i really, really love my little brother. he's serving an LDS mission in Madrid, Spain and he sent me an email the other day saying this: "It is hard to see the beauty (or the shortcomings) of a painting with the nose pressed to the canvas. Similarly with our lives, self-analysis can sometimes be a difficult process... Sometimes the things that we need most, that are the best for our development, are the most bitter." how in the world did this kid get so wise?
Monday, 22 December 2008
Thursday, 18 December 2008
The last week of class I started getting a little laissez-faire in my teaching approach. In that I maybe turned the last week into a motivational seminar on how and why we need to be creative and compassionate people. We talked about how much fun they had writing their final paper (a completely creative work with no structural rules at all--they were terrified of it initially but really liked it at the end) and why they had fun. Some answers: "I'm not used to thinking outside of the box so this was really great." "I spend a lot of time thinking structurally so having complete freedom was refreshing." "Everything I do is research-based. Being able to have the chance to see if I can be creative was really empowering." I challenged them to find ways after the course to be creative in their thinking and actions. The last day of class I gave them each a hand out with my favorite Dave Eggers quote on it (which is also my sort of life motto).
It goes like this: "What matters is that you do good work. What matters is that you produce things that are true and will stand. What matters is that the Flaming Lips's new album is ravishing and I've listened to it a thousand times already, sometimes for days on end, and it enriches me and makes me want to save people. What matters is that it will stand forever, long after any narrow-hearted curmudgeons have forgotten their appearance on goddamn 90210. What matters is not the perception, nor the fashion, not who's up and who's down, but what someone has done and if they meant it. What matters is that you want to see and make and do, on as grand a scale as you want, regardless of what the tiny voices of tiny people say. Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me, and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them. It is a f--kload of work to be open-minded and generous and understanding and forgiving and accepting, but Christ, that is what matters. What matters is saying yes."
I had them read it out loud and then asked, "Well, what do you think about that." There was a pause and then Drew, my most reticent, snarky, lazy, and bright student raised his hand and said, "I freaking like that a lot. Like, a whole lot."
Cold teacher's heart --> grew too big for my chest.
It goes like this: "What matters is that you do good work. What matters is that you produce things that are true and will stand. What matters is that the Flaming Lips's new album is ravishing and I've listened to it a thousand times already, sometimes for days on end, and it enriches me and makes me want to save people. What matters is that it will stand forever, long after any narrow-hearted curmudgeons have forgotten their appearance on goddamn 90210. What matters is not the perception, nor the fashion, not who's up and who's down, but what someone has done and if they meant it. What matters is that you want to see and make and do, on as grand a scale as you want, regardless of what the tiny voices of tiny people say. Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me, and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them. It is a f--kload of work to be open-minded and generous and understanding and forgiving and accepting, but Christ, that is what matters. What matters is saying yes."
I had them read it out loud and then asked, "Well, what do you think about that." There was a pause and then Drew, my most reticent, snarky, lazy, and bright student raised his hand and said, "I freaking like that a lot. Like, a whole lot."
Cold teacher's heart --> grew too big for my chest.
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
proof that school can be seirously awesome (pictures from the happening, which was maybe the best group project i've ever been a part of--pictures totally pirated from sarah's dapper blog):
sarah doing a sommersault in the middle of class (and over the hopskotch court another friend drew on the ground):
sarah doing a sommersault in the middle of class (and over the hopskotch court another friend drew on the ground):
Thursday, 11 December 2008
6. had students write one-line biographies about themselves. cried all the way to my car reading them because they are kind, loyal, trustwrothy, and overall decent people.
The man who was curious, helpful, and respectful.
The man who loved to cook for his family.
The man who cared for others.
The man who was loyal and loved his friends and family.
The man who was thoughtful, compassionate, and loved his family.
The man who treated everyone with respect and dignity.
The man who loved animals.
The woman who loved everything about life.
The woman who loved love, family, friends, art, respect, and trust.
The woman who painted for herself.
