The showdown

So, as I mentioned, Jay won big against the cockroach invaders last night. A few weeks ago, he surveyed the swarming masses circling our humble abode and remarked to me, "I wish I had a blow torch." I considered this comment for a few moments before replying. "Hmmm. How about hairspray and a lighter?"

Well, last night, Jay decided to act on this brilliant suggestion. The carnage was impressive. With young'ns being 1 point each, adults being 5, and breeding females being 20 points, Jay calculates a score of 1020 for the evening. He may have to rest tonight, because he gave himself enormous blisters by striking the safety lighter over and over again.

Watch out little roachies... your days are numbered.

Jay 20, Cockroaches 3

Details in the morning...

Like Sunscreen

That's pretty much what my iced tea tasted like. Whenever I do my laundry, I always go into the little trendy restaurant that's attached to the laundromat. I don't actually eat lunch there, because I couldn't afford it even if I wanted what they were offering. I usually get lemonade or coffee and sometimes a scone or lemonbar.

Today I wanted some caffiene because this blasted heat is giving me migraines and a good dose of caffiene is generally the quickest way to head one off. Well, I decided at the last minute that it was too hot for coffee, and as the girl was about to pour into my mug, I asked if I could switch that order to iced tea instead. Unfortunately, I forgot to ask what KIND of iced tea they were serving. Turns out it was peach. Peach-flavored tea tastes just like sunscreen. I think it has to do with the way it smells.

I drank it all, of course. Because it was hot. Because I needed the caffiene, as mentioned. And because I invested $1.50 in the damn thing, and I don't have money to throw around right now. Anyway, sunscreeny-tasting or not, it did get rid of the headache. So I guess I should complain. But I will anyway.

Ch-ch-check it out!

New Photo Album link

Note to self:

When arriving at the trailhead of the really steep trail, and realizing that you have left your hiking poles behind, the appropriate reaction is to find a less-steep trail, not to think, "Enh, I bet I can do it without the poles."

Let's just say I only fell three times on the way down, and that was something of a miracle.

Also... roadtrip pictures coming soon!

Details III

What, even my vacation summaries are turning into trilogies!?!?

Anyway. After we left Annie's house, we drove south to San Francisco. Oakland, actually. We stayed with one of Jay's meteorology contacts at his fabulous house (complete with a deck view of the downtown SF and the Bay). Thanks, John!

The first day in town, we just drove across the Bay Bridge and walked around Union Square and China Town, enjoying the sunshine and people-watching. Jay made stir-fry and we washed it down with one of John's numerous bottles of wine. (John does weather forecast consulting for several wineries, and receives multiple cases of wine each season.) After that, we headed into the neighborhood's "main street" to walk around, grab coffee (for me) and fruit smoothie (for Jay), and see the movie Super Size Me. Gah. Grossness. Granted, the movie is definitely biased and with only one person doing the experiment, it's impossible to call it scientific. Nonetheless, I don't think I could ever set foot in a McDonald's or any other fast food chain after seeing the film.

Day two in the Bay Area, we drove back into town to go to the Exploratorium. That's one of the most jam-packed science centers I have been to, and I've been to my fair share. They actually make exhibits in-house to be sent to other science centers, so some of the things looked familiar. After watching the movie, I noticed how many people were choosing the less-healthy options at the snack bar. (Jay and I packed our own lunches.) After 4 hours, even we were burnt out on the place, and we headed out to be touristy and get pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Drove not-so-aimlessly until we finally stumbled upon Baker Beach. Definitely could tell we were in San Francisco... Upon walking down to the beach we saw kids, tourists, a few surfers/swimmers. A little further on we ran into a trio of fishermen casting into the surf. Continuing down to the far end where the big rocks close to the Bridge were, where we wanted to take pictures, we ran into the nudist section. There must have been about a dozen naked people sunbathing, most of them men, several of them quite large. And for all you pervs, I mean that they were overweight. I tried not to notice the rest. Now nudity is all well and good, but it's just startling to glace over and see, as Jay so eloquently puts it, a "sac shot". Pink and shiny. Definitely the salon-going type, because it was waxed cleaner than... nevermind. This is going straight to the gutter. (Where my mind usually resides, of course.)

John treated the two of us to dinner at à côte, a trendy little Pyrenees tapas-style restaurant. Great food, dim-lighting. Would have almost felt guilty about letting him pay, except the next morning he had a 3 hour consulting session with some lawyers, and he makes $275/hour doing that stuff, so...

Next day we went back across the Bridge while John was fleecing the lawyers and walked from the Ferry Building down to Fisherman's Wharf. I happen to think Fisherman's wharf is entertaining, just for the people-watching possibilities, if not for the kitsch-value. Jay, evidently, didn't feel the same and was bitchy about the whole enterprise. And frankly, the boy has major sulking talents. He's lucky I didn't feed him to the sea lions. We also slipped into the Ferry Building and bought some more fresh fruit at the Organic Farmer's Market. I miss California produce already. Sigh.

We left the Bay Area that afternoon and drove up to Tahoe in horrendous stop-and-go traffic that didn't let up until we were on rte 50. I-80 sucks until you get east of Salt Lake City. I've always suspected it, and now I know for sure. I've driven most of it, so I feel like I can say that with authority. We did manage to find a nice campsite, at the Fallen Leaf Campground near Emerald Bay, despite getting in about 2 hours later than we expected.

Had a nice, lazy morning. Well, I did. Jay got up early and went for a 5 mile run by the Fallen Leaf lake. But he is clearly a masochist, so what can I say? Together we went for a much nicer, more civilized hike up to Eagle Lake. Tahoe's a beautiful area, but there are so many freaking PEOPLE there, I'm not sure if I would have enjoyed a longer stay.

But then again, anything would have been better than the miserable drive across Nevada. I-80 sucks. Wait, I said that already. But it's true. I-80 really really really sucks. It was hot and windy and my allergies were kaing my eyes tear up constantly. We were shooting for the Roby Mountains, but decided around Winnemucca that we would get in too late to set up camp and that my allergies weren't going to allow it to be a happy experience for me.

So we found a nice little motel in Elko, Nevada and crashed for the night. We enjoyed the novelty of cable TV and I enjoyed the respite granted by air-conditioning. Jay tracked down real* beer and some Benedryl, and I think we were a lot happier than we would have been if we'd pushed the camping issue.

*real beer, as in, not the 3.2% stuff we can get here in Utah.

Morning is a bit of a blur, but it involved bad hotel coffee, several bananas, and the first half of Sleepless in Seattle, before we packed everything up and drove off into the sunrise. Jay let me sleep through most of the drive. (So, okay, he's good for something besides sulking.) I didn't wake up until the stench of the Great Salt Lake hit my nostrils.

And that brings us back up to date, I think.

It was a wonderful trip, and if I had the chance to do it all again, I'd jump on it. Honestly, probably the best vacation either of us has had in a long time, and except for gas prices, was undoubtedly one of the cheapest.

One other positive result: I see gas for $1.95/gal here and I go "Sweet, under $2!" instead of "ohmigawd, what happened to $1.59/gal? Sigh."

