Movember has begun!

Edit: Yes I know that the date stamp says it's Oct 31, but I swear it's Nov 1 in Australia. For some reason Google keeps setting my timezone back to the States no matter how many times I change it.

The results of the Movember poll are in: The Earl is the runaway winner! For a while there we thought The Cowboy would take it, but The Earl proved to be a staunch defender, and Ben will be working to grow this bad boy by the end of the month:


Movember is a charity that raises awareness of men's health issues - in particular, depression and prostate and testicular cancer. If you want to pledge your support for this great cause (and for what is sure to be a stunningly redneck 'stache) visit the Movember website and enter the registration number 1580196 to view Ben's profile and make a donation.

Of course we'll be posting weekly updates so you can see how The Earl is progressing - here's Day One to get things kicked off (click for a larger view):

Ben IS a hairy guy, but he missed shaving yesterday. So in the interest of full disclosure, I should state that this is really two days worth of growth (although it was only shaved into a mo about fifteen minutes ago).

What is it with this country?!?

OK I know y'all want a verdict on the puppy name, but I'm going to be a tease and hold out until tomorrow - you know, when I actually meet the little guy and see what his personality is like, and can stop trying to make my brain explode with the indecisiveness of it all. Until then, here's a little something to distract you...

Remember that freakish post I wrote last week about a spider eating a bird? Well, it happened again. And there are more photos, of course.

This is the same type of spider, but a different type of finch. Because I'm sure you're totally focusing ornithology at the moment.

This took place in more or less the same area of the country, which is just one more reason for me never to move to Queensland (between the voracious spiders and the mammoth cane toads, that state seems pretty well overrun with horrible creatures).

Mmm. Breakfast of champions.

The couple who took these photos (in their damn backyard, I might add - reason enough to move? I think so) stated that the spider's meal lasted three days, and it succeeded in devouring the entire bird. Clearly this makes it a far superior backyard bird-eating arachnid to the original spider, who only managed to inject poison into the bird's head before giving up. The loser.

*sigh* At this rate, I'm never going to be able to convince anyone that visiting Australia doesn't automatically equal instant death. Which it doesn't. You know, mostly.

P.S. Laura, your wish is my command. I actually do have another poster or two to showcase...I've just been distracted by all the puppy cuteness lately.

We do!

Edit: Whoops! I'm reposting this because I forgot to add one name to the list!

Well it’s official – we’re adding a new member to our family! After carefully weighing up the pros and cons (yaay for lists and polls!), we decided to go ahead and adopt the puppy. He'll be arriving in Bathurst the day after tomorrow, so now it’s time for the big question: what do we name it?

Since we intend to continue in the long and glorious tradition of dubbing our pets after movie/TV characters, we mulled over names like:
Marty (Back to the Future – this name could have been the pup’s density…I mean his destiny);
Bender (Futurama “you can kiss my shiny metal ass” robot); and
Randy (My Name Is Earl, which coincidentally, is also the source of Ben’s favorite mustache inspiration – clearly we need to raise our aspirations in life)

And then we got down to the short list:

BUSTER

This is probably the front runner for both of us, although I find it a little unfortunate that it’s already such a common pet name, since our inspiration was the hilariously subversive and sadly departed TV show Arrested Development. (Other names we considered from this source were Tobias, George Michael and GOB, which is actually Ben’s favorite – but with the character’s finicky pronunciation “Job” it’s overly biblical when shouted into the back yard.)

CHUCK

Chuck needs no introduction. Chuck counted to infinity – twice. It’s a FACT. Chuck probably isn't a serious contender, but my nerdy side loved the idea too much to completely dismiss it.


FRY

Futurama is quite possibly the best animated show of all time, and Fry is one of the funniest characters (although I think Zapp Brannigan gets all the best lines - or at least the most outrageous ones). The only problem with this name is that it doesn’t lend itself well to the nicknames we tend to give our pets: Jake is Jakey, Elwood is Els, Korben is Korbs, but Fry is…Fry. Problematic?

JACK

Ohhhh Johnny. For your sake, I’ll pretend like the obnoxious sequels to Pirates of the Caribbean never happened. Plus, the pup bears a certain resemblance around the eyes, no? The downside to this name is that my terrier loving in-laws would probably spend the next 10 years making “We have Jack Russells and you have a Jack!” jokes. 10 years is a long time. I really don’t know if I could handle that.

