Maeby and Her Bunny

A couple months ago we bought Maeby a bag full of stuffed animals from Good Will. Now, you have to understand that, when it comes to stuffed toys, Maeby makes it her mission to unravel and unstuff these poor animals. Their "guts" are usually strewn across the living room floor. Sometimes the carnage is unbelievable... everything from butterflies, monkeys ("Monkey!"), hedgehogs, turtles, reindeer boot skates (don't ask), and Mr. Bear have been disemboweled. After all the stuffing-shed, we finally came to our senses: rather than buying new stuffed toys for $5 each, why not pay that much for a whole bag of future victims from Good Will? Makes much more sense! We did so in late November, and all the unfortunate souls in that bag have since been turned into a shell of their former selves.

Except one... Bunny.

Why Bunny, you ask? Well, frankly, we don't know... Bunny seems as good a candidate as any for the ritual gutting. Yet he has survived because Maeby simply won't tear him to shreds. Sure, she chews on him, plays tug-o'-war with him, whips him around without mercy. But she also carries him around everywhere, sleeps with him, and even knows to bring him to us when we say, "Go get your bunny!" While we call him "Bunny," he was formerly a Peter Rabbit wearing a coat and holding a carrot; he has since been stripped naked and robbed of his one earthly possession. Still, she keeps him by like no other toy she's ever had.

Beth has said on multiple occasions that she'll probably shed tears if/when Bunny goes. I have to agree. There's something very meaningful in this unexplained behavior of our dog. We chalk it up to good parenting.

Nerdy Historian

This past week I finished my first major chapter of the dissertation. No doubt it will come back practically unrecognizable from all the markings (my adviser, Tom Postlewait, is an editor, and a very good one at that), but it feels good to have finished it and sent it away.

I spent a majority of Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday finishing the chapter, and all Friday morning revising it. As I searched and re-searched some of 100+ library books sitting in my office, I found myself slowly taking on the role of historian, and really enjoying it. I even had a few nerdy historian moments: at one point I jumped up out of my chair in victory because of a particular reference I found in a footnote (a footnote!) of a secondary book. Tell me, does this excite you as much as me:

On page 235 of J.T. Grein's biography, written by his wife Alice and edited by George Bernard Shaw, is a footnote referencing playbills from one season (probably early 1900's) of the Committee on German Theatre in London. Isn't that awesome?! They have playbills at the Theatre Museum and the Victoria & Albert Museum in London! Even the best scholars of the period only reference the Committee - they know little else about the plays, directors, actors, or critical reception. Sweet!

Ah... it feels great. Theatre historians have an added challenge, in that they're trying to recreate an event, and a fleeting one, at that. So we find ourselves relying on contemporary accounts (someone's journal, letters), reviews (from newspapers, magazines), or other histories (perhaps someone who lived closer to the event). So when we find little footnotes and casual references, we get excited and start jumping around our offices and when we convey that excitement to others, we usually get a "Oh, well... it's good that someone's researching that."

I like to think of it as unearthing information for future generations. And, well, in order to dig it up... can we say "research trip to London?"

History 180 Edition #2

George Michael Resurfaces!