The woman who smiled at strangers.
The woman who loved dreaming.
the thing that stuck me the most was how kind and generous they were to themselves. i think that is a very hard thing to do but when it does happen, it displays a sort of larger trust in humanity and the ability of people to be kind and good.
The man who was curious, helpful, and respectful.
The man who loved to cook for his family.
The man who cared for others.
The man who was loyal and loved his friends and family.
The man who was thoughtful, compassionate, and loved his family.
The man who treated everyone with respect and dignity.
The man who loved animals.
The woman who loved everything about life.
The woman who loved love, family, friends, art, respect, and trust.
The woman who painted for herself.
The woman who smiled at strangers.
The woman who loved dreaming.
the thing that stuck me the most was how kind and generous they were to themselves. i think that is a very hard thing to do but when it does happen, it displays a sort of larger trust in humanity and the ability of people to be kind and good.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
*of the cold: i am making progress. i know that because i walked outside and thought, "oh this isn't so bad...it's actually kind of nice out." then saw that it was 26 degrees out.
1. 4 hours of sleep. upon waking, edited grad school/law school apps for friends, agreed to edit a few more. wrote letters of recommendation for students.
2. scrapped ALL THREE of my potential workshop essays (which i labored over for many moons, or at least a few weeks) at last minute because none of them were all that great. wrote entire new essay complete with semaphore images. not as intellectually interesting, but it looks fun and that's really all that matters in the long run, right?
3. wrote 15 page research paper for new digital media class. decided i hated said 15 page research paper. stopped myself from deleting 15 pages but wrote new, 19 page research paper, complete with 6 original T9 (text on nine keys) procedural poems. liked the paper very much, despite the many, many spelling errors and one floating half sentence that i forgot to delete from a vagrant copy/paste fiasco. and the two sorces i forgot to put on my works cited list.
4. helped orrganize, execute, and participate in ridiculously awesome hack the class happening. was utterly delighted when full grown adults donned thier corndog, fish, and lobster (yes, these are my friends in iowa, bless their hearts!) costumes and hopskotched down the middle of my classroom. played pit, made PB&J sandwiches, and drank avocado smoothies. was blown away by steve's project because he somehow made the bluetooth tech in his wii controler able to turn the overhead projector screen into a touch screen where he could move, click, enlarge, etc. images on screen without touching the mouse.
5. derailed my class from serious discussion by asking them if they knew what "bob's my uncle" and nose touching meant to them (thanks sarah--i was so close to using "NOT!" still have friday...) they laughed a lot, which was good because afterwards we had a really, really marvelous discussion about why reading and writing and telling stories is important, why human connections and striving to establish human connections is even better, and why they should all be patrons of the arts when they get rich off of their fancy economics degrees. we also talked about why love is so great, and why people need each other, and how at the bottom of everything people just want to be kind, loyal, trustworthy, and overall decent.
6. had students write one-line biographies about themselves. cried all the way to my car reading them because they are kind, loyal, trustwrothy, and overall decent people.
7. on that same walk to my car came to the realization that 4 hours of sleep, four botched and tossed papers, and the permanent cramp in my neck are all entirely worth it.
8. bought all the supplies for branch christmas party in a fit of delerious productivity.
9. came home, collapsed on my bed, and vowed not to move until morning.
10. SHOUTED FOR JOY BECAUSE I AM ESSENTIALLY DONE FOR THE SEMESTER!!!! (minus one last teaching session, grading final papers, giving final exam, etc.)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1. 4 hours of sleep. upon waking, edited grad school/law school apps for friends, agreed to edit a few more. wrote letters of recommendation for students.
2. scrapped ALL THREE of my potential workshop essays (which i labored over for many moons, or at least a few weeks) at last minute because none of them were all that great. wrote entire new essay complete with semaphore images. not as intellectually interesting, but it looks fun and that's really all that matters in the long run, right?
