Lions and tigers and raccoons

Raise your hand if you've read Yann Martel's Life of Pi.

Raise your hand if you liked it.

Raise your hand if you got at least partway through it, thinking that it was a true story.

(I feel so sheepish. Yes, the premise is a little fantastical, but I was just so caught up in the story that I didn't really pause to consider that it might not be at all realistic.)

So, yes, a while ago I cracked open Life of Pi—and subsequently devoured the whole thing in a short amount of time. A really good book, by the way. I saw it at the library and knew that a couple of friends had read it and liked it, so I thought I would give it a whirl. I had kind of missed the boat on this one up until now, since it was published 10 years ago, or something. (Oh man. So many unintentional puns already.)

Also, in an interesting bit of news, I just read that they are making a movie about it and it will be directed by Ang Lee, to be released next year. Very interesting.

So it was a good book, but the point today is something else. The story is basically about a boy who is on a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean—with a tiger. There is a lot of discussion in the book about wild animals and their wildness, but I just kept thinking that, with the tiger knowing where his meals were coming from and having no one else around but the boy, he would eventually calm down a bit and get used to him. I'm probably just totally naive about such things, but these were the thoughts crossing my mind. So I was a little dubious that the tiger would remain so untamed and so ferocious the whole time. But then I learned my lesson a couple nights after I finished the book.

It was nighttime and I was busy working on my book when I heard some scratching and hubbub outside my window. The blinds were closed so I couldn't see anything. Our cat sometimes hangs out by my window, but she never scratches or makes a ruckus. And this was definitely a ruckus. I didn't want to raise the blinds and scare the creature away, so I went outside to see what it was. When I got out there, I saw that it was a raccoon. Probably a young one, judging by its size. (But, like I said, I'm no wild animal expert.)

I watched as it came away from my window, navigated around the porch railing. and moved toward me until it was about six feet away—when we made eye contact. At this point, I was honestly trying to think back to the book, wondering if I should make eye contact with it and stare it down or avoid any eye contact at all. What would Pi have done? I couldn't remember! Nonetheless, eye contact was made and I watched it for a good, long 20 seconds. It didn't budge. It didn't blink. It just kept its wide eyes locked on mine, and I'll admit that it made me a bit nervous. I could sense the wildness in it, the capability to pounce at any minute and claw me into oblivion. I don't know. It's silly, to be scared of animal that was maybe a foot tall, but I'll admit that I was a little. It was the uncertainty that did it, I think. I didn't know what to expect from it. I didn't know how to read it. I didn't know what it would do next. I could tell it felt a little threatened, and its fear transferred to me.

After our stare down, it looked away and walked off into the night. But I learned that evening that if a wild raccoon can scare me like that, I believe a tiger on a lifeboat could be, maybe, a hundred times worse. The fear of the wildness is real. So I guess I'll believe that part of it, but not the whole story. (Dang gullibility...) And how's that for a real-world connection to literature?

e-madness

I think we could all safely say that blogs or Facebook or whatever social media du jour can take over our lives if we're not careful. We've probably all experienced the hours lost after getting sucked into seeing pictures of old friends, old flames, distant cousins, people you used to go to school with—and then pictures of their old flames, and on and on and on. Even posting stuff takes a lot of time, let alone reading what everyone else has posted. (I have a longer post about this that I've been working on and will post someday. Is this ironic, given today's topic? Maybe.) And don't even get me started on the senselessness of Farmville or Mafia Wars or who knows what else. There's a lot of stuff out there that will suck your life away.

But I feel like blogs and Facebook have redeeming qualities too. They can be fun. I, obviously, like to write and exploit my blog for such a purpose. And I like using it as a kind of record of part of my life. I also like being able to keep up with friends and family this way. If used wisely, I think they can be worthwhile.

The thing I'm not sold on, however, is Twitter. To be honest, I've never used it. But I feel like it's based on what I do hate about social media: feeling a need and actually following through on filling people's lives with small bits of useless, unsolicited information about your own life and attempting to be clever to get attention (read: comments [feel free to tell me what you think about Twitter!]). Blogs and Facebook also have a propensity for such things, but they also make worthwhile contributions possible.

