I'm not sure how much more I can take.  I've had this serious bout of insomnia the last four or five nights.  Sleep deprivation seriously like demolishes me.  It's like any capacity for enjoyment or even concentration is just gone.  Monday evening, I decided I'd try to get to bed early, and as I was getting ready for bed, I realized that my alarm clock wasn't working properly.  I thought, "No problemo--I'll just use the alarm on my cell."  But I couldn't get that to work either.  I wanted to get up at 5:00 (ish) the next morning and couldn't figure out what to do.  When sleep deprived, I tend to blow things out of proportion.  Oh wait, I do that anyway.  Finally, I reconciled myself to coping with no alarm--this was only after a somewhat frantic phone call to my father.  Rationally, he suggested that I get in the car and go buy a clock.  Of course, I promptly disregarded this perfectly reasonable solution.  My mom talked me into it though.  My trip to Walgreen's ended in tears--the prospect of shopping for an alarm clock was just too overwhelming.  Anyhow, at the time this all seemed of monumental proportions.  This was, at least in part, a result of sleep deprivation; of that I'm certain.

But then, Tuesday morning, on the way to work, I found out that a coworker had been murdered several days before.  Kinda makes alarm-clock-gate seem pretty minor, right?  I mean, I don't know how one is supposed to respond to this kind of thing.  I'm shocked and horrified and saddened and angry and afraid.  And I didn't know her well at all.  But still.  Needless to say, I didn't sleep again last night.  It's all oddly surreal, you know?  FIY:  Her boyfriend has been charged with her murder and is scheduled to be arraigned today. 

All I Want for Christmas Is. . .

Ok, although it's Friday, I'm going to do a better-late-than-never Thursday Thirteen. I mean, I'm only one day late, right? So, yesterday, I was browsing Blu-Ray (spelling?) players online. And it got me thinking about Christmas gifts. If money were no object, what would I buy myself for Christmas? Here's a list of thirteen potential Christmas gifts I'd love to give myself.

1. A tattoo. I'd really like a Celtic trinity knot between my shoulder blades. It might look something like this.  Or maybe like this. 

2.  MAC eyeshadow.  Again, this is representative of my basic vanity, but I adore MAC eyeshadows lately.  However, much less expensive and of similar quality are the eyeshadow palettes from Coastal Scents. 

3.  This Judith Ripka bracelet.

4.  A Kitchen Aid stand mixer, preferably in pink!

5.  A LCD television.

6.  A Nintendo Wii.  Seriously.

7.  And while I'm at it, how about a Nintendo DS.  You know, I think I need to be working on the brain age and Zen "games" that they offer now.

8.  A nose stud.  As many of you know, I've had my nose pierced in the past.  And I really, really loved it.  In fact, I cannot remember why I got rid of it.  And I'm feeling so frumpy looking lately that a new piercing seems in order!

9.  A fresh coat (or two) of paint in my bedroom.  I've been meaning to do this since I moved two and one-half year ago.  Again, I think pink is in order here.

10.  "G" from the Harajuku Lovers line of perfume.  Isn't the packaging too cute?

11.  A serger machine.

12.  A trip to Kripalu for a Yoga retreat.

13.  A big shopping spree at J. Crew.


So OK, I realize that talking about gifts to myself really misses the entire point of Christmas--I get that. Still, it's fun to dream.  And this is like an "in my dreams" kind of wish list; with the possible exceptions of a tatoo, a nose stud, and new paint in the bedroom, I don't anticipate that any of these is likely to happen any time soon.  Still.  A girl can dream, right?

Morning Joe Drops the "F Bomb" on Live TV!

Did anyone else hear this this morning? Joe says the F-word and seems oblivious. When Mika calls him on it, he reverts to the "ambien and vodka" routine.