Details II

So, let's see. Where were we?

After we packed up and left Humbug Mountain on the Oregon coast, we drove down into California and Redwood National and State Parks. On the way in, we managed to find a cell phone signal to call in Happy Father's day to our respective dads. Very crowded campground, and the site host who was "helping" the Park Service employee at the gates seemed to be missing her entire short term memory. But we found a spot and set up camp. I think that's the night we had fresh corn on the cob and veggie couscous for dinner. I know we had a big breakfast in the morning: whole grain pancakes and scrambled eggs. Good thing, because all we managed for lunch was Clif bars and fruit.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. After packing up the car, but before leaving the park, we drove out to the beach area and hiked back into Fern Canyon. Very cool place. Straight out of Jurassic Park or something. It's a fairly narrow canyon with a nice, pebbly creekbed to walk along, and the park service has laid boards across the creek in places, so you don't have to get your shoes wet unless you want to. Not that I mind getting wet feet, but it's nice that they've made it accessible to people who otherwise couldn't handle a rougher terrain. (We saw lots of wobbly older people making their way in.) The walls go up about 30-40 feet and are completely covered it bright green ferns. For variety, there's the occasional fallen redwood leaning against the walls, with exposed roots flashing the creek.

Fern Canyon was only a short 1 mile loop, so we decided to go up to the ridge so Jay could get a few more pictures of the redwoods. We found this one tree...at least I think it was all one tree...that had five or six giant trunks with a very sheltered gap in the middle, raised up maybe three or four feet from the ground and padded with fallen needles. Not a bad place to curl up for a nap, should one be so inclined. We continued up to the ridge, took a few more pictures, ate a quick snack, and ran back down to ogle the ferns.

Spent another half hour or so on the beach itself, sitting on an enormous piece of driftwood and watching a couple of harbor seals playing in the surf. We're going to be on the Jersey shore in August for a friend's wedding, and Jay was joking that it would just like this, only with Skeeball and fewer trees. Hah.

Made it down to the Santa Rosa area (north of San Francisco, for those not versed in California geography) in record time to make dinner for my friend AnnLoomis who I hadn't seen since February 2000 -- far, far too long. And it is now definitely HER turn to visit me, the wench. She had a softball game to go to that night, so Jay and I took advantage of her nice, hot shower and crashed early in her nice, firm guestroom bed.

The next day we spent at Point Reyes (National Recreation Area? or is it a National Wildlife Refuge?) on the coast. Very windy out there, but absolutely beautiful. Down on Drake's Beach, Jay entertained himself by throwing frisbee alone (into the wind - better than a boomerang) because I am not permitted to throw disk near the ocean due to my "trick" throw. In otherwords, half the time it goes where I intended, the other half it flies 90 degrees off to the right. It's a talent, what can I say?

We cruised through Petaluma and the Whole Foods store on the way back to Annie's. Jay was utterly mesmerized by the variety of fresh produce, and I have to admit, I was pretty damn impressed myself. I've never really wanted to live in California, but I think I could be persuaded just on the basis of access to fresh food.

Ann took us out to dinner that night at Dempsey's, a brew pub that features items grown in their own organic garden... something that you would not find in Utah. Food was supergood, conversation was equally entertaining, and we walked off our excesses around downtown Petaluma, which is a charming (and expensive) place with tons of well-cared-for Victorian homes.

And on that note, I'm going to drag my butt to the gym. I got used to the daily exercise on the trip, and I think I might as well keep up the habit.

More later.

Details

Why not begin at the beginning, eh?

We left Salt Lake at 8:45am on Wednesday the 16th and drove all the way to Bend, Oregon. That's about 690 miles, thank you very much. We camped out at Cinder Hill campground at East Lake in the Newberry (or is it Newbury?) mountains south of Bend. I like to think of the first campground as Ducky Camp, or Site with a tree shaped like a butt. I think Jay had something more reverential in mind. But anyway. The lakes are smaller versions of Crater Lake -- formed by a volcano that collapsed in on itself. But in the Newburys they formed 2 lakes because of a giant obsidian flow. Pretty cool. Anyway, we did some hiking, and then cruised through the High Desert Museum to learn all about raptors, porcupines, and otters.

I wasn't feeling too great because of allergies (and because we left the coffee in the freezer at home...) so we drive back into Bend to hit the Wild Oats grocery store for coffee (hot and ready), coffee (ground for French press), fruit, wine, beer, and toothpicks (the teatree oil kind).

Second night we spent in the Cascades near South Sister at the Elk Lake campground. (Creative namers, eh? The Three Sisters mountains are North Sister, Middle Sister, and South Sister.) I seem to recall that dinner was pasta with red sauce and a nice Merlot. We camp out in style. Yeah, baby. Campsite: Camp Cleanest Pit Toilet in the World. Seriously.

In the morning we woke up earlier than we planned (Jay misread the clock as 6:15 instead of 5:15) and didn't realize the goof until we checked the time at the South Sister trailhead and saw that it was only 7:25. Not being a morning person, I figured that we must have eaten our oatmeal faster than I imagined possible. Only after he finished his hike did Jay clue me in... Anyway, since I am not a crazy person (at least not in this way), I spent the day reading near the lake, while Jay trudged through slushy snow to the summit of South Sister.

Because he'd spent roughly six or seven hours hiking, he actually let me drive for the rest of the day and we made the coast in time to find a campground and set up before dark. I dub this site "Camp Circus Monkeys" after the large youth group who occupied most of the other sites in the loop.

We didn't waste much time packing up in the morning, though both of us had been so tired the night before that we left the back of the Subaru wide open all night long... Anyway. We headed south down the Oregon coast, stopping at a few view points, and taking a nice detour out to Cape Arago to play on the beach and ogle the sea lions through my cheap binoculars. Highly entertaining. If Jay posts the pictures, I'll link to them later.

We picked up some fresh and tasty bay scallops and halibut from a local market and had a seafood marinara with Alaskan Amber ale. Yum-meee. That was at the campground at the base of Humbug Mountain, which is a cool name in and of itself. However, I think this would also have to be "Camp where we saw a couple doggies whose owners do not walk them enough". These two dogs were practically quivering every time Jay and I threw the frisbee around in the central field, and their owners were clearly not capable of more than a plodding walk. And I'm not saying that being slow is an issue... UNLESS you have energetic dogs. Then being slow and unable to run your doggy is just cruel. Cruel, I tell you.

Okay, enough for now. I'll come back with more later.

Back

Back from the road trip. Much tanner, a bit leaner, and ever so slightly car sick. My eyes were watering from allergies a lot of the time, so I only drove about 300 miles out of 2700. Being a passenger in a hot car always makes me nauseous.

But it was a lovely trip, and I'll post more details after I get settled.

Gimptastic!

Tuesday night, Jay and I went for a nice ~6 mile hike up Millcreek Canyon. Took the Elbow Fork trail up and the Pipeline coming back down. It was awesome. Had a few difficulties on the breathing front - pollen is still my enemy - but other than that it was spifferiffic. I even ran part of it...the gradual downhill parts, of course.

