Battle of the BBC Series

I have been, for a very long time, a fan of BBC movies, especially those based on pre-1950s literature (I would say pre-1900 literature, but that would exclude Horatio Hornblower and early Agatha Christie, which will never do). I've seen the 5-hour version of Pride and Prejudice numerous times (and it IS five hours and not six, as everyone claims—there are six episodes of 50 minutes each), watched both old and new adaptations of Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, and my favourite, Persuasion. I had also eventually branched away from Jane Austen into the Brontë sisters, C. S. Forrester, and Elizabeth Gaskell. I loved them all, with the exception of a few of the later Horation Hornblower episodes. I will be the first to admit that I mostly enjoy the movies. The novels that I've read from the above list have tended to be somewhat dull and I can never get quite as invested in a book that leaves so much to the imagination.

Somehow, though, I had never discovered Charles Dickens. Well, I had seen Oliver! the musical and countless stage performances of A Christmas Carol, and even read a graphic novel of Great Expectations, but my exposure to Dickens was very lacking.

Last week, Elena took Little Dorrit out of the library. I had never even heard of it before, and suddenly there it was; over 450 minutes of miniseries there for the watching, most of it featuring Matthew McFadyen, which is never a bad thing. It was while watching this that I realized why Dickens has his very own adjective. The characters, settings, and plots were so very Dickensian that there was literally no other word to describe them. Every scene at the Circumlocution Office was brimming with satire and scathing judgement on the British civil service. Characters like Flintwinch skulked through narrow, crooked halls in a manner that can only be described as Dickensian, while Andy Serkis played a masterfully creepy Rigaud. In some movies, the side characters are so interesting that one loses sight of the main plot, but with incredible performances in the lead roles of Amy Dorrit and Arthur Clennam, I was riveted almost the entire 7 hours (minus a bit of a slow part in Italy towards the end of the movie). I would recommend Little Dorrit to anyone with either a weekend to kill, a series of boring evenings, or a love of BBC miniseries. I promise that once you start remembering who all the characters are, it gets really good.

The worst thing is, on every BBC production, there are previews for even more tantalizing movies. I've added several to my list, including The Way We Live Now, Bleak House, and Lorna Doone. At this rate, I don't think I'll ever be able to watch them all—every time I discover a new one, there's three more waiting.

Bless you, BBC, for your prolific miniseries making.

The Ultimate Daddy-Daughter Date

My saintly father has six children, the first five of which are girls. For many years he has lived in a female-centric home and has had his own special way of bonding with each of us. For me, I used to love it when both he and I would be excused from cleaning the kitchen after supper to do some sort of fix-it job around the house. Fixing the broken washing machine? Sounds like a job for Super-Dad with his trusty assistant, Little Neen. The highlight of my Saturdays as a little girl was getting to go on errands with Daddy to the now-defunct Beaver Lumber that used to be in the parking lot of Market Mall to pick up nails and screws. I remember being in kindergarten and walking over to my Daddy's office at the Market Mall Professional building a few blocks away from our house to take him his lunch—what's even more surprising was that I seem to remember doing it once or twice on my own . . . either Mum really trusted the traffic on 40th avenue or my memory isn't what it should be.

The best, though, were Daddy-daughter dates. These were the special occasions when Daddy and one of his daughters would have a special outing, just the two of them. This outing might consist of ice cream at Lic's, a canoe ride at Bowness Park, or once when I was really lucky, dinner and a movie. It was always fun to have special time with Daddy.

The few days when Mum and Daddy picked me up from Finland felt like a long Daddy-daughter date, as Mum's health at the time kept her resting in the hotel a fair portion of most days. Daddy and I went for a run down Neitsytpolku to the ocean, went grocery shopping in Espoo for all the Finnish delights I wanted to bring home, and visited a street market in Leppävaara. We explored the tunnels of the old fortress at Suomenlinna and met some of my friends for strawberries at the harbour market. I loved sharing a part of my mission with my Dad—he truly understood how much that place meant to me and how hard it was to leave.

Last weekend, however, was the best Daddy-daughter date of them all. Daddy had lift tickets for the resort at Revelstoke, home to some of the best powder in existence. Originally, the plan was for him, Peter, and me to go, but when Peter bailed at the last minute, the trip became a Daddy-daughter date—the last one before I get married in three weeks.

Over those two days of skiing, we discovered powder up to our knees on almost every run. It was like skiing in a marshmallow. The whole time, we kept shouting to each other that the snow was unbelievable, that this was paradise. We found heavenly little chutes filled with powder and trees spaced just right. When I found myself on a section that seemed to steep for me, Dad coached me through the turn. Even when we got separated on our last run of the day and both lost skis on a 50 degree incline and were lost for over 25 minutes, we had the most incredible time. Well, I was worried to death that he had fallen headfirst into a tree well and he had the ski patrol searching for me, but that's another story—it was all part of the adventure that made this weekend the best Daddy-daughter date ever.

