Lift Up Your Hearts!

Rimsky-Korsakov:  Russian Easter Overture, op. 36
Respighi:  Church Windows
Debussy:  Sunken Cathedral
Sung:  The Circle Closes

This, the last of our subscription concerts for the season, promised to be a great one.  I love the Russian Easter Overture, and the Orlando Phil did a nice job with its glorious, solemn, joyful, and triumphant Resurrection Day music.  The next two works were new to me, but I like Respighi a lot, and Debussy well enough, and they did not disappoint.  This concert was a bit different, having extra lights that projecting a lotus blossom-like image of changing colors behind the orchestra during this, the first half of the performance.  It was hardly necessary, but was simple enough not to detract from the music, and may even have enhanced it a little.

The second half of the show was another story.  This is where I was truly disappointed, because for it my expectations had been highest.  I'd loved every Stella Sung composition I'd heard, beginning with the suite she wrote for the Florida Symphony Youth Orchestra back in the 1990's.   As I said before, I've never yet met a Stella Sung work I didn't like.

Until now.  I hadn't anticipated having to struggle with my New Year's Resolution #4 - Like More Things.  The Circle Closes began well enough; I even managed to appreciate parts of the light show, though I found it a bit over the top.  There was enough dry ice to make one think the auditorium was on fire, and the musicians' feet—not to mention their instruments—must have been uncomfortably cold.  I will say I was impressed with the harp, however.  It was positioned in the light just right to make it look as if it had been carved out of tiger's eye, and the pins glowed with color that changed with the lights.

The music was, broadly, in two parts without a break.  Sung has stated that the work has no "program," but rather is purely abstract.  Nonetheless, I would have called the first part angry and aggressive, and the look of Carl the Timpanist rising up out of the cold fog gave the impression of some Nordic version of hell.  The second part was more serene and meditative, or so it seemed at first.

Porter described The Circle Closes as "one part Horizons [a ride at Disney World's EPCOT park], one part Blue Man Group, and one part  2001:  A Space Odyssey.  I, too, felt the EPCOT influence right away, and indeed the first half could make a good soundtrack to some wild theme park ride.  The movie that came to my mind, however, was Disney's Fantasia—the first one, in which A Night on Bald Mountain, with its angry devils and spouting flames, gives way to the Schubert Ave Maria and the monks' candlelit processional.  Only in this case it is as if the devils suddenly break into the procession and shatter the serenity forever.  I haven't quite yet forgiven Carl for what his tympani blast did to my heart in the middle of the meditation.

After that it was all downhill.  The second half of the work features four "crystal bowls."  This, too, I was looking forward to, because I've heard music using crystal goblets, and they make a lovely, ringing sound.  But this was something else.  According to the program, crystal bowls are sometimes used "for meditation and healing."  I agree with Porter that they could better be used for interrogation.  After two hours of that sound, he declared, he'd spill any state secret you want.  It took considerably less than two hours to have me cringing in my seat and eager for the concert to end.  The tone of the bowls was not, at first, unpleasant, but repeated endlessly, with no break, no discernable variation, just over and over and over and over, and at an increasingly loud volume, it was torture.  It took most of the ride home before my ears stopped ringing, and longer than that before my mind stopped ringing.

This was a first for me.  I've never not applauded at the end of a concert.  But I was that miserable.  I'm glad I showed my enthusiasm vigorously at the end of the first half, because I know the musicians did a good job.   And I'm not giving up on Stella Sung; no one can bat 1000 with anyone else's taste, and to be honest, most of the audience seemed to like The Circle Closes.  But not me, New Year's resolution notwithstanding.

But don't take my word for it.  The concert was streamed live online, and you can hear it yourself:  Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra, Color Cathedral.  You must register, but registration is free.  At the moment at least, it's not in a finished form—there are several versions, and the first one I watched ended in the middle of the piece.   And you may not get the same impression we did.  We were amazed to hear how much different it sounds in the recording.  The bowls are much softer and not nearly so oppressive, so it's possible that our negative experience was due to the acoustic peculiarities of our middle-front balcony position, though that's normally a very good spot.

