Keeping Up with the Joneses

This morning (just to be clear, morning on a Sunday refers to noon to 2pm), I finally got to catch up on some book reviews I've been wanting to write. My need to do them justice means I've put it off longer than I should (kind of like my blog entries), which means I've probably forgotten the best thoughts I had while reading them, which means everyone else I know has already reviewed the same books, probably better, and tweeted them far and wide, which means...well, you get the picture.

My name is Tracy, and I'm a book addict. I love talking with other people about what we're reading, and I love sharing my thoughts about what I've read with other people. Is that the same thing? In any case, I'm extremely lucky to be have a number of outlets for my addiction. As a librarian, many of my co-workers share this fondness for books, if not always to the obsessive level at which I find myself. I've had opportunities for getting to know publisher representatives at conferences, and I try to repay their kindnesses by sending along my thoughts about the many advance copies of upcoming books they send me. I have an account at Edelweiss, which the uninitiated might think is a Sound of Music Fan Club, but no, is actually an online community of publishers, booksellers, and librarians offering purchasing opportunities for booksellers and digital advance copies for book pushers (I told you it was an addiction). Recent improvements have made it a fantastic spot for sharing reviews with colleagues and publishers, and most recently, for voting for favorite books among librarians nation-wide in, to be shared with patrons via the new LibraryReads program, who love to know what librarians are reading (as well they should). Similarly, while I continue to refuse to get back on Facebook, I haunt Goodreads, which allows me to see what the general public is reading and enjoying as well as friends and family. I finally gave in and got a Twitter account, which is quite busy considering I use it only for keeping up with book, author, publisher, and library-related news. I've said it once, and I'll say it again...authors are my rock stars. And I try to participate in GalleyChat, a monthly chat about the advances my fellow librarians are reading sponsored by the fabulous Earlyword. 

And, you know, it's starting to feel a little like I'm that kid in school who can't manage to keep up with the rest of the class. Or that person in the neighborhood who has the smallest house and not nearly as many bells and whistles as the people next door. Don't get me wrong. I adore being part of all of these stomping grounds. But I'm amazed at how far ahead everyone else seems to be! They're putting out multiple reviews a month and seem to have read everything out there before it's ever published. I do read a few advances a month, but there's plenty out there I haven't read even AFTER it's been published, so I'd like to pull one of those out once in a while as well. And while there's a time and place for every type of book, my taste generally seems to run to less literary books than some of the people on these sites, so even when I've read several advances in time for a GalleyChat or a LibraryReads voting deadline, they're not necessarily the books everyone's talking about. I don't know how these folks manage to read everything they do as far ahead as they do!

So, I keep working at it. I'm nothing if not stubborn. I threw myself into it this morning and wrote several reviews of books that I really feel strongly about and want to share, maybe convincing someone to try one who wouldn't have otherwise. This is why I wanted to be a librarian from the start. It takes time to then post your review to all these places and hit all the people who might be interested, but it can be worth it. Last week, a friend submitted a 4 of 5 rating for a book I'd suggested to her, but which I'm not sure would have come across her radar otherwise. After I posted my reviews to what felt like a million places this morning, the author of one of them squealed "thank you!" back at me. Last time I commented on GalleyChat, the publisher retweated it to its thousands of followers. And I persevere. I may eventually be persevering via fewer venues, but I persist nonetheless.

But at the same time, I'm not going to lose the love I have for books by trying to keep up with all those people out there who seem to be ahead of me in their zeal for commenting on new books ahead of publication. Three of the four books I reviewed this morning have already published. One was published several months ago, but I decided to share my fondness for it anyway. I mostly only review books that I want to recommend, and I'm going to do so whether the book is new or not. If I can fit in some of those same advances everyone else is tweeting about, great. I have an unofficial 50 page rule, the general spirit being that life's too short and there are too many good books out there to keep reading something I'm not enjoying, advance publicity or not. I also really like listening to audio books, which generally don't come out in an advance form ahead of the print release, so if that means everyone's talking about it before I get there, well, then I'll have something to look forward to.

And now I must go get ready for my library's upcoming Book Buzz, at which we'll have not one, not two, but THREE major publisher representatives live and in person to tell us what's going to be hot this Spring and Summer. I'm a lucky girl.
 

Snip and Tuck

"I thought they said tutored!"