INDIANA

Why not? After all, Indiana was actually the dog's name. My dad used to have a horse with this name though, so it might take some getting used to.

So now, take a good look at this photo for inspiration, and then tell me...

poll by twiigs.com

*The twin Kittehs of Doom, Jake and Elwood, are named for the very cool Blues Brothers, and Korben the Wonder Dog is, of course, Korben Dallas from The Fifth Element.

Do we or don't we?

So here's the deal: we have an Australian Cattle Dog. Loyal, extremely intelligent and very athletic, Korben the Wonder Dog is wonderful and very sweet natured, but we admittedly have trouble keeping him active enough.

Korben the Wonder Dog. El Korbino. Korben McDorben. The Poochbutt.
Can you tell we like making up nicknames for our pets?

He's also quite sociable and clearly gets lonely by himself all day while we're at work, so he could probably do with having a buddy to play with. We've discussed getting a second dog, but haven't really seriously considered it. Until now.

A co-worker is giving away puppies. They're a cross between a Kelpie, which is also a herd dog and similar in nature and temperament to Korben's breed, and a Labrador, which I'm assuming y'all already know about.

And they are a-freaking-dorable.

The cuteness! Adorability overload!

I particularly fell in love with the gold one; I have a bizarre love for golden/brown dogs. No idea why. Probably goes back to watching Annie around 587,421 times as a kid (my first dog was named Sandy - clearly I was an unimaginative fan). The striped pups are beyond cute, but that little golden face just does something to me:

I just want to stare into that little face forever. Ben hopes I'll feel this way about children some day. We shall see.

So here's the thing: I contacted the owner, just to, you know, stick a toe in the water, see what she had to say about the puppy's personality, and so forth. In her reply, she mentioned that she lives two hours away, but coincidentally is going to be in Bathurst this weekend and can bring us the puppy if we decide we'd like to adopt it. Let me repeat: this weekend. Suddenly, this is a decision we need to seriously consider NOW.

I'm really not good at pressure decisions. I'm not exactly what you might call a rash person. I do have bouts of spontaneity, but really I'm a planner. A ponderer. A rational thinker. I like to mull over my options, to play with an idea and carefully to examine it from all angles, to study the pros and cons and finally come to the best decision possible. And that's just deciding what to have for breakfast - so can you imagine how I am with major decisions?

Because to me, adopting another pet is a major decision: a dog will live for 12-14 years, and I want to be sure that getting another one is the right decision not only for us, but also for the dog, which deserves the best home it can get. So in the finest tradition of Thinking types worldwide,* I've made up a list of pros and cons:

Pros

• Korben could definitely use the company, and this is a breed cross that would mesh well with his temperament and energy
  
• Kelpies and Labs are both intelligent and fairly easy to train, so this little crossbreed would probably be relatively quick to catch on to his training
  
• Have I mentioned this little beauty is free? (The only other puppy I've adored was a Cocker Spaniel, which run $800+ for a non-show dog in these parts...and sorry, but I just can't fathom paying that much for a pet)
• This little face just speaks to me:
  

Cons

• This is another high energy, very intelligent dog - while it will definitely be able to keep up with Korben, it will still be a handful at times, especially as a puppy (Kelpies' stamina are legendary)
• It might be relatively easy to train, but it's still going to take a lot of work, and I won't be able to dedicate as much time to training as I could with Korben
• The initial cost of owning a puppy isn't exactly insignificant: vaccinations, neutering and food all add up, especially in the first six months; it's still affordable, but still something to take into consideration

poll by twiigs.com

* Total and utter sidenote: I know the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator gets some flack from critics for lacking convincing validity, but that test scored me so accurately it was scary. ISTJ-ers of the world, unite!

Movember is coming

Before I start, I just have to mention that this morning, Rex Parker of Pop Sensation left a comment on one of my posts. This is like Elvis visiting those freaks who camp out at Graceland. I may print it out and frame it and never wash my monitor again. *swoon* OK. On to the post...