Can Trader Joe's be far behind?

Central Florida now has its very own Penzeys store, in the lovely Park Avenue area of Winter Park.  It opened unofficially for a few hours yesterday, and today for real; we walked through the doors an hour after opening.  I am so excited.

I know, Penzeys can be considered the Cadillac of spices, as befits the Park Avenue location.  You can certainly find herbs and spices for less money elsewhere.  But there are times when it's worth paying a little extra for quality, and quality is where Penzeys excels.  Variety, too—they have exotic herbs and spices I'd never heard of, plus a stunning variety of their own excellent blends.  They even excel in quantity, from tiny jars for the spices you use rarely, to large bags (at a commensurately lower per-ounce price) for greater needs.

It was particularly fun shopping today, as I bought only what I wanted, and in smaller quantities than usual.  Herbs and spices lose their potency after a while, but I've been accustomed to ending a Penzeys visit with a large armload, since I either (1) didn't know when I'd have another chance to get to a store, or (2) wanted to make the most of my shipping charges for an online order.  Now I can buy small amounts, and when I run out, plan a spicy date:  get to Winter Park early enough to find a good parking space, visit Winter Park Honey and other friends at the Farmer's Market, then eat breakfast at Croissant Gourmet while waiting for Penzeys to open.  Works for me.

The alarm going off at 6:15 wasn't exactly my idea of the ideal way to begin a Saturday, but it was worth it.

The occasion was as close to a trip to Europe as we get without actually getting on an airplane:  a visit to Winter Park.  Winter Park is not far from here, but has an ambiance few Central Florida cities attain.  True, Park Avenue has sadly become home to more upscale chain stores than independent businesses, but it's still a lovely place to walk on a cool, sunny morning after a visit to the farmer's market.  (By "cool," I mean temperatures in the low 70's.)

The market was the excuse for our trip, to replenish our supply of Winter Park Honey.  We came home with six bottles:  two of our favorite Blackberry Twist, one of Avocado (said to be especially good for women, but whatever, we both liked the flavor), and three of our soon-to-be-new favorite, Raspberry.  I didn't think honey could get any better than Blackberry Twist, but you've never tasted honey like this!

On the way out we picked up some almost-local (Plant City) strawberries for tonight's dinner, and a half gallon of fresh-from-the-tree, raw orange juice.  (They tried to sell us their grapefruit juice, but we like what we get from our own tree even more.)

Before leaving we walked up Park Avenue to check out construction on the Penzey's that will soon be open.  I can't wait!  And having not had breakfast yet, we decided not to resist the allure of Croissant Gourmet, sharing a strawberry crêpe at an outdoor table.

What a lovely Saturday morning!  All that accomplished, and when we arrived home it was only a little after nine o'clock.  Now we're working on the more mundane chores, like shopping and cleaning the thick blanket of green snow (aka oak pollen) off the roof and walkways.

Then we have company to look forward to at dinnertime!

There's nothing like establishing a pattern of making a new resolution on the 8^th of every month to make one aware of how quickly time passes, and how slowly progress is made.  Nonetheless, I press on with April.

One of the joys of this venture is the resolutions themselves.  For the most part they've been new and unexpected:  had I made a list of resolutions on January 1^st it would have been quite different.  Even when I'm thinking ahead to what next month's might be, by the time it comes to write it up, something new and different, but to my mind perfect, has appeared out of the blue to supplant it.

Like More Things was like that, a resolution that I don't believe had crossed my mind in over half a century.  After all, what we like and dislike is part of what defines us as individuals, and the ability to distinguish between good quality and bad marks us as mature, educated human beings.  So here is what I don't mean.

I don't mean giving up individual preferences like preferring broccoli to asparagus or Wagner to Mozart.