This is the phrase my friend Vicki uses when she imagines what a cat is thinking after waking up to discover he's been neutered. It's as good a guess as any. It's not likely to be something like "Oh, thank God!" or "It's about time!" Yet, getting spayed or neutered is probably one of the best thing to happen in a cat's life.  

I recently began volunteering with a group called Operation Catnip that neuters and vaccinates feral and occasionally friendly stray cats. These cats are nobody's pets. They arrive at the vet school in the humane traps in which they were captured and probably will be released again in the same location. This is a Trap Neuter and Release program, considered part of a "no-kill" philosophy, in which the main object is to reduce the number of cats out there reproducing at an unbelievable rate. Now, believe it or not, TNR programs are somewhat controversial--we'll come back to that in a minute. For right now, let's focus on the part where there are incredibly generous people out there who serve as "colony caretakers," doing their best to make sure colonies of feral cats have enough food and are as safe as possible. That being a hard job, they'd like to do it for as few feral cats as possible, so trapping these guys and getting them neutered so that there will be no little ones to continue the tradition is an important part of the job. Through a combination of veterinarians, vet students, and volunteers all donating their time, feral cats are quickly being neutered and the feral cat population is being reduced.

But let me back up a moment. The last thing I need at the moment is any more cats--the one I've got is quite happy being the only princess in the house--so what in the world am I doing with these people? And their cats? Wanting to find a way to get involved in my new city, I began exploring groups with which I might be able to volunteer. Since I've got experience working with cats and know more than the average person about kitty health and medicine, it seemed logical to find a cat rescue organization of some kind with which to spend my time. Also, I just like cats. Since the last time I worked with a cat rescue work I ended up with five cats living at my house and refusing to leave ("Oh, we're just way too comfortable here," I could practically hear them say), I chose Operation Catnip as the group offering minimal opportunities to bring a new cat home. Feral cats, by definition, are essentially wild, and more importantly, have no interest in sitting in my lap while we read or watch a movie together. Working with Operation Catnip is the perfect solution and is Sasha approved.

So exactly what am I doing with them? It's sure not feeding a feral colony. I'm pretty sure they don't have a key card to get into my gated community. And it's not transporting. Please. I just got away from driving a minimum of 68 miles every day just to get to work. Do you really think I'm going to offer to play James the Chauffeur to some cats I don't even know? Instead, I'm volunteering at the monthly clinic at which many of the neuters take place (some take place during the course of the month depending on availability of vets and vet students). Hundreds of cats are brought to the vet school on a Sunday morning to be snipped and tucked, vaccinated, and have their ear tipped (it indicates to others down the road that the cat has already been neutered so it doesn't have to go through the stress of being trapped again). They are picked up by their caretakers (or, at least, someone who was willing to trap them long enough to be neutered) in the afternoon and returned to their colonies. It is hoped that they will live out their lives safely and without any more contributions to the overpopulation problem.

Perhaps you're confused at the reference to Sunday mornings. Anyone who knows me knows that they will not find me anywhere but under the covers on a Sunday morning. No, I seem to be settling into an afternoon schedule, primarily monitoring cats completing surgery to ensure they're coming out from under the anesthesia without a problem. It's rare, but occasionally someone has a bad reaction, so it's important to watch these guys as they recover so that they really do leave better off than when they came in. It's interesting to see the different reactions. Kittens, who you might think would return to their normal personalities fastest, what with being young, healthy, and generally quite busy, often take the longest to wake up. Their little lungs can't handle the anesthesia as well, so they stay groggy longer. Some cats will wake up so confused and disoriented that they actually hurt themselves thrashing around the trap (which they're returned immediately after surgery, before they've even woken). Then there are tummy troubles and respiratory issues that can pop up. All this is why volunteer monitors are needed. Having us watch the kitties wake and become alert allows the vet students and veterinarians to focus on the surgeries and any true issues that come up. Today, I began singing to the group I was monitoring (one tabby was WAY too interested in this), and a passing vet student commented "You know, that's probably the kindest thing anyone's ever going to do for these guys." I disagree. Getting them neutered surpasses my soggy soprano by far. But I leave knowing I've contributed to an effort to keep any more cats coming into the world who are likely to experience pain and suffering in a difficult and sometimes destructive life.