Now, though...now I have lost control of the muscles around my knees and ankles. Walking down stairs is a cross between fantastic comedy and pig-squeeling pain. (Ow, oh, eek, ohmigad, ow, oh, noooooo! Damn.) Mind you, I still feel pretty good. I just can't walk for crap. Speaking of which, sitting down and standing back up are almost as funny as walking down stairs. Oy.

Communication is not dead

I've been known to complain that the art of listening is dead and that no one actually communicates anymore. As I think one of my friends said (and since it was a much more clever remark than they were typically capable of, I suspect they were quoting someone else), "Most people don't really listen, they just wait for their turn to talk."

Well, I had an honest to God (pun intended) conversation with one of my coworkers yesterday. He is Mormon and I am...not. He also teaches junior high level sunday school, so I think he's used to fielding questions about his beliefs and putting them into comprehensible words. We have, on other occasions, discussed politics (he still thinks that voting for Bush is a good idea...sigh), family, and religion without coming to blows. So when he remarked on an article in the NYTimes about gay marriage, I thought I might finally get an answer to my ongoing question about "what the heck is the big deal?" that didn't rely on base prejudice.

So I asked. And he tried to explain as best he could why he believes that it isn't what people should be doing. What was utterly facinating to both of us was that we were in absolute agreement on so many points, but still managed to come to opposite conclusions. The discussion went on for about 2 hours, so it's hard for me to sum up, but the highlights were:

1. God (or whatever you want to call him/her/it) is benevolent, not vengeful or punishing. Thus, religion should focus on the "pros" and not the "antis".

2. Family is one of the primary "gates" to real happiness. (Though what constitutes family remains a point of contention and probably results in our differing opinions.)

3. Our other greatest contention was over the "nature" of homosexuality. He tried to compare it to alcholism or other addictions. (Something that is a constant struggle, but which can and should be controlled.) I think of it more like being left or right-handed. (You can force a left-handed child to write with their right, but it's not natural and sometimes really messes them up.)

We realized that we weren't going to agree fairly early on, but just listening and responding to the other person's views kept us going. It's just too bad that having someone clearly and logically explain his/her views without becoming angry or beligerent when the listener respectfully disagrees has become such a novelty.

Stop and Go

I just finished my first lesson in driving a standard transmission. I'm happy to report that all of us survived: me, Jay, and the car. We didn't leave the parking lot yet--thank goodness for all involved, especially those innocent bystander types--but I definitely got the hang of stopping and starting and 1st and 2nd gears. Reverse proved to be a bit much, and there wasn't enough room in the parking lot to really try out the upper gears. I'm getting there, though.

I still have 10 days before we leave.

Ho hum

Why can't I be like normal wackos and feel depressed in the winter? Summer just seems to kick my ass and it makes NO SENSE. I've been feeling so bleh that I considered maybe going back on the meds again... I'll wait until after we get back from our trip though, because maybe it's just me being in a rut. And being broke. And having not heard from any of the school districts yet.

I've been off the Wellbutrin since January and have been doing really well. I'm just noticing that I'm not getting my usual endorphin high at the gym the last few times I've gone. And I'm getting angry over the slightest little annoyance. And I'm spending more time in front of the computer, but actually writing less. To me, those are warning signs. I'll monitor it and if I don't see improvement by the end of this month, I think I will go back on the drugs.

Aaaaggghh.

Stuck

I haven't been writing much anywhere lately. But I think being stuck with my writing is just a symptom of feeling stuck in other aspects of my life. Lately I've been feeling twitchy again, like I want to pack up and move on and start again somewhere else.

I don't think this is what I really want, but it feels good to think about it. Car packed to the gills, speedometer up around 80 MPH, open highway, changing scenery, possibilities ahead... I miss that.

I keep thinking about what I have now though, and what I've been working toward for the past two years. As soon as my test scores come back, I'll be able to get my teaching certification and a "real" career option. I've finally finished a submitable version of my first book, and have worked out the next two books in the trilogy...even if I am stalled out halfway through book two...sigh.

What don't I have here that would make things better? A real network of friends, I think is a biggy. There's a few people I hang out with, but almost everyone I know, I know through Jay. One of my friends from my Master's program seems to have vanished... the other one I just keep playing phone (or email) tag with.

Maybe it would be better if I didn't feel so trapped out here -- if I weren't too broke to spring for a plane ticket outta town two or three times a year. I haven't gotten out of Salt Lake since Christmas...five months now. It's starting to make me a little crazy, I think.

We are planning a road trip in June up through Idaho, over to the Oregon coast, and then down to San Francisco to visit friends. I'm hoping that will settle my edginess. But for now, I'm starting to lose it.

Just buzzing through

It's late and I really should be writing something more productive than a blog entry. So I just want to say that I saw Pink Martini live in concert with the Utah Symphony last night and they ROCKED. Awesome musicians. Clearly having so much fun doing what they were doing that it was pure joy to watch them perform.

That's all. Nothing more to see here, nothing more to see.

Pointless

Okay, I can still access the template to write new posts, but I can't seem to pull up the blog itself. I just get a 404 error. Nice going, Google.

When did it become cool?

I've noticed a disturbing trend in the past few years. I think it started with Beefy Boy -- was it for Chef Boyardee? -- he'd smear his face with sauce and say "Mmmmm, Beefy." Gross.

Now we seem to be moving out of the gross out trend and into an even less attractive quality: rudeness. The milk ads piss me off everytime, and even if I wasn't already lactose intolerant, these ads would be enough to make me stop drinking it for good. The latest in the series is a kid who goes into the store to buy chocolate milk. At the cooler, he looks around furtively before using a quarter to scratch through the UPC symbol. At the register, the woman tries to scan the milk, but cant't get a reading because of the scratch, so she runs it past the scanner repeatedly before finally calling for a price check. Now, the point is that the stupid numbnuts customer gets someone else to shake up his chocolate milk. Mmmm, yum. He's so clever and isn't that milk yummy.

Little shit. Shake your own damn milk. It's not that hard to do.

The thing is, these ads and others like them are meant to be funny. But I can't help but see them as a giant insult to my intelligence, and to the intelligence of the shmuckity actors who get paid to be in them. That's our "anything for a buck" American culture at its finest, I suppose.

Gah.

Another One Bites the Dust

Or rather, another two. Checked up on some of my links only to find site abandoned by their creators... The blogging neighborhood keeps changing as new people move in and old people move on.

On an unrelated subject... today is my LAST DAY of student teaching. Thank god. Teaching in someone else's classroom with kids who have become used to that teacher's rules and procedures is difficult even under the best of circumstances. And this second half of teaching with the new teacher at the new school has been the best of circumstances. But still, thank god it's over.

Quit Changing Things Already

Looks like Blogger has changed the template set up yet again. Probably an improvement, but we'll see.

However, I am less pleased with the change to my "permanent" email account. They eliminated the choices of version 3, which I used, and version 4, which I didn't. Now version 5 is the only option, and there are no explanations about the change, nor were any announcements made. I logged in on Saturday and it was the same old interface I knew and could work with. I logged in Sunday - BANG - everything changed... many useful features missing.