I don't mean pretending the ugly is beautiful, shoddy work is as good as high-quality craftsmanship, or that war is peace, slavery freedom, and ignorance strength.

Above all I don't mean accepting that all lifestyles, all philosophies, all behaviors, all theories, and all actions are equally valuable.

But not liking things is a great waste of energy, and an insult to God who gave them to us as good gifts.  If a thing isn't out-and-out sinful, why should I not enjoy it? Only if circumstances would make it wrong for me—a qualification covering everything from sex outside of lawful marriage to eating that chocolate-covered doughnut while having given up sweets for Lent.  The array of good things presented for us to enjoy vastly outnumbers the bad, yet we voluntarily close ourselves off from many of them.

If I don't like beets (they make me gag), not only am I not enjoying a good, healthy gift from God, but I'm putting myself in the position of worrying, when we eat at someone else's house, that the hostess will serve beets, and I will somehow have to choke them down with a smile.  And I'm depriving my husband, who loves beets, because I rarely think to serve them.

If I don't like contemporary church "praise songs" (most of them make me gag), I'm cutting myself off from a community experience with those who do, and hindering my ability to worship God in a "contemporary-style" service.

Those are two really tough ones for me, so I'm not starting there.  But I know that what we like and dislike is changeable, and to at least some extent subject to our wills.  Over the years my husband and I have each trained ourselves to relish foods we had previously rejected, or eaten only "because they're good for us," and have made some progress in at least tolerating music that is not to our taste.  Very small changes, I know, but recognizing the possibility of change is a good start.

I don't ever expect to prefer Christian (or any other variety) rock music to Bach-harmonized hymns, and that's not my goal.  But I can take actions to help reduce negative reactions, such as using earplugs (such music is almost always presented at a painful volume), and concentrating on what good I can find, be it a particular line of text or the skill of the guitarist.

When something is not wrong, why torture ourselves by not liking it?

"[I]f a body was never to do anything but what he knew to be good, he would have to live half his time doing nothing."

"There you are much mistaken. ... How little you must have thought! Why, you don't seem even to know the good of the things you are constantly doing. Now don't mistake me. I don't mean you are good for doing them. It is a good thing to eat your breakfast, but you don't fancy it's very good of you to do it. The thing is good, not you. ... There are a great many more good things than bad things to do."

(George MacDonald, The Princess and Curdie)

 

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Progress report:

#1  Read More Books  Nine more books in March, including one audiobook.  Making progress on The History of the Ancient World mentioned in my last update, but interspersing it with shorter books.

#2  Rediscover Feasting  Some progress; not a lot, but steady.  Having wonderful dinner guests a couple of times made for some great feasts by my standards.  Fasting one day each week during Lent turned out to be much more fun than I had thought; maybe I'll keep it up.  It's really nice to have a whole day with no time spent preparing and eating meals.  I've also been learning from British chef and gadfly Jamie Oliver as well as Michael Pollan; their celebration of good food is contagious.

#3  Learn to Relax  Alas, almost no progress here, and with travel on the horizon I don't anticipate much this month, either.  I enjoy vacations and travel, but for an introvert like me, even the best come with elevated stress levels.  Come to think of it, maybe that will provide an excellent opportunity to practice relaxing under stress!

Christ is risen!
He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

We do know the proper first words of Easter morning.  They are not,

"What the heck was that?!?" 
"Mmmm, a very large branch that fell but didn't hit the roof?"

But sometimes, when awakened unexpectedly from a deep sleep, proper words are not what first comes to mind.  We don't yet know what it was, as it's dark out and will still be so when we leave for church in a few minutes.  But when we return after two services of singing and rejoicing, a little investigation will be in order.

Happy Easter, All!

Is there anything worse than excruciating physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual torture and death?

It takes nothing from the sufferings of Christ commemorated this Holy Week to pause and consider a couple of other important persons in the drama.

