Valentines Wind Up - Langwidere

I learned to love books by listening to my Mother read to us before bed.

Every night she'd sit us down and open a book. When it was warm we would sit out on the front porch as the shadows lengthened and listen to Mon's voice. In the winter we'd snuggle up under our covers and listen to the rocking chair creak while she brought those wonderful stories to life.

The stories that I remember most clearly were a set of fairy tales from around the world, and the Oz books.

If you haven't had the lovely chance to grow up in the Land of Oz, you should be warned that there are many MANY books about Oz. L. Frank Baum wrote 14 books during his life, then Ruth Plumley Thompson took over. She and several other authors brought the count to 40 books! (Although I only like about 37 of them. I'm soooo particular.)

Mind you, I like the movie musical just fine. Unlike now, as a child I didn't care about literary purity (heh) and so I thought what they'd done to the story was just fine. But now that I'm older... well, I do enjoy the movie and watch it nearly every year at Easter time, but there are some things that just stick in my craw. For example: Glinda.

Who ever decided to turn the grave and kind sorceress of the South into a bubble headed twitter brain?? Ugh!!
This is what Glinda really looks like:



I always wanted to be Glinda. Wise, intelligent and caring.

One of my favorite books in the series is the third, "Ozma of Oz".

In it you meet the clockwork man Tik-Tok, Bellina the talking chicken (for years I thought her name was Belinda, because I'd only heard Mom say it), the wicked and totally scary (at least to an 8 year old) Wheelers and... Princess Langwidere.

Ah, Langwidere. When Mom first brought her to life I was amazed! The very idea captivated me, even as it repelled me.

But why am I talking? I should let you read about her yourself!

"...The maid led them to a richly furnished
drawing-room, lighted with subdued rainbow tints that came in through beautiful stained-glass windows.

"Remain here," she said. "What names shall I give the Princess?"

"I am Dorothy Gale, of Kansas," replied the child; "and this gentleman is a machine named Tiktok, and the yellow hen is my friend Billina."

The little servant bowed and withdrew, going through several passages and mounting two marble stairways before she came to the apartments occupied by her mistress.

Princess Langwidere's sitting-room was paneled with great mirrors, which reached from the ceiling to the floor; also the ceiling was composed of mirrors, and the floor was of polished silver that reflected every object upon it. So when Langwidere sat in her easy chair and played soft melodies upon her mandolin, her form was mirrored hundreds of times, in walls and ceiling and floor, and whichever way the lady turned her head she could see and admire her own features. This she loved to do, and just as the maid entered she was saying to herself:

"This head with the auburn hair and hazel eyes is quite attractive. I must wear it more often than I have done of late, although it may not be the best of my collection."

"You have company, Your Highness," announced the maid, bowing low.

"Who is it?" asked Langwidere, yawning.

"Dorothy Gale of Kansas, Mr. Tiktok and Billina," answered the maid.

"What a queer lot of names!" murmured the Princess, beginning to be a little interested. "What are they like? Is Dorothy Gale of Kansas pretty?"

"She might be called so," the maid replied.

"And is Mr. Tiktok attractive?" continued the Princess.

"That I cannot say, Your Highness. But he seems very bright. Will Your Gracious Highness see them?"

"Oh, I may as well, Nanda. But I am tired admiring this head, and if my visitor has any claim to beauty I must take care that she does not surpass me. So I will go to my cabinet and change to No. 17, which I think is my best appearance. Don't you?"

"Your No. 17 is exceedingly beautiful," answered Nanda, with another bow.

Again the Princess yawned. Then she said:

"Help me to rise."

So the maid assisted her to gain her feet, although Langwidere was the stronger of the two; and then the Princess slowly walked across the silver floor to her cabinet, leaning heavily at every step upon Nanda's arm.

Now I must explain to you that the Princess Langwidere had thirty heads--as many as there are days in the month. But of course she could only wear one of them at a time, because she had but one neck. These heads were kept in what she called her "cabinet," which was a beautiful dressing-room that lay just between Langwidere's sleeping-chamber and the mirrored sitting-room. Each head was in a separate cupboard lined with velvet. The cupboards ran all around the sides of the dressing-room, and had elaborately carved doors with gold numbers on the outside and jeweled-framed mirrors on the inside of them.



When the Princess got out of her crystal bed in the morning she went to her cabinet, opened one of the velvet-lined cupboards, and took the head it contained from its golden shelf. Then, by the aid of the mirror inside the open door, she put on the head--as neat and straight as could be--and afterward called her maids to robe her for the day. She always wore a simple white costume, that suited all the heads. For, being able to change her face whenever she liked, the Princess had no interest in wearing a variety of gowns, as have other ladies who are compelled to wear the same face constantly."*

Isn't that just the most amazing thought?
How would it be, to be not only beautiful, but to be able to chose your beauty to match your mood? Can you imagine what your life would be like?

I see you've seen through to why this is a Valentine's Wind Up post.
Yes, sadly, we live in a society that worships youth and beauty.
If you lack one, but have the other, you are tolerated.
However, if you lack both - woe!

