Meanderings 21-Thoughts on the eve of 2007

Happy New Year's Eve. Currently, we're getting pounded with our third storm in what seems like as many days. And there's more coming. My Dad would say "good . . .you can have it." And I know Amanda and I are glad to have it; we love the snow. We're having such a winter, its almost like we live in Maine! Here are some things that have recently crossed my mind . . .

1. New Year's Eve is a big night for Chinese food consumption. This is besides the point, but one could ask how this tradition started. How did Chinese food become so enmeshed in New Year's Eve? I digress. With my degree in English and my passion for Chinese food, I think a perfect job for me would be a "menu consultant" for area Chinese food restaurants. Chinese food menus are infested with hilarious grammatical, spelling, and syntactic errors like "substitution to add dollars" to mean "each substitution is a dollar extra" or "birthday person to take 10lb off order in here for eating" which, I think, means that if it is your birthday, you can take 10 "%" off your order if you eat in. I should start collecting these menus. I would travel to local restaurants, sit down with the owners, and consult them on their menu styles. I think this is a job in which I would thrive.

2. In my school, we have two kids named "Dallas." They arent related to each other. Isnt that weird?

3. When you eat out of a box of chocolates, are you the type of person who leaves that ruffly brown paper in the box? Or do you throw it away? I leave the paper in the box. I am sure that, psychologically, this says something about me.

4. We terribly overuse the word "crazy," and the word itself has so many connotations. I personally think its one of the more overused words in our language, and I am guilty of the crime too. Consider:

Look at this snow we're getting . . its crazy!"

Did you see how much weight she lost? Its crazy

I've been so busy . . .things have been crazy

Theo and Irma broke up?? That's crazy

We also use the phrase "I know . . its crazy" to respond to statements when we're in a conversation in which we dont want to be any longer. Its a good, empty, saltine answer that leaves the other conversationalist at a loss for what to say next. Or, I think, it sends a message that the other person is bored.

5. Did you ever notice how "mayonnaise" has this intrinsic power to turn everything into a "salad?" Think about it: as soon as we add mayo to ANYTHING, that something loses its own identity and becomes "a salad." Tuna, chicken, seafood, egg, potato, macaroni: it all becomes salad when you add mayo to it. How amazing mayonnaise is . . .it truly is the superhero of condiments. I think about this at night.

6. Dont you hate it when you are driving to a place and you're in a certain mood and you loudly play a song that fits this certain mood . . .and then, you get to your destination, shut the car off as is, do your thing, and return to the driver's seat of your car an hour or so later. . .only now you're in a much different mood, but the particular radio station or CD is still on just as loud, and this situation doesnt fit your CURRENT mood, and you can't believe you had the radio on that loud before, and its a total buzzkill? Huh? Its like jumping from a jacuzzi into a cold pool.

7. Here's a slogan I would have used if I was an advertising executive for a beverage company:

Fresca: Because you're too rich and cool to drink regular soda

They call marijuana a "gateway drug," but I call Fresca a "gateway soda," because it paved the way for tennis players and soccer moms (which I was both of) to "sample" with Clearly Canadian, Boku, Life Water, Fiji Water, and "Jones" sodas. . . .

8. The snow today reminds me of when I was younger, my mom would always frequent Shaws when a storm was coming. What did she need? Bread and Milk. As simple as that. We didnt have four wheel drive or cell phones or GPS . . .but as long as we had bread and milk we would be okay. How did these two unrelated items become the mantra for pre storm grocery shopping? I wonder if anyone ever got snowed in so bad that they just sat in their basement and ate cold dry pieces of wonder bread and dixie cups of non-chocolified milk. . . kinds of sad . .

9. The worst Christmas song of all time, without a doubt, is "All I want for Christmas is you" by Mariah Carey. When I hear this song, I want to drown my head in feces. A long time ago, it seemed like music stars made fantastic Christmas albums . . .and then kept right on being popular. Is it just me? Or does it seem like, today, the making of a Christmas album is, by and large, a harbinger of doom or a "swan song" for that particular artists? Consider who makes Christmas albums these days . . .its like a last ditch effort by the artist to NOT slip into invisibility . . .

A Return, The Purple Cow, Snow Shoes, and Corned Beef

Quite a mysterious title, no? Its basically a run down of what we did today. After about a seven month hiatus from Fairfield First Baptist Church, Amanda and I returned to the morning service today; it felt like going home. It was beautiful and spiritually satisfying . . .just what we have been needing. We joined some church friends for breakfast at The Purple Cow--Fairfield's own pancake house--after the service. I tried something new: a meatloaf omelet. Jay and the Reverend--did they have that at Zachary's?? We then drove over to Springpond, where we were invited for a corned beef and cabbage dinner. Sally and I brought our snowshoes, and we joined Brick for a jaunt through the backwoods of Mt. Vernon Maine. A trail leaves directly from Lynne and George's backyard that, about 300 yards later, connects to some wonderfully maintained snowmobile trails. These woods rate probably number 2 on my all time list of "most beautiful places in the world" (Acadia is number one, and the Jersey Turnpike is number 3).


Here we are, just departing on our hour long walk. Note the cool Carhartt vest and hat on Amanda. On me, note the Maine guide hat coupled with the throwback UNH rugby jersey. Compute this, sucker! And we have matching Sorell boots . . .how KA-YOOT!!!! Here, Amanda takes a rare shot of Brick looking at something else besides my butt. Kidding. Brick is just checking out the beautiful scenery as we approach a "Jerry bridge." This is a name of a type of simply rigged snowmobile bridge that goes over a small stream or brook. As opposed to a bridge that DOESNT go over something . . .idiot Jared . . .

As you can see, our bridge is about as good at math as I am. On a side note, as an English buff, I'm always amused by the signs you see before bridge crossings that read "Warning: Bridge freezes before roadway." I think this is adorable. The bridge must be shy, and/or have a crush on the roadway. I, often, find myself "frozen" and at a loss for words when I am trying to talk to someone on whom I have a crush . . .
And here's the brave and dauntless Sally Piles, negotiating the rough terrain of the modified wood pallets that make up the bridge. As you read this, Annie Bolger sits on her couch in Taunton, cursing at us out loud, for being stupid enough to cross this bridge, because we could have fallen in to the brook. But I assure you: it was perfectly safe.
Former "Ranger Rick" subscription holder and 4-H enthusiast Amanda explains some fresh deer tracks that lead from the trail deep into the woods. In addition to seeing MANY deer tracks, we also saw both Moose and Eight tracks. I wanted to follow Styx to see where it was going, but it started to get dark . . .