Not everyone feels this way about TNR programs. Opponents of such programs believe that it supports the lifespan of the feral colonies that are responsible for the deaths of many native species from birds to mammals and reptiles and other indigenous wildlife. They believe it does not really solve the problem and that it can in fact encourage illegal dumping of unwanted cats in areas known to be monitored by caretakers. Let me stop here and say I am no expert on this subject. There's some really great stuff on the internet about TNR programs, and I hope you'll take some time to at least read the Wikipedia article about it and form your own opinion. But I've seen too many cats in need of homes and heard too many stories about cats being euthanized simply for existing not to advocate for this kind of program. May I tell you why? The thing is, opponents are not wrong in their concern about wildlife and destruction caused by feral cats. However, it seems to me that the best way to resolve this problem is to reduce the number of feral cats. TNR programs certainly are not the only way to do this. Should you care to, you can read a lot about relocation efforts (moving colonies to places where they are less detrimental) and even deliberate eradication (which is exactly what it sounds like). But studies are showing that these methods are not nearly as effective at reducing the feral cat population as TNR programs. Move a colony somewhere else (we won't even discuss eradication), and you've taken away its knowledge of food sources, safe havens, and security, very possibly bringing on a difficult and painful death.
The problems feral and stray cats cause will not go away until their population does, and TNR makes that happen in a safe, effective, and humane way.

In my ideal world, there would be SO many fewer cats, particularly those forced to fend on their own, living uncomfortable lives and causing destruction to other animal lives. Instead, it would be rare to find cats living on their own in the wild. People will adopt from a shelter. Shelters will all be "no-kill" because they will not have to euthanize for lack of space. Owners will ensure their animals are spayed and neutered so that there will be no unexpected surprises and little lives about which to make difficult choices. Oh, and as a slight aside, we will not de-claw them and take away their main defense if they ever ARE forced to take care of themselves. We domesticated these animals. We must now take responsibility for ensuring they are safe and cared for...and that there aren't more of them than we can do that for.

Luxurious Me

To celebrate my birthday a few weeks ago, I dragged a friend with me to the spa for a day of pampering. If you've never done this, I highly recommend it. Really, who doesn't like having people running around you, tripping all over themselves to get you anything your heart desires? Add to that cute men giving massages and as much wine as you can drink and you've got yourself a winning combination. I've done this spa day thing for my birthday a number of times at this point, as it's hard to think much about getting older when you're being made to look and feel like a Hollywood star, but I've never brought a friend with me to join in the fun. Or keep telling me how much younger I was looking. Whichever.

So on a Saturday morning, we set off to be beautified. We were led upstairs to a waiting area, where the first thing we were asked was what we wanted for lunch. I love anything that starts out with food. That and changing into robes, since I try not to get out of my pajamas for any longer than necessary. Our first appointment was for massages. While my friend filled out some paperwork, the guy who was to do mine entertained me (it didn't take much; I'm easily entertained). Paperwork complete, I followed Rich to a dimly lit room scented with lavender while my friend took off behind her masseur, Ryan. An hour later, half asleep, it was time to get up. "But I'm not done yet, " I insisted. Unfortunately for me, he had other clients waiting, so brought me a glass of wine, led me to the sauna, and eventually left me to sweat.

I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of a sauna is. I know you're supposed to sweat. Is that it? Is there not more to it? Seems like it would dry out your skin. I love the feeling for short periods, but if God wanted me to sweat on a regular basis, he would have made me a guy. My friend joined me and immediately announced that she would be continuing to see Ryan on a regular basis. Since she's married, I'm pretty sure this meant she would be getting regular massages. Having had enough sweating, we took our robed-selves out to a waiting area. Ryan, my friend's masseuse, evidently had no one waiting, as he came out to say hello (he's done massages for me in the past) and chat a bit. Having correctly identified us as troublemakers, he spent five minutes laughing at us until we were called for our mani-pedis.

Color choice, of course, is a vital part of the "getting your nails done" experience. Admiring the color on my technician's fingernails, I settled on a deep black/purple color. I have no idea what my friend picked. I had moved on to soaking my feet, which for me personally is the best part. I'm rough on my feet, and getting all that skin softened and brushed away is almost better than the massage. Also, it's less greasy. Just as we were getting ready to paint my nails, I found myself distracted by a bottle of polish left over from the last client. Hot pink. Woo hoo! I subscribe to the philosophy that everything's better in pink. Naturally, I had no choice but to change colors. Evidently, this did not surprise my technician, as she took the bottle while trying not to laugh. Because I'm nothing if not coordinated (my mother calls it OCD), I generally like my fingernails to match my toenails, so I soon had hot pink all around. 