Ok, I know it's silly, but I really, really love this video

Fenway and the Stairs

Maybe if I can get my act together, technologically speaking, I can post a video.  When Fenway first came to live with me, he was only 8 weeks old and was too little to go up or down stairs.  The design of my house is such that going outside requires using the stairs--a whole flight of them, not just one or two.  Anyway, at first, he was tiny, and I didn't mind carrying him down and back up stairs when we needed to go out.  Mind you, we take several potty breaks a day, so that's several trips down and back up the stairs.  Initially, I was a little worried that baby Fenny might fall down the stairs and would feel anxious if he was too near the staircase.  However, I had little to worry about.  Fenway seems to have a phobia about the stairs.  Very quickly, he did learn to go up the stairs.  When we'd come back in from outside, he'd run right up, even when he was still pretty little.  Now, nearly 9 months and 20 pounds later, Fenway is still unable to go down stairs.  Seriously.  And maybe "unable" is the wrong word.  I mean, if I pick him up and put him down four or five steps from the bottom, he can go the rest of the way down.  But he thinks that he can't.  When it's time to go out, I still have to carry him down the stairs.  (Side note:  when it's time to go out, he thinks it's really fun to play keep away from mom.)  And it's kinda pathetic, really.  I mean, he clearly wants to go down the stairs sometimes but thinks that he can't.  And he'll stand at the top and cry if, say, his ball has rolled down the stairs.  I've tried everything I can think of.  I've even put a snack on each stair thinking that surely he'd be willing to give it a try for a snack!  But he wouldn't.  It's almost like a dog who has been abused and then avoids the object used to beat him; however, I seriously doubt that anyone pushed Fenny down the stairs when he was a baby.  When my parents were both here a month or so ago, all three of us stood on the stairs and the landing and called to Fenway, trying to coax him into at least trying it.  But he wouldn't.  He acted a little upset because he clearly wanted to be with the humans, but the stairs were too big an obstacle.  So he just stands at the top and looks crushed, like he's been abandoned and is just waiting for his Mama to return.  And it's not really that he can't do stairs; he just thinks he can't do stairs.  It was a little funny when he was little, but he's now close to 25 pounds.  And at 5:00am, carrying him down stairs is about the last thing I want to be doing.  On the bright side, it does provide an opportunity for hugs and "snorty kisses."

Joni and Joan

I've been listening to Joni Mitchell all weekend. And rule #1 is that one shouldn't listen to Joni if one is feeling depressed. However, I'm feeling pretty OK, even after Joni, so that's a good sign. But all weekend, I've felt like I should be reading Joan Didion while I listen to Joni. Apparently, my copy of The White Album, which is such a wonderful collection of essays, is in my office at work. This is sorta too bad, because I'm craving Joan. The opening to the first essay in The White Album is, "We tell ourselves stories in order to live." And this quote, this idea is something that I think about frequently. Didion (or can I call her by her first name?) seems to understand that narrative is a way to find meaning in the seeming-meaninglessness of our lives. And this is true on so many levels. I remember my mother saying, more than once, that when something really painful has happened, she maybe doesn't want to have to tell people, but that with each successive telling the telling becomes easier and the trauma, itself, becomes easier to cope with. But Didion also knows that when we create these narratives, we are forced to find patters and to select details and to create order. Narrative requires order, and maybe this is a way to create order in our lives. But even more importantly, it strikes me that salvation is to be found in story. We take comfort from the stories of others. Barack Obama is compelling, at least in part, because his story is interesting; it's a story of what it means to overcome. And even more importantly, the Gospel is story. It's a narrative. And Christ's teachings, say the Sermon on the Mount, is embedded in story. The story, the narrative creates a context for understanding. Some have called this narrative the greatest story ever told. C.S. Lewis speaks often of the strength of "story" as a particular genre. And while Didion may not see power and salvation in the story of the New Testament (or maybe she does), it seems that story, narrative matters. We create stories; we listen to the stories of others; we retell stories we already know. And these stories move us and change us and save us. I think that Joni Mitchell knows this too. And I wonder if Joni and Joan know one another. I'm certain that they know of one another, but that's not the same thing. And I wonder what they would say to one another over a cup of coffee. Joni tells us that "something's lost but something's gained in living every day," and this is both sad and hopeful, I think. And telling stories about the losses and gains gives us a way to understand them and ultimately a way to live.

A Dress to Die For. . .

Ok, this dress is on clearance at J Crew. And even on clearance, I can't afford it. And besides, I've taken the pledge, not to purchase new clothes. But I really, really LOVE this dress. The style is great, and the purple is super fab. So I'm thinking I could probably make something comparable, no?

Thursday Thirteen: Thirteen Movies I've Never Seen But Feel Like I Should

Ok, so on the way to work, I got thinking about all the classic or brilliant or wonderful films I've never seen. I'm embarrassed to admit some of these. But you have it: Movies I think I should know about but have never seen (or have only seen portions of). Let's see if I can make it to thirteen.

1. Thelma and Louise. I've seen parts of this one, notably the end. And I feel like I know why it's supposed to be significant or whatever (and I don't think it's Brad Pitt that makes it important), but I've never seen the whole thing.

2. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Now that I think about it, is Thelma and Louise a sort of reworking of this one? Again, I've seen the end but haven't see the movie in its entirity.

3. The Austin Powers movies. I've never seen any of them (are there three?), and in this case, I think I'm OK with not having seen them.

4. Close Encounters. Yeah, I've just never gotten around to this one.

5. Cool Hand Luke. This is supposed to be really great, right? I've never seen it. I guess I should.

6. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. So the other day, one of my colleagues was saying how he liked this one; I've never seen it that I can recall.

7. Deliverance. I'm actually interested but seem to have never had occasion to watch this one.

8. The Return of Spinal Tap. OK, I've seen This is Spinal Tap, but I've somehow missed The Return of.

9. Children of Men. I'm kinda interested, as it's based on a novel by P.D. James, but then again, it looks depressing. According to my brother, it's "pre post apocalyptic." I'm not sure what that even means.

10. Apocalypto: This is the Mel Gibson one about the fall of the Mayans. It think it sounds interesting, but then I hear that it's super gory, and I don't think I can deal with that.

11. The entire Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween franchise. Does this require comment?

12. Talladega Nights. Will Ferrell just kills me. Seriously. But I've not seen this one.

AND

13. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I really dislike Brad, and I don't like Angelina much better. And knowing that they're making this movie while committing adultery on the side really turns me off.

Fun Blog

One of my favorite blogs is "A Dress A Day." I love the blogger's style, and I often enjoy her writing. Recently I particularly enjoyed her post titled "I See London, I See France." I think it's lots of fun, if any of you are looking for a good, quick read.

Life is Soooooooooooooo Unfair

So, here's how I know life is ridiculously unfair.  I'm watching last night's episode of Dr. 90210, which I'd DVRd.  So there's this really attractive 33 year old woman, and she wants a "Brazilian butt augumentation."  And that's a little unfair, right, when so many of us are wanting to reduce our backsides, she's wanting to go under general anesthesia to get MORE junk in the trunk.  Anyway, the procedure involves sucking fat out of one part of the individual's body and injecting it into her butt.  And that right there seems a little unfair, that she gets to elect to reallocate her fat.  But here's the real kicker:  she goes in for a consultation, and the surgeon tells her she doesn't have enough body fat for him to harvest, so she has to gain at least 10 pounds before the procedure.  So the woman gets to totally eat all kinds of crap in order to gain fat in her abs so that the doctor then has something to work with.  This seems just wrong that she gets the fun of gaining a full 15 pounds just so that she can have the excess fat sucked out and moved to her behind.  Life is so unfair.

My "Refashioned" Lighting Fixture

This is my "new" light fixture.  Actually, it's not new at all, but it's been remade.  The fixture was really, really ugly and cheap looking.  My mother, however, refashioned it to look like this.  At first, I thought I was a bad idea, but when I saw the finished product, I totally loved it.  I mean, it's so "me," right?  with the shades of pink and a little green.  And I love that it's tea cups, because, really, I think I'd decorate my entire home in pink tea-themed stuff if I thought it were appropriate to do so.  But in my casual dining area, I think this works well, even if it is a little silly.  Plus, when I sit down to breakfast, I can just grab a tea cup off the light fixture.  Kidding.

She Wore Lemon

Didn't U2 have a song titled that?  I could be wrong, but I don't think so, as Mr. Monk might say.  So here's an apron that I made sorta recently.  It's reversible; after all, there are (or should be) two sides to every apron.  So I made this completely with fabric, trim, and a pattern I sort of had on hand.  Ok, to be fair, I "borrowed" the fabric from my mother's fabric stash.  I've modified the pattern in a couple of ways, mostly to make it reversible; this makes it more fun and adds a nice weight to the apron.  I think it's super cute!