Participation has been low . . .

Usually we get a bunch of comments on this blog, but lately there's been a drought. Where is everyone? Maybe people hate the blog now. Maybe we need an entertainingly controversial topic . . .

What's one thing you would NEVER commit to for a New Year's Resolution?

OR

What is a New Year's Resolution you would make for someone else?

For the first one, I dont think I could ever commit to quitting smoking. Its something that I love, and its something that's a part of me. I love how my clothes smell, and I love the type of breath I have when I talk to people. It increases my charm.

For the second one, I would make a resolution for Amanda to walk every day; it would be healthy for both her and the bean. Plus, I know it would relieve a lot of the fatigue she feels during the day.

Let's see who comments . . . .

Breakfast at Bee's Diner

My friend Eric and I have been meeting for breakfast at Bee's somewhat regularly, and I hope it continues--the food, the setting, and the conversation are great. As you can see, Bee's is a tiny hole-in-the-wall "snack bar" in Winslow Maine; it sits right on the "intersection," if you will, of the Kennebec and Sebasticook rivers. A unique train trestle goes across the back of the restaurant, and, directly across the river, is old Fort Halifax, which I am told is one of the only original, free standing Revolutionary War Forts. Stories resonate throughout the small restaurant, whether from regulars who sit at the counter (I've seen the same guy in the same stool three times now--and I've gone on three separate days/times), or from the folklore of the restaurant itself. For instance, back in 1987, the restaurant you see in the picture was underwater from one of the worst floods Winslow has ever seen; the flood was caused by north woods ice dams jamming up as they made their way South down the Kennebec River. But they lived to tell about it--Bee's, not the chunks of ice. Sorry about the misplaced modifier, even.

Another morsel of "Bee's Lore" is that it was featured in the film "Empire Falls"--the movie based on the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Richard Russo. Scribbled on the counter of the breakfast bar is "I ate here . . .and it was good!--Paul Newman." Did you know that, in addition to making salad dressing, he is also an actor?

The food is "Maine Breakfast Food," and Ortiz seems like he wants to go. Its nothing special, but it tastes really good--from their homemade donuts and baked beans (Beans, by the way, are immensely popular for breakfast in Maine . . .I didnt find this when I lived in Mass.) to their biscuits and sausage gravy (which, by the way, Eric and I wolfed down this morning). Eric, being the internet marketing "mogul" that he is, discussed with me the possibility of launching "jaredgoldsmith.com," and taking this blog "to the street." That's right . . .just like when Kramer protested Kenny Rogers Roasters--he "took it to the street." More to come on this later.

After shoveling snow this morning, and then meeting Eric for breakfast, I took an hour-plus snowshoe trip right from our house. It was a reconnaissance trip--I wanted to see what kind of trails we had back there. It was an amazing walk, and I'll write more about it later . . .Sally wants me to take her around and show her. Happy Friday everyone . . .

"A Patch of Old Snow"

We were definitely spoiled--as far as I can tell. Three major snow storms occurring before Christmas? That's a rarity around here, as far as I know. But, they say, if you dont like the weather in Maine, wait a minute . . .it will change. And it has. Starting last weekend, we have been getting very mild temperatures (it reached 48 degrees one day) that have been melting our beautiful snowy landscape.

For someone like me (or Amanda) who loves the snow, this is such a sad, sad occurrence. I feel at my emotional and spiritual best when it is cold and my world is blanketed in white. People ask me all the time why I like the snow--they say I must snowmobile or downhill ski. I do neither of those things (well . . .I'd love to own a snowmobile . . .but that's for another day's dream). I just like to walk in it. Isnt that funny? I'm perfectly happy to strap on snowshoes, go for a walk, and then return to my wood stoved house. I love how the world slows down when it snows. I love how everything seems so cozy and close when trees and bushes are glazed with white. I love the silence. And I love the smell of snow. So, it follows, that when snow goes away, I get sad.

The melting of snow is, now that I think of it, a more profoundly sad thing than I've ever expected it to be. When you are used to seeing the world a certain way, and then that world changes, its a terrible experience. In my mind, the melting of snow is akin to ending any type of relationship; its a parting of ways, and that never is good . . .for the most part.

The beginnings of relationships are magical, new, fresh, and teeming with excitement. There is so much to DO. We have hopes and dreams and things we NEED to accomplish with one another. We think toward the future. This is new snow.

After new snow falls, starts melting little by little. You may get a rain shower or another snow shower that settles itself on top of your original snow. Layers pile up and become hardened, icy crusts. The new snow, now affected by the next day's sun or wind, removes itself from tree limbs and crevices, from rooftops and car hoods. Its simply not as fresh. Plow trucks and sanders taint the virgin whiteness with their debris--albeit necessary debris (for safety, of course). Just like within the context of a relationship, "the honeymoon is over." Like the snow, we begin to see the hardness and multi-layeredness of who we're with. The "partner" looks less desirable than they originally did. And dirtier.

The breakup comes inevitably. The snow melts. You can't go on like normal, because something has definitely changed. The ending of a relationship is unattractive, messy, and unresolved--like the piles of sand clumped up intermittently on the sides of roads and driveways. Or spotted black banks of crusty snow which, like some innermost feelings and emotions we hold onto, refuse to melt away; they will eventually, but it will happen so subtly that you won't notice, since there is a preoccupation with what is new: spring, greeness, sun. Ice dams drip slowly, constantly, annoyingly from roof valleys, fall onto walkways and dooryards, freeze up once again in black icy puddles, and linger on like yesterday's news. You'll remember that beautiful place though. You'll remember the mystique of what was.

Here's a poem by Robert Frost called "A Patch of Old Snow." Its absolutely a perfect poem for today in Fairfield Maine. And its penned by an absolutely wonderful New England poet whom you all should read . . .

A Patch of Old Snow

There's a patch of old snow in a corner

That I should have guessed

Was a blow-away paper the rain

Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if

Small print overspread it,

The news of a day I've forgotten --

If I ever read it.

Merry Christmas 2007

I will let the pictures do most of the talking, but suffice to say it was a beautiful day at home in Fairfield, and in Mt. Vernon at Lynne and George's. Below, Amanda opens a little music box that plays "deck the halls" while little trains go around in a circle . . . And here's my little backwoods Carrhart girl, complete with her new fleece hat and canvas lined vest. Doesnt she look cute? They go well with flannel pajamas . . .