But is there something I'm not seeing? Am I being hypocritical? Is there a difference between blogs/Facebook and Twitter? Are there Twitter fans out there that can turn me around? I hate the idea of it, but I'm willing to admit that I may not know all there is to know about it.

Annacdotes 17

1. I was reading the newspaper one morning and Anna asked me to read her what I was reading. After checking to make sure she really did want me to read to her from the Faith section of the newspaper, I started reading her an article about the mainstream media's efforts to cover religion. I read:

On the first day of Ari Goldman's "Covering Religion" class at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism, he likes to begin with a question.
"How many of you have ever been to a mosque?"
About two of the 16 students typically raise their hands.

I wondered if she even understood half of these words. I continued.

"How many of you have been to a synagogue?"
About half raise their hands.
"To a church?"
Almost all hands go up.
"In the last 10 years?"
Hands go down again.

I thought, does she have any idea what's going on? But she didn't say anything, so I kept going.

Goldman's first goal is to bring his students up to a level of religious literacy.

I stopped here to see if she understood any of it. She looked deep in thought and then asked, "Did you just say 'glitteracy'?

That answered all of my questions.

2. The other day, we were at Costco and we passed a man whose beard was perhaps down to his knees. We were about five feet away from him when Anna pointed at him and said in a too-loud voice, "Whoa, Mom! Did you see that guy's beard?!" I quickly ushered her away, and told her that it's very impolite to point and talk about people and all that. She didn't seem to be paying much attention, however, to my motherly instruction because she giggled and said, "Yeah, but his beard was about as long as a baby giraffe's neck!" At least she was out of earshot by this time.

3. A recent conversation (and of course it was out of the blue):

Anna: [excitedly] Mom, let's pretend that I knitted both of us.
Me: 'Knitted'?
Anna: Yeah, like with yarn.
Me: [laughing]
Anna: No, I'm serious!
Me: [laughing]
Anna: For real lives!

More laughing from me. I couldn't even respond. I was so caught off guard.

4. During a recent discussion about space the other day, Anna asked what a galaxy was. I told her it was a huge place where the sun was and all the planets and stars. Then she said matter-of-factly, "And the aliens." I said, "Well, actually, no. Aliens aren't real." Then, all surprised, she said, "Then what's on Mars?"

5. While driving in the car the other day, Anna and I had a conversation about traffic lights. A minute later, as we sailed through a green light, Anna said, "That green light would NOT get pinched on St. Patrick's Day! But the rojo one will!"

I don't know what it was . . . the random St. Patty's reference, the impromptu Spanish addition . . . it could have been anything. But whatever it was, it delighted me.

I feel like a little kid.

I saw this sign written on someone's car today and it made me so happy. Giddy, almost. However, I'll be honest and say that it took me a minute to figure out what it was. (Okay, so I haven't read the seventh Harry Potter book for a long time . . .) But when I DID figure it out, I may have let out a small squeal. And that was just the tip of the iceberg of excitement occurring in my brain. I may not be have-my-own-set-of-dress-robes fanatical, but I'm excited for the movie. It's just another moment to reverence the wonder that is J.K. Rowling. Here's to Saturday night!

When will you be seeing it? And if you're not planning to, how can you live with yourself?

I forgot how much I like camping

I hadn't been camping in what seemed like 60 years, so I coerced some family members into taking a little trip with me—for Anna's sake, you know? She had never been, and it was high time she had such an experience. (As a side note, it's a little weird, realizing that I have memories from when I was 5, so now Anna's going to remember what we do. There's pressure now to give her some good ones.)

Anyway, we went up American Fork canyon to the Timpooneke campground last week. A note on the name: I grew up saying it "Tim-puh-noo-kee." Then, on one trip, we actually stopped and looked at the sign and realized it should probably be said, "Tim-poo-nee-kee." While old habits are hard to break, I was resolved to not sound uneducated when I called to check on available sites before we left. I said it the new way, although it sounded awkward to my ears, and the lady on the other end replied, "Oh, Tim-puh-noo-kee? There are plenty of sites available." I didn't know if I should stand corrected or feel superior. (And it turns out that, along with possibly saying the name correctly, this lady also couldn't tell the truth. There weren't plenty, and that's why our super cool camping trip lasted fewer than 24 hours. But that's a story for another day. We actually managed to fit quite a bit in those few hours, so there's plenty more to say here. :D)