Don't get me wrong. I love change. I change my underwear everyday, in fact. I've changed addresses no less than 6 times in the last 6 years. I've changed jobs almost as frequently. And boyfriends? Well, not that frequently... nor do I want to change now, in case you are reading, Jaylove...

What I don't like are changes that I have no control over -- ones that I am given no choice about. So dammit, consult me before messing with my methods of communication. Grrrr.

Two Critics

So, as part of the online writer's community Forward Motion and also as a high school teacher, I've had to balance my two critics. Inner critics, I mean. On one side there is the sharp-clawed, impatient, catty critic. On the other is the calm, patient, tactful critic. I try to keep the first on a tight leash. Especially in the classroom.

However, with critiques, I find that I'm unable to be tactful unless I first let all the snotty, potentially damaging comments out first. So my first pass through a work to be critted has been known to have notes like "Are you completely stupid?" "Do you think I am competely stupid?" "Fucking A, heard of grammar?". You know... all the stuff you say to yourself when you read something in need of serious help... or a good bonfire. But presumably, the person who has posted their work for crit knows that it's not perfect, so you don't actually want to rub their face in it. (There are exceptions.)

Obviously, the catty comments are the easiest, floating so close to the surface as they are... Meow meow meow meow hsssssss. So it usually turns into a scenario of my responsible, tactful critic beating the living shit out of the evil kitty who then sinks its claws into the teacher's ankle and purrs while teacher tries to comment nicely.

No wonder I'm getting burnt out in the critting arena. I figure I have a good six months before I need another hiatus.

Just hook me to the IV

I have a problem. I live in the desert (okay, I think we're technically two steps up from a desert here... tundra? steppe? I dunno.) and I am unable to remember to drink enough damn water during the day. I wake up in the middle of the night, gasping like a fish out of water. Myah, myah, myah... This, despite the humidifier, too.

It's highly annoying. Yeah, no d'uh. (junior high flashback woowoowoowoo.) Dehydration makes me sleepy, and a wee bit slow, not to mention loop dee loopy. So I think I'll make drinking water my goal for the week.

Yep, aim high, people.

Glug glug glug...

Am I THAT Age?

Seems like all my friends are getting married and having babies... when did I get to be THAT age?

In any case, congrats to Steve and Anna and the ridiculously adorable Ian Patrick. I hope the fact that he was born on 4-20 will not be an indication of future trouble. hah hah.

I can almost understand my friend Kathryn's "I want a baby" obsession. I mean, I want a baby. Several, even. Just not this year.

Alas

Neglecting the blog. Ironically, it's because I have too much time on my hands.

How does that work?

Well, since Jay is out of town, I have fewer reasons not to spend my entire day in front of the computer click-clacking away. So I have been forcing myself to come up with reasons to not spend the entire day in front of the computer. Been doing pretty well, in fact. Except for having to spend several hours working on prep stuff for this week's lesson planning...

Since thursday, I have:

• Been to the gym 3 times
  
• Been to the grocery store 4 times... (should have made a list) but at least I walked twice!
  
• Watched 3 movies (I Capture the Castle, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and the first four episodes of season 2 of Sex and the City)
  
• Realized that Sex and the City is sometimes too painful to watch.
  
• Finished (except for the overlay border on the lid) painting the tea box for my friends who "eloped" a month or so ago.
  
• Refilled the humidifer
  
• Realized that the reason I couldn't get warm was because the heat was turned off
  
• Turned on the heat
  
• Made salad
  
• Ate salad and leftover burritos...
  
• to make up for eating cold cereal and popsicles for dinner the night before.
  
• Went to brunch with a friend
  
• Bought four new French books
  
• Put together extensive lists of irregular French verbs
  
• Compiled four pages of anonymous French poems/nursery rhymes
  

Not such a bad list. I could even add "washed the dishes" and "took out the trash", but then you might think I didn't do those things on a regular basis or something... *innocent look*

Not Inertia

Allergies hit me hard today. I think this is the worst I've experienced since moving out west in 1999. All these ridiculous flowering trees which I am pretty sure are not native to Utah... blegh. Might have to break down and go see the doctor for a prescription of the hard stuff, because the Claritin is not even touching this.

Just Stuff

So today Jay left for Houston for a three week NASA-sponsored project for which he will be doing daily forecasts. Great practice for him, looks good on the resume, and dang but they're paying him, too.

What this means for me, however, is that I no longer have a personal chef or bed pre-warmer. At least not until May 5th (Cinco de Mayo!) when the boy returns home.

Related or not, I've also become overwhelmed with a sense of inertia... can't seem to focus long enough to get anything done. Of course, except for the job fair I went to earlier today. Picked up information from the schools I was interested in, dropped off a few resumes at the schools who were accepting them, and interviewed at the one district that was doing interviews (out of the 6 I was interested in).

So even though it's nearly 8:15, I think I am going to haul my ass to the gym... before it gets any bigger. (I don't know why, but everytime Jay goes out of town I feel this sick compulsion to stuff myself with food... strange, indeed.)

Hauling Babies

We had dinner the other night with two of our friends who had a baby back in August. Everyone has always told me how natural I look -- and how easy I make it look -- with a baby in my arms. What they don't know, is that I didn't start out that way - OH NO. But since the first time, twenty-six years ago, I've learned a few things...

Now, the first time I suppose can be excused since I was, afterall, only two years old. And I was only acting on true sibling love and concern. Really.

My mother -- who was younger then than I am today (EEK) -- had left Sweet Baby Robby laying on his blanket in the bedroom while she went to get something from the bathroom. In a panic, knowing that Sweet Baby Robby could neither talk nor walk by himself, I snagged the chunky little ball of fat under one arm and over the other (yes, that means I was choking him...) and hauled him after our maternal figure. "MOOOOOOMM!! Don't forget the BABY!!" Hence began the years of well-intentioned, but still harmful, sibling abuse.

Robby passed it on when he laid 4 month old Karlyn on the dining room table... and she rolled off and fractured her skull. No wonder the girl's got issues. I'm trying to think what we did to Kerri, but I'm drawing a blank.

All I know is that by the time I was 10 and a half, I had practiced juggling no fewer than three babies (one at a time). And after years of high school babysitting jobs, I'd juggled many more (one at a time). So, yeah, I make it look easy with other people's kids... But I'm getting a lot more sleep than their parents are and I've had more experience than your average only child.

This in no way implies that I am ready for one of my own. It just would not mesh well with the whole first year of teaching thing. Nope. Sorry.

Breathing room

Today was the last day of school before Spring Break. So I have off until next Wednesday. Yay!!!

Now I get to play catch up on critiques, writing, and lesson plan creation. Oh, the thrill of it all. No, actually, I picked up the 50K on Retribution that I wrote during NaNo, and it's not nearly as bad as I expected it to be. What's funny is that I don't remember writing parts of it... but it must have come from somewhere.

Drive-by posting

Whooosh! See me run back and forth... Last night I finished my Master's degree. Now I just have to finish my student teaching in order to complete certification requirements.