3. wrote 15 page research paper for new digital media class. decided i hated said 15 page research paper. stopped myself from deleting 15 pages but wrote new, 19 page research paper, complete with 6 original T9 (text on nine keys) procedural poems. liked the paper very much, despite the many, many spelling errors and one floating half sentence that i forgot to delete from a vagrant copy/paste fiasco. and the two sorces i forgot to put on my works cited list.
4. helped orrganize, execute, and participate in ridiculously awesome hack the class happening. was utterly delighted when full grown adults donned thier corndog, fish, and lobster (yes, these are my friends in iowa, bless their hearts!) costumes and hopskotched down the middle of my classroom. played pit, made PB&J sandwiches, and drank avocado smoothies. was blown away by steve's project because he somehow made the bluetooth tech in his wii controler able to turn the overhead projector screen into a touch screen where he could move, click, enlarge, etc. images on screen without touching the mouse.
5. derailed my class from serious discussion by asking them if they knew what "bob's my uncle" and nose touching meant to them (thanks sarah--i was so close to using "NOT!" still have friday...) they laughed a lot, which was good because afterwards we had a really, really marvelous discussion about why reading and writing and telling stories is important, why human connections and striving to establish human connections is even better, and why they should all be patrons of the arts when they get rich off of their fancy economics degrees. we also talked about why love is so great, and why people need each other, and how at the bottom of everything people just want to be kind, loyal, trustworthy, and overall decent.
6. had students write one-line biographies about themselves. cried all the way to my car reading them because they are kind, loyal, trustwrothy, and overall decent people.
7. on that same walk to my car came to the realization that 4 hours of sleep, four botched and tossed papers, and the permanent cramp in my neck are all entirely worth it.
8. bought all the supplies for branch christmas party in a fit of delerious productivity.
9. came home, collapsed on my bed, and vowed not to move until morning.
10. SHOUTED FOR JOY BECAUSE I AM ESSENTIALLY DONE FOR THE SEMESTER!!!! (minus one last teaching session, grading final papers, giving final exam, etc.)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, 8 December 2008
Explanation (shamelessly piratedfromJohnsblog)
The Real Meaning of Paper Airplanes:
"In an effort to completely unify my life into one amalgamous blob of artistic endeavor I am inviting people from all my classes to participate in one of my other classes at an event known as HACK•A•CLASS. What we are asking, is for people to show up and perform that which they feel like showing up and performing in a classroom setting with as many other people performing at the same time as well. It should be crowded, awkward, and entertaining. I am asking people to not break things if at all possible. I'm wondering if anyone wants to participate in a staged flash mob pillow fight? The details of this event are becoming clearer and any interested body is welcome to approach me with their energy in regards to this information."
When: Wednesday, December 10 @ 9:30 a.m.
Where: Adler Journalism Building, Room 146, University of Iowa
Bring: Anything that you can make/play/eat/unmake (finally a space to play your kazoo, wave pom poms, wear glitter and feathers, or whatever else makes turns your art on)
The Real Meaning of Paper Airplanes:
"In an effort to completely unify my life into one amalgamous blob of artistic endeavor I am inviting people from all my classes to participate in one of my other classes at an event known as HACK•A•CLASS. What we are asking, is for people to show up and perform that which they feel like showing up and performing in a classroom setting with as many other people performing at the same time as well. It should be crowded, awkward, and entertaining. I am asking people to not break things if at all possible. I'm wondering if anyone wants to participate in a staged flash mob pillow fight? The details of this event are becoming clearer and any interested body is welcome to approach me with their energy in regards to this information."
When: Wednesday, December 10 @ 9:30 a.m.
Where: Adler Journalism Building, Room 146, University of Iowa
Bring: Anything that you can make/play/eat/unmake (finally a space to play your kazoo, wave pom poms, wear glitter and feathers, or whatever else makes turns your art on)
Saturday, 6 December 2008
literally. i watched this and thought, "this can't be possible. but it IS."
courtesy sir luke and megan
courtesy sir luke and megan
kevin kelly has a lot of really interesting things to say in his wired article of the internet's genesis--what was expected and what actually happened. here are two things that stuck out to me:
1.The scope of the Web today is hard to fathom. The total number of Web pages, including those that are dynamically created upon request and document files available through links, exceeds 600 billion. That's 100�pages per person alive.
