Flapjacks Aren't Just for Lumberjacks

Hello Everybody,

I'm pleased to inform you that I am writing this blog post upon the completion of my first of three papers that are due within the next couple weeks. So this is kind of a pleasant study break for me. I feel like I have a lot to share, however.

First and foremost, I would like to announce my plans for the summer. I GOT MY MELLON GRANT! This means that I'll be in Gettysburg for the majority of the summer working with kids in the Gettysburg High School summer program to establish a pilot curriculum for the writing therapy research I plan to do in the fall. It's fairly complicated, but it's really interesting stuff, so if anyone is interested in hearing more, please send me an email or request en-masse for a a full-fledged blog post. (Yes, I take requests) Unfortunately for me, this grant means that I will not be working at the Edward J. Madden Open Hearts camp in Great Barrington, MA again this summer. My heart and my best wishes go out to David and the rest of the staff that will be returning this summer. It is a place that has had a big impact on who I am and the type of work I want to do in the future.



Another very exciting thing that happened this week was a visit from my friend Rachel, who is currently studying in Copenhagen. She just happened to be in London for the week, and her program just happened to take a trip to see Stonehenge this past Wednesday, and then just happened to stop by Bath for lunch and a tour, so it appeared as if the stars had aligned perfectly. Just as we had planned a few nights earlier, I met Rachel in front of Bath Abbey at 12:30 and we had my version of the classic Bath lunch: a pasty and a flapjack. For a total of about 3 pounds apiece, we purchased lunch and dessert, and that's a great deal! (Now, I have another very important thing to mention about Rachel's visit, but I must first stop to say that I will come back later in this blog post to explain exactly what a "flapjack" is...)

After lunch, Rachel and I strolled casually over to Queen's Square to check out the little gold medal parade that was being held that day, and after that, we headed back to...WAIT!! GOLD MEDAL PARADE!? you think, YOU CAN'T JUST MENTION SOMETHING LIKE THAT LIKE IT'S NO BIG DEAL AND KEEP ON TALKING!...okay, okay, so maybe it was kind of a big deal...I'll explain.

Amy Williams is Britain's first female individual medalist in like a billion years, so when she won the Skeleton event in Vancouver, everyone was quite excited. Just so happens that Amy is from Bath, so we decided to throw her a little coming-home-parade on Wednesday. And so, at about 1:30 people came out of their work places and lined the streets to watch the open-topped bus with the gold medalist and her entourage pass through the streets. I have included a quick video from the second time the bus came around Queen's Square. But the First time (oh, the first time) there were a few sparks flying...let me paint the picture for you:



The bus turns the corner, and there's not a lot of people lining the parade route so Rachel and I are right on the street. I see the gold medal glinting in the...well...it was actually pretty cloudy...Anyway, the bus approaches slowly, majestically, and Amy looks down at me, looking very generic in my jeans and black North Face fleece, AND SHE WINKS! Now, there are some parties who might be so silly as to propose that the breeze was blowing briskly (not balmily, like in the Berkshires) and that small bits of debris were flying. Now, I WILL ADMIT, it is possible that she might have gotten something in here eye (which could explain the strange face she made simultaneously, now that I think about it...), but we're just going to go on the faith of my good looks and magnetism and say that she actually did wink at me. It will make a better story to tell my grandchildren, so humor me, I pray thee.

Now, back to the flapjacks. A flapjack is the functional equivalent of a cross between a rice-krispy treat and a Nature Valley (granola) bar. It is buttery, it is heavy, it is sweet as sweet can be, and it melts in your mouth. I would like to give a shout-out to my grandmother, who tried out a flapjack recipe the other day, and claims that they came out pretty tasty. I'll be the final judge, but the reports that are filtering in seem to indicate a success, so great job Mem!

Finally, I suppose I will paste in a rough version of the poem that I hinted at last week. I haven't had time to edit it, so it's not very good, but I know that some people are expecting it. I guess that's what I get for making promises about future blog posts...It's called The Onion of Thought and was partially inspired by the fact that all of the knives in my house are terribly dull and hard to work with. Don't worry, I still have all 10 fingers. Enjoy:


The Onion of Thought


Working with a dull blade is foolish, they say—
because one slip of the hand, the eyelid, or the steel,
one extra pump of the adrenal gland, will feel

the bloodying of an innocent leek, or worse,
a primrose path that paves itself redly across the board,
dribbling inch by inch through the asparagus sward.

Every thought, an onion, is homicidal; it squats plotting
and naked on the block of wood—“how to slip,” it ponders,
“and escape when the mind’s blade wanders.”

And while the synapses chop and dissect, and the onion
is whittled down to its stump, it sees its chance to strike disaster:
a quarter inch, and the mind will abrade its master.



That's all for now. I will write again when the rest of my papers are finished, so until then, be well.

-The Wandering Wordsmith