Never known for moving quickly anywhere, we were a bit late for lunch, served to us in a cozy hideaway behind a curtain of the spa. This was not unlike being in front of the first class cabin on an airplane, and I took a moment to feel sorry for those on the other side who were not having an entire birthday of luxury. A short moment. Lunch passed quickly, and we were soon whisked off for facials.

Facials are one of those things you don't realize you need until you actually get one. I don't know what was happening in my friends room, by my aesthetician was digging and popping and picking all over my face. She quickly soothed it with steam and smooth moisturizers. By the time I left, It felt like a film of dirt had been removed. I joined my friend to soak up the leisure for a few minutes before we got dressed and had to acknowledge that was almost time to leave. Because I'll stretch out my birthday for as long as people will let me get away with it, I asked if there was an intern available to blow out our hair (I'd been given a heads up that this might be possible). Indeed there was, so we made our way to the hair studio and seriously had our day "topped off." 

Because no birthday is complete without sugar, we left the salon to stop at a desert shop on the way to the car. Choosing some treats to go, we brought them back to my house, where my current boarder happened to be at home. "Did you go to the salon?" she asked. One hopes that a visit to the salon is generally obvious enough not to have to specify, but since it wasn't, we agreed that we had, indeed, been to the salon. We dug into our deserts and soon had to end the day of luxury.

It's not every day that I can partake in such a day of pampering, and it was only possible thanks to a birthday gift from my mom. There's no better time than your birthday to be treated like a queen.

The Real Estate Market Goes Up and Down, Up and Down, Up and Down...

Although to varying degrees across the country, in general, the real estate market has not done well over the past few years. Suze Orman has been saying that 2012 would be "rock bottom," the worst we've seen in a while, but that things should begin improving after that. As in, now. The Commerce department recently said that new, single-family home sales rose 4.4% in November 2012. That's the best it's been in 2 and 1/2 years. Prices seem to be moving fastest out west. 

Unfortunately for me, I don't live out west. So I'm anxiously watching for news that the real estate market is improving, especially in my area. I don't think the Raleigh area was hit as hard as some other places in the country, but I've watched homes in my neighborhood take forever to sell, and then not at nearly the price it would have gotten several years ago. However, in 2011, home values in Raleigh and Cary appreciated about 7% more than the previous year. The number of active home lists has dropped 12% from last month, which I personally take to be a good sign. Less supply, better demand. I'm pretty sure that's how it's supposed to go.

And that's what I'm counting on. I'm making tentative plans to sell my house in the Spring, probably in May. Five or six years ago, my house would have sold for more than it probably will now, or even this Spring. But I've been getting ready for a while, and the house is probably about as good as it's going to get. The list of projects from the past year or two is a long one: new hardwood floors, new countertops in the kitchen and bathrooms, new bathroom and kitchen faucets and lights, refinishing the back deck, new energy-efficient windows,  and a fresh paint job throughout the house. Other than a few small things that I'll work to get done in April (and if you know me at all, you know that means "hire someone to get done"), we're ready to go. Unless something happens to change things, the plan right now is to interview real estate agents in April and do whatever they recommend still needs doing around the house (I don't really need to repeat that that means hire someone, do I?), and then list the house for sale in May. I'll cross my fingers that it sells relatively quickly, at which time I'll rent in Raleigh (close to work) for a while until I decide what I want in a new home. This will likely be a condo with a fantastic homeowner's association that allows at least outdoor maintenance to be a thing of the past. Or, it would be, if I actually did any.

I've always watched the house sales in my neighborhood, but I've kept an especially close eye on them of late. The house next door to me, which had been most recently owned by a real-estate agent who had been renting it out but had decided to sell, sold within three months. Woo hoo! Good news for Tracy. A house around the corner has been listed as a short sale, and six months later, does not appear to have gotten any interest, despite a ridiculously low price. Not such good news for Tracy. There are two neighborhoods up the street that developers started building about six or seven years ago then came to a screeching halt as the economy went bad. Both have started building again, though selling at lower prices than originally advertised. I used to read palms, but I cannot read crystal balls, so any prediction I might make would be a guess. I am hopeful that things are starting to improve, and even though I might not get as much as I might have at one point, I'll get a decent price for my house in a reasonable amount of time.