How could we create so much, so fast, so well? In fewer than 4,000 days, we have encoded half a trillion versions of our collective story and put them in front of 1 billion people, or one-sixth of the world's population. That remarkable achievement was not in anyone's 10-year plan.
2. No Web phenomenon is more confounding than blogging. Everything media experts knew about audiences - and they knew a lot - confirmed the focus group belief that audiences would never get off their butts and start making their own entertainment. Everyone knew writing and reading were dead; music was too much trouble to make when you could sit back and listen; video production was simply out of reach of amateurs. Blogs and other participant media would never happen, or if they happened they would not draw an audience, or if they drew an audience they would not matter. What a shock, then, to witness the near-instantaneous rise of 50�million blogs, with a new one appearing every two seconds. There - another new blog! One more person doing what AOL and ABC - and almost everyone else - expected only AOL and ABC to be doing. These user-created channels make no sense economically. Where are the time, energy, and resources coming from?
The audience.
1.The scope of the Web today is hard to fathom. The total number of Web pages, including those that are dynamically created upon request and document files available through links, exceeds 600 billion. That's 100�pages per person alive.
How could we create so much, so fast, so well? In fewer than 4,000 days, we have encoded half a trillion versions of our collective story and put them in front of 1 billion people, or one-sixth of the world's population. That remarkable achievement was not in anyone's 10-year plan.
2. No Web phenomenon is more confounding than blogging. Everything media experts knew about audiences - and they knew a lot - confirmed the focus group belief that audiences would never get off their butts and start making their own entertainment. Everyone knew writing and reading were dead; music was too much trouble to make when you could sit back and listen; video production was simply out of reach of amateurs. Blogs and other participant media would never happen, or if they happened they would not draw an audience, or if they drew an audience they would not matter. What a shock, then, to witness the near-instantaneous rise of 50�million blogs, with a new one appearing every two seconds. There - another new blog! One more person doing what AOL and ABC - and almost everyone else - expected only AOL and ABC to be doing. These user-created channels make no sense economically. Where are the time, energy, and resources coming from?
The audience.
Thursday, 4 December 2008
If the weather is fine on a Saturday afternoon when a gal should really be doing homework, said gal and pal should go get icecream in a town thirty minutes east of the homework assignment. There is absolutely no way to prepare for the awesomeness known as Wilton, IA (pop. 2,829). Wilton's own official website tried to but this is the best it could come up with: "Three miles south of Interstate 80, ideally located at the junction of Highways 927 and 38, Wilton is within easy driving distance of Muscatine, the Quad Cities and Iowa City." And don't forget the Wiilton Welcome sign, which claims that Wilton is "Ready for Tomorrow" with lots of gusto and exclamation marks. What about today, Wilton? What I mean to say is that these are simply fine ways of saying that Wilton is in the middle of nowhere.
Besides being in the middle of nowhere, Wilton is also home of the Candy Kitchen--the nation's longest running soda fountain/sweet shop:
The Candy Kitchen is run by Wilton's own Thelma and George:
These dear folks have owned the soda shop for over 30 years. Thelma even wrote a book about the shop so that it could be granted the status of "historic site." Plus, as the framed photos scrunched on a patch of wall attest to, Brooke Shields and Gregory Peck ate there. That's historic site enough for me.
Kendra and I sat at the counter in red vinyl swivel stools. I looked to my left to see a little girl wearing a tiara and sequined scarf. She kind of nodded to me and we both turned back to face the menu, my full grown legs dangling right along with her pint sized ones. I hate to admit it, but I really wanted a tiara right then. But my spirits rose again when George served us our Dipsy Doodles and Odd Ball sodas (one included just the red flavors and soda water--and it was excellent). We watched as Thelma pulled out a bag of Wonder Bread and a tub of margarine, which she used to grease up two slices. Between the slices she placed some ham and cheese then popped the sandwich in a press grill. We were basically at Grandma's house.