Soon to be grampy George handling his meat . . .
George crafted a decadent prime rib roast--complete with the bones and all! This was accompanied by mashed potatoes, carrots, green beans, and salad. We have a new Christmas day meal tradition. And its MUCH cheaper than a turkey . . .
George, you shouldnt smile so much!!
And here's Amanda by her parent's tree. We love going over to "springpond," as their house is called. I believe the house was built in the late 1700's. Lots of beauty and lots of character. And characterS. George and I are sames! We both got the LL Bean "Maine Guide Hat" from Amanda--its that quintessential "Maine Hat" made popular by the likes of Elmer Fudd. This is just one of several pictures where Georgeth and I struck a pose.
Where are the pictures of Lynne? Jon? Ensign and Edna? I guess I couldnt be everywhere today. Sorry. Well at least they showed up last night on the blog. It sounds like Dad, Mom, and the Kranthonies had a good day too . . .I think we'll be seeing some of them in a couple of weeks for our big ultrasound in Portland! We'll find out if we are having a Jared or a Charlotte. Merry Christmas

"By the chimney with care . . . "

Its a quarter past eleven on Christmas Eve as I write this quick journal entry before I head to sleep to dream of sugar plum fairies, presents under the tree, and ortiz riding a unicycle down Mass. Ave while holding a pinwheel and blowing bubbles. Such dreams occur when you eat what we ate tonight! Lynne, George, Jon, Edna, and Ensign Walters came over this afternoon to dine with the us for our "traditional" Christmas Eve supper (this is our third Christmas in the house!). This year was a seafood theme, and I started everyone off with clam chowder--recipe courtesy of the Park Plaza Hotel in Boston. It was in a very cool, old cookbook my mom gave me called "Yankee Cooking." Its not as good as "Redsox cooking," but at least this way Belle can enjoy it too.
Here is our "around the table" shot. What a great picture . . .mostly because I'm not in it. This was before the main course of baked stuffed haddock. Cool angle, huh (thats what she . . .)? It looks like I'm hovering above everyone, but really I am just on the staircase. I waited in line for about 40 minutes at Joseph's this morning to get the haddock. When I was in high school, I cooked at two restaurants: Maplewood and Edumunds. Maplewood was awesome. Edmund's needed to crumble into the sewer. But the one thing I took away from Edmund's (besides a strong dislike for Edmund himself) was a terrific recipe for our main course. The picture makes it looked "burnt," but it was not. Some of the secret ingredients included ranch dressing and cream sherry. Oops. I guess the secret is out . . . This is about half of what I cooked
Jon also made green bean casserole and Lynne and George made Ant June's special macaroni and cheese . A great, laid back Christmas Eve supper. Below, Thomas is waiting to be served his piece of fish . . .he has such virtuous patience
After dinner, Jonathan took his traditional after dinner nap on the couch while we cleaned up. Then we viewed "A Christmas Story," which is one of my favorite movies of all time. I know there is some cable station that shows it ad nauseum, but we barely have cable, and last year Sally bought it for me on DVD . . .so I watch it once a year. Jonathan, Lynne, and George have never seen it (until tonight). A heartwarming and funny movie! What a cruel joke mother nature played on us: we had hordes of snow (just like in the movie) leading up until yesterday . . .when all of the sudden it gets to be 70 degrees out, it rains, and half the snow melts. Now it looks like used wet newspapers rolled up on everyone's lawn. Wicked ugly. But I digress. Thomas took a nap with his uncle while everyone watched the movie. I guess all the butter and sherry in the fish really got Thomas wasted, and he crashed . . . Merry Christmas everyone. And I mean that.

Christmas Cookies

Merry Christmas Eve!

As I sit here with my bowl of oatmeal, half of grapefruit and cup of tea, listening to 'A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols' coming live via NPR from King's College in England, I finally have time to reflect on everything that has been leading up to this day and of course to tomorrow. Every year I say that I'm going to get all of my shopping done BEFORE Thanksgiving so that I can actually enjoy the Christmas season for once. Well, if I actually did that, would I really enjoy Christmas MORE than I already do? Wouldn't I miss the 'hustle and bustle' of running out the week before Christmas to get some last minute items? Wouldn't I miss Jared asking, "And just where are you going?" and my reply, "Oh, just somewhere..." and then trying to sneak packages in the house while he's not looking? I probably would. In fact, I definitely would.


I am now completely switching gears. I love baking cookies. I think it might be my favorite thing to do, especially at Christmas. I take a vacation day from work just to stay home and bake cookies for my family and neighbors. This year I was able to bake 5 different types of cookies, including 'spritz cookies' using my Grandmother's antique cookie press (I'm using it in the picture above). My Grandmother and I used to bake spritz cookies every Christmas (and sometimes throughout the year too) and I loved using her cookie press. To my surprise, she gave it to me two Christmases ago. It was seriously the BEST Christmas gift ever.

My favorite cookies to bake, and my specialty, are the Icebox Shortbread.

This year I made three different varieties - lime, cranberry/orange and ginger/lemon. If I thought that it had any chance of being even remotely successful, I would open up a cookie shop. Seriously. I think I would really enjoy just baking cookies all day and having my own little shop somewhere in a downtown or something. I would probably want to find a business partner who has their own baking specialty so that we could go in together.... any takers?

Today my brother, grandparents and parents are coming over for Jared's clam chowder and baked stuffed haddock. Jonathan is bringing green bean casserole and Mom & Dad are making Aunt June's macaroni and cheese. And then of course we have cookies... We'll go to church and then come home and have snacks. Dad will do his annual reading of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' where he'll read literally the ENTIRE book - publishing information, list of 'other books you might enjoy' and everything. Oh, and we can't forget the part where he points out the cat in every picture. It's an annual tradition that was started when Jonathan and I were little.

I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas.

~Amanda

Too busy to write lately!

Boy oh boy this is some Christmas season . . .I'm ashamed that I havent written much lately. But that should change.

Amanda took the day off on Friday for her annual cookie baking extravaganza--she will write more about that later, so I wont go into too much detail. But it was terrific coming home on Friday for two reasons: one, it meant I was on vacation (after a very nervewracking week of school), and two, because my wife was home from work, the house was warm with a wood fire, and the kitchen was redolent with the sweet smells of Christmas cookies. Also, as you can see, she was enmeshed in the wrapping of Christmas presents. I love coming home from work and having Amanda there . . .I wish she could be home all the time--especially when the little Goldsmith arrives. But times are different now; many of our friends share the same concerns that, during this day and age, it is almost financially impossible to only have one income while a "stay at home mom" remains with the kids all day. So why could our parents do it? Were things cheaper back then? I doubt it. Was it school loans, or the absence thereof? I dont know. Maybe our parents all sold blow on the black market. Who knows.