Whooosh! Back out the door...

Updating the links

I had to update the links again... Some people apparently think they are too good to keep blogging away like the rest of us. (Or else they have real lives to worry about or something.) So I took down Patent Pending and Amazon World and added Geese Aplenty and Tequila Mockingbird. Hopefully both of them will stick around for a while.

There are overachievers, and there are overachievers

I recently got an email from my baby sister Karlyn (hey babe) - this is the twenty year old who's at Washington and Lee. It wasn't really addressed to me specifically, but was one of those "yes, family, I'm alive and here's why I'm too busy to write to you all individually as you so richly deserve" kind of emails.

I read this list, which includes her proposed major (accounting) and minor (women's studies) along with her recent volunteering stints and her new leadership postion with the Panhell council. (Now, for me, sorority life really would have been a Pan-Hell, but it works for her, so rah rah rah.) Holy shit. I mean, when does the girl sleep? Between terms when she's home, I know.

Now, I found my little niche at Dartmouth and was happy with what I was doing, but looking at my little sister's resume, I feel like I missed something. Granted, I wasn't in any shape mentally or emotionally to do the things she's doing, so why do I feel like I wasted my college years?

You have to understand, Karlyn is the people-person of the family. I am the extremely, painfully shy one. When I was about thirteen and she was 5 and our babiest sister Kerri was 2, we'd be baking cookies or something and run out of sugar or eggs or whatnot. I'd be all ready to walk to the store (45 minutes round trip) and they'd be all "Why? We'll just go down the street." And they'd go out the door on their chubby little legs with big smiles and cute dimples... and come back 10 minutes later with whatever we needed.

Gah. The thought of it still gives me the willies. I have major issues with asking for help or favors... I don't know why exactly, but I do. The thought of walking down the street and knocking on my neighbors' doors in search of a cup of sugar or two eggs is enough to paralyze me completely.

So anyway, I don't know what I'm going to do with my life yet (have ideas, but don't know) but I get the sneaking suspicion that my baby sister might actually have a life plan... Which is all well and good. Someone in the family has to be successful financially. Other than my father, of course. So, you go, Karlyn. And I'll sit here and try not to feel incompetent.

Love and kisses, my little overachiever. *mwah* *mwah*

Uh, yup

I started yesterday at my new school with my new cooperating teacher. It's the last week of the quarter, so there's not much going on until next week. I won't start teaching again until then.

It's an interesting switch. Last woman I worked with was a native speaker, this one was an English teacher who got co-opted into teaching French because they didn't have anyone else to do it. She knows the language from college, but she's in her 50's now and has never been to France before, so she doesn't speak it as well. It's kind of nice because I feel like I have something to offer for a change.

When the vice-principal took me down to meet her, she explained that I had been working with this other teacher at the other school, and my new teacher just threw up her hands and said, "Say no more. I've heard all about her." She was surprised that Madame let me in at all. I guess she has a history of rejecting potential student teachers... So I guess I should feel good about the fact that I was acceptable at all.

Anywho... I'm off to meet with the new teacher again today to figure out what my schedule will be with her.

*fingers crossed* (but I do have a good feeling about it.)

Be careful what you wish for?

Hmm. So I was happy that I got to take a week and check out other teachers and other schools last week, but now it seems that my cooperating teacher doesn't want to let me come back to work with her.

When I went in on Monday to observe - because my University supervisor guy said I should - she wouldn't make eye contact. Now, generally, I take that as being a bad sign.

I wanted to be done, but I also wanted to finish... We'll see what happens, I guess.

Yeah, BABY. Take THAT

Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha! I'm finished! Woo hoo!

123,957 words.

hee hee hee hee hee!

Theeeeeeeeeees Close aka: another entry about (re)writing

I've been working on the rewrite of Revival since about September. Why has it taken me so long? Hmmm... NaNoWriMo got in the way and distracted me into writing 50K words on Retribution... and then there's this evil student teaching thing that I'm in the middle of right now.

I've been working with the printout of the original version - all 473 pages. Now, the rewrite is already more than 525 pages, and that's cool because it's a hell of a lot better with the additional subplots and continuation of subplots-started-and-then-forgotten-in-the-first-version as well.

But now I am down to the last 35 pages of the first draft... Yeah baby! I just might finish this sucker this weekend! Woo hoo!

Nothing to say

Today, I have nothing interesting to say. However, since this doesn't stop most people from blogging, why should I let it slow me down? Heh heh.

Okay, I lied... retitle this post: #2 On the Speed Dial

So Jay and I have a long-running joke that's maybe not completely a joke, if you know what I mean. He is #2 on the speed dial of my cell, with #1 being preprogrammed as voicemail, while I am somewhat further down on his list.

So, in other words, when I got my cell phone about 2 years ago, the most important number for me was his. He got his cell phone a few months after I did, but the first number he thought to program in was his father's. So whenever Jay talks about his dad, I refer to him as "#2 on the speed dial" in a joke-sulky voice. *sniff sniff*.

Coincidentally, #2-on-the-Speed-Dial will be arriving on Saturday for a week long visit. Jay has been putting in ridiculous hours at work so he can take time off to hang out while #2's here. They're going out to the yurt in the Uintas for a two night overnight xcountry ski trip. Should be pretty cool.

And I guess I can't really complain, because Jay bought tickets for the two of us to go to the Barenaked Ladies concert on the 20th. Mwaah ha ha ha ha ha ha. That's right.

On second thought, the first title was probably accurate. Ah well.

The Whirlwind Tour

This week I am not teaching. This week, my supervisor from the University has decided that I would get more out of traveling around the district and visiting with other French teachers.

Yesterday, this was fantastic. I loved this other teacher -- she has great ideas for classroom management and the atmosphere was just a lot more fun.

Today... I'm a little confused. I looked up the school I'm going to online, but they don't have a French teacher. When I asked my supervisor which teacher I would be seeing, he said he hadn't gotten a name. When I asked him what time the class started, he said, oh sometime about 1pm, I think.

Hmm. This might be more of an adventure than it needs to be. Ah well, we'll see what happens. I'm just glad to have the week off from student teaching hell.

Mmmmmm

Today is my birthday. 28, in case you're wondering. Jay made salmon and also salmon and feta pizza for dinner. I bought a bottle of my favorite Chianti Classico (Ruffino Riserva Ducale) and am making quite the dent in it. *hiccup*

We're heading out in just a bit to visit with our friends who are in town for just the weekend. They got married over Thanksgiving, and even though we attended the wedding, we have yet to give them their gift. I made another painted tea box, and ate enough Bonne Maman jam to supply the jars for Jay's loose teas. It's a pretty cool, unique sort of present, if I do say so myself.

I think I'm just going to keep drinking this totally superior Chianti - since I'm not driving tonight - because I'm feeling no pain in the knee that I ^%@&%(ed up the other weekend while skiing. And I have been feeling plenty of pain in it since that day. Damnit. Somehow must squeeze in doctor's appointment in the next week or so since knee is not recovering.