P.D. James's Shroud for a Nightengale

I just finished this novel.  Wait.  I should back up.  As part of my reprioritizing project, I've decided I am going to try to post more mini-book reviews.  For a while, I was trying to create a post for everything I read; it got to be too much.  But for novels that either I'm teaching or that really speak to me, I find that posting a little something rather helps me to think through the work.  Currently, I'm working on reading through all of James's Dalgliesh novels in order, which has been lots of fun so far.  (Ditto for the Lord Peter novels from Sayers and the Morse novels from Dexter.  Morse has a special place in my heart, as some of you know!)  So one thing that I appreciate about Dalgliesh is that he's this complex, and therefore believable and sympathetic, character.  And he has all these seeming-contradictions about him.  He's this kick-ass, by the book police detective, but he also publishes poetry, critically acclaimed poetry.  Also, he seems to have this highly developed religious, moral, and ethical sense, but he finds, sometimes, that competing ethical claims somehow conflict.  This, again, strikes me as particularly true to life.  Dalgliesh, like so many of his detective brothers, seems to be unable to form meaningful, long-term attachments with the opposite sex.  I think that this relative lack of a personal life is probably, at least in part, what makes him a good detective.  And arguably, his committment to his job is a factor in his apparent inability to sustain relationships.  But I think that for Dalgliesh (and Morse) it's much deeper than just that their jobs get in the way of their relationships.  I mean, if it were that simple, they could remedy the situation if they wanted to.  Rather, it seems that loss and pain in their respective pasts keep these characters from forming loving, intimate attachments.  And there's something near universal about this; it's certainly something that I can relate to on some level.  Rejection and loss certainly lead at least some of us to be wary of personal attachments, right?  And I suppose, one way to do that is to be married to our jobs; it's certainly easy to justify being lonely when we say that our jobs just don't allow us the time or energy to pursue relationships.  So I realize this hasn't at all been a review of Shroud for a Nightengale, but it seems like something worth saying.  I mean, I keep asking myself why I'm finding these novels so compelling.  And for me, at least part of the attraction has to do with the central detective figures.  Maybe I need to reinstate my Sunday evening "dates" with Morse.  *sigh*

Refashionista Pledge

Hello guys and gals.  I've decided that I'm joining Wardrobe Refashion,  a blog / group specifically devoted to wardrobe refashioning.  For those of you who are not familiar with the term "refashioning" refers to cutting up, embellishing, altering, and otherwise revamping used clothing items, either second-hand items of items that one already possesses.  My idea, however, as much as anything is to try to use up some of the fabric I've accumulated (and really who among us hasn't?) in a fun, funky, functional way.  So part of this particular blog is that you take a pledge for either 2, 4, or 6 months, a pledge not to purchase any new clothing.  This, I suspect, may be the really tough part for me.  I do, however, reserve the right to purchase "unmentionables" if I need them.  (Ok, side note:  I really, really like all these euphemisms for underwear.  My favorites are "unmentionables," "foundational garments," and "drawers.")  So here's the pledge cut and pasted from the Wardrobe Refashion web site.

I ____Dr. Drennan (ha, ha!)______________ pledge that I shall abstain from the purchase of "new" manufactured items of clothing, for the period of 2 / 4 / 6 months. I pledge that i shall refashion, renovate, recycle preloved items for myself with my own hands in fabric, yarn or other medium for the term of my contract. I pledge that I will share the love and post a photo of my refashioned, renovoted, recycled, crafted or created item of clothing on the Wardrobe Refashion blog, so that others may share the joy that thy thriftiness brings! Signed__DCS________________.

Ok, so far so good.  I need to go over there and introduce myself.  Guess I should do that now.  Oh, but first, here are the "rules" of the game:

The Rules

• 1.
  No buying new! (handmade is excepted; So this allows for Etsy purchases etc!!) All clothing must be Recycled, Renovated, Preloved or Thrifted, or Handmade only for the term. Employment related and special needs clothing (ie sports, school), shoes and undies are excepted from the rules, although you are encouraged to have a go at making these.
• 2.
  In extreme circumstances, maybe a special event, or the worlds greatest and most amazing never to be repeated sale that you simply can not pass up, you may use the Get out of Refashionista Jail Free card. You are able to use this card once during the 2 month part of your contract; ie 1 for 2 months, 2 for 4 months etc. Of course you need to fess up on the blog and display the button!
• 3.
  You must post on the blog at least once a week to let the community know what you've been up to. This will not only give you brag points, but inspire and encorouge others! Of course you need to display the button on your blog and have copied the pledge in at least one post, and provide a link to your pledge under the button.
• 4.
  You need to be honest and admit when you've fallen off the Refashionista Wagon! Go directly to Refashionista Jail, do not pass GO and do not collect $200! Apply for parole once there.

