orichalcum

The baby and dog have started to enjoy playing together. By and large, this is a great thing. However, it's had some unfortunate consequences. When Mac is playing in his playzone in his room, I like to leave the door open, so I can see him and vice versa. Periodically, the dog wanders in. Mac has taken to greeting her by bestowing some toy or stuffed animal on her, or simply throwing it over the side of the fence for her to pick up at her leisure. We've already lost or damaged several toys and stuffed animals this way.

I'm not really sure what the solution here is. I don't want to spray bitter apple on all the stuff, because Mac puts it in his mouth too. I don't like closing the door or trying to seriously restrict contact, because that will make them both unhappy and be less safe for Mac. But the slow attrition of toys is really making me sad.

In other news, does anyone know any quick macros or programs for Anglicizing a piece of text? I'm submitting an article (hopefully soon) that needs to be in British spelling, and I'm afraid I'll miss something due to unfamiliarity.

So, I've been considering getting Eowyn some doggie daycare so she doesn't go so stir-crazy. A fellow dog-owner on the walk this morning recommended this place, and so I went to check out their website.

Is it just me, or is the picture on the right-hand side offering "personalized care when you're not there" for your dog a little, um, suggestive? I'm looking for energetic dog-group play fun, not an escort service...

That's an exaggeration, of course. I learned quite a lot during my post-college complete reading of the Bible (which a lot of quite religious folks I know haven't done), and I've absorbed much wisdom and insight through many sermons, conversations with my grandfather the UCC minister, and several classes.

But I didn't have any formal childhood religious education, due to my mixed background and my parents' secular theist inclinations, and so the first exposure I really had to explorations of the role of the divine in our lives was through the writings of Madeleine L'Engle and C.S. Lewis. And it is for that, as much as for her wonderful characters and insightful family dynamics and beautiful imagery that I will remember Madeleine L'Engle and mourn her today. (I'm not linking to the Times obituary because I think it's fairly badly written; among other things, it's Poly O'Keefe, darnit, not Peggy!)

Madeleine L'Engle taught me that the Divine's messengers come in all shape and sizes, none of them pretty or conventional. She was the first who made me think about the implications of the words "Fear Not!," which angels always say when they first appear in the Bible. She made me believe that the important fight was not over whose version of the divine was right, but of creativity versus destruction, life in polyphonic harmony over death or conformity. She showed that reason and personal brilliance is not always the answer; Charles Wallace thinks he can defeat It because he is so smart, but he's wrong; that isn't enough. She taught me that death is sometimes necessary and not to be feared. She taught me about the power of words and made me believe that anyone can be redeemed. (As opposed to Lewis, who has a slightly less forgiving and harsh approach to salvation. Compare Mr. Jenkins' trials to Eustace's. Eustace has to be _flayed._) She made me see how the study of science can itself be an act of worship and reverence towards God's creation - that science and theology are by no means necessarily opposed.

I am a Christian largely because of Madeleine L'Engle. I didn't tell her that when I met her; I just told her how much of a role model Meg had been for me. She told me that she was working on a novel then about Meg in her early 40s, going back to her career in mathematics, having raised seven children to school age. It was about Meg's rediscovering of her own self. She said we'd finally find out what happened to Charles Wallace. But that was a decade ago, and she was aging, and that book has never been published.

Over lunch, I showed Mac how to fold up the corners of a cloth together and make a tesseract. I started crying halfway through. I hope Susan Cooper's doing okay; all of my other favorite childhood authors have now died.

( I do not approve of entropy. --MLE, 1997: Some of my favorite quotes )

Apparently, there's a plotline planned in the second season of Torchwood involving a romance and "sexy scene" between Captain Jack and James Marsters (Buffy's Spike.)

I'm not normally into slashy stuff, but