OKay... have had sufficient wine that fingers not being cooperative enough to keep typing. (many backspaces were required to make this post legible)

Happy happy *hiccup*

Ah ha!

After watching hundreds of parents come and talk with Juliette, something clicked in my head. She is a fantastic teacher, no doubt about it. However, she and I are VASTLY different people with very different personalitiies. Techniques that work for her don't--and may never--work for me in the classroom. I think the problem is that while she acknowledges (in theory) that different things might work better for me, she won't let me deviate from her system enough to try them.

Unfortunately, this pretty much sets me up for failure. However... next week I will be observing and talking with teachers at three other schools, as arranged by my University supervisor. He's been in to observe me a couple times and remarked that it looked like I felt stuck and maybe seeing what else was out there would give me a better sense of what was going on in French language teaching.

So, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Not such a great day, but...

So today was kind of sucky, not so much from a student point of view as from my cooperating teacher's pov. We reviewed briefly for the quiz--and from what I've seen so far, most people did very well. Then we returned to the group work that we had started on Tuesday. Mme Durst told me afterwards that I spent too much time on it and that it wasn't really actively engaging everyone. Okay... so what should I have done differently? "Well, I don't know. You have to plan group activities very carefully..." Unfortunately, that response doesn't tell me much.

Yesterday I mentioned that I wanted to work with a review of the passé composé tense. She told me not to spend too much time on it because they'd had it before. So I started in with a brief review. She stopped me immediately in class and told me to start over with just one type of verb (regular "-er" verbs) and just the ones conjugated with "avoir". Okay... no problem. I changed course and abandoned the prep that I had done for the class. Then she complained that I hadn't assigned homework over the long weekend. Hmmm. Well, I had a worksheet prepared, but since it was based on what I thought I was going to be covering, it would have been way over their heads.

I don't mind criticism if it's constructive... helpful... informative... Otherwise, it doesn't do anything but make me feel bad about what I've tried to do. Argh.

Argh. Argh. Argh. At least I have tomorrow off and can SLEEP! I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open anymore. And I still have another paper to finish for class tonight... and from class I get to rush to the second night of parent-teacher conferences.

The fun never ends, folks.

Wait... oh my... could it be?

Yes, yes I believe it could. I think I just had a GOOD DAY at school with my wretched French 2 students.

Amazing. Dare I hope for two in a row?

Oh... well then... okay.

My two friends who were planning to get married next year got married... today. With only 4 hours notice, I was unable to attend, but Jay went and he said it was very cute.

Yes, my friends are what we call a "cute" couple. We call them a cute couple so we don't have to call the "a disgustingly happy, sickeningly lovey-dovey, wacked-out for each other couple". Which , of course, is what they really are.

And good for them.

Congrats to Stephanie and Erick on their speedy courtship. May the length of their marriage be inversely proportional to the time they knew each other prior to getting all crazy with the marriage license thing. *grin*

Sometimes, it's obvious

Last night I dreamed that I had been switched at birth. Then I dreamed that I was driving at night, too fast, in the rain. I couldn't see well, but I couldn't slow down.

I don't think it's any great mystery where those images came from.

Why am I doing this?

I don't mean just the student teaching thing - which has me more irritated than anxious at the moment. I mean why the hell am I in Utah? Did I go back to school because I wanted to or because everyone I knew was getting a grad degree? Mind you, up until now the MAED program has been pretty enjoyable...

I just feel like I lost control of my own life in the last few years and I'm living someone else's.

Slight Improvements... I think

Okay, so I still threw up my breakfast before class. (No, no chance of my being pregnant, thanks.) So the anxiety levels are pretty high still... but today's class went a lot better, and I got to work with two students after school who have missed a lot of class and therefore, homework. I love working with the students one-on-one because then you can customize your explanations so that they really get it... instead of trying three different explanations that might cover everyone in the class, or might not.

As for work... I'm only working 3 days a week as it is. At work, I'm able to get some of my planning and grading done... and honestly, it's a stress-reliever because I get to talk to my friends there. That's about as close as I get to socializing lately.

I've decided to give it another solid two weeks and if I still feel sick everyday, I'll reevaluate then. I don't want to give up on this.

Is it just Mondays?

Another sucky day at school...

I have ten and a half weeks left and I just don't know if I'm going to make it without developing major health problems. My anxiety level is so high that I have a constant stomach ache and I keep developing little ulcers in my mouth. Never had either problem before I started stressing over student teaching.

On a brighter note

Tomorrow is my first day off since January 20th and they will be grooming the trails in Millcreek Canyon in the morning. At least my timing is good in one area of life.

Things I must keep in mind

1. They are not my children
2. They are not even really my students
3. It's not my school
4. I'm leaving Utah by 2006.

I felt like screaming when I left school today. I'm not sure what it is... if the problem stems from Utah's dominant culture, the screwy school system which I don't have time or inclination to describe now, or something else entirely. At the moment I can't think of a scenario that would include my teaching in a public school in Utah next year.

The scary part is... they believe it

I recently read a very pseudo-intellectual post on another site about why gay marriage should not be allowed. Evidently, because we all have the right to marry one person of the opposite sex, this constitutes equal rights already. This person implied that conferring "special" rights for homosexuals to marry each other would be akin to making pedophilia legal as well.

Yeah - just a slight legal difference when discussing adults instead of minors, but... well, what can I say. I'm sure this seems quite reasonable and rational to this person.

So anyway, I was much dismayed to see another similar statement against legalizing same-sex marriage in Salt Lake City's alternative paper - The City Weekly. This wasn't on the part of the paper, but was printed in an editorial.

This person's argument was much along the same lines as the above "equal rights already exist", but he continued on to explain why allowing same-sex marriage would harm "normal" marriages. His (sick and twisted and utterly confused) logic was as follows: if gays could marry, they would get company spousal benefits. This would put more stress on companies to pay for all these extra benefits. In turn there would be fewer benefits for traditional married couples. AND (stay with me) Because most traditional marriages fail because of money issues, this would cause even more marriages to fail.

Yes, according to this genius, allowing same-sex marriage leads directly to divorce for traditional married couples. Aren't you glad we've been warned?

People. Take responsibility for your own failings. If you can't get your shit together, getting a few dollars more or less in insurance benefits is not going to help you.

Why do so many marriages fail? It's not the money, really. It's a fricking LACK OF COMMUNICATION.

/rant

Conversation at work

smartass coworker: So how was your Valentine's day?
me: Started well, ended poorly.
sc: You know, Viagra could help that.
me: Ha. Funny. No, it was actually the foot in the mouth that caused the problem.
sc: So... duct tape would have been the ticket to romance?

Two steps back

Finally admitted to myself that I'm sinking again. Went back on the meds I quit taking 2 months ago. I know it isn't that big a deal, and is, once again, a temporary measure to help me survive the next three months, but it still feels like failure somehow.

Frankly, I'm almost too tired to care. I need to be able to function, and right now I'm on the verge of not being able to do that anymore. So... another month or three on the anti-depressants, and we'll see how it goes.