I find the following hymn to be one of the most powerful and moving of the season.  For obvious reasons, it is usually sung on Palm Sunday, but the verses reach all the way through to Easter.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
Hark! all the tribes hosanna cry;
Thy humble beast pursues his road
with palms and scattered garments strowed.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
O Christ, thy triumphs now begin
o'er captive death and conquered sin.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
The angel armies of the sky
look down with sad and wond'ring eyes
to see the approaching sacrifice.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh;
the Father on his sapphire throne
expects his own anointed Son.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
bow thy meek head to mortal pain,
then take, O God, thy power, and reign.

"The Father on his sapphire throne expects his own anointed Son."  For millennia, good fathers have encouraged, led, or forced their children into suffering, from primitive coming-of-age rites to chemotherapy.  Even when they know it is for the best, and that all will be well in the end, the terrible suffering of the fathers is imaginable only by someone who has been in that position himself.

And mothers?

The Protestant Church doesn't talk much about Mary.  The ostensible reason is to avoid what they see as the idolatry of the Catholic Church, though given the adoration heaped upon male saints and church notables by many Protestants, I'm inclined to suspect a little sexism, too.  In any case, Mary is generally ignored, except for a little bit around Christmas, where she is unavoidable. 

On Wednesday I attended, for the second time in my life, a Stations of the Cross service.  Besides being a very moving service as a whole, it brought my attention to the agony of Mary.  Did she recall then the prophetic word of Simeon, "a sword shall pierce through your own soul also"?  Did she find the image of being impaled by a sword far too mild to do justice to the searing, tearing torture of watching her firstborn son wrongly convicted, whipped, beaten, mocked, crucified, in an agony of pain and thirst, and finally abandoned to death?  Did she find a tiny bit of comfort in the thought that death had at least ended the ordeal?  Did she cling to the hope of what she knew in her heart about her most unusual son, that even then the story was not over?  Whatever she may have believed, she could not have had the Father's knowledge, and even if she had, would that have penetrated the blinding agony of the moment?

In my head I know that the sufferings of Christ, in taking on the sins of the world, were unimaginably greater than the physical pain of injustice and crucifixion, which, awful as they are, were shared by many others in those days.  But in my heart, it's the sufferings of God his Father and Mary his mother that hit home most strongly this Holy Week.

"Cash for Clunkers," Appliance Edition.  I've been looking forward to Florida's appliance rebate program ever since I first heard rumor of it.  Our refrigerator was old when we bought it used in 2001, and I'm sure it uses up much more energy than a refrigerator should.  Plus, who knows how long it will last?

Actually, that question is spurious.  Our neighbors bought a new, high-end appliance a few years ago and it has required multiple repairs—even while still under warranty—whereas our old clunker is still going strong, albeit with strange nocturnal (and diurnal) noises.  Still, you never know.

However, this is no "shop carefully, get the best deal, purchase your appliance, and apply for the rebate" program.

A website, the address of which hasn't yet been released, will be launched Thursday to give consumers step-by-step instructions and also be used to take the reservations beginning April 16. ... [C]ustomers will be expected to register online for a reservation after making their purchase and before applying for the rebate. After reserving a spot, customers must then fill out a rebate application form, available online or at some retailers. The application, with original receipts, must be submitted no later than May 10.  Demand for the rebates is expected to be high, and Florida has just $17.6 million for the program. Though it's scheduled to run for 10 days starting April 16, the program will end when the funds dry up.

In Iowa, high demand exhausted the $2.9 million budget for its rebate program less than eight hours after it began, not before causing both the Web site and the phone system for the program to crash. Ditto for Minnesota, where a $5 million budget was gone in a day.

[T]he Florida program will offer no guarantee of a rebate for customers who purchase an eligible appliance and go online to reserve a spot, only to find out that the rebate money is already gone.

Sounds more like a feeding frenzy to me.

No rainchecks.  Bait and switch.  Lure the customer in with the hope of a rebate, then "tough luck, Charlie" after the purchase has been made.  If a corporation tried this they'd be hauled into court.