On a lighter note though . . .

I mentioned how I arrived home to the warmth of a wood fire. Well, suffice to say it was a VERY warm wood fire. Our indoor thermometer is a little off (on the low side) so you can clearly see our dining room was a crisp 87 degrees; the stove, combined with a 400 degree oven, completely decimated my household population--both Amanda and Thomas were, by the time I arrived home, rendered incapacitated by heat exhaustion I think. That is all for cookies. Amanda will write later . . . .

Last night I did something that will definitely make my mom upset: I went snowshoeing by moonlight. If you've never walked, at night, in the snow, in the woods, by the glow of the moon, then you are really missing out. It was a spiritual experience to say the least. It was also very arduous, and quite a workout. Some parts of the trail were packed down by snowmobiles already, so that was great. Other parts, the ones less travelled, required that I "break trail." And, with close to two feet of snow in the forest, this was quite the process as I found myself sinking and kicking snow up to my butt constantly. Last night was cloudy, as we are getting some wet weather today, but even so, the glow of the moon through the foggy sky provided a trail on which I could, 90 percent of the time, be "headlamp free." I even had some light snow falling in the woods, which added to the romance of it. Occasionally, I would stop, and listen--to nothing. The woods at night is an eerie place producing now sounds except for two: whining snowmobiles miles away in the distance, and the noise of something moving through the trees (probably a deer I scared away or something). Absolutely pristine snow walking.

Today is a cookie delivery day and a food shopping day. I need to get all the makings for our seafood inspired Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow . . .

Thomas in the garage . . .

Jay Pontius had a great idea: how about a regular segment on the blog featuring Thomas being scared, making funny noises, or doing weird cat crap. Tonight's installment is Thomas in the garage. He sits by the door and BEGS to go out to the garage to "explore." There must be a little mouse family living in there someplace, since he goes crazy to go out there. Only trouble is that once he's out there, he has about as much motivation as a 12th grader in May, and wants to come in. Immediately. He has a favorite piece of oak on which he sits, so he can see into the house, and try to catch our attention. Poor little guy is cold and wants his fire . . . .wah wah wah . . .I only got to sleep for 18 hours today . . .wah wah wah . . .I have unlimited food provided for me . . .wah wah wah . . .

Live from room 77 . . .

So its been so busy this week with Christmas shopping and all that I haven’t had the time to focus on writing new blogs. But it will get better, with more meanderings and other great stuff. I think I am finally done with Sally Piles and her gifts. I thought I'd take a few minutes during lunch to blog from my classroom . . .

No snowday today, even though most thought we would be home. Oh well. Most kids don’t realize that we have to go 184 days anyway, so it’s a win/win situation no matter what . . .we either go in the cold or we go when its 75 degrees.

I take such pleasure, as a teacher, in seeing the little cherub’s faces when it snows; the mind game possibilities are endless. Saying things like “I heard we are going home early” or “Someone told me we have no school tomorrow because of the snow” or “Ask Ms. Clark/Mr.LaChapelle/Mr. Atwood, but I am pretty sure I saw on the computer that we’ll be getting out at 11 today.” These types of rumors circulate faster than Jehovah’s Witness door pamphlets on the week before Easter . . .

Although, it is pretty frustrating when schools around us close (like YORK where SARAH works). Its funny how there are some schools in Maine that we call “the wuss” schools. Erskine Academy and Rumford come to mind . . .I swear, the superintendents must look outside and say to themselves “well . . . .its cloudy today . . . .no school I guess.” Truth be told, the roads were pretty bad, but I’m happy to be here, since it just means we wont go all summer (although I’ll be off anyway, taking care of “the bean).

If you could be one Christmas character, which one would you be?

Frosty would be a bad choice, because people are always messing with you, playing mind games, and threatening you. You have to choose your friends carefully, since the wrong friend would strip you of your hate and you’d be rendered useless. You never get any new clothes by which you can get your mack on, since all you get to wear are old scarves and moldy hats that smell like old aquariums. You have a freakin carrot for a nose. Then there is temperature factor. . . .

Rudolph would stink, because you know the only reason people are being “nice” to you is because they need something. If it is a clear night, I bet Rudolph has no support. But when its foggy, everyone becomes two faced phonies . . .He's too co-dependent; he's being whored out and he doesnt even care!

The Grinch would be an okay choice, except that people would always assume you look the way you look because you smoke ciggy butts, and this isnt true. This might also lead to other false assumptions about you--like you're a pedophile because you live all alone in a cave Just wait til' the Morning Sentinel gets ahold of you! Plus, your long craggly fingers would be in the way of everything: corn on the cob, stroking a pretty girl's hair, and Jenga

The Abominable Snowman? Who’s gonna kiss him on New Year’s Eve?

The Elf from “Rudolph” that wants to be a dentist would be unfavorable as far as I’m concerned. No offense, but who “dreams” of being a dentist? Moreover, who dreams it when you’ve got a pretty sweet deal working for Santa? I bet he doesn’t drink. He goes to the bar with friends, politely smiles at jokes he doesn’t think are funny, and, occasionally, adjusts his turtleneck because he’s too hot.

Santa would be tough, because you’ve got so much to live up to. What if you wanted to change your clothes? Or shave? Or go on the Atkins diet? You think people judge Jennifer Love Hewitt or Crapney Spears for the way THEY look or change their appearance? Imagine the field day they’d have with St. Nick?

I think I’d want to be Charlie Brown, because this way, I, personally, would have to change the least. I already get stressed out about everything, and I already have the mindset that people dislike me. Also, we have the same haircut, and I love sweaters. If I were Charlie Brown, the first thing I’d do is send Snoopy to the pound. He sucks. Man’s best friend? He be frontin’ on Brownie boy all the time—laughing at his shortcomings, exploiting his weaknesses, and encouraging others to make fun of him. I’d be Charlie Brown because he tries to appreciate the small things in life, and I know that if I brought home a tree like he did, Amanda would love it anyway . . .

One week until Christmas . . . .