Next week begins a time that I've been dreading for months. A while back, Ben informed me of his intention to participate in Movember. Don't get me wrong - it's a great charity that helps raise awareness of men's health issues (and prostate cancer in particular). But the thing is...I hate mustaches. I have never seen a man with a 'stache that I didn't think would look better clean shaven. I guess I just don't see the point. If you must insist on facial fungus, why not go the whole hog and grow a beard? Ugh.

But Ben has proved quite determined, so since I obviously can't beat 'em, I figured I'd better join the team and help Ben figure out what style to go for.

Classic: The Clark Gable:

Rrrrrow!

Rough 'n' ready - how about The Cowboy?

Nobody works the cowboy 'stache like Sam Elliott.

Or perhaps The Vintage, complete with mutton chop sideburns?

Looks...scratchy.

Go for gold and challenge The World's Longest Mustache?

Sure it's long, but I find it lacking in panache.

This is Ben's favorite. We call it The Earl.

Redneck chic.

Stylistically, it's similar to The Borat, if The Borat had a mild case of mange.

A friend of mine tried to convince Ben to wear a Borat swimsuit for our wedding photos. She is also friends with Frank the Wonder Photog. Frank asked where the swimsuit for the photoshoot was when he first met us. Obviously, I have awesome friends.

The Earl is also the cheap, tawdry, slightly malnourished redneck cousin to The Tom Selleck.

Let's be honest - only Tom can really pull this off.

Oh. My. GOD.

I just visited the official Movember website for the first time. Really I did, right this second. And they have a picture of The Earl on their entry page. I kid you not. Screenshot proof:

Great. Ben will never shut up about this now.

poll by twiigs.com

Aussie Tip #4

Size Matters

Australia is big. Really big. It's about the same size as the continental United States. I'm saying this because it often comes as a shock to visitors, who seem to expect to merrily drive from one destination to another. You can't. I don't care what it looks like on the map.

Not only are attractions in Australia generally quite far apart, but because the country's population is actually fairly small*, long distance transportation here just isn't as accessible as it is in the States. There aren't as many plane flights available, and they're often several hours long, although that's still preferable over bus or train trips, which can take days (I once took a bus from Sydney to Alice Springs and spent 48 hours on board - NOT fun). To get from one attraction to another, you will generally have to fly to the nearest major city, then take a bus/train/car to your ultimate destination, so you can spend a great deal of your vacation time in transit if you're not careful with your planning.

If you want to see the entire country, I strongly recommend allowing not less than four weeks. If you have three weeks, you can see some of the east coast and the Red Centre (you'll probably want to go there since that's where one of Australia's biggest attractions is located). If you only have two weeks, I'd stick to the east coast only, visiting Sydney, Melbourne and the Great Barrier Reef. Any less than two weeks and I would choose a different destination, since you won't be able to spend much time outside of the city - and Australia's stunning natural beauty is by far it's biggest draw card.

* The national population was a bit over 21 million at last count. To put that in perspective, New York City alone has just under 9 million people. The population of the continental United States - which, keep in mind, is roughly the same size as Australia - is just over 303.5 million. England has over 51 million people and is only 1/59th the size of Oz (no that's not a typo: Australia's landmass is over 59 times greater than England's).

Quickies...

Summing up my week...

Shoulder therapy

Hairy man leg =/= me. My machine is a bit larger, and has suction cups to keep it attached to the skin instead of tape. Must be an Aussie thing. Or just a hick town thing. The first time the therapist wheeled this in, I asked him if we were reenacting the Death Machine scene from The Princess Bride. Luckily, he has a sense of humor. (Side note: do NOT search for images with the phrase "suction stimulation." I really should have known better.) The shoulder = me. It doesn't hurt - those marks are just from the suction cups, like big hickeys, and aren't really that red or scary - I increased the contrast due to bad lighting.

Electrical stimulation has been one of the weirdest parts of my physical therapy. For starters, I am extremely ticklish, so having this very light prickling sensation near my left armpit is pretty hard to take! On the upside, my shoulder is finally starting to feel better. On the downside, I still have another two weeks of inactivity to go. *le sigh*

The Private Life of a Masterpiece

See that bottom left piece, Piero della Francesca's Resurrection? The only reason it still exists is because a young British soldier called off the shelling of its hometown of Sansepolcro during WWII - simply because he'd heard it was the greatest painting of all time. Incredible.