I watch way too much House Hunters, so I have a lot of ideas about how this should go. A friend has already given me a sugar cookie scented candle perfect for enticing buyers into my house. I'm clearing out anything that could be termed clutter, unless, of course, it's something I might need later and couldn't possibly replace. I'm rearranging some pieces of furniture to show off the house's best features. I've been in this house for almost thirteen years, and it's a little uncomfortable to think about leaving it, but it's time. 

Do you happen to know a real estate agent?

¿Habla Español?

In my never-ending quest to improve myself, I recently began taking Spanish lessons. Not with, you know, someone who actually speaks Spanish, but with my computer. My parents might be slightly confused to hear this, recollecting that I took five years of Spanish in high school. Haven't I learned it by now? I'm thinking of these lessons as more of a refresher course, brushing up on skills that I'm now too old to remember having learned in the first place. I wanted to learn Swedish, figuring I could do something no one I know can do and maybe even better understand those Scandinavian mysteries I've been reading, but then I realized this meant I'd be speaking Swedish to myself, and I do that enough in English.

I loved learning Spanish in school, and I was really pretty good at it. My parents even bought me a nightgown that called out in big, bold letters "¡Hola!" I practiced on anyone who would listen to me, including the dog, the kids I babysat, and occasionally the unsuspecting customers on the other end of the line at the answering service for which I worked after school. The 7-12th grade school I was in for 7th and 8th grades allowed me to take first year Spanish in the 8th grade, so I was already a year ahead by the time I got to high school. Probably it's what made all the cool kids want to hang out with me. I even got a chance to use it in real life during a cruise down the Mexican coast. My aunt and uncle, having spent a lot of time in a wide-variety of Spanish speaking countries, held many phone conversations with me in Spanish, so I was lucky to have multiple opportunities for annoying others with my evolving language skills.

But if you don't use it, you lose it, or so they say, and so, while I still recognize a lot, I  couldn't possibly speak it so easily anymore. Yet, recently, I've found myself wishing I could, either because it would be useful in communicating with a Spanish speaker or because it would allow me to visit Spanish-speaking countries I'd like to see or just because it broadens my awareness of other countries. Also, it's fun to say "pantalones."  Spanish is spoken as a native language by more people in the world than any language but Mandarin, more than 400 million people. Right here in the United States, Spanish is spoken as a first or second language by almost 50 million people.  It can only be a good thing for me to know how to hold at least minimal conversation. Not that any conversation of which I'm a part is minimal.

So when the library at which I work acquired a new online database for learning foreign languages, I decided it was time to renew my Spanish language skills. Imagine! I could read, write, and converse in Spanish with native speakers all without leaving my couch. Add food, and it's my idea of Heaven. There are several such databases out there, some designed for consumers (like Rosetta Stone) and some for libraries (like Mango). The one we're using is called Transparent Language from Recorded Books, the folks who have provided us with audio books for many years. With just my library card number, I was logged on and ready to start Unit 1.

So far, it seems a little on the easy side, but maybe I've retained more than I thought. The first unit focuses on easy words and phrases, the kind of thing you would use immediately upon visiting a Spanish speaking country. "Buenos Dias!" the program exclaims. The exercises run through recognizing words (which can be hard for me in English on a good day), pronunciation, and putting words together into short sentences. I can do this!  I like clicking on words and having them pleasantly repeated for me (funny how the voice never gets annoyed at me for asking so many times). One of the exercises is sort of a hybrid between hangman and Wheel of Fortune, where letters appear one at a time and you try to guess what they're saying. I'm not entirely sure how buying a vowel increases my foreign language skills, nor have I won any money for getting it right, but it's more practice. I have begun conversing with Sasha in Spanish, and so far, she doesn't seem to notice the difference. I recently began Unit 2, which covers terms needed while traveling in Spanish speaking countries. I don't plan to do so anytime soon, but can it ever be bad to know how to say "Take me to the hospital?" 

I plan to continue this adventure for, well, as long as it interests me. The program covers a slew of languages--perhaps next I can learn Farsi.