And my shopping is just about done. I actually have to say I'm excited about the gifts we're giving out to people this year . . .I think each gift suits the individual, which is always good. I am very happy about what I've gotten for Amanda this year; we figure, with the baby coming and all, this is the final year (for a LONG TIME probably) that we'll be able to give good gifts to each other, so we are kind of "going crazy" a little. Its fun to just go into a store, see something you think your wife will like, and then just buy it. I LOVE one of the gifts I got her today . . .I actually wish I could have it. So obviously, that means its not women's underwear. . . . .or is it?

Our menu is set for Christmas Eve (just about) and Amanda has scheduled this Friday for her annual cookie baking symposium. This year for Christmas Eve I'm going to do seafood: clam chowder, baked stuffed haddock, and fried whale. This will be our third Christmas in our house, and I like the tradition that has been started where we host Christmas Eve dinner. Now we've just got to get the Mass. family up to Maine . . .

I love the business of the week leading up to Christmas--all the last minute shopping, the "mystery" involved when Amanda or I just "step out" for a few minutes to pick "something" up, the cooking and food shopping, the crowds, etc. Tonight Amanda is making her delicious truffle dish for her office party tomorrow; she's also making a delicious pickle dip, a recipe given to us by Michelle Clark. Its delicious for pregnant women because its creamy, sweet, sour, and bitter all at the same time

The Roof Rake: A Reflection on Christmas

The forecasters got it wrong when they said it wasn’t supposed to begin snowing until 7 this morning, because when I got up at 5 to use the bathroom and stoke the fire, the world was already one fluffy marshmallow. I drank good coffee while I made sure the fire blazed to its most efficient 500 degrees, and then I closed the air control. Amanda munched on grapefruit, Thomas insisted on going out into the garage, and the DVD player registered “The Nativity Story” in preparation for our morning movie.

I think it’s a fair estimation to say that what I know of the nativity story, as its presented in the Bible, is that of Mary giving birth to baby Jesus, the son of God, somewhere in Bethlehem, somewhere in a manger. Shepards watching over their flocks made haste to visit the new Christ king, and three wise men, inspired by the positioning of the stars, voyaged to the blessed manger to honor this new king. The focus, obviously, is on Jesus—as it should be. But what of Mary . . .and Joseph?

The film was uncomfortable to watch, not for its content (which was beautiful to say the least) but for the way in which it portrayed the adversity faced by Mary and Joseph—two recently married young people engulfed in a controversy stemming from an unrequited arranged marriage, a one year hiatus away from her husband by Mary, and the knowledge that Mary, although forbidden by Jewish law to procreate with her new husband for a year, somehow became “with child” by some sort of “immaculate conception” as she carried the son of God. How many people in the village bought THAT?

Joseph was the epitome of a provider, both standing by and honoring his new wife, despite second guessing her fidelity, as well as arranging the difficulty of a 100 mile journey back to Bethlehem to prepare for Caesar Augustus’ census of all men. Through deserts and craggly mountain tops, to river crossings and cold nights, Joseph provided for his wife and unborn child; he gave up his food for the good of both Mary and the donkey carrying her. A model of a man to behold.

Back to my own, albeit less severe “trial” of the day: the blizzard. I am in NO WAY comparing myself to Joseph, because I don’t think I could ever be one tenth of the man he is, however, he did inspire me to get outside and shovel the driveway. So I’ve got that going for me . . . .

I would say that owning my own home is the most scarily beautiful thing I’ve encountered in my life (remember, I’m still not “technically” a father). Dana told me yesterday that he’d be over to snow blow for us after the storm subsided, but something there was that made me want to shovel. I was happy in the groaning of my back and the stretching of my hamstrings as I, sometimes hopelessly against a raging Arctic wind, threw wet, clumpy snow onto the sides of the driveway. I didn’t mind the pain, if you will, because I felt blessed to be able to feel it the first place; it was the joyous pain of taking care of my own home. And my own family. To feel like you are providing for something greater than yourself is a feeling that, I think, goes beautifully with the Christmas season in which I find myself. I’m a selfish individual—I realize this—but the earnestness to want to be better is a gift in itself.

Enter the roof rake.

Our home is a unique blend of architecture, as far as traditional capes go, mostly for its “A-Frame” dormer on the west side of the building. Creating a beautiful bedroom with angled walls, nooks, and crannies, it also is laden with valleys on the outside that provide a cozy home for settling snow to sleep, freeze, and morph into eventual icicles. A roof rake usually can take care of this problem—if you are quick enough to remove the snow before it compresses into ice.

We live in such a petty world of petty fights and petty disagreements stemming from unnecessary power struggles infused by an ability to always be “right.” How curious that a thirty four dollar roof rake from the “big box orange store” would teach me this. Our roof rake is a blue plastic blade connected to about ten feet of aluminum extension pipes; it teeters and wobbles as you try to position it at just the correct angle on the roof. Snow will collect in roof valleys, melt, freeze, and then melt again. It builds up thicker and thicker with each cold day its ignored and left alone. The ice is easy to dismiss, but, eventually, it will melt again, perhaps this time permeating its way under what we think to be safe flashing, shingles, and siding.

How much like our lives.

I realize how I do this—how we all do this. Its tough to do the right thing, get out there in the world, brave the cold, and confront these petty problems. From apathy and ignorance, we let these things settle, collect, compound. They become frozen feelings, damaged relationships, and half-assed dreams. How pathetic am I—are we—to let this happen.

As I work to clear the snow bank left by the Fairfield public works plow, I stop to rest on the handle of my snow shovel. A gray Chevy carrying its own plow crawls down the street, stops in front of the driveway, backs up slowly, and plows half of the bank into the side of our yard. Just like that. I don’t know this man—I don’t even recognize the truck. But he tips his cap to me as I yell out my great thanks for his help. A simple 30 second job for him, but one that brings me a great respite. I trounce over to the front of the house to grab the roof rake, and I begin to position it precariously up into the valley of the A-Frame. Wind, momentum, and perhaps a little guidance from God himself drive the fine crystals of snow right into my face as I scrape and pull snow down from the rooftop. Immediately, it blushes my face, hardens my nostrils, and encapsulates my eyelashes with ice that makes it hard to keep my eyes open. I am taking care of my home and my family, and I am preventing, perhaps, a greater damage from occurring. It reminds me of Joseph and the pain he endured caring for his Mary. It reminds me of the challenge to be responsible, even in perilous circumstances. It reminds me of the pain I feel from people, and the pain I’ve caused to others. And, most of all, it reminds me that, in fact, there is hope . . .in the most hopeful season of them all.