Now tell me, have you ever seen a Valentine that lauded kindness, creativity, wisdom or any worthwhile trait? Not at all. They are either childish jokes or offerings on the altar of beauty.

When I think of Valentine's Day I can't help but think of Princess Langwidere, sad sorry creature that she is.

A bit more of the story is in order, I think.

"When Nanda had supported Langwidere to a position in front of cupboard No. 17, the Princess unlocked the door with her ruby key and after handing head No. 9, which she had been wearing, to the maid, she took No. 17 from its shelf and fitted it to her neck. It had black hair and dark eyes and a lovely pearl-and-white complexion, and when Langwidere wore it she knew she was remarkably beautiful in appearance.

There was only one trouble with No. 17; the temper that went with it (and which was hidden somewhere under the glossy black hair) was fiery, harsh and haughty in the extreme, and it often led the Princess to do unpleasant things which she regretted when she came to wear her other heads."*

Oh dear.

That reminds me of something Tolstoy wrote.

"It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness."
- Leo Tolstoy

Here's wishing you a Valentine's without mirrors, except those that you see in the faces of people whom you have touched.


*Excerpts from "Ozma of Oz" by L. Frank Baum. Chapter 6. Courtesy of the Gutenburg Project.

Valentines Wind Up - Monday

It's now 12:30 am, so that means it's Monday.
Not just any Monday, mind you, the Monday before Valentine's Day.

In the past, this week has been enough to send me, on alternate years, into bouts of righteous indignation (which, as you know, can only be assuaged by liberal applications of chocolate), waves of resentment (ditto the chocolate prescription), puddles of self pity (cured by watching old movies and crying into a pillow - whilst eating chocolate) and, worst of all, that one miserable year when I scraped the bottom of the barrel, sent myself flowers and pretended to the world that they'd actually come from a man.

Pitiful, non?
Oui.

As you might imagine, Valentine's Day is not my favorite time of year.

Please, don't get me wrong! I'm not being covetous here. I have never once wished anyone else into my shoes. Nor am I upset to see the wonderful relationships around me. I'm so pleased that there are those people in the world who have found someone to love. I wish them only the best, believe you me!

However, having the greeting card businesses and the flower businesses and the candy businesses all conspire together against me seems a tad bit unfair.

This week I've decided to post a bit each day to try to slowly draw out the venom (ouch, bad use of idiom). So I'll start with the worst, and hopefully by the time I hit Saturday I'll be smiling. (Although I fear I'll also be eating coma-inducing amounts of chocolate.)

Starting with the worst, then...

"Better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all."

Who in the heck said that, and were they out of their blinking gourd?!?
How incredibly wrong can you be?

I was quite happy in my innocent state, thank you very much.
I was even content in telling myself that all the love birds around me were self-deluded, and "love" did not exist per se, but was a happy fiction of the masses. (Sort of like believing 401K's are a good investment and that you can trust little brothers to hold your ice cream cone and not take a lick.)

Am I happy now that I've experienced love and lost it?
Umm... That would be a distinct NO.

What I wouldn't give for a spot of selective amnesia.
It would truly have been better never to have experienced love at all and remained blissfully ignorant.

So, the saying is poppycock and worse it sets people up for a fall.
Problem is, it's a popular axiom and everyone parrots it to the next generation.

Monday's Valentine's Wind Up resolution?
Stop the madness now! If we all promised to NEVER mention this idiotic idiom again perhaps it will shrivel up and die.

Homework:
For anyone out there who shares my sentiments, I'm planning on a bit of innocent self delusion on Saturday and I invite you to join me. What would your perfect Valentine's Date be?
No, I'm not playing into their hands (retail businesses that is) because other than my chocolate purchase I won't be actually giving them any money. I'll be playing out this little scene only in my head. neener neener.

You too can play! Start your mental preparations now.

She's Famous!!

One of our Quatama Sisters is teetering on the brink of religion-wide fame!

Heidi, we knew you were cool, but how cool is it to be a featured subject of one of the all time funny Mormon blogger's blogs?
OK, so he spelled your moniker wrong, but we can fix that.

Normal Mormon Husband and Runningfan

Everyone run over and take a look!

Spell Check

My sister has the habit of calling over her shoulder while in the middle of a deep and important online discussion in-game (video game that is), and asking me how to spell words.

Usually this happens just when I'm in the middle of something that has my full attention, and when she asks, my brain routinely turns to guacamole. However, being the total-sweetheart-kind-soul that I am (STOP SNICKERING) I'll pull up OneNote or something and do a quick spell check for her.

(I actually used to be a very good speller, before spell check came along. Now I'm lazy, lazy.)

Tonight's episode was just about the final straw for me.

My sister is busy talking to a crowd of elves, sorcerers and pseudo demons.
I am concentrating on tweaking an image in Photoshop, my tongue caught between my teeth.
Suddenly:

Sister: "How do you spell periphery?"

Silence, then the sound of my head hitting the keyboard.

Me, mumbled from the region of the keyboard: "S-I-D-E."

Yup. Just a regular night at the Creaky Cog home.