Well, here we are, here we are, capital, Lydia!

Howdy. I am The Great Fa-so-la-la. I rule the kingdom of Fa-so-la-la land, a smallish territory inside the kingdom of Beehive. When not Fa-so-la-ing, I am either reading (at the moment I am working on A Miscellany of Men, by G. K. Chesterton, the poems of C. S. Lewis, rereading Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, and Reading Between the Lines by Gene Edward Veith) listening to really good music (Nickel Creek, Alison Kraus+Union Station's 'Lonely Runs Both Ways', James Taylor's 'October Road', Mark O'Connor's 'Fanfare for the Volunteer', Fernando Ortega's 'Storm,' the soundtrack to Return of the King) doing school, cleaning this snow globe (the more we shake it, the more stuff falls) or doing stuff with The Shieldmaiden and Spuddy Buddy. I also play piano and mess around with the mountain dulcimer. I like to style myself as the Voice of Reason in The Beehive, but we're not sure if that is truth or wishful thinking. Although it certainly is true that I am not as odd as The Shieldmaiden, and I am not nearly so in love with LOTR, although besides Jane Austen they are my favorite books ever. I HATE COUNTRY MUSIC.

Well, now that you have a vague concept of what it means to be The Great Fa-so-la-la, I will tell you what is up in Fa-so-la-la land today. I have been ruminating on just why it is that I am not fond of the Romantic poets of the 1800's. Why, I ask myself, does Wordsworth drive me up the wall, and why oh why oh why does Keats give me nausea? Am I the victim of a sudden and disturbing mutation in the gene pool? Am I just batty? I mean, come on, these dudes are supposed to be some of the best poets ever! While meditating on these troubling thoughts, I remembered the words of The Great A. A. Milne in the preface to When We Were Very Young--
"At one time (but I have changed my mind now) I thought I was going to write a little Note at the top of each of these poems, in the manner of Mr. Wordsworth, who liked to tell his readers where he was staying, and which of his friends he was walking with, and what he was thinking about, when the idea of writing his poem came to him." HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I could have sworn that I read one of his poems where he tells what he ate for lunch, but one can't be sure. :-) Anyway, it is this that makes the Romantics slightly annoying, I guess-- they are so pompous and so ridiculously earnest at the same time. Just my thoughts.

Well, here goes-- I AM POSTING MY FIRST BLOG! Maybe we should get Lillian Vernon or somebody to make a commemorative plaque. If babies can get My First Doll dolls, why can't I have a trophy or something? :-)