Things I loved and remembered and remembered I loved during our camping trip:

1. It's amazing how quickly your standards of cleanliness can change. There's no soap outside the bathrooms? Just give your hands a quick rinse and you'll be fine. Dirt under your fingernails? It'll make your food taste better. Your daughter has dirt-encrusted marshmallow remnants on her face? We'll clean it off in the morning.
2. I love that, no matter where you turn, every sight is majestic. Our mountains are gorgeous. I love that they're so close and so amazing.
3. Anna loved seeing a few chipmunks and potguts up close. They quite liked our food and we even put down a few snacks so they would come even closer. We also heard such a fun bird chirping in the trees and tried to recreate it. Later, when two potguts had found our garbage and were eating our breakfast crumbs, they started to fight over it . . . using the very same chirping noise we had heard before! We were both delighted to find the real source of the chirping. Those tubby little potguts . . . one even ran away with a whole sheet of tinfoil. I hope it didn't eat it.
4. I love camping food. For one thing, we always seem to bring snacks and treats we otherwise wouldn't be eating, but everything else always tastes delicious out in the wild. I don't know what it is.
5. I loved not caring about what I was wearing or if it got dirty—because it undoubtedly would. And you know how I feel about not showering too often, so that's never been a problem for me where camping is concerned. Camping is the perfect excuse for untamed hair.

   

   This was on our hike in what is known as Julie Andrews Meadow. The wildflowers were gorgeous; I think she would be honored.
6. I loved introducing Anna to fire safety, how to roast the perfect marshmallow, how it's okay to not use soap when you're camping because we didn't bring any, stinging nettle, how we play lots of games when we go camping, mosquito bites, and what to do if she sees a bear.
7. One of Anna's favorite parts of the trip? Jumping on all the pads and pillows in the tent. We got some good action shots.

If you ever get a chance to hike the Timpooneke trail (Tim-puh-noo-kee? Eh, potato, potahto), take it. The hike wasn't that long or arduous and it had a little bit of everything: we crossed streams, picked flowers in the meadow, walked through a dense and anciently old forest of pines, we saw babbling brooks—the works. It was absolutely idyllic.

Happy Independence Day!

There's no way to celebrate the birth of our country quite like making and consuming a red, white, and blue blueberry cheesecake for a family party yesterday. This was my first cheesecake attempt, and I have to say it wasn't too shabby. Tasted pretty good and looked quite pretty, if I do say so myself. I felt more patriotic just for making it. Happy holiday to you.

Check out those muscles. That's what lifting three pounds of cream cheese will do for you.

Firecracker Cheesecake

Blueberry Sauce:

1  cup blueberries

3  tablespoons sugar

1  teaspoon lemon juice

Crust:

1  cup graham cracker crumbs

1/3  cup sugar

5  tablespoons butter, melted 

 

Filling:

3  pounds cream cheese

1 1/3  cups sugar

3  whole eggs

2  egg yolks

1/3  cup heavy cream

Small strawberries and blueberries for garnish

Prep Time - 20  min
Cook Time - 200 min

Instructions

1. To prepare sauce, combine blueberries, sugar and lemon juice in a small saucepan. Cook over medium heat until blueberries begin to release their juices. Mash some of the blueberries against the side of the pan. Let cool.
2. Preheat oven to 250F. Wrap the bottom of a 10-inch springform pan with foil.
3. To prepare crust, combine all ingredients and press into the bottom of pan.
4. To prepare filling, beat cream cheese with a mixer at medium speed until smooth. Add sugar and beat until smooth.
5. Combine eggs and egg yolks in a small bowl. Beat lightly. Slowly add eggs to cream cheese mixture while beating. Add heavy cream and beat, scraping the sides of bowl occasionally, until smooth.
6. Pour one-quarter of the batter into another bowl. Stir in blueberry sauce.
7. Pour half the unflavored batter over crust. Pour fruit-flavored batter on top. Swirl with a spoon or knife. Top with remaining unflavored batter. Swirl again.
8. Place springform pan in a larger baking pan. Place on the center rack of oven. Pour in hot water to a depth of 1-inch. Bake 3 hours. Remove from oven. Let cool. Refrigerate at least 8 hours before serving. Garnish with strawberries and blueberries.