This is an incredible series - even if you're not an art lover, this is absolutely enthralling. Each episode focuses on a single piece of art - painting, sculpture, print - and details the impetus behind the work and the influence it has had throughout the years. It might sounds a bit dry, but trust me - it's fascinating. Even Ben was on the edge of his seat when, during war times, the Dutch were desperately trying to protect one of their most precious national treasures.

Low GI Spinach & Ricotta Cannelloni - freaking DELICIOUS

Photo appropriated from taste.com. Mine were gone too quickly for photos.

10.5oz frozen spinach, defrosted and squeezed of excess liquid
14oz reduced fat ricotta cheese
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons pine nuts, toasted (do NOT omit this - they seriously make the dish)
1oz Parmesan cheese, grated
freshly ground black pepper to taste
4 cloves garlic, crushed (my addition, because I'm incapable of cooking without a lot of garlic)
10.5oz pasta sauce
4 fresh lasagna sheets (I used 8 and made skinnier cannelloni - you could also use the ready made cannelloni tubes, but I think those are a PITA to stuff and don't taste as good)

Preheat oven to 180C/350F. Combine ricotta, spinach, nutmeg, pine nuts, pepper, garlic and half the cheese in a bowl - mix well to combine. Lay one sheet of lasagna on a flat surgace and spoon a quarter (or an eighth, if you use extra like me) of the mixture along the long edge of the sheet. Roll to make a long sausage shape and place in a baking pan. Repeat until done, then pour sauce over the cannelloni and sprinkle with the remaining cheese. Bake for 25-30 min. Try not to eat the entire tray in one sitting, or to bite your husband's hand when he reaches toward your plate.

A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian

"Two years after my mother died, my father fell in love with a glamorous blonde Ukrainian divorcee. He was eighty-four and she was thirty-six. She exploded into our lives like a fluffy pink grenade, churning up the murky water, bringing to the surface a sludge of sloughed-off memories, giving the family ghosts a kick up the backside."

This is a wonderfully readable story, although I think all the reviews heralding it as a hilarious novel are inaccurate; although it IS funny and extremely entertaining, it's also at times painful, and at its heart is about family, emotional heritage and the delicacy of relationships.

New couches

Yeeeeeah. No photos. I don't know where the camera is and I'm feeling too lazy to go look for it. I'll take pictures eventually, I promise. In the meantime, here's the manufacturer's photo. Ours are more of a pale coffee color.

They are the most freaking comfortable thing my ass has ever felt. Like a big squishy marshmallow for your butt. I may spend the rest of my life sitting here. Heavenly.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go convince my husband that we should have pizza instead of sandwiches for dinner tonight. I recently discovered that our favorite pizzeria makes a pie with artichoke hearts, sun dried tomato, olive, salami and chunks of cream cheese (give it a chance!), and I fear it may be severely habit forming.

Just for you, Laura

I know how much you love my photos of toilet snakes and Huntsman spiders, so here's a story fresh from the newsroom, just for you.

This is an Australian spider - a Golden Orb Weaver, to be precise - having a nice lunch.

Yes. That is a spider eating a frigging BIRD.

Yes, these photos are completely real - no Photoshopping happening here - wait. What’s that you say, Laura? You want another look?

Dude. That is SO wrong.

Again. Seriously. WRONG.

*faint*

The bird is a Chestnut Breasted Mannikin, a pretty finch that grows to about 4.5 inches in height. Which means that spider is significantly larger than your hand. Your HAND, people!

I officially have a new phobia. And the heebie jeebies.

*A special shout out goes to My Sweet Honey Buns Whom I Will Kill Later Tonight, who thought it would be a fun idea to whack one of these photos in an email and send it to me with no warning. Obviously he’s taken out a secret insurance policy on me and is now trying to benefit by giving me a heart attack.

Dream jobs

By this stage, pretty much everyone knows that I underwent a little mid-20's crisis earlier this year and finally decided what I wanted to be when I grew up. But every once in a while I get an "OMGWTFBBQ when did you change jobs?!" email, so here's a quick rundown of The Story Behind Lisa's Career Choice.