One local appliance dealer said hopefully, "I still believe there are people out there with the funds available to buy, but they're not motivated," said Kimball. "I think this will motivate them."

Or not.  Perhaps the recession has alerted people that having funds available does not imply an obligation to spend them.

Today was a wonderful, sunny-but-not-too-hot day, perfect for the Winter Park Sidewalk Art Festival.  This is a huge annual event, with artists from all over the country, and Canada, too.  Northern states are particularly well represented, but they come for more than the weather, as the presence of David Levy from Davis, California attests.

David Levy.  Therein lies a tale.

Many years ago, some good friends from upstate New York gave us a gorgeous cutting board, made of strips of wood in a multi-colored zig-zag pattern.  Yes, we do use it as a cutting board, although it was a good two years I think before I could bring myself to set a knife to such beauty.  As we were strolling among the booths I suddenly exclaimed to Porter, "That's our cutting board!"  The pattern was unmistakable, although I'll admit I actually only thought it was like our cutting board.  When we returned home, however, I flipped ours over and read clearly, "David Levy, Davis, CA."  California, New York, Florida—this guy gets around.

I wore my Vibram Five Fingers shoes (which will eventually get their own post) and a Carnegie Mellon t-shirt, both of which drew interested comments.  Another fun thing was seeing the storefront which when the renovations are complete will house our very own Penzey's!

Our census form arrived.  In a word:  B-O-R-I-N-G.

It's a good thing for future genealogists that we have so many other forms of record-keeping, because they won't get much from the 2010 census.  Name, sex, date of birth, race in excruciating detail if you're Hispanic, Asian, or Pacific Islander (Dominican? Hmong? Fijian?), relationship to head-of-household (now inoffensively called "Person 1" — also in excruciating detail, distinguishing, for example, between biological and adopted children, which genealogists will love, if no one else).  That's only if you're one of the first six people in the household.  For Persons 7 through 12 they don't care about your race or exact relationship.  And if you're the 11th child in the family?  Apparently you're out of luck, but I suspect that may be covered by the "we may call for additional information" caveat that goes with the questions for Persons 7 - 12, since there's also a place to indicate the total number of people in the household.

I wrote before about the interesting information in previous censuses, but I'll repeat it for this occasion.

• 1820 - Not much besides a breakdown by age range, color, slave/free/citizenship status, and whether in agriculture, commerce, or manufacturing.
• 1830 - Was anyone in the household blind?
• 1850 - A big year for genealogists—the first time everyone was listed by name, rather than merely by head-of-household.  Place of birth was also added.  Other questions concerned value of real estate owned, school attendance, literacy, and whether or not the person was "deaf, dumb, blind, insane, idiotic, pauper, or convict?"
• 1870 - Were the person's parents of foreign birth?
• 1880 - Another good one for genealogists, as they started asking where the person's parents were born, and also marital status.  The sick/disabled status was expanded and broken down instead of being lumped together.
• 1890 - Lots of great data for genealogists here; unfortunately all but a very small number of these records were destroyed in a fire.  The racial breakdown for this census was "White, Black, Mulatto, Quadroon, Octoroon, Chinese, Japanese, or Indian."
• 1900 - How many years married, how many children born to mothers, how many of those still living—through this census I found my grandfather's sister.  Lots of questions about employment and living situations.  Also year of immigration, and naturalization status.
• 1910 - Mother tongue of person and his parents; number of years of present marriage, and whether the marriage is first or subsequent.  Is the person an employee, employer, or self-employed?
• 1930 - The race question gets more specific:  Enumerators were to enter "W" for white, "Neg" for black, "Mex" for Mexican, "In" for American Indian, "Ch" for Chinese, "Jp" for Japanese, "Fil" for Filipino, "Hin" for Hindu, and "Kor" for Korean. All other races were to be written out in full.
• 1940 - April 1, 2012 is the date genealogists are waiting for:  the 1940 census data will finally be released.  (There's a 72-year wait for reasons of privacy.)  It should be fascinating, as it includes many detailed questions about the family's housing situation, including lighting, sanitary facilities, heating, number of rooms, and much more.  Unfortunately, these detailed questions were only asked of five percent of the population.
• 1950 - This is getting closer to home, but we won't see it till 2022.  I wonder what they had to say about our house, if we were lucky enough to win the 5% sample lottery.
• 1960 - I'll be in this one!  I hope I live to see it.  Alas, for most of us this will be a really dull census, as most households were only asked for age, sex, race, and marital status data.  B-O-R-I-N-G!