It's this numb acceptance of crapdom and inability to focus for more than 15 minutes at a time that tells me I need to suck it up and take the damn drugs. It's been four weeks since I had a day without school or work... How do people do this? Because I know for some people, no days off ever is a way of life. Or a way to death, depending on your perspective.

Anyway, with luck, the drug will work its magic and I will be alive enough to enjoy my real day off on Saturday. One can only hope.

Let me put it words you might understand...

Okay, Mr. CEO, let's try to get this straight. Now, if I walked into your office and started asking you questions about the exact procedure your janitors or your secretaries or security guards used in each particular situation, would YOU be able to answer ME? Yeah, didn't think so.

So why in the world do you expect me--a part-time employee and not even the manager of this place--to know the standard procedures for the concierge, the housekeepers, and the restaurant? 'Splain that to me, eh?

The concierge is also not supposed to be the errand boy for the chef. If the chef would keep track of his inventory and order his supplies on time, I wouldn't end up doing my job and someone elses for hours at a time.

So... would you like me to wipe for you, too?

I feel it sneaking up on me

Just that sad fatigue again. Nothing seems to be going quite right... half the French 1 kids got less than 160 pts out of 240 on the chapter test, 5 of 22 kids in French 2 got less than 60 pts out of 100 on their quiz.

Mostly, I think a lot of it has to do with my not having had a whole day off (from both teaching and working) since January 20th. I'm so close to finishing the rewrite of Revival, but I haven't been able to sit down and write since last Saturday. When I do have an hour or two to sit down, I've been so tired that my brain can't rise above basic motor control level to churn out the creative energy I need.

I need a vacation... or at least a weekend off.


AND Happy Birthday to Karlyn who turned 20 yesterday. Hope it was a good one, babe. Love you.

When someone writes what you've been thinking...

Just had a "thank-god-I'm-not-the-only-one-who-thinks-this" moment thanks to a link off of Fussy

American Coddle

This is such an accurate description of the problems that some of the kids in my classes have, it's just not funny. False praise can be much worse than not enough praise.

(Not that I'm to the point of agreeing with my mother's strange habit of random daggers of criticism when I'm feeling really good about something... but anyway. Different rant there entirely. *g*)

Better Day

Today was definitely a better day. And I ended up not having to work tonight. So the nap I was able to take definitely improved things.

Just saying... give me a slacker teenage boy over a moody teenage girl ANY day. Oy.

degrees of tired

I'm at the one where it hurts if someone touches you, casual conversation is utterly impossible, and simple tasks seem not-so-simple.

I'd like to either go back to bed or sit here and cry, but instead I get to go into school early today so I can get all the grades entered from last week. And then I get to stay through lunch so I can look through the supplemental materials.

Hating it? Just about. If it doesn't get better by week 4, I don't know if I'll last all 15 weeks.

Found this on someone else's site... thought it was interesting.

Notice my avoidance of the Deep South. I also think it's funny that I spent 4 years in New Hampshire and never madeit over to Maine. But then, I didn't have a car when I was in college and it's a damn long walk from the Vermont border to the Maine side of the state.



create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

Snow now ow

I left work as early as I could today because we're getting another great big snow storm. I would be more apreciative, of course, were I able to be out enjoying it. But no. Today I got up, went to work, came home, and must now start to work on lesson plans for the coming week for my French 1 and French 2 classes.

So basically, all this bounty of snow means to me is a longer commute. Oh, joy.

*evil grumpy look*

Could we have two Presidents, please?

Or maybe three? One for domestic issues like education, health care, and keeping the government the hell out of our bedrooms. One for foreign relations and diplomacy, and one for military actions.

Is that asking so much? I don't even want all of them to be Democrats, because I don't think any of the Dems have a good plan for foreign policy or the Iraq issue. I wouldn't even mind if one of them was George W. as long as HE didn't have any further say in resource management (ie: logging and mining and polluting) or diplomacy (because I don't think he understand the word) or education. Can I tell you how much the No Child Left Behind Act SUCKS? No. No. I will not get started on that. I just don't have the time right now. But it's bad and the only candidate who seems to really get that is Dean. But I think Dean would make a crappy President because of his ideas on foreign policy and military actions.

Okay. Not going to pursue this now. Must eat before leaving for work.

Parents, Teachers, Students

Now, I read a lot of rants about how terrible our public school teachers are. Granted, a lot of them are tired, worn out, fed up, insecure, etc. But not all of them are.

With the increased regulations and "core curriculum" and "national standards" that have to be met, teachers have less and less control over what material they teach and how they teach it. I say, anyone who has shit to say about teachers should take a good look at what hoops are being thrown in front of the education system these days. And I won't even go into funding.

But, starting my student teaching, I'm seeing another angle that most people don't ever get to observe.

I'm working with students who are predominantly white, middle to upper-middle class, and about 98% LDS. (That's Mormon, to you non-Utah people.) I really don't think these kids have ever been told "No" in their lives. I don't think they see their parents often enough to be told much, actually. Some of the students are so obviously desperate for attention -- any attention -- that they keep a running commentary going the whole class. The idea that they need to learn material in class so that they can perform well on quizzes and tests is beyond their understanding or caring.

Parents... well, parents at this school seem to care more for grades than for actual learning. The PTA has even created these vouchers that students can turn in to one teacher per grading period and that teacher is supposed to give them the next highest grade. No concept of earning grades here, eh? One parent called the principal repeatedly regarding her daughter's grade (an F), demanding that she be given a D- so that she didn't fail the year. The teacher refused to change the grade because the student had done no work. The principal caved to the parent's demands and changed the grade himself.

Not all parents are like this. Not all students are either. But I would estimate that this is common behavior for about 75% of the students in this school.

So why do we have problems with public education in this country? I'd say we can't lay all the blame on teachers, can we.

There are advantages to not making any money

Because I quit my job last April for health reasons (mental, physical, and emotional) I made about $10K less this year than last year. I also paid out heaping sums of money for school. What this means is that I am going to get a whopping $1500 back on my taxes this year. That will pay off the balance on one of my credit cards! Yay!

I feel so much better now.

Other than the migraine and my retwisted back. Grrr.

Nothing exciting to say

Except that I got stuck on a technicality in the rewrite and I've posted a short excerpt on my writing blog.

I am someone's crazy ex-girlfriend

The thing about writing is that you have to let yourself see situations from every angle. You have to leave your much-loved protagonist's mind and step on in to the antagonist's. Having been on a rewriting spree lately, I've been in this frame of mind quite a bit. So when the discussion a few nights ago turned to ex-boy/girlfriends, the title statement of this post popped into my head.

Now, I like to think I'm relatively well-adjusted now. Granted, I'm a cranky bitch when I'm over-tired or under-fed, but hey... no one's perfect all the time, eh? However, I acknowledge that this was not always the case.

In telling the story of my bizarre and angsty on-again off-again relationship with my college boyfriend who will remain unnamed (though I will say that my villian Zorikaner's first name is Daviel because David didn't work with my naming conventions... cough cough), I realized that while he was my ass of an ex-boyfriend with definite alcoholic tendencies, I was his nutty, slightly clinging and martyred girlfriend.