A Visit to Harry and Bart

If I had to write an school report about what I did on my Christmas vacation, it would be filled with descriptions and tales from visiting Universal Parks and Resorts (not to be confused with Universal Studios, the people who actually make movies) in Orlando. I was able to spend about a week with my parents in St. Petersburg, Florida for Christmas, and, being the active and interesting people we are, we decided we had enough time to spend a few days on the other coast. They don't let me go to school anymore--something about aging out--but I'm excited to recount the experience for you here.

The primary goal in going to Universal, of course, is to see Harry Potter. What's the point otherwise? But you know, while Harry was, as you would expect, fantastic, it turns out that Universal is so much more than that. Universal Orlando resort is made up of multiple parks and hotels, and you would truly need days to have a chance of getting to see everything. The two major parks are Universal Studios, Orlando, which opened in 1990 and includes actual production studios in addition to exhibits to help guests "ride the movies;" and Universal's Islands of Adventures, which opened in 1999 with six "islands" designed to emphasize a journey of exploration. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter opened as the seventh island in 2010. In addition, there are a million (only a slight exaggeration) restaurants, stores, and various and sundry other things to see. In 2011, approximately 30.8 million guests visited the Universal Studios theme parks, making it the third-largest amusement park operator in the world, and it was the only theme park in the Orlando area that actually had increased attendance after September 11.

Mom made sure we would get the most from our trip by reserving a room at one of three hotels on the property. This meant that we could park once and go back and forth between the room and the parks as often as we liked (by water taxi; a lovely path to the park was available, but why would we do that?). So, on a bright but chilly Friday morning before Christmas, my parents and I, the dog, and four or five suitcases took off for Orlando. After bragging to everyone I knew that Florida at Christmastime generally means 70 degree weather, the weather had chosen these few days to make a liar out of me. We bundled up in jackets and sweatshirts (except the dog, who already had one) and made our way through the desolate flatlands that is I-4 from Tampa to Orlando.

Lucky enough to get into our hotel room early, great discussion ensued over which park to visit first. One of the fabulous things about staying at a hotel on the property is that we got Express Passes, which not only got us into the speedy line at most of the rides but also got us into the park an hour before everyone else the following morning. Deciding that this privilege should be reserved for visiting Harry at the Islands of Adventure the following day, we settled on Universal Studios. Dad was especially excited about this, as it is home of the Simpsons ride. "Trust me, it's the best!" he enthused.

The first order of business was lunch, as none of us had eaten yet that day. There are a ton of restaurants outside the parks, but once you're in, your primary food groups consist of pretzels, churros, hot dogs, and turkey legs (I know, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself). We located a lovely cafe where we could grab not only a sandwich but a table in direct sunlight, much appreciated in the chilly air that Floridians were sure came directly from Canada but was likely only about 55 degrees. This proved fortuitous, as it had us moving towards the Simpsons ride just in time for a front row seat at the character parade. What with no longer being 10 years old, I didn't recognize most of the characters, but that in no way detracted from the dazzle that was the parade. The music had us tapping our toes, the costumes dazzled, and the dancing was soon imitated by those in the streets. The video above will give you a taste of the incredible talent to which we were witness.

After a stop to battle with the Terminator, we finally made our way to the Simpsons ride. Really, you can't call these activities rides.  There are stories, artwork, videos, animation--half the time, it's not you that's moving, it's whatever you're watching. Loving the express passes we had, we quickly got to the front of the line that led to Krustyland, the low-budget park created by that much-loved clown. Not wanting to spoil, I won't share details, but essentially, I sat in a box that shook me around while watching fast-moving animation on a screen in front of me. You know how, when you're on a roller coaster, and you're breathless, scared, and thrilled all at once, you tend to start laughing? I couldn't stop! That is, until my stomach dropped. I was distressed to find that, while I loved doing things as a kid that made me dizzy, I'm no longer able to handle that round and round and upside down feeling anymore. The ride ended and I began breathing deeply. "Are you okay"?" my parents asked.

"It was great!" I responded. And it was. Amazing, in fact. As we continued around the park, I realized that nothing Universal does is done halfway. Nothing is just a ride, but a story, with clever, funny scripts, awesome animation, and beautiful music and special effects. It's rare to find so much talent all in one place. Maybe I admire all this creativity so much because the only thing that comes out when I take pencil to paper is a stick figure. 

The rest of the afternoon saw visits to the Men in Black exhibit, Disaster! movie, and the Macy's Christmas parade that used actual floats from the original parade in New York. After a rest at the room (they wouldn't let us nap on one of the floats), Dad and I had dinner at a restaurant designed around the NBA and NBA memorabilia. Good thing, because we'd need the energy the next day.

