Because there are exactly three things:
1. This story about neanderthal DNA reminded me of some highly enjoyable books that everyone should read and I should totally reread soon: The Eyre Affair (and three follow-ups -- apparently the fifth book will be published next year and set around Pride and Prejudice) -- set in an alternate history of England in 1985 where characters can be kidnapped from novels and there is a whole branch of police that deals with literature crimes. Cloning is normal -- people clone dodos and Neanderthals, the latter of whom they then oppress and exploit, in a nice nod to realism. If you enjoy wit, clever literary allusions, silliness and smart, non-cliche characters, you'll enjoy it. Um, if you don't like those things, I don't know what to tell you. Read something else.
2. Last night Jeff and E. and I, with roommates joining later, had a mini "yearbook-party" -- gin was involved. Mostly it just made both Jeff and I feel old. However it also highlighted some seriously ridiculous hair in the 80s, and how, in small towns, that got carried happily right through the 90s without much change. When you've reached the point where you identify the people who've died in your yearbook pages (as both Jeff and I did), I think it's time to put it away and never open it again. Because that number is only going to get higher as you get older.
3. And just so we're all clear: "less" and "amount" refer to noncountable things (like stress or hunger or gin) while "fewer" and "number" refer to countable things (like papers or french fries or bottles). My tutoring student yesterday argued with me about this for a good half hour. You don't say "there were less students in the room." You just don't! I'm not the grammar dictator by any stretch, but if I tell you something AND it's printed in many places in the book, believe it! Apparently I seem very untrustworthy, or perhaps I have a reputation as someone who makes up false grammatical rules just for fun. He already suspects me of doing this with math, though, so I guess it's no surprise. Maybe he's related to my fifth-grade friend Cindy's mom who had a deep and violent distrust of redheads. Seriously, we couldn't be friends anymore after her mom met me and saw my hair.
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1 comment:
that's so sad! I always wanted lots of red hair, just like Anne of Green Gables. I went through a phase where I wanted everyone to call me by my middle name, Ann, and I tried to convince my mom to change it to Ann ... with an E. I think I'm pretty much recovered now. :)
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