But the true piece de resistance was George's famous banana split, which he claimed his grandfather had invented some years ago when the shop was given too many bananas. About three other towns vie for the title of "Home of the Banana Split" but looking into George's cheery face I wanted so badly to believe that its home was Wilton. George assembled our split with the greatest of care: gently placing perfect sized mounds of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate icecream into the glass split bowl, then drizzling each individual scoop with a different flavor of syrup--marshmallow, fudge, and caramel. Then he sprinkled the nuts and sprinkles on it. He did not scrimp on either. Then he placed generous dollops of whipped cream and, on each crest, a maraschino cherry. Finally--as if it couldn't get better--George reached below the counter and pulled out a small plastic ziplock. He had a sly smile on as he pulled out the treasure from within. With a slight flourish he crowned the top most mound of whipped cream with (and I kid you not) an American Flag toothpick:
Kendra and I looked at each other, our eyes saying that inside we were clapping our hands together in glee.
If you should be in the area come Sunday December 7, you will be rewarded. Not only can you visit the Candy Kitchen, but you can attend the annual Christmas Parade:
Besides being in the middle of nowhere, Wilton is also home of the Candy Kitchen--the nation's longest running soda fountain/sweet shop:
The Candy Kitchen is run by Wilton's own Thelma and George:
These dear folks have owned the soda shop for over 30 years. Thelma even wrote a book about the shop so that it could be granted the status of "historic site." Plus, as the framed photos scrunched on a patch of wall attest to, Brooke Shields and Gregory Peck ate there. That's historic site enough for me.
Kendra and I sat at the counter in red vinyl swivel stools. I looked to my left to see a little girl wearing a tiara and sequined scarf. She kind of nodded to me and we both turned back to face the menu, my full grown legs dangling right along with her pint sized ones. I hate to admit it, but I really wanted a tiara right then. But my spirits rose again when George served us our Dipsy Doodles and Odd Ball sodas (one included just the red flavors and soda water--and it was excellent). We watched as Thelma pulled out a bag of Wonder Bread and a tub of margarine, which she used to grease up two slices. Between the slices she placed some ham and cheese then popped the sandwich in a press grill. We were basically at Grandma's house.
But the true piece de resistance was George's famous banana split, which he claimed his grandfather had invented some years ago when the shop was given too many bananas. About three other towns vie for the title of "Home of the Banana Split" but looking into George's cheery face I wanted so badly to believe that its home was Wilton. George assembled our split with the greatest of care: gently placing perfect sized mounds of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate icecream into the glass split bowl, then drizzling each individual scoop with a different flavor of syrup--marshmallow, fudge, and caramel. Then he sprinkled the nuts and sprinkles on it. He did not scrimp on either. Then he placed generous dollops of whipped cream and, on each crest, a maraschino cherry. Finally--as if it couldn't get better--George reached below the counter and pulled out a small plastic ziplock. He had a sly smile on as he pulled out the treasure from within. With a slight flourish he crowned the top most mound of whipped cream with (and I kid you not) an American Flag toothpick:
Kendra and I looked at each other, our eyes saying that inside we were clapping our hands together in glee.
If you should be in the area come Sunday December 7, you will be rewarded. Not only can you visit the Candy Kitchen, but you can attend the annual Christmas Parade:
"A WILTON BEAVER CHRISTMAS" is the theme this year. Santa and Mrs. Claus's arrival is going to be a Christmas Parade starting at 5 p.m. The parade route will start at the Wilton Post Office on Fourth St, and will end at the former Campbell Chiropractic office (121 W. 4th St.), where Santa will visit with the children in the Community until 6:30 p.m. Santa would love to see crowded streets for his Grand Entrance. So let's all show up to welcome Santa!