In Dad's ideal world, that would have begun around 6am. Our express passes would get us into the park at 8am, an hour before everyone else. Mom and I were having none of that. By the time we rose, Dad had gone on to the park and been on the Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey ride at least once. Returning to the room to pick us up around 9am, we all made our way over to Islands of Adventure. Agreeing that if we did nothing else, we needed to get me to Hogwarts, we headed all the way to the back of the park (kind of the like the milk that everyone needs is in the back of the supermarket).  There's nothing that can explain what it's like to walk into the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Truly amazing. Walk through Hogsmeade, have a butterbeer, browse in Oleander's shop...it's everywhere around you, and that's all before you get to the castle. While there's always a long line to get into the castle, there's plenty to see while you wait. As we stood in line, I was terribly amused to see a couple of escapees from Azkaban ahead of us and trying to get into the castle. We saw talking portraits, Harry, Ron, and Hermione on a balcony wishing us luck, and even Dumbledore. No one offered me a wand. We were finally buckled into our seats and set off for a wild ride. As with everywhere else in the park, it could only be described as amazing. The animation was terrific, and other than that roller coaster feeling that had me breathing deeply again, I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was better than any of the movies because you truly felt like you were flying with Harry. I truly can't adequately describe it here, but if you like flying with Hippogriffs, I highly recommend it.

After some lunch, we checked out a few of the other rides and exhibits, then went back to the room for a nap. I really liked this staying in a hotel on the property stuff. We went back in the late afternoon, checking out Shrek and the Despicable Me rides (I must immediately add Despicable Me to my Netflix queue). We got to see the entire Christmas parade this time (I can still hear the music in my head), and then hung out for a concert by Manheim Steamroller, which Mom had been hoping for but wasn't sure we would get to do. Making our way out of the park, we decided on dinner at Bubba Gump's, where I spent at least five minutes trying to figure out why someone had left a suitcase with a box of chocolates left on the bench outside the restaurant. We all failed the Forrest Gump quiz given to us by the waiter but thoroughly enjoyed dinner. After a good night's sleep, we headed back to the other coast.

I couldn't possibly express how impressed I was with Universal. The dancing in the parades, the animation in the videos, the creativity of the stories. It's so real. You can't NOT be there, totally, and I'm all about being present in the moment (well, I try to be). Don't wait. Run, don't walk. Let the kid inside you out.

On the Ice

I do not travel well. It's not that I don't like to travel. There are lots of places in the world I'd like to see. I'm waiting for it to be possible to visit Australia during the day and be home in my own bed at night.

So my recent interest in Antarctica might seem a bit odd. I recently read a book called Where'd You Go, Bernadette?, the events of which are initiated by a 15-year-old's desire to take a family vacation to Antarctica. Who knew you could even take a vacation to Antarctica? But you can! And so, my current fascination with The Last Continent was born. This curiosity defies the expectations of those who know me best. "Cold" does not begin to describe the temperature, regardless of which part of the continent you refer, nor does "storm" accurately depict the whiteouts caused by hurricane strength winds that occur on a regular basis. Since I begin to worry about my hair's tendency to frizz during cold weather, Antarctica would not seem to be a good match if I'm to look my best. The people who stay there are either "beakers," scientists conducting research, or support staff, hard-working folks who work six days a week to keep everything running so scientific data can be gathered. Being interested in neither research nor hard work, again, Antarctica would not seem to be a natural fit for me. Because everything has to be flown in, from building materials to medicines, one finds very few comforts on the ice, including when one needs to visit the powder room. And, of course, food becomes a source of sustenance and calories in a harsh environment that requires all the energy one can get, more likely consisting of oatmeal rather than fresh apple pie. Way to take all the fun out of it.