Thoughts About "Stuff"

So it's Saturday morning, which is maybe my favorite part of the week.  It feels so indulgent to be able to sit around in my jammies, sipping tea, reading, writing in my journal.  And one of my goals for this weekend is to sit down and think about reprioritizing some things in my life.  This is something I try to do ever two or three months.  I like to look over my journal(s) and my lists of goals and simply think about what's working in my life and what isn't.  That seems healthy, right?  Well, healthy as long as I don't obsess about it, something I have a tendency to do.  And I guess that I'm posting this commitment to reprioritizing here, publically because I know that if I say it to others, I'm more likely to follow through.  Also, I'm feeling kinda anxious at the moment, and it seems that blogging, journaling, all that tends to help me settle down a bit and refocus. 

On a happy, happy note, I'm scheduled to teach an entire course devoted to Dante next semester!  And I'm so very excited.  I've been looking at different translations and reading reviews and analyses.  And all this reminds me exactly what I love about my job.  And when I say that, I don't just mean that I love that I am an English literature.  I mean, more specifically, I feel so grateful to have the particular position that I have at the specific liberal arts college at which I work.  There are so many, many wonderful things about my position and my department.  Not the least of these is that my colleagues are wonderful, and some of them have become close friends whom I really, really trust.  When I'm frustrated or discouraged about work, I know that I can walk down the hall to T.'s office, and he'll graciously listen and give me really helpful advice.  I so value having these kinds of relationships.  But the other wonderful thing about my job that I honestly wouldn't have at most other institutions is that I get to teach this interesting variety of time periods and genres and pieces of literature, and I get the opportunity to teach special topics kinds of courses in things that I simply just have an interest in.  And I've learned since coming here that the opportunity to just sort of teach what I want to teach is invaluable.  Sometimes I consider looking for ladder positions elsewhere, and I never do because, although VT is difficult, the actual job is this tremendous blessing.  I cannot imagine being happier in some other department. 

One final note:  I've been reading a collection of short stories by Ruth Rendell.  They are super.  And how have I missed Rendell all this time?

In Observance of Halloween. . .

Here's a pic from the Tim Burton film _Frankenweenie_.  I just love this pic.

It's a Big, Wide "Alt." World

So I've been thinking a lot lately about the terms "alternative" and "alt" and even about what "alt" could mean as a lifestyle choice.  And here's my big idea:  I want to start an online "alt" lifestyle 'zine.  I know, I know I have all these big ideas that I don't follow through with, and this is probably just one of those.  But here's where part of this comes from:  I have a student who is working towards his history senior thesis project.  One of the topics he's interested in is the way the word "alternative" changed in the 1980s and 90s and what sort of cultural effect this has had.  And I have this ongoing interest in "alt" crafting and in what "alt" might mean for the Christian, if we assume that the mainstream is secular.  And OK, I admit that I'm an avid reader of Lucky (the magazine devoted to shopping) and of Allure (a magazine that really deals with cosmetics as a part of fashion), and I'm interested in these things.  But I hope that my sense of style is informed by the mainstream but is "alt" in that it's my own take on current trends.  And maybe now's the place to come out and admit that I really, really love funky, colorful eye shadow.  I'm so not about the natural look.  And I've made my peace with all of this.  And there are so many so-called lifestyle publications out there--Martha Stewart immediately comes to mind.  And while I don't subscribe to Martha, I reall appreciate much of this kind of thing.  But what would an "alt" lifestyle look like?  I mean, I don't think it would look like one monolithic thing.  But why isn't there a space for more of us to say, "Look, here's my take on the mainstream.  And here's what I'm borrowing from pop culture.  And here's how I'm making it my own."  And can't the term "alt" mean a wide variety of things?  For whatever reason, I tend to associate the term with "alt porn."  And I'm so not wanting to support porn, but there's something important about the assertion that attractive does not have to mean that one looks like a Barbie doll.  Brunette can be attractive.  So can big hips and a small bust.  And maybe most importantly, being yourself and being at peace with yourself is maybe the most attractive thing of all.  This is empowering, right?  And isn't there a way to carry that sense over into other parts of our lives?  Isn't there a way to say, "Hey, I'm doing what I need to do.  And I'm using these facets of the power structure and of mainstream culture in ways that work for me.  But I'm also deviating when I need to, so that I'm dressing and decorating and reading and thinking and living in a way that's faithful to my values, values that don't always fit with mainstream cutlure and that sometimes question the status quo."  I feel like I grew up in a church and in other communitites in which the refusal to conform, often to superficial expectations, was seen as rebellion.  And so if you get a tattoo or dye your hair an unconventional color (and yes, I've done both), it was assumed that you were doing something wrong.  (side note:  I'm not meaning to say that my parents said this to me; it was larger and more nebulous forces that made me feel these pressures.)  But really, shouldn't Christians be living outside the mainstream?  I think that the New Testament suggests that if Christians are accepted by the world / mainstream culture maybe it means that they, the Christians, are sorta sell-outs.  I had a professor in college who said that John the Baptist was sort of the original radical; Willie Nelson sings a song about the "Troublemaker" who is criticized for his long hair and his unconventional lifestyle.  This, of course, turns out to be Jesus.  I don't know where I'm going with all of this other than to say this:  thinking about the terms "alternative" and especially "alt" has become a way for me to think about how I might integrate these parts of myself that too often feel desperate.  Is this what Forester means by "Only Connect?"  And in a more general sense, don't we need more "alt" lifestyle publications simply as a forum to think through these things?