But the one thing that made this ski weekend the best ever wasn't the snow or the perfect hill. It was being there with my Daddy, one last time for us to have an adventure with him while I'm still all his, still his little girl.

graduation

Last Thursday I wrote my last final exam at the University of Calgary. Given my long relationship with said institution, this really is a landmark occasion.

I started at the U of C in fall 2004, as a young, naive engineering student. I was planning to major in civil engineering and use it as my pre-architecture undergraduate degree. That lasted about two weeks, until I realized that I HATED engineering. I was able to transfer into the Faculty of Science, where I was technically a math major but actually a general studies student searching for a new purpose as I took general interest courses for a year. After a brief detour to attempt the Bachelor of Commerce at the Haskayne School of Business, I settled in to a cosy new department, the department of Economics in the Faculty of Social Science. It finally felt like home. I've loved my economics classes and my economics professors all the way through. I've micromanaged my schedule to accommodate classes with my favourite professors, like the amazing Dr. W who taught me Intermediate Microeconomics Level 1, Canadian Public Finance, and Economics of Taxation. I took two classes in a row from the incredible Dr. H, who not only taught me the fascinating intricacies of Industrial Organization and Regulatory Economics, but helped me discover my ideal career path in electrical regulation and find a great summer internship.

I'm really going to miss finding random, out-of-the-way places to study. I still remember the time when I hiked all the way to the top of the 14-story Social Science building for some exercise and then decided that the secret landing at the top, with a door leading to some sort of storage room, was a great place to sit and read Sallust's The Jugurthan War. While taking a summer course, I discovered that if I left for school at the same time as Daddy left for work, we could bike together and I'd have an extra hour before classes to study. I found an unlocked door to the roof of Craigie Hall, where I wiled away that early morning time in the sunshine. The amount of time that I've spent in the study carrels in the library tower is just despicable, but I did discover that the third floor and seventh floor are typically the least crowded.

On the days when I forgot my lunch or was running late, I'd run over to the Institute for a cheap lunch. The frozen burritos, pizza pops, and canned soup were a huge boon to a poor, hungry student. While there, I would do the crossword puzzle or the sudoku from the paper—although, once Jane my crossword buddy was gone, it wasn't quite the same.

There's a lot of memories for me on that campus, and I'll be sad to go. But I'm excited for new things and to discover a whole new world of the workplace, where I will undoubtedly be able to fill my life again with little quirks.

Victory!

My paper is finished! After months of procrastination, I finally got started on it about 2 1/2 weeks ago and have spent time on it a hour here, an hour there. At times I was so excited and motivated about the topic that the paper practically wrote itself. At other times, I would sit staring at my computer screen for half an hour, type four words or so, delete a sentence, then take a break on facebook before repeating the cycle over again. The wonderful thing, though, it that it's done a day early and I can spend tomorrow preparing for my job interview and getting started on my studying for Monday's exam. Only 7 days left!

Engagement Photos

In the middle of all the craziness, Benjamin and I knew we had to get our engagement photos sometime before we sent out our wedding invitations, which we want to get out before Christmas. However, you read the last post—you know how much other stuff I have to get done. Now to understand how busy Benjamin and I are, take the stuff I have to get done, multiply that by 3, and you'll get the basic picture. The added complication is that Benjamin has about five group projects that need to be done this week, so his schedule is not only filled with completing the work, but coordinating his schedule with seventeen other people to plan the projects.

By last week, between our busy schedules and the likewise busy schedule of our photographer, we had already rescheduled twice. We had finally decided on 2 pm this past Saturday when I realized, "Wait a minute! I have a piano recital for my eleven students and their families at the other end of town at 4 pm... how is this going to work?" Our photographer couldn't go any earlier, and I was worried about getting to the church in time to set up. My amazing fiance was able to take some time out of his afternoon to help me get everything ready for the recital, and so we squeezed pictures in at 2 o'clock anyways. They turned out great!

If you have some time and want to see more, they're at http://hopephotography.com/redd/index.html — But be warned, there's over 200 and it might take a while.

Almost There...

Exactly 13 days from right now I will be finished at the U of C. Finished my undergrad. It seems so close... and yet so far. It seems so far because it's only 13 days, but in those 13 days I still have to accomplish:

• One Christmas piano recital for 11 children under the age of 13
• One personal finance exam on mortgages and personal loans
• One finance assignment on risk management and insurance
• One 15-20 page research paper on the roles of economics and policy in determining optimal wind penetration levels
• One job interview
• One energy economics final exam
• One final exam on applications of Excel to economic data management
• One essay on the evolving Senatorial attitude towards imperial successions in 1st century Rome

and one day of work as a dental receptionist.

But if I can only hang in there for 13 more days, I'll be free!

Engaged!

If you haven't heard yet, I guess now the news is out. Benjamin and I are engaged and we're getting married in February! People have been bugging me for the whole story, so here goes.

