Our Heroine Sighs, "Ave Atque Vale," Through Salty Tears

Y'all, sad news: the hard drive on my laptop died a hero's death earlier this week as it valiantly tried to incorporate the latest iTunes upgrade. Blogging will be light until I figure out what to do.

While I am well equipped to handle crises of fashion, home decorating, cuisine, and personal grooming -- any problem related to the cold, hard innards of machinery flummox me greatly.

I am going to throw myself at the feet of the sales staff at Best Buy and beg for mercy.

In the meantime: RIP Lappie 2.0 -- I will eventually use some other, healthier laptop to tell people how totally awesome A Canticle for Leibowitz was -- but it will not be the same.

Our Heroine Wishes You a Joyful Easter

I'll be gone for the Triduum, y'all, and back blogging on Monday. I'll be celebrating great and holy things by buying out the Bare Escentuals store with my sister-in-law in Vermont. And, like last year, I leave you this very lovely and appropriate poem by the wonderful John Donne:

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Our Heroine Misses the Veggietales Poster of Yesterweek

For the past few weeks, this poster keeps catching my eye at the 49th Street N/R stop. Every time it does, I always have the same question. "What. is. she. wearing?!" I mean, I get what's going on here. This ad is trying to show me that it's sexytime for The Tudors. But... is she wrapped in a tablecloth, or what? Is that her nightgown? Because if it is, it is the craziest nightgown I have ever seen. A real Tudor nightgown would have had about 17 more yards of fabric. And sleeves. And who sleeps in strapless anyway!!? Even now, nobody does. And what's keeping it up? It has no boning, so are you trying to tell me she's got an elastic band at the top? Elastic, in 1509? For serious? So, if it's not a nightgown, is it supposed to be a dress? And it if it's supposed to be a dress, why is it the color of stale bread? And it if it's supposed to be a dress, why hasn't she been thrown out of court for a wh*re? Let's look at a real 16th century dress, shall we?

Perhaps you noticed. That's a lot of dress. She's got some sort of sleeve layer, a fur layer, the green dress layer, plus quite a bit of accessory on her head.

Speaking of accessories, I love that the Tudor poster lady, (who I'm pretty sure is Catharine of Aragon) decided to put on her most luscious jewels, then grab a big goblet of wine, before wrapping up in a yellowed bedsheet.

It's just so unfortunate and exasperating to be assaulted every morning with all these questions. Before I've even had coffee. A pox upon you rascally Tudors! I bite my thumb at your weird, semi-naughty, non-historical fashion.

Also, a question for my readers: when did Henry VIII become history's superfox? We've all seen that one portrait where he's the pudgy guy wearing the tights and the floppy, feathery hat, right? Just checking.

Our Heroine is a Victim of the Last Acceptable Prejudice

I have been added to the blog roll at Frank Helps You Think It All Out, where I will remain, on probation, "as long as posts are regular and informative."

I am also informed that this blog, "Could use some more NASCAR."

Now, Frank's friend Ptolemy hasn't updated his blog, Our Man in Europe, since March 2005, and he has never been removed from the blog roll or given so much as a stern warning. Also, he writes posts about mustaches and dentistry -- whereas I write posts about velociraptors and spies. And yet, MY blog is the less exciting one? The one that needs an injection of NASCAR?

Clearly there's an undercurrent of something ugly going on here, and I think we all know what it is. The main difference between me and Frank's friend? Other than the fact he is a tall Australian guy living in London, and I am a short American girl living in New York? Exactly. The darling of Frank's blogroll has a smarty-pants, superunusual name from antiquity. Whereas the red-headed stepchild of Frank's blog roll has a totally normal, two-syllabled, bourgeois name like everybody else. Nameism: Spot It. Stop It.

Sometimes, This is How Our Heroine Feels Too

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself in a dark wilderness,
for I had wandered from the straight and true.
- Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto I



via Fallen Sparrow

Our Heroine Thanks TEC for Helping Catholics Feel Better About Their Troubles

Y'all, I love Chris Johnson of The MCJ. I hope he becomes a Catholic one day, but not yet, because his ring-side reports on the bust-up of The Episcopal Church are just too entertaining. He's a remarkable guy, to remain so upbeat, cheerful, and wickedly funny during what must be, in reality, very disheartening circumstances.

That being said, Piskie Bishop Katie Jefferts Shori's Easter message is hilarious! Takeaway: "Jesus died so I could reduce my carbon footprint."

The Golden Age -- What Happened?

This is not a real post y'all, just an update to explain why I never posted again on The Golden Age, like I wrote that I would.

The book is part of a trilogy, and in a hard-core way; the hero, Phaethon, just figured out that he owns an incredible starship, and is walking towards it when the book just ended.

That's it. I won't know a thing more til I read the next installment.

So, there's not much to say until I get to Phoenix Exultant, which is Part II. Right now, my hero is just walking, and that's healthy, and I'm happy for him, but it's not inspiring me to write any of my normal, overblown blog musings.

Stay tuned, he'll reach the ship eventually.