Sometimes the questions say as much about the nature of the country as do the answers.

Not that we're anywhere near January 1, but I seem to have begun a habit of making a new resolution on the 8^th of the month, so why not?

If you look at the three I've made so far, it does seem as if I'm working on a book entitled, 12 Joyful Resolutions that Will Change Your Life.  Maybe I am.  Happy resolutions are so much more fun to keep!   Not any easier, however, especially when, like this one, they are vague and not easily measurable.

I was casting around for the next resolution—in fact, I had a couple of others in mind—when this one came to me, out of the blue.  It's a good one, though.  For more than 25 years, any complaints I bring to a doctor have been met with two responses:  (1) you're getting older, and (2) you're under too much stress.  The former no resolution will help, but the latter bears examination.  It's not so much that my life is stressful—even when it was far more stressful than it is at the moment—but that I let it control me.  I react badly to stress, carrying it around in my mind and body, as anyone knows who has given me a shoulder massage.  My blood pressure is edging up, too—not a problem yet, but I don't want it to become one.  Perhaps when I was younger my body could handle these assaults, but—see #1 above.  So it's time to get a handle on stress:  to learn to relax.

Easier said than done, and I'm not sure exactly how I'll approach it.  Some ideas include:

Stress relief

• Exercise, with increased frequency, intensity, and consistency
• Periods of intentional relaxation/deep breathing/meditation
• Conscious awareness of my muscles at various times during the day, especially when working at the computer, and deliberate relaxation
• Getting more, and more consistent, sleep

Stress reduction

• Renewed attempts at organizing my life, aiming for George MacDonald's "labor without perturbation, readiness without hurry, no haste and no hesitation"  (This is a huge area, and could have several subheadings, but I'll leave it open for now.)
• Increased time spent in prayer

Increased time.  Alas, that is what all of the above will take, and shortage of time is probably the greatest cause of stress all by itself.  But what good is a resolution if it is too easy?

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So...what about my previous resolutions?

#1  Read More Books  Still going great; I've read 15 books so far this year.  Unless I read several short books in parallel, my rate should slow down this month, as I'm now tackling Susan Wise Bauer's 800+ page The History of the Ancient World: From the Earliest Accounts to the Fall of Rome.

#2  Rediscover Feasting This one's harder to measure, and I'm not totally satisfied.  But I'm not unsatisfied, either.  I've experimented with fasting, and discovered that I can fast for a day each week without any hardship at all.  They say that for fasting to be a spiritual discipline you should dedicate to prayer the time you would have spent preparing food and eating.  I don't think that's necessary, but in any case I'll take the physical discipline for now.  At the moment, fasting works much better if I'm kept busy with distracting tasks.  The silence of prayer only makes the stomach growling more obvious.

As for "ordinary time," I'm mostly focusing on healthier foods.  For one thing, I've discovered that I like oatmeal (especially the more flavorful steel-cut oats) with no salt or sugar added!  I dropped the salt quite a while ago, but doing without sugar was a revelation.  I do add raisins, however.

And feasting itself?  Not much progress there. One thing I've determined is that feasts were meant to be shared, preferably with several people.  I'd like to have people over for dinner once a week, the perfect opportunity for feasting.  The trouble is that while I love fixing meals for guests, I loathe making the social arrangements, especially when most people are so busy and it takes several back-and-forth rounds to fix a date.  After a few attempts I tend to give up.  Definite room for improvement here.

