: ...
Tim: Really, how do I go to bed when there's a chance to shoot pigs?

Improving Mother Nature

Today, for the first day of The Week of Tim (TWoT), Tim's annual week off designed to get the maximum vacation for a minimum expenditure of vacation days (thus it tends to occur the week of Thanksgiving) we trucked up to my parent's house and raked, mulched, and bagged their leaves. The annual leaf fiasco is something that constantly makes me realize that homeowner's associations exist for the sole purpose of making your life miserable.

See...for centuries, leaves have been falling off trees every year, laying on the ground and getting walked on, ground up, blowing about, etc....and the world has not ended. In fact, there are still happy places in the world (like National parks) where leaves fall off trees and people go there specifically to walk around on that carpet of leaves...the same carpet of leaves they could have in their own backyard if they just left well enough alone.

But no. The modern HOA has determined that people must surround their houses with grass. And grass is not happy with nature's ground covering. So you must get rid of the leaves so that your grass can grow and be happy. In bygone days, this has relied on rakes and lots of backbreaking effort. There is still some amount of both required, but happily today we were able to make use of two of the best inventions of the modern era: the riding lawnmower and the leaf blower.

You probably don't need a grueling blow-by-blow (pun not really intended), but sufficent to say, all the leaves have been wrangled happily into bags and dropped on the curb for the trashman. The grass can now breathe free.

And my arm may stop vibrating by tomorrow. If I'm lucky.