When I was very little, I wanted to be either Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. Obviously, that didn't work out, which I solidly blame on being cursed with the wrong color of hair (aside from Belle, brunettes don't seem to be terribly popular among the Disney princesses).

Mom always told me I could grow up to be anything I wanted, and I guess I took her literally. BTW, if you've never seen them, check out the incredible Dream Portraits that Annie Leibovitz shot for Disney - they are truly extraordinary (click the images for larger views).

As I got older, my aspirations ran the gamut: ballerina, ice skater, horse trainer, chef, illustrator, cartoonist, and finally animator, which was the career I settled on for quite a few years. Midway through a degree in fine art, I started eyeing art conservation or museum curating, both notoriously tight fields that involve waiting until someone dies and then flinging their still-warm corpse from the desk while fighting off the other applicants with a battle axe. And yet although these jobs intrigued me, I wasn't really excited about them.

When we moved interstate, I decided to take the opportunity to reassess what I wanted in a career. And I kept coming back to one job. When I was in college, I worked in my university's library - and I adored it. I've had a lifelong love affair with libraries - the sheer wealth of knowledge, the anal retentive organization, the delicious smell of the books, the significant lack of corpse-flinging... So, I realized that what I really wanted to do was be a librarian. Interestingly, the most common response to that decision has been, "A librarian? Really? Huh. You know - I can see that." I don't know if they really think it suits me, or can just easily imagine me in a scanty twinset and heels.*

Also check out this Naughty Librarian costume. Make sure you zoom in so you get a good look at the skirt, because it rocks.

Like any other job - especially other public sector roles - there are good days and bad days, and the work is often tiring and occasionally injury prone, but it's also enjoyable and fulfilling. I've never doubted my decision for a second.

*I rather suspect this was the motive behind Ben's wholehearted support, since when I excitedly informed him that I wanted to change careers, his eyes began to gleam and the first words out of his mouth were, "Really? A SEXY librarian???"

What I read

Recent reviewing of my handy dandy GoogleAnalytics report* has shown that I have literally tens of readers following my blog. Wheee! So, it's only fair that I mention some of the blogs that I read. Mostly because I read a lot of them. Like...a lot. If it wasn't for GoogleReader (how I worship the benevolent Google overlords for bestowing this wonder upon us!), I'd probably spend half my life going from site to site.

Anyhoo, here are a few of my favorites:

Dilbert.com Blog

Seems weird I know. But not only is Scott Adams a very funny guy, but he's also very intelligent, articulate and thought provoking, and has the rare ability to make you laugh and think at the same time. This might just be my favorite blog.

The Pioneer Woman

OK, so I'm hardly the first person to recommend this. It gets thousands upon thousands of hits a day, but there's a reason for that - Ree's gorgeous photos and quirky entries about life on a ranch are maddeningly addictive!

Pop Sensation

"Looks like you've been behind the barn." If you don't get that, click here (turns out we have more to thank Ed Wood for than just Plan 9 From Outer Space). Actually, click there anyway, because this is one of the funniest sites I've seen in a long time. SUNY Binghamton professor Michael Sharp (aka 'Rex Parker') pithily deconstructs the covers of cheesy pulp novels from the 50's-70's; it's not the first time I've seen this done, but it's certainly the best.

smitten kitchen

*Drool* By my unscientific calculations, there are approximately 652,378,165 foodie blogs out there. This is by far the best one I've ever seen. Not only are the recipes delicious (and actually doable at home!), but the photography is outrageously gorgeous. Obviously, she's a far superior cook to me. Also a far superior photographer. *sigh*

Go Fug Yourself

One of the most hilarious sites I've ever read, it also gets a special mention because I can't subscribe to it in GoogleReader (the photos don't come through, which kind of defeats the purpose) - so it's a clear demonstration of my devotion that I visit this site separately every.single.day. Like the foodie blogs, there are a TON of sites devoted to badly dressed celebs. But I guarantee that you won't find any that are funnier or more addictive than this one.

Cake Wrecks

The polar opposite of smitten kitchen, it covers exactly what it advertises: really, really bad cakes. Some are deformed, some are tasteless, and others are just...wrecks. This gets a genuine laugh (and sometimes a jaw dropped in shock) from me every day.