Merry Christmas.

AN EVENING AT THE BALLET

(The first two pictures are of our ballet ticket and me trying to de-ash the stove and keep Thomas away at the same time. The video is a perfectly good example of using state of the art technology for a wicked stupid reason. Enjoy)

My wonderful wife, whose belly is protruding more and more each day, totally suprised me today by taking me to see The Nutcracker at the Waterville Opera House. The Nutcracker is one of my favorite things in the world, and last year we had such a terrific time seeing it performed by the Bangor Symphony Orchestra and the Robinson Ballet studio, and this year we were bummed because they cancelled it (due to the reconstruction of the performing arts center at UMaine). We look forward to continuing with this tradition next year, but for this year, we saw it performed by the Bossov Ballet Company. All other sports and athletic pursuits are "teams," but for some reasons dancers are a "company." It sounds smarter I guess. Maybe Baby Bails can explain . . .

Anyway, it was a super evening, complete with dinner and everything. Tickets were only 13 bucks a person, and when you compare seeing a live ballet performance in a historic opera house in downtown Waterville to seeing some stupid movie for 9 bucks . . .the choice is pretty clear to me. The Bossov company did a much more "abridged" version of the ballet than Robinson did last year, but nonetheless it was very well done, and very cute. They had dancers young and old, from people in their 50's to kids who were 4 or 5. The little ones played the parts of "cupcakes" for the sugar plum fairies. It gave us a good costume idea for little Jared or Charlotte . . .

It snowed pretty much all day today, although we didnt get as big of a storm as Mass got, where, according to my dad, they sent in the SEALS to do some shoveling--it sounded nasty! We only got about 6 inches in Fairfield, but it has been super windy tonight. I drove home with the mindset that I had to shovel the driveway . . .only to find out that my neighbor Dana had already taken care of it with his snowblower. What a great neighborhood! Dont you think Ortiz and Babs should move up here?

Going to the ballet tonight really got me in the Christmas spirit, although we are both upset that we wont be heading down to Mass this weekend like we originally planned. Sorry Aunt Patty!!! We are bummed, but with the storm Mass just got, and the impending storm starting Saturday afternoon or night, we decided it wasnt worth the risk (and aggrevation) of driving with our little bean in a snowstorm. So hopefully next weekend . . . .

Meanderings 20!!! (If I were president . . .)

These are "demotivational posters"--kind of the opposite of those posters where you see a photo of a bubbling brook in the forest, the word "dedication," and then some lame gobbly-gook underneath it. These are funnier. The first one is from a party at Zeta Psi in Worcester . . .

Hey, this is my 20th Meanderings post! How exciting.

If I were president . . .

Here are some things that would happen if I was in control of this great country of ours.

1. There would be a law prohibiting people driving on one side of the highway from stopping to look at an accident on the other side of the highway. This is called “rubbernecking,” and it is reserved for old people, driving through Yosemite National Park, looking over the shoulder for another glimpse of “half dome.” Unless you are old, wear culottes and blu-blockers, and buy sanka, stop stopping to look at an accident. It creates traffic.

2. When there ARE these interstate highway accidents that tie up traffic, make people late, and ruin people’s lives, I think the person who is at fault (the police report or the insurance companies always name SOMEONE at fault) should be arrested and spend a few weeks in jail. This is “disturbing the peace” at its best, isn’t it? It destroys the peace of my nervous system . . .

3. I would make a law that no longer lets boy bands, with their token bass singer, begin songs with clichéd phrases like “girl, I just can’t live without you” or “baby I miss you since you’ve been gone” or “baby girl . . .can we talk for a minute” right before the actual instrumental music of the song starts.

4. Restaurants can’t advertise or serve “fried cookie dough.” Have you noticed lately that the uncooked cookie “dough” has garnered more popularity lately than its well-done counterpart? This is monumental. Its got to be the first time that a raw version of a famous food is more popular than the cooked version. Its kind of like sushi, only you don’t have to be a snobby butt hole to enjoy it. But back to my point: We were at a restaurant and Kristin ordered “fried cookie dough” for dessert. This is otherwise known as A COOKIE. Its cooked now. It has transcended its doughness.

5. I would make Webster, Rogets, and whoever else publishes a “thesaurus” change the name of “thesaurus” to something that doesn’t suggest that you are buying a dinosaur. Its false advertising. And that is wrong.

6. There is a trend I’ve noticed lately where newly married couples, at their wedding, start dancing to a “pretty” and “nice” song, only to stop 1:34 seconds into it and break into “Humpty Dance” or “You shook me all night long” or some other old standby. This is lame. Its not “unexpected” anymore, thus it isn’t funny. Kristin and Twon did it at their wedding (for the bridal party song), and it was wicked cool because no one had done it yet. But now its all the rage . . pa-leese.

7. Each child born in the United States, from this point on, would be surgically implanted with a small, chip-like device that would record everything they ever do. As they get older, the “files” would be “compressed,” much like MP3s. Patriot Act, schmatriot act I say to all naysayers. The “information” recorded would be completely confidential an inaccessible by the authorities UNLESS the person in question was charged with a crime. This would, in turn, save BILLIONS of dollars annually on our faulty legal system, since all people would be definitively proven guilty or innocent. And hey, if you’ve got nothing to hide, you shouldn’t worry. As Hamlet says to Claudius: “we that have light souls/ it touches us not.”

8. All ILLEGAL aliens would be rounded up and sent back to their respective countries. Why? Look at the adjective describing them. Its really as simple as that.

If women were firewood

I got to talking with my good friend Earl, the school custodian, about how cold its been in recent mornings. He lives in a camp on North Pond, and he, like me, heats with wood only. For some reason, we got to talking about the different types of wood we were burning, and how having it “properly seasoned” makes the world of difference (we both get our wood from the same place, and we are both noticing how much better it is burning this year). Obviously, because I have too much time to think, I started thinking about the characteristics of wood, and how, pretty much, you can classify different people as different types of wood. THEN, because I’m a man (some of the time at least), my thoughts gravitated towards understanding the female psyche. What follows is my feeble attempt to compare types of girls in relationships to the types of woods they represent. NOTE: if you are a girl, you can easily “change” genders around to work for you. Have fun!

Pine: Very easy, hot, and fast. Frankly, a one night stand or a weekend fling. Very intense while it lasts, but it doesn’t last for long. And, furthermore, when its gone, its gone. In addition, its got tons of crap that it can clog your chimney/life with if you keep going back to it . . .lots of baggage if you stick around to get to know it. The kind of relationship one continuously finds in seedy bars . . . .a “pine” girl.