Yet, I'm entranced by the idea of Antarctica. A place where there is little impact by human beings, where night and day each last six months, where nature exists in a beauty unlike anywhere else. The continent is about one and one-half times the size of the United States with 97-98% of it covered by ice. It is a desert, cold, dry, and windy. While its existence was suspected from ancient times, it wasn't until 1820 that a Russian Navy captain named Fabian von Bellinghausen actually laid eyes on an Antarctic island. This prompted people from nations around the world to swarm the coastal islands, but it wasn't until the early 1900's that "the Great Race" into the continent's interior began. British naval officer Robert Falcon Scott's expedition arrived at the South Pole, deep and high in Antarctica's interior on January 17, 1912, only to find the Norwegian flag already left a month earlier by an explorer named Roald Amundsen, who had used skis and dogsleds to cross the polar plateau (trust me when I tell you you don't want to know any more than that). Antarctica is now governed by an Antarctic Treaty System, currently signed by 50 countries, that sets aside the continent as a scientific preserve. Today, a number of countries have set up research stations; the United States has three: McMurdo, Palmer, and the Admundsen-Scott Station at the South Pole. Who wouldn't find such a mysterious, untouched place captivating?

I began reading more. As with all complex topics, I began with some children's books. Non-fiction written for children is an excellent way of learning just enough about a topic to abate one's curiosity. I highly recommend Wikipedia as another fountain of information on a variety of subjects but with the caveat that, well, stupid people sometimes write for it. I learned a bit more about the race between Scott and Amundsen to reach the South Pole (typical men, always trying to out-do one another). Seems that Scott and his men made it to the South Pole but didn't quite make it all the way back, the last three of them dying only 11 miles away from their base at McMurdo Sound. I also read some fiction taking place on Antarctica. While the first novel I tried, a young adult book that focused on a teen's relationship with one of the men from Scott's expedition (dead for 90 years, of course), turned out not to interest me. I gained the most from In Cold Pursuit by Sarah Andrews, a mystery that takes place at McMurdo Station. It was here that I truly began to understand why I will never be able to work on Antarctica. Lack of "freshies" (fresh food, particularly fruits and vegetables), not to mention sunshine for months at a time, would have me on the first plane out of there. Depending on where and when you are on the continent, it's not unusual for temperatures to remain significantly below 0 degrees Fahrenheit. Everything they do has to account for the safety of the people there, as a small problem anywhere else could become disastrous in a place with few resources, little communication, and at times, no access to the rest of the world. Ironically, it was when I read Ice Bound, written by a doctor who was "wintering-over" at the South Pole when she discovered she had breast cancer, that I saw why people would choose to do this. The South Pole, even more so than McMurdo or Palmer stations, is particularly remote and unreachable during the austral winter (not to mention dark and cold). Jerri Nielsen, the only doctor wintering-over with 40 other polies, had every reason to want to get the heck out of dodge. But her book is, in many ways, a love letter to Antarctica. She loved the changes it brought out in her, the beauty of the geography and the unique skies where you can see things like the auroroa australis, the kindness it brought out in the people around her, the way it forced her to depend on herself. What she describes is a place unlike any other. There are, of course, consequences, and Nielsen also reveals the conditions known to be brought on by the effects of the temperatures and high altitudes (including memory loss). But there was a camaraderie that one would never experience anywhere else, and I found myself sort of wishing I was a part of it. I also watched several movies, from a feature film to documentaries, about Antarctica, surrounding myself with all things Antarctic, if not the continent itself.

Which brings me back to vacationing in Antarctica. How do we make that happen? No need to actually stay there for long. Can't we just look at the pretty icebergs for a while? In fact, you can. Tourists visit through one of the 80 operators that are part of the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators. Most travel by ship. But this is no cruise. These are special, ice-breaking kinds of ships, and they must go through some of the roughest waters in the world to reach even the more temperate islands and coastal regions (if you can call 50 degree highs temperate). And that's in the summer, November through March in the Southern hemisphere. There are special land tours and sightseeing by air as well (there are no paved runways on Antarctica, so make sure they don't let the new guy land). Again, that's only during the summer, as everything would freeze up if planes tried to go in and out during the winter. Most tourists keep accomodations on the boat, where operators take them on excursions to the land. There are no hotels, so you'll be back on the boat at night. They take preservation of the continent very seriously, so expect to clean off your boots before stepping onto land to avoid carrying seeds, dirt, or other contaminates with you. And you'll be taking all waste back with you. Just a heads up. But is it worth it? In 2006, more than 25,000 tourists visited Antarctica, so most likely, yeah, it's worth it.

What an incredible place! It occurs to me that there's no where else that has prompted such cooperation among the nations of the world, people from all over living in harmony with respect for each other and for the land. My delicate sensibilities will keep me from ever actually, you know, working there, but perhaps one day I can wave to those who do from the heated cabin of my airplane.