Ralph Vaughan Williams:   Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis
Mozart:   Concerto No. 1 for Flute in G Major, K. 313 (285c)
Dvorak:  Symphony No. 7 in D minor, op. 70

The Orlando Phil's own Colleen Blagov proves once again my thesis that we don't necessarily need big-name performers at big-name prices.  Perhaps I'm not as picky/knowledgeable with flute as with strings, but I say she did a lovely job on the Mozart concerto.

We don't see robins much at all here, but when we do, they are almost always in flocks.  Having grown up with the excitement of one or two robins heralding the arrival of spring, to see a couple of dozen robins suddenly descend on our yard is always a thrill.  If these robins are working their way north, I think they're a bit premature.  But they sure had fun eating the berries off our trees.

The pictures don't do the sight justice (a video would have been better), but you can see them a little better by clicking on the images.

  

This is SO typical of our wonderfully nerdy family that I had to share Jon's birthday cake here.

Having made my first New Year's resolution on January 8, it is fitting that I add my second today.

At first glance, resolving to rediscover feasting sounds about as painful as resolving to read more books, but bear with me a moment.

There's a lot of wisdom in the church liturgical year, with its fasts (e.g. Advent and Lent), its feasts (the grandest of which are, of course, Christmas and Easter), and its large swaths of so-called Ordinary Time.  For most of our modern, American society, however, it is Christmas Every Day.  To paraphrase one of my favorite lines from The Incredibles, If every day is special, no day is.

The material and dietary excess to which we have pushed our festive occasions is the natural consequence of possessions and everyday meals that rival the greatest feasts of our ancestors.  In order to rediscover feasting without surfeit, we must first rediscover fasting, and more importantly, normality.  Without Ordinary Time, there can be no special times.

So, how am I going to accomplish this resolution?  I don't even know how I'm going to begin it, other than making it public as a spur to action.  Stay tuned—and feel free to share your suggestions and experiences.

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It's appropriate today, also, to look back at New Year's Resolution #1:  Read More Books, and ask, How am I doing?

Better than I ever imagined.  I've read eight books so far this year, and we're not even halfway through the second month.  I didn't keep a record last year, but as an educated guess, based on the books I reviewed, with a handful of non-reviewed books thrown in, I'd say it took me at least half of last year to get to that total.

It's true that I don't expect to be able to keep up this pace:  Two of this year's books were read during vacation time.  Vacation is more often recreation than rest, and thus not conducive to reading, but in this case I had a few days with a good bit of reading time in them.  What's more, February saw the confluence of cold, dreary, wet weather with four days of an involuntary computer fast, which made curling up next to the heater with a book, a cup of tea, and my Kevin blanket seem like a reasonable use of time.  Plus I let my Ancestry.com subscription lapse in January when they doubled the price, which had a depressing effect on time spent doing genealogy research.

Nonetheless, although those factors certainly helped, I think most important was the application of "what gets measured gets done."  More significantly, perhaps, is that what gets measured in a way visible to the public eye gets done.  I don't want it to be obvious that I'm ignoring my resolution!  But don't let that panic you; I'm not about to publish all my goals (and progress, or lack thereof) here!

A night launch of the space shuttle is always worth waking up for, even if you have to do it two days in a row and put on a coat against the cold.

As usual, we watched the liftoff on television, then walked outside to catch the view as it rose above the horizon in the east.  We were able to see separation of the booster rockets clearly, with a little low-tech optical enhancement.  I gazed in wonder—and with no little sorrow to think that this is the last night launch, and nearly the last launch, period—until Endeavour slipped beneath the northeastern horizon, then returned inside to watch the shuttle's liberation from the external tank.  Here's the view from our front yard.  (Click to enlarge.)

It may not look like much with my little camera, but it's a thrill that never gets old. You can see much more at the NASA main site, and NASA television.