Birch: Birch is beautiful to look at, and it smells great. Like some girls. Also, Birch does give off an intensely hot fire . . .albeit a fast one. With a birch type of person, you can have a fast, hot relationship . . . .but the only problem is that birch isn’t the type of wood that leaves a lot of good coals for your next fire. Once the “fire” is gone, its tough to get it started again. A birch relationship is better than a pine relationship . . .so at least you’ve got that going for you. But, with birch, once the “fire” is over, there’s not much else there, if you catch my drift. I mean, what are you going to “talk” about when the passion subsides?

Elm: Elm is a rare wood to find in Maine. Its also infamous for its inability to be split. An “elm girl” is the type of girl you obsess over for so long, and try so hard to “crack,” only to find out that, once you do crack it, its full of baggage: knots, warps, and disease (Dutch Elm disease anyone?). This is what I always find with elm wood. Furthermore, elm doesn’t burn very well, so even when you do invest all the time in it, trying to get to know it, your investment will not pay back dividends. Not even in the slightest.

Maple: I would say maple girls are the ones most common in relationships that work. Maple is a good all around wood that’s moderately attractive to look at, and burns quite well. You’ve got to season maple though . . .let it go at least a year or so for it to work best. Sure, maple often has its imperfections (knots, twists, etc.) but hey, who doesn’t? But maple is “doable,” and, by that, I mean its not impossible to split and stack. Usually, in fact, its very neat.

Ash: Ash is unique for two reasons: it is absolutely simple to split (its like cutting a birthday cake), and it requires no seasoning in order to burn (you can burn it “green” so to speak). For these reasons, I think “ash girls” are girls to stay away from. Furthermore, I feel bad for “ash girls.” Since ash is so easy to split and requires to work to burn, I see ash girls as girls who have no self confidence, don’t believe in themselves, and don’t hold themselves in very high esteem—they’re too “easy.” I would feel bad burning ash . . .like I was taking advantage of its “qualities,” even though I didn’t really have to work too hard to get them. Catch my drift?

Apple: A rare wood in Maine. Not a lot of it around. Obscure. Arcane. Very thin and very dense. The type of girl you don’t see around very often, but good to find now and then. Apple burns the hottest of any wood . . .but its nearly impossible to find. I have a few pieces in the garage, but I’m saving them. I really don’t know why. An “apple girl” is the girl “not from Maine” who is here for college, vacation, work release, etc. who inspires and awes with her unique view of the world. And then leaves you wondering . . .

Oak: We should all be blessed enough in our lives to find an “oak girl.” Oak is the “Cadillac of wood” in the great state of Maine. Its heavily dense, full of substance, and it burns VERY hot for VERY long. It’s a passionate wood. Its loyal; it leaves glowing coals for your next fire, so you’ll never be stuck alone, with newspaper and kindling, try to dig yourself out of a “cold hole” some freezing January morning. But beware! Don’t disrespect oak, or it will leave you with a firebox full of sweaty wood that wont catch or burn. Oak, unlike the other wood listed, is the hardest to get to work right; you need to invest time in it (two years makes a good seasoned oak). You need to be patient. You need to have faith. You do this, and the oak girl will be yours forever, always keeping you warm—both inside and out.

FROM ALBION TO FAIRFIELD . . .OUR TREE IS TRIMMED

We took a ride to beautifully rural Albion Maine, which is just across the Sebasticook River from Fairfield and Benton, to the Holmes Family Tree Farm, where we cut our very own Christmas tree. After walking down hard packed snowmobile trails through the fields and woodlots, we stumbled across this lonely little guy (or, rather, medium guy) who was with only one other tree in "last year's lot."
Meanwhile, Thomas had asked us to pick out a tree for him and the bean, so this is what I found. We'll put it in Thomas's room, and he has ornaments of pieces of turkey that he'll put on the tree
Today was a beautiful, cold, crisp day to be outside looking for a Christmas tree. Another small storm is supposed to be moving into our region tonight, and, although we'll only pick up an inch or two, hopefully it will "freshen" the landscape. It is a pretty neat feeling to be able to cut down your own Christmas tree and see the transformation from what existed in the woods of Maine . . . .
. . . .to what ends up gracing your home for the holidays
It smells deliciously balsamish in our house, and, as Mike alluded to in his "tree" blog, boxes of ornaments truly create a storyboard of past remembrances, future hopes, and emotional holiday moments from yesteryear. Going through the shabbily wrapped chunks of worn out tissue paper to reveal the ornament nestled inside is like opening a time capsule, and stories emerge about many of the pieces we hang on our tree. Amanda and I are still "new" enough in our lives together that, although our ornaments are "mixed," some of our individual ornaments drive each other crazy. For example, she has this "cat" thing that scares the crap out of me to look at . . . I wont come down in the middle of the night to feed the stove because I fear I'll encounter it staring at me. I, on my end, have a Muhammad Ali ornament my old boxing coach gave me, and Amanda hates that. We play jokes on each other like trying to throw them away, or trying to hang them as close to the trunk of the tree as possible. A good game. I do love Christmas ornaments. Of all types. And, lastly, thank you Mike for a heartfelt comment on our previous entry-we wish the same to you . . . .

Goldsmith Annual Christmas Party

We were graced with wonderful people--both young and old(er) at our annual open house last night. Amanda baked her signature chocolate chip cookies, and I made a crock full of pulled pork. We had lots of great dips, veggie trays, Mandy's chocolate bread, Mel's watergate salad, spinach artichoke dip, Mexican recipes, and good beer and cider. Here are some of the hilights:



Here is Amanda holding young Jaxson Murray Longyear, Zach and Nikki's newest addition. A very handsome little guy, with a very active little body. Amanda already looks like a pro. . . .
Two mummas and one mumma-to-be. Amanda, Ciara, and Nikki. Nikki is holding Aden, Jesse and Ciara's little guy . . .notice how he already has more hair than me . . .and he's barely two weeks old. So I've got that going for me . .. .
The girls chatting it up. Mel, Susan, and Amanda discuss the tremendous array of food prepared by our hosts and guests. Susan is noticeably upset because she drank all of our wine, and there is nothing left for her to do. Just kidding . . . .

