I rarely listen to music while working, but sitting here crossmarking the text history of East Carolina University, I found myself humming Eagles songs. So I’ve put on the Eagles’ greatest hits, and I gotta say, MAN, that is some good music. Is it the new SUV driver in me? All the time I’ve spent reading about life on the ECU campus? The frantic mandolin solo in “Take It Easy”? Am I losing it?
On the verge of buying a new car (the old one was about to drop its transmission on NC 54), I’ve learned that . . .
I’m a Porsche 911!
You have a classic style, but you’re up-to-date with the latest technology. You’re ambitious, competitive, and you love to win. Performance, precision, and prestige – you’re one of the elite,and you know it.
Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.
Maybe you’ll be something more attractive. At least the description is right on.
Had a pleasant transatlantic phone call this afternoon, on which Lily confirmed that the servant standing behind her in the photo is made of wax. She’s adopted my father’s terminology after spending the week with him: “When Banjo first saw him,” she reported, “he thought he was making tinkle.”
Here are two pictures I downloaded from my mother’s iDisk last night. (Ah, technology!) I was perplexed by the first one until I studied the second. It appears the figures are wax, and the pouring water may be some kind of resin. Or not. Decide for yourself: if you click on the pictures, they appear larger.
And let me point out that the man in (comparatively) modern dress is my father, looking very British himself.
Click here to enjoy Cyrille de Lasteyrie’s engaging disquisition on French cheese. As he says, “You’ll be scared, and then you’ll learn a few things about cheese.”
Wouldn’t some problems be solved by posting Condoleezza Rice as NFL commissioner? She’s said it’s her dream job.
I just dropped off my parents and my five-year-old at the airport. They’re spending ten days in a thatched cottage in the English countryside. It’s Lily’s first plane trip, first time outside the country—first time outside the VA-NC-SC tristate region!
Here she is, just after she carefully signed her passport and just before she got into a hot shower to prepare (and to wash off her very American face paint: shamrock on one cheek, basketball on the other).
Here is my ad for the April issue of Endurance. It shows up a little funny here but looks good in reality. Spacing didn’t let me say exactly what the lessons are in the lessons line; I hope it’s obvious enough from the word YOGA below.
You’ll see that I’ve gone with a different format for the coaching credit line. I’ve been looking at my gorgeous business cards, on which I committed to the en dash because it was the right thing to do, and I think “USAT certified coach” works OK, too—less clutter, though it trusts folks to know what USAT means. I reason that it’s like “Sara Lee chocolate cheesecake,” in which I consider “certified” an adjective, like “chocolate.”
Can you tell I’ve thought too much about this?
It also presumes that people will visit the Web site and not need a phone number. Is that fair?
My mother, whose photographs I’ve often posted here, has created a Web site as part of one of her photography courses. There are some beautiful pictures on it—I invite you to cruise over, browse through, and send her a comment: cindyhamiltonphotography.com.