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
(this is a repost from transpacific)
I have been thinking a lot about reading--or my lack of reading, which is not entirely true since I read quite a bit--I suppose maybe my lack of reading things that grip me, that make me want to stand up and shout, "This is what it's all about!" But there is one short story that I read a few months ago that moved me entirely: Nam Le's "Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice." The title comes from Faulkner's Nobel Prize acceptance speech, which goes like this:
Now, I am not entirely in love with Faulkner but there are moments when I am. Like now. Sometimes it is fully worth it to feel a bit heroic about poetry and literature.
I have been thinking a lot about reading--or my lack of reading, which is not entirely true since I read quite a bit--I suppose maybe my lack of reading things that grip me, that make me want to stand up and shout, "This is what it's all about!" But there is one short story that I read a few months ago that moved me entirely: Nam Le's "Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice." The title comes from Faulkner's Nobel Prize acceptance speech, which goes like this:
Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only one question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid: and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed--love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, and victories without hope and worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.
Until he learns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
Now, I am not entirely in love with Faulkner but there are moments when I am. Like now. Sometimes it is fully worth it to feel a bit heroic about poetry and literature.
*Hear Le talk about his book here (start at 29:00). He has a great Australian accent, so that doesn't hurt at all :)
Monday, 1 December 2008
two things:
1. i forgot to mention that i got slightly snowed-in in laramie, wy. my friend kendra suggested that it might be "romantic" and then proceeded to paint a scene including a rustic cabin, a roaring fire, and a good man. to which i asked her, "wasn't that a scene from white christmas?" which it is, basically, the one with the sandwiches and the fireplace. but it reminded me of this:
which is a) amazing and b) reminds me always of my cousins because we watched this maybe 100,000 times on this cruise once. note: being nearly snowed-in in laramie, wy = not so romantic.
2. on november first i was driving home from somewhere and my friend dan pulled up next to me motioning wildly for me to roll down the window. you know the motion: closed fist going in rapid circles and an occassional index finger pointing down. so i rolled down my window and he yelled, "turn on the radio!" sure enough, the dulcet sounds of the greatest diva of all floated out. and now that it is finally december first, with real live white cold snow covering everything in sight, i feel totally legit to post the sappiest, jangliest, most awesome song ever:
oh christmas, how i love you.
1. i forgot to mention that i got slightly snowed-in in laramie, wy. my friend kendra suggested that it might be "romantic" and then proceeded to paint a scene including a rustic cabin, a roaring fire, and a good man. to which i asked her, "wasn't that a scene from white christmas?" which it is, basically, the one with the sandwiches and the fireplace. but it reminded me of this:
which is a) amazing and b) reminds me always of my cousins because we watched this maybe 100,000 times on this cruise once. note: being nearly snowed-in in laramie, wy = not so romantic.
2. on november first i was driving home from somewhere and my friend dan pulled up next to me motioning wildly for me to roll down the window. you know the motion: closed fist going in rapid circles and an occassional index finger pointing down. so i rolled down my window and he yelled, "turn on the radio!" sure enough, the dulcet sounds of the greatest diva of all floated out. and now that it is finally december first, with real live white cold snow covering everything in sight, i feel totally legit to post the sappiest, jangliest, most awesome song ever:
oh christmas, how i love you.
i came late in life to my love of the narwhal. here is the reason why:
and this:
i mean, excuse me? most adorable thing in the world! and for only $750 (once you get to china that is) you too can play with a baby panda. i'm not saying that this might be one of my dreams in life, but it is.
anyway, moral of the story. i think all of my dreams just came true with this panda frying pan:
and this:
i mean, excuse me? most adorable thing in the world! and for only $750 (once you get to china that is) you too can play with a baby panda. i'm not saying that this might be one of my dreams in life, but it is.
anyway, moral of the story. i think all of my dreams just came true with this panda frying pan:
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