Freakonomics

Stephen Dubner and Steven Levitt, the authors of the fascinating Freakonomics book, keep the ideas coming with the help of a ton of guest authors - the blog is full of insights and musings about how economics affect and help us interpret the world we live in by looking at issues from a new perspective. It sounds dry, but anyone who has read the book will understand my addiction to this blog (to read book excerpts, click here).

Any recommendations for more blogs to add to my reading list?

*Yes, I check my GA reports. Often. Apparently I'm egotistical and needy that way.

Walking wounded

A couple of days ago, I lifted some books at work and felt a sudden stabbing pain in my left shoulder. Minor strains aren't all that uncommon in a library - in fact, because of the repetitive lifting of heavy books, they're pretty much par for the course. So I went home for a rest and a shoulder massage, and didn't think much about it until the next day, when it was still hurting. A quick trip to the doctor, and the verdict is in: I've torn my rotator cuff. Which feels about as good as it sounds.

The tear is in the supraspinatous, and also in the very top of my bicep tendon (not shown here - it's difficult to find a diagram that includes both of them, since the supraspinatous isn't really visible unless the other muscles are gone).

Luckily for me, the tear quite small - more along the lines of a very bad strain - so no surgery is required. *whew* Plus, since it happened at work, physical therapy and any other bills are all covered.

Not so luckily for me, it means that I can do, oh, nothing with my left arm for the next four weeks. My lifting capabilities are limited to a maximum of 500 grams and thirty degrees in the vertical. 500g is about the equivalent of a pound (think of a tub of butter to understand just how little weight that is), and the degrees, well - put your arm straight out to the side. Now move it halfway down, then down a little further again. That's as high as I'm allowed to go if carrying anything in that hand.

Interestingly, I learned today that it these kind of injuries never return to a perfect state - basically, the fibers have been separated slightly and they won't go back together again, but the empty spaces will be filled with scar tissue (hence the lengthy healing time) and the surrounding muscles will compensate for any loss in strength or movement. Your medical tidbit for the day, folks, and I didn't even pick that one up from Grey's Anatomy or House, which are my two primary sources of medical information - this is how I know that no one ever has Lupus, by the way:

Obviously, all of this is going to be a serious pain in the ass, but I have to be very careful to follow the rules; if I re-injure it now, it would make recovery significantly more difficult and I might end up needing surgery after all. Another incentive is that Ben has to do all the housework for a month, since vacuuming, lifting laundry baskets, and putting away groceries are all no-nos. But happily, filled wine glasses and ice cream sandwiches both weigh less than 500kg.

poll by twiigs.com

Nom nom nom

If there has been one thing I've really missed from the States, it's Carnation ice cream sandwiches.* No lie. Most other foods are available here in some approximation, or imported at some ridiculous price (want a s'more? that pack of graham crackers will be $12, thanks), but ice cream sandwiches...not so much. And I love me some ice cream sandwiches. Love.

I love them so much, Ben took this photo on our honeymoon in Anaheim because it was potentially the highlight of the trip for me. Well that and marrying the love of my life, blah blah blah...

Ah Mickey...your head is so tasty.

Australian ice cream sandwiches are...different. For a start, they don't have the soft black cookie topping, but a chocolate chip version instead. Sounds good in theory (in fact, I think Toll House makes something similar in the States), but it's a hard cookie, and the ice cream is considerably firmer as well - which means when it's frozen, you'll break your teeth if you try to bite right through it. So instead, you have to slobber all over it until it's thawed enough to chew through, which is about as lovely as it sounds. But this week, something miraculous happened:

This is the part where angels start singing.

Australia got ice cream sandwiches. REAL ice cream sandwiches! Soft cookie topping and squishy ice cream and everything!

God. Doesn't this just make you want to take a bite right out of the box? Or maybe that's just me.

I was going to take photos of the actual ice cream sandwiches too, just for posterity. But um...I ate them. All. It's shameful, but true.

Empty.

Still empty.

*sob*

I might need to swing by the store tonight...

*I also miss chorizo, a wide variety of cheese (more on THAT later), cheap strawberries, the crunchy onions you put on green bean casserole, cornbread, big artichokes, black beans, hot sauce and about a bajillion other things. Obviously, home is where the good food is.

Doin' it

Today I did it.

