Sorry We've Been Away

We've been kinda busy, though that really is no excuse for leaving you on the edge of your seat, eagerly anticipating our next post. Fortunately, we have returned!

I have been learning more about Flash animation (as evidenced above), working and volunteering, and Meg has been busy volunteering and working three or four jobs.

Also, we've been catching up on our favorite 32-year-old British series, "The Prisoner."

More soon. We promise.

Wedding Bells & Chocolate Cakes

The season is gradually shifting here in the Piedmont Valley; the days are pleasantly dry and temperate, and the evenings pleasantly crisp. It's even chilly when we wake up with the windows open. Oh what a difference a lack of humidity can make!

Temperature changes do not seem to be nudging the trees into changing dramatically, though. It's almost as if Blue Ridge deciduous trees didn't get the memo about bursting into color before they fall. Maybe we were just spoiled by a decade in New England, where autumn's majesty explodes overnight, but these trees here are a bit ... green or bare? I saw some burning bushes living up to their name yesterday, which livened up the scenery, and here or there a tree slowly flames before they abscind. But the good news is that we get crazy fog some mornings now.

If the trees won't add a mysterious layer of autumnal lore, at least the fog reminds us of the upcoming--bwahhaha!--holidays. (Can't you just imagine bats soaring through that fog?)

. . .

In other news, Sunday was the day on which Ben's bosses got married. We missed the South Hadley shindig of his former supervisor, but were able to participate in the festivities of his current manager.

It was a fun, very cross-cultural event, involving many foreign languages I don't understand, a keg, and tiny eclairs. We brought the chocolate cheesecake, my first official foray into Karen's Ina-inspired cheesecake domain.


Who knew Ben would ever enjoy baking? His minute attention to detail came in very handy as I bemoaned my NJ-trapped KitchenAid standmixer. Oh 5 qt. professional series standmixer in graphite, how I love and miss thee! Luckily, until we meet again, we have Ben, whose meticulousness produces perfectly blended batters.

See that poise and confidence? Love it! We sobbed over the many cracks in the final product late on Saturday night, but covered them over with ganache Sunday morning. All-told, a happy wedding affair, made happier by successful baking endeavors and good conversation with fellow-nerd colleagues. (The Latin professor of the group noticed the Hampshire sticker on Koala and we had a great talk about Non Satis Scire.)

. . .

And, finally, a great photo from the 'rent's trip through southwestern Utah and Nevada:

J entitled this "Cesco's Mormon Cousin." I've had it as my desktop background all week, enjoying his poky ears and energetic scamper. I miss me some munkchips. Luckily, Scott Pelley's piece on wildebeest migration featured enough squee-worthy cuddly creations to keep me satiated for a while (chirping cheetah cubs, I'm looking directly at you...).

Concerto in Be Sharp

Things started off well. We walked a ways with other pilgrims toward the stadium. We had packed our own dinner for consumption prior to passing through the security checkpoint. When we went looking for a bathroom, the unthinkable occurred. We found an omen. It was the writing on the wall...

As you might guess, my first thought was of a string quartet in the Chemistry building, playing some mad minor-key masterpiece while teenagers bounced from pre-Med classes to Young Republican meetings. Strangely, however, none of that materialized. Rather, we grew heartened to know that in a few minutes, this town would be righteously rocked.

We had decent seats, as you can likely tell. And the fact that the stage apparatus (nicknamed "the Claw") looked like my Crocs didn't hurt anything, either. Meg and I had been of a divided opinion regarding the opening act, Muse, prior to their taking the stage. Fortunately for me (because--let's face it--Meg is usually the right one), Muse took the stage in darkness to an orchestral score that evoked race-memories of Stalingrad and the non-ironic use of the word "menace." Then, they proceeded to execute one of their calling-card songs, "Knights of Cydonia."

Two words, my friends, two words: Devil horns.

Muse blew us away with their commitment to looking like greasy Brits and rocking like a sleazy maestro whose imperiled Dukedom exists only in the future. Also, if Queen and Depeche Mode has a love child, it would probably express its adolescent angst in the manner of Radiohead...Oops! I meant Muse.

After being jolted awake through our root chakras, we had to wait around for a while prior to the next phase of the evening. Fortunately, the skies conspired to produce wonderful hues.


With the house lights on, Bowie's "Space Oddity" began playing at an absurdly high volume. Much to our surprise, the teenage frat guys behind us knew every. single. word.

Then U2 graced us with their presence.

Unlike their recent disappointing appearance on Saturday Night Live (Bono confused being a singer with being a rambling talker, mistaking the television audience for the local barkeep), they were surprisingly good. Having seen them live a couple of times before, I knew that it could take a while for Bono and/or the crowd to get warmed up sufficiently to make the magic. Fortunately, it looked--and more importantly, sounded--like we had all done the requisite calisthenics from the get-go. It was a show that neither the audience nor the performers seemed to want to draw to a close, which, as you can imagine, was great.