Monday, November 24, 2008

Thoughts on a dead guy

I picked up my copy of Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals the other day and started reading the first section, which is entitled "Transition from common rational to philosophic moral cognition." It's a funny book. Not intentionally, of course, but Immanuel Kant's writings are amusing because when you read a sentence, you can understand the meaning of every single word he put down, but when you string them all together, they're incomprehensible. Or, you start out reading and totally get it, but by the time you get to the end of the sentence you no longer have any idea what Kant was talking about. For instance: "We have, then, to explicate the concept of a will that is to be esteemed in itself and that is good apart from any further purpose, as it already dwells in natural sound understanding and needs not so much to be taught as only to be clarified--this concept that always takes first place in estimating the total worth of our actions and constitutes the condition of all the rest."

Now that I look at that, though, it's not such a good example. If you understood that on the first try, raise your hand. Hmmm. That's what I thought. Here's a better one: "No subtle reflection is required to make the following remark, and one may assume that the commonest understanding can make it, though in its own way, by an obscure discrimination of judgment which it calls feeling: that all representations which come to us involuntarily (as do those of the senses) enable us to cognize objects only as they affect us and we remain ignorant of what they may be in themselves so that, as regards representations of this kind, even with the most strenuous attentiveness and distinctness that the understanding can ever bring to them we can achieve only cognition of appearances, never of things in themselves." HA! I defy you, even with the most strenuous attentiveness and distinctness that the understanding can ever bring to you, to fully comprehend that sentence on the first try. Did your eyes start to glaze over?

Anyway, so I picked up this book and started reading it again, and wondered, wow, did I actually understand this back then? My transcript says I did. My diploma agrees. My brain balks. I hate to think that I'm getting dumber as I get older, but that's sure what it looks like. I can only hope it's because I passed significant portions of intelligence on to Abby. But if that's true, I better not have any more kids, or I may not even be left with two brain cells to rub together.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Commentary

A well-thought-out article about some of the happenings in California.

http://www.lonsberry.com/writings.cfm?story=2504

Snatched from Miriam again.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Fourthwith

I've been tagged by Miriam to post the fourth photo from my fourth folder. Here it is:
This is Regis in his old apartment. I think this is from the week of Thanksgiving vacation the year before we got married, when I went home and Regis stayed behind to grow out his facial hair. I think I specifically asked him to take pictures for me, so I could see what he looked like with a fuzzy face.

I'll tag Rebe, if she ever reads this, and Brook.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Frankly, my dear . . .


I am a hopeless romantic.

I love love stories. I can't stand unhappy endings, except for Gone With the Wind. You know that part in The Runaway Bride, where Richard Gere says, "You want a guy who will wake you up at dawn, just bursting to talk to you, can't wait another minute to find out what you'll say"? Richare Gere makes me gag ever since I watched First Knight, but I still sigh wistfully at that part. So. A romantic.

I'm a hopeless romantic because I married a man who thinks my desires for cut flowers (they wilt and die), spontaneous dates (wouldn't you rather help pick where we go?), and sappy sentiments (. . . yeah) are inexplicable.

Despite my best efforts, I have to concede that Regis is just not a romantic guy. As far as I can tell, that gene got booted out of the family line generations ago.

However: Regis is also a smart man. He well knows that "Le coeur a ses raisons, que la raison ne connaƮt point," usually translated as "If Mamma ain't happy, aint nobody happy."* So he asked me to explain romance to him. I invite you to try explaining romance sometime. It's challenging. But I think something clicked, because last week, when he called on his way home from work and heard that I was having a hard day, he stopped by the store to buy me a pretty bouquet of roses and lilies. He explained, "I was going to just hurry home to help you out, but then I realized that was the logical thing to do. So I stopped and got flowers instead!"

Is it possible to be logically illogical? At any rate, he works hard to keep me happy. And what's more romantic than that?



*Blaise Pascal is turning in his grave. So sorry.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

No, really!

I pulled a booger the size of Texas out of Abby's nose this morning. Seriously. It should have tipped me off when she actually brought the booger-sucker (okay, nasal aspirator. Whatever) over and handed it to me. That thing was nasty.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Another creepy ad

Look at this woman.

Is this an ad for a department store or for the Twilight movie?

Well, that makes sense.

Yesterday I noticed that Abby was sneezing a lot and had a runny nose. Last night she was sweet and jolly while we had people over for dinner, but as soon as they left and we tried to put her to bed she got very upset. We figure she probably had a sore throat and headache as well as a snotty nose, because this morning Regis woke up with it. :) When she woke up after about an hour, he went and rocked her back to sleep, even offering to sleep in the chair holding her if he needed to. Such sacrifice! I offered to let him stay home today and to coddle him so he could get over his cold quicker, but he opted to go to work since they'll be busy today. Abby is much more cheerful this morning, so hopefully Regis will recover quickly too.

Anyway, that's probably part of the reason Abby was noticeably twittier than usual. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. But I did want to relate my favorite of her cute tricks: If you ask, "Can I give you lots of kisses?" she will lean her head towards you to receive them.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Sigh.

It's obvious around here that we were due for some serious twitiness. Abby was SUCH a good baby that I suppose it was inevitable that we should be hit with a regular tsunami of bad behavior. And all those with children above the age of two are probably laughing right now, but yes, we realize that it's only a beginning. It's just a rude awakening after our blissful stroll through early parenthood.

Haunting thoughts

I realized yesterday that if I die anytime soon, I'll be back to haunt my place. I'll have to stay as a spirit and linger fretfully over all the projects I haven't finished, until Regis summons my mother and sisters to perform an exorcism by crafting. In fact, I'm guessing that's how the tradition of having a wake started: everyone gathered around to finish off Grandma's knitting projects so she'd be able to rest in peace.

I am making progress, though. Last night I finished off the knitted cap for Regis that had been hibernating in my closet. Next in line is a much more complicated and girly one for Abby. I'm trying to free-hand knit it from a picture of a beanie sold by Gymboree or Children's Place or one of those other pricey places. If it turns out well I'll post a picture. It's kind of funny--the yarn I picked out turns into girly camouflage when knitted.

Friday, November 07, 2008

Subtle. Very subtle.

I think Abby's trying to tell me she's got cabin fever. She keeps going over to her car seat and climbing in and just sitting there. Yes? Did you have a destination in mind, my dear?

Thursday, November 06, 2008

Advertising gone wrong


Doesn't this just make you want to run to the fabric store? You could look just like them!!!

Strange days

I don't feel like blogging. I'm going to go mop my kitchen floor instead.

I feel odd.

Saturday, November 01, 2008