Eric and I got one of those civil union things, and we've already adopted. How nice. OR . . . here is a picture of two guys . . .neither which is the father of the baby in question. This point in the night was a milestone for me, since I had been holding Aden for probably a half hour at this point. The milestone being this: it was the first time I successfully took a crying baby and made it "not cry." I accomplished this by dancing with him to the Bee Gees, singing to him, and constantly changing his positions in my arms
Another milestone: my first diaper change! Yes I did it myself, and yes it was a poopiediaper. Zach said I changed like a pro. He said I did such a good job, that now he was going to let me tend the rabbits when we get that place of ours . . . . (English teacher reference . . . .what am I talking about??)

Ruminations of Christmas Traditions

I thought I would post a picture of Amanda's belly at 14 weeks, since she is noticing she is getting a little pouch now. She also swears she has been feeling the bean move around inside her a lot, which is normal because the baby is growing so much.

We are trying to initiate some new Christmas traditions so we can make them mainstays once the bean is here. Amanda has her family traditions, and I have mine. One of the things we used to do is go to midnight mass at Holy Cross. Another would have been my Nana Courtney's annual Christmas party; she had a strict policy on gift giving. As long as you were under the age of 13 (she had a katrillion grandkids) you received two gifts. One was your big present, and the other one . . .well . . .I'll get to it in a minute. If you were over 13, you got a 50 dollar check and your "second present." The "second present" was always my favorite, because, essentially, what she did was wrap up a bunch of random, unrelated stuff like doodle pads, chap stick, wool socks, crayons, glue, candy canes, lifesavers (the ones that came in those "Christmas book thingys," and lacy panties. Just kidding. About the glue.

One of Amanda's favorite family traditions is the annual reading by IT consultant George of "The Night Before Christmas." I dont know if this is more entertaining for George or the kids, but what he does is read the book--the WHOLE book. The publishing info, the ISBN scan code on the cover, the Library of Congress card catalog number, and the list of "other favorites you might enjoy" from the "Golden Press" library list. This usually takes about a good 30 minutes to read a 50 line poem. Good times. The other popular tradition (that I have seen) is how we eat a delicious Christmas dinner and then sport Jonathan goes and naps on the couch while everyone else pitches in and cleans up (wah wah wah . . .).

What are your Christmas traditions? Here is what Amanda and I are continuing/starting as traditions in the Goldsmith house:

* Cutting down our own Christmas tree from a farm in Albion, Maine. (Albion is so rural that they havent even finished plowing the snow from last winter)

* "Doing Hanukkah" (as Amanda calls it). We light the menorah and then go to our own special "wailing wall" and cry because we arent as rich as other Jews we know. Also, its a good way to honor the roots of "my people," as my father is Jewish, and I was brought up to revere, celebrate, and learn about the Jewish holidays. I will pass this on to the bean, who, sadly for him, will only be 25% Jewish at best. Oy vey . . . .

* Reading A CHRISTMAS CAROL out loud together. We start this on the first of the month, and read a chapter a night. This year is special because the bean can hear it, and all the baby-hippie-wanna be experts agree that you should read to your little person whilst they are in the womb. I do great voices, and, usually, Amanda falls asleep. What's extra special is, after finishing the book, watching the movie. One of the dirtiest lines in all black and white cinema exists in this film: When Bob Cratchit splurges and brings home a Christmas goose for dinner, the family sits around the table marveling at the delicious looking bird, and Tiny Tim says in his pre-pubescent voice: "I'd like to stroke it!"

* Watching Amanda's undisputed all time favorite movie A WHITE CHRISTMAS. Each night. Twice.

* Watching "Elf," "Lampoons Christmas Vacation," and "The Nativity Story." These are our favorite Christmas movies. Dont even say "what about Miracle on 30-crap street?" because that movie sucks.

*Making fun of all the ultra lame Hallmark inspired movies that attempt to create false ethos with all the old "emo" people who watch Christmas movies every night of the week. There MUST be some type of formula for naming these pieces of crap, since they all sound like "When Christmas came to Hollow Creek," "Tinsel of the Heart," or "The Smoky Glen miracle." All these lonely people live in the woods in a cabin when all of the sudden some outsider comes into their lives, heals their years of sexual, emotional, and spiritual abuse . . .blah blah blah . . . .

*Elf punting

*Decorating. Amanda is amazing at this. Our decorations are a mixture of the old and new. We love the artist Jim Shore, who has a line of handcarved and handpainted statues called the "Heartwood Creek" line. Maybe when the bean is older, we'll give them to him/her so they can decorate their dorm room at Annapolis. Where daddy couldnt go. Cuz he had cancer.

*Drinking every beer that has "holiday," "seasonal," "winter," or "Christmas" in the title. Well, I do this, and Amanda drives me to burger king after . . . .

JARED'S TOP FIVE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMEN EVER (BESIDES AMANDA)

If you are married or in a serious relationship and don't think quote/unquote "famous" people are wicked attractive, then you are either lying or asexual. I love my wife more than anything, and I think she is the most beautiful person in the world. However, since the chances of meeting any of the following people is nonexistent, it is safe to make this list of the hottest women of all time. Feel free to chide at remarks, or write who YOUR top five are. There will be a male version of this in the coming days.

1. Rosemary Clooney: From "White Christmas." She had grace, elegance, and prestige in her beauty. A wonderful voice and a terrific actress. She lit up the screen as far as I am concerned. Its only too bad that, when she reached 50, she ate her former self three or four times.
2. Allison Krauss: Any girl who can sing to me automatically earns huge points. And she has one of those unique deals where her singing voice is completely different from her speaking voice. Either way, she could either sing or speak the yellow pages to me, and I'd listen like a good boy. Dreamy southern eyes and honest emotions in her songs. A definite top fiver.
3. Neve Campbell: Ever since I was a middle schooler, I've thought Neve Campbell had the most stunning looks as far as actresses go. I dont know what it is. She just looks like "the girl next door." She is, essentially, rather "basic" looking . . .nothing "stands out." I just think that, all around, she has it together. A great actress too. And a dancer.
4.Natascha McElhone: You are probably thinking: who the hell is she? Natascha had a small role in the film "The Truman Show" where she played Truman's "forbidden" love interest. I just think her eyes could cause global warming. I hope she doesnt live in Greenland, even.
5. Campbell Brown: I think news anchors are very attractive for some reason. Maybe its their formalness and professionalism that does it. . . .I dont know. Campbell Brown takes the cake. A terrific smile, tall, and smart. Great personality. NBC was stupid not to hire her for TODAY. Good luck, Campbell!