The First Snowfall of the Season. . . .

It sounds much more cozy / romantic / wonderful / dreamy than it actually is.  This morning, I woke up and took the dogs out to a gentle snowfall. If I were still living in CA, I would think, "Wow!  the first snowfall sounds so lovely. . ."  Really, it was just kinda discouraging.  I mean, it was cold, and the dogs were wanting to just rush back inside rather than do their "business" in the yard.  And I just kept thinking that I had six months of this kind of weather to look forward to.  I'm trying to make the most of the change in the weather--I've been wearing boots and scarves this week.  Winter does afford fun, creative fashion possibilities.  But really, the cold is just a big inconvenience.  And knowing that it will drag on and on is really what brings me down.  The days are getting shorter--I've been leaving for work while it's still dark out.  And I've been having some conflict at work.  And for the last 10 days or so, I've just had a lot of work to do every day.   It's so hard not to get discouraged and overwhelmed.  This post is not turning out as I'd planned--I guess that's OK.  But I hadn't posted in ages, and it seems like I should say something profound or interesting about books or something.  But I'm just cold and tired and craving MAC eyeshadow, which I'm somehow rediscovering lately.  Maybe MAC eyeshadow deserves its own post.

Nixon, Toothpaste, and Sodomy

Many years ago (well, a couple years ago anyhow), I was with A. looking at a program for an academic conference.  And there was this panel with three papers that had no discernable connection.  So A. says, "It's like having a panel titled, I don't know, 'Nixon, Toothpaste, and Sodomy."  The point being, of course, that these three things just don't fit.  And so, in my mind, a miscellaneous, seemingly-random collection of thoughts has, ever since, been "Nixon, toothpaste, and sodomy."  And really, as a deconstructionist, A. should appreciate the suggestion that by placing these three together, maybe he's suggesting that they do somehow fit together.  And as a Freudian, A. might be able to give us insight into the possible, non-conscious connection between three seemingly- random nouns.  And now that I write this, I'm missing A. and realize that I should e-mail him.  I'll leave it to the rest of you, or at least to Cara, to deduce who A. is based on these clues.

And "clues" is my transition to the next thought in this series.  I may have posted about this before--I don't know.  I have decided that my all-time favorite etymology is that of the word "clue."  And as I've been reading and teaching all these great, quaint, classic, cozy murder mysteries, it's been particularly on my mind.  "Clue," originally spelled "clew" is the word for a ball of yarn:  think old ladies knitting while kittens bat around the yarn.  And when Theseus entered the labyrinth to battle the Minotaur, Ariadne gave him a clew of yarn to find his way back out.  You know, it's almost like Hansel and Gretel leaving crumbs in the wood.  Theseus is to leave the yarn at the beginning of the labyrinth and to thread it out as he moves along, so that once the minotaur is faced, he can follow the thread back to the beginning.  And, according to the OED, the universal source of all linguistic knowledge, this is the sense from which our use of "clue" develops.  The notion is that the detective, or anyone really, can pick up a single thread of a narrative and follow that thread through to the logical conclusion.  And as I read, I keep picturing the characters (this is especially appropriate for Miss Marple) following threads of conversations and incidents back to the murderer.  In The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, the narrator describes an encounter with Poirot: "He and I lunched together at an hotel.  I know now that the whole thing lay clearly unravelled before him.  He had got the last thread he needed to lead him to the truth."  And again, it's the image of unrolling that ball of yarn and following the thread out of the puzzle.  This image absolutely fascinates me.

And finally, third in my series of three seemingly-random things:  I have announcement to make.  In the near future, if all goes according to plan you will be able to find me here on the net.  More to come!

Just Found This on the Net!