IT.

Today I changed my name after marriage. (What did you think I meant? Pervert.)

It took me a long time to decide what I wanted to do about my name. I liked my maiden name. It served me well for 27 years, and I didn’t see changing legal status as sufficient reason to chuck it away. One concerned soul told me that not taking Ben’s name was an insult, but I figured you can make that argument the other way around as well, since it’s not as though his surname is intrinsically superior (in fact, it’s a common sounding but unusually spelled name, so you could probably argue that in terms of pure usefulness, mine has the upper hand). And I wasn’t going to change it “so I’d have the same name as the children,” as some people gravely recommended, because I think it’s presumptuous to assume that any potential sproglings would automatically take the father’s name in the first place. Personally, I think the name should be passed down from the person who carries them around for nine months and then goes through twelve hours of agonizing labor. But that's just me.*

When I first told Ben that I was uncertain about changing it, he was supportive but a little confused as to why I wouldn’t want to. So I asked him if he’d consider changing his. “Of course not, it’s who I am!” Uh-huh. Then he got it.

So why did I do it? There are a couple reasons. First, I’m not in a profession where surrendering my maiden name would be a potential blow – for those whose reputations rely on name recognition or published research to establish them in their field, a name change could bring considerably more complications. Second – and you may not believe this after everything I’ve written – I do actually like the perceived unity of a joined name between Ben and myself...just not at the expense of the perceived unity to my family.

So, I still didn’t want to give mine up totally. As I said – I like my name. Hyphenation was an obvious solution, but I’ve never liked the way hyphenated names looked. Something about that little dash screams bourgeois to me. Snub me if you like, but that’s how I feel. A common trend right now is to either drop your middle name and use your maiden name in its place, or to reinvent it as a second middle name, but neither of these appealed; I like my middle name too much to discard it (even if it did inspire The Cousins to call me “Roach” in my formative years), and my maiden name didn’t really seem to work as a second middle name – it felt forced and awkward.

And then I saw something that inspired me. Jada Pinkett Smith. Dual surnames, no hyphen. It seems like such a little thing to remove that dash, but visually, it made all the difference in the world (petty, but a degree in Fine Art makes you pretty damn attuned to the visual). Now that I could work with. It retained my original name, gave me the dual unification I was looking for, and got around the pesky hyphen.

Over the last few months, I slowly changed my surname in social settings – on my email, in Facebook (yes, I’m one of THOSE people), introducing myself to people with both names…just sort of waggling a toe in the water and seeing how I liked it. And it was fine. So, today I went to the RTA (Oz’s version of the DMV) and asked to change my name. Thirty minutes later, I was in the car with a new identity. And a new, less flattering photo on my license (how was I supposed to know they would want to take a new picture? the other one is only six months old!).

Yeah, they spell "license" differently here. They also spell aluminum as "aluminium" because they're freaks. We won't even go into the whole issues of adding random U's to words.

Now I just have to call up all the companies I do business with (banks, credit cards, social security, phone, etc.) and then make approximately 35,148 copies of our marriage certificate and my new license to mail out to said companies as proof. *sigh*

*For the interested parties out there: we’ve agreed that our children will have a dual surname, just like me, so I guess Ben will be the odd man out. And no, I don’t think this will cause the little brutes any unnecessary hardship or confusion; in some cultures, multiple surnames are quite common and those children don’t seem to suffer for it. I have faith that our kids will be intelligent enough to cope with five extra letters in their name without suffering a nervous breakdown or going through a lifelong identity crisis.

Back to school

After I graduated from college, I took a trip overseas, fully intending to return to the States to start work on a graduate degree. That was seven years ago.

Traveling, procrastination and about a thousand other things made me put off those plans...until a couple weeks ago, when I finally got off my ass and applied to a graduate program for a Masters of Library Science (yes, you do have to be that educated to actually have the title of "librarian" - hence my current status of a lowly Library Assistant).

Guess what I got in the mail this afternoon.

That's right baby - I'm in!

WOOHOO! The semester starts in February, so expect a lot of freaking out in a few months. Just warning you ahead of time.

When I grow up, I'm gonna be a REAL librarian!

Ahhh, education. In the immortal words of Emil Faber: "Knowledge is good."