Benjamin and I met in our singles ward last summer (August 2009) when I had just received a new calling as a Gospel Essentials teacher. He was the Sunday School teacher and had been told to give me a copy of the manual our stake uses. The way he tells it, he asked a friend of mine, Luke, who I was, and Luke said he would point me out. I'm really glad that Luke didn't just take the manual and pass it on to me. Luke pointed me out to Benjamin at the beginning of a Sunday School class, and Benjamin came over to give me the manual just as class was starting, so he took the seat beside me.

I remember him commenting at some point in the lesson something about learning Russian on his mission, so after the lesson was over, I asked him where he had served. He replied that he was in the Donetsk Ukraine Mission, a mission where several of my friends had gone (it's interesting to note here that I asked about an old boyfriend of mine who had served there—turns out that the old boyfriend was Benjamin's trainer). We talked about our respective missions and the difficult languages we had to learn and seemed to have a pretty good connection.

The quality of the connection was confirmed when he called me a little while later and asked if I would go to see "The Importance of Being Earnest" with him at the Pumphouse Theatre the following weekend. We had fun, but the way things were in both our lives that semester, we didn't go on another date for quite some time. I thought of asking him to Preference, but he got asked by another girl and we even ended up being part of the same group date.

During this period of time, we sat together at church most of the time. He liked to sing the hymns in Russian, and I love to bring my Finnish hymnbook to church, so it seemed to make sense that we would sit together and not distract everyone else with our foreign language hymns. I found out later that a lot of people in the ward thought we were dating then—nothing like a singles ward for gossip! I also remember the wife of our bishop repeatedly telling me that I should date him, to which my response was usually, "Maybe. He seems like a nice guy, but I'm not sure how interested I am."

By the time Christmas break rolled around, I was thinking that it would be nice to go on another date with Benjamin, who had turned out to be a good friend. I knew he was planning on a semester abroad in Hong Kong after Christmas, and I would be taking a trip to China and Thailand with my family over the holiday, so when my mum suggested that I propose an evening of Chinese food and comparing trip plans, I decided to go for it. That date ended up being a lot of fun, but he still just felt like a good friend.

When I got back from my trip, he called and invited me in my jet-lagged stupor to go see "Fiddler on the Roof" and eat Hungarian food with him later in the week. I wasn't super coherent due to the jet lag, but apparently I said yes, and we had a great time. At the end of the date, I was starting to think that I wanted to stay in touch with Benjamin while he was away, so I contrived to trade email addresses with him so that I could send him some of the information about my trip that he asked about, like the part of the Great Wall that we visited. We kept in touch for the whole five months that he was gone and I looked forward to his emails.

At the end of June, when Benjamin came home, I was excited to see him but wasn't really sure how things would go—we hadn't seen each other for so long and I was pretty nervous. The first day we saw each other at church, he asked me out on a date, but I was busy with work and visiting teaching every night that week. I was disappointed, but hoped that he wouldn't take it to mean I didn't want to go on a date with him.

When my tutoring fell through on Tuesday night, I decided to call Benjamin and ask if he was still free. I ended up driving to the other end of the city to play board games with him and his cousins. Despite the general exuberance of his cousins (one called me a deceiving vixen when I claimed what he deemed to be "his" route in Ticket to Ride Europe), I had a nice time and decided that I'd be interested in going out with him again.
All through the summer, we met for lunch downtown when he had a day off, we went for walks and other dates on the weekends, and in general had a wonderful time together. By the beginning of August, we had determined that we were interested in dating each other exclusively and had a very happy and fun relationship. About a week after we had starting dating, we were already getting comments on how tall our kids would be (with me at 6'1" and him at 6'6", it's a valid observation).

We had determined that we would be spending the weekend after Thanksgiving down in Cardston for his sister's wedding—I had already met some of his family the weekend before, and I was excited to meet the rest of them, but dreading a tiny bit the inevitable jokes about "You're next" and "So when are you guys getting married?" which we'd already been getting from our friends. Whenever we discussed putting up with the teasing, Benjamin always said, "We just look too happy together, we can't help it!"

The wedding was wonderful and despite the teasing, we managed to stay looking happy. The night before the wedding, we decided to go for a walk around the temple grounds and take some pictures. It was apparently then that Benjamin decided to go ahead with his planned proposal for later in the weekend, despite the fact that the ring hadn't arrived yet.

Sunday morning, Benjamin wanted to go see the sunrise from the temple grounds, so we bundled up, drove over, and waited in the car until a few minutes before the sun came up. We moved to a bench on the corner of the temple grounds and waited for it to come up. It was really cold, so we were snuggled together, trying to stay warm. We watched the sun come up and talked, I can't even really remember what about. I just remember as the sun came right up over the horizon, Benjamin turned to me and said,

"I have a question for you." after which he got off the bench and down on one knee. My reaction, in typical Janine fashion, was to blurt out excitedly, "Are you serious?!?"

After reassuring me that he was, indeed, entirely serious, he asked me to marry him and I said yes. I was so happy! And still am, as a matter of fact. We could hardly wait to go home and call family to tell them the good news.

There you go, the story of Benjamin and me. Sorry it took so long.