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It's Canada Day. Go us, we rock.
Off to watch the Canada-Chile match with friends tonight. They're playing at BMO Field (the Big Shake by the Lake), which has proven exceedingly good ground for the home side. Can we hope for a little Canada Day love for our boys? Yes, I think we can.
Hearing "Flower of Scotland" played before the Scotland-Japan match made me cry.
I'm planning to leave my country for a year. I need a Toronto FC scarf. These things are related.
Today, I read two studies of childbirth from the 16th century to the early 20th. I now know that every birth scene in every historical romance I read in high school was done wrong. I'm also nearly through Piracy: Fact and Fiction by Cordingly and Falconer. I'm pretty sure this book represents the sum total of Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio's pre-Pirates of the Caribbean-writing research.
I watched King Arthur Friday night before bed. I tried telling myself that the movie took place in a fictional universe where the Pope actually ruled the Roman Empire (NO!) but that didn't really help with the fact that all the "Sarmatian Knights" - who were probably Irano-Persians - had Medieval French names or screamed Rus as their battle cry some 500 years before Norse and Danish vikings colonized inward from the Baltic and Barents seas. And it really didn't help the agonizing little dagger of blatant ignorance that stabbed my soul every time someone called them "knights," which comes from the Anglo-Saxon word "cnecht" (servant or page reflecting the "knightly" class' rise from the armed servants of local lord, chief or king). There is only so much 'No, WRONG!' a girl can take before her head explodes.
*headdesk* X infinity
Still, Kiera Knightley, Clive Owen, Stellan Skarsgard and Ray Winstone - I've watched worse movies for far less reason. And red wine helps.
Went to see Ocean's 13 with Lady J last night. A very enjoyable film, frothy, light and insubstantial as cotton candy.
Then I came home and watched Doctor Who, "The Last of the Time Lords". The short version: I cried. Then there was cringing (glowy-floaty? No) and finally cheering for Martha Jones, who proves herself a hero in all senses of the word.
Finally, the Scottish under 20 side needs a better goalie.
Off to watch the Canada-Chile match with friends tonight. They're playing at BMO Field (the Big Shake by the Lake), which has proven exceedingly good ground for the home side. Can we hope for a little Canada Day love for our boys? Yes, I think we can.
Hearing "Flower of Scotland" played before the Scotland-Japan match made me cry.
I'm planning to leave my country for a year. I need a Toronto FC scarf. These things are related.
Today, I read two studies of childbirth from the 16th century to the early 20th. I now know that every birth scene in every historical romance I read in high school was done wrong. I'm also nearly through Piracy: Fact and Fiction by Cordingly and Falconer. I'm pretty sure this book represents the sum total of Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio's pre-Pirates of the Caribbean-writing research.
I watched King Arthur Friday night before bed. I tried telling myself that the movie took place in a fictional universe where the Pope actually ruled the Roman Empire (NO!) but that didn't really help with the fact that all the "Sarmatian Knights" - who were probably Irano-Persians - had Medieval French names or screamed Rus as their battle cry some 500 years before Norse and Danish vikings colonized inward from the Baltic and Barents seas. And it really didn't help the agonizing little dagger of blatant ignorance that stabbed my soul every time someone called them "knights," which comes from the Anglo-Saxon word "cnecht" (servant or page reflecting the "knightly" class' rise from the armed servants of local lord, chief or king). There is only so much 'No, WRONG!' a girl can take before her head explodes.
*headdesk* X infinity
Still, Kiera Knightley, Clive Owen, Stellan Skarsgard and Ray Winstone - I've watched worse movies for far less reason. And red wine helps.
Went to see Ocean's 13 with Lady J last night. A very enjoyable film, frothy, light and insubstantial as cotton candy.
Then I came home and watched Doctor Who, "The Last of the Time Lords". The short version: I cried. Then there was cringing (glowy-floaty? No) and finally cheering for Martha Jones, who proves herself a hero in all senses of the word.
Finally, the Scottish under 20 side needs a better goalie.