Seriously. I cringe when I think of some of the melodramatic and overly sincere emails I sent during those years. All 4 of them--years, not emails. However, I would like to say that I also still kick myself for answering long-distance collect calls from him at 3 in the morning. (A semi-regular occurrance, sadly)

Anyway...

Past the 95K mark on the rewrite. Started student teaching unofficially a little early. Desperately need to get some exercise. I feel like a slug.

Until next time...

Word by Word

Been on a roll the last couple days. I'm now over 90K on the rewrite of Revival. Next time I get stuck... (which will be after the rescue scene when I have to come up with a new ending. In other words, in about 10K)... I think I'll post a few excerpts on my writing blog. Usually it just takes time away from getting the darn thing finished, but since I have to go back and reread a few sections before I can get the darn thing tied up in a non-farcical ending, I might as well pull some of the good parts.

But for now... laundry.

WHACK!

So. Saturday night I threw my back out. My upper back, that is, so I couldn't turn my head. Now, that alone sucks a lot. It's the kind of pain that's so intense you just don't notice much else. Forming words that don't sound like moans or whimpers becomes an all-consuming struggle.

Last night after I got home from work, I was changing into my pajamas and I noticed this enormous bruise on my arm. ENORMOUS. About 2.5 inches by 4 inches on my left bicep. And it wasn't an ordinary bruise, either. No siree. This sucker was dead purple in the center (about a 1 inch oval) and a flaming turquoise all around that. Looked like it was painted on my arm. (What I really don't understand is how I didn't notice this as I changed out of my uniform shirt and into my sweater to go home... but anyway.)

And as I stared at this mega-bruise with my jaw hanging down like a moron, I remembered how it must have happened.

Right after I got to work I ended up having to check a guest in. Normally we take care of their paperwork and hand them off to the concierge who walks them up to their room and gives them the spiel about all the amenities we offer. However, the guys were busy with other guests so I ended up walking the gentleman up to his room.

The door had been blocked open with a towel - as the housekeepers do when they're cleaning - so I thought that maybe they were still inside. I rushed ahead to check and WHACKED my arm on the wrought-iron door handle. (Remember that I was unable to turn my head yesterday.) The pain didn't really register because I was already in such agony over my back/neck. But now, looking at the bruise and thinking back... DAMN. I hit that sucker HARD.

So I'm off to work again, hoping that I manage to get through the evening without inflicting more gruesome damage upon myself.

Owie.

Update: working for famous people does not make you important.

So right now we are in the middle of the Sundance Film Festival insanity up in Park City. What does this mean for us lowly hospitality workers?

1. We get more calls from people saying "Yeah, well, Jen and Brad think they might want to come after all. And Maggie definitely wants to get out of the place she's in now. Do you have rooms? And I know they make like, ten million dollars a year, but can you do discounts for them?" (No, I'm not joking.)

2. The town looks like a giant funeral - lots of black. Black hats, black scarves, black sunglasses, black leather, black... you get the idea.

3. They ate all the damn wheat bread at my favorite sandwich shop. Bastards. I'm local. I eat there two or three times a week. Does this mean nothing? Argh.

4. It takes a extra half hour to drive to work. And yesterday afternoon, took an extra half hour to get home again.

Anyway... is it any wonder that I'm not giddy with the prospect of possibly sighting a celebrity? Oooh, aaaaah. Big deal.

Uh Oh

It's all over now. I've passed from tired and sort of weepy into SUPER MANIC HIGH. Aaaggghhhhh!!!

heh heh

Why I should go to bed on time

So, I usually get home from work around midnight, give or take 15 minutes depending on the weather and road conditions. Now, the other day I went to Cockbuster... I mean Blockbuster, and rented some movies. Because Jay's in Seattle partying... I mean schmoozing... I mean at a conference. For work. School. Whatever the hell he does up at the U. Yeah, that. So I got the movies to go with my frozen pizza and my cookies and the two paperbacks I bought at the grocery store BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT. The first was American Wedding - which was fan-fuckin-tasically hilarious. (Had to slip in the "fuckin" infix, as described by my linguistics teacher at Dartmouth. Love that Ivy League, Baby.)

No, I am not drunk, just tired. Hence the title of the post.

As I was saying.... what was I saying? So the movies are due back tomorrow because Cocksucker... damn it, I mean... Blockbuster wants them back in 48 hours BY NOON or damnit, they will have your SOUL!!!! Uh, I mean, *MY* SOUL!!!!! So I watched the second one which was a girly sappy-ass movie, the title of which I refuse to divulge to any of you. So there. And now it's 2 AM Mountain Standard (or is it Daylight now?) Time and I am alone and therefore have no one to stop me from writing this ridiculous entry. HAH! I knew there was a point in there somewhere.

Actually, there might not have been any point in there, but damn if I don't feel better, eh?

Now I will go finish off my frickity-fracking "flee-from-the-Guard-into-the-Raiders-and-lots-of-people-die-in-gruesome-ways-or-are-taken-captive-or-not" scene that I started this morning. Yeah.

And THEN I will go to bed. (Because clearly that's where I should be already, isn't it?)

Name Change

My senior year of college, I had this wacko roommate. Ah... well, actually I had two wacko roommates, but one was mostly wacko because her shrink had her doped to the gills on anti-depressants and (god-only-knows-why) anti-psychotics. This entry is not about her.

It's about the other wacko.

Now this chick was nutty, but deceptively so. At first, we thought she was pretty cool. But then we would come home and find her on the futon, watching our TV with some guy, and her mini-skirt would have slid all the way up to her hips so that we could see her underwear. And her underwear was kind of... little-kid-ish... cotton with hearts or bears or flowers on them. Weird.

But that's not what this entry is about either.

No. See, wacko chick seemed to think that I needed extra explanation about reality. And she would punctuate every statement with "Katheeeeeee" "Okay, Katheeeee?" "No, Katheeeeeeeeee, it's not like that." You get the idea. After graduation, I became Kate. Not Kathy, not Katie, just Kate. One syllable, not much you can do to warp it. But I can still hear her f*kd up little voice saying, "But, Katheeeeeeeee."

Ugh. Shudder shudder.

Election Stuff

Since the whole presidential stuff is fast coming upon us, I thought I would finally get around to doing some more reading on the candidates. Vote Smart seems to be a fairly comprehensive site. I think the negative sites are funny and sometimes a better indicator of whether I'll like the candidate or not. That way, if the things "they" think are wrong with the person are the same things "they" would think were wrong with me... well, I know I've found someone I need to take a closer look at.

Gossip Queen

I think that should be my new title at work. Mind you, I'm not the one spread the gossip, but people tell me all sorts of shit and then say "Uh, don't pass that on, I didn't intend to tell anyone that."

This isn't a new phenomenon either. I knew all the dirt at the Big Evil Hotel, too. And before that at the Grand Canyon, I knew all the good tidbits as well. People who hated each other would talk to me about the other person, knowing full well that I spoke to their enemy on a regular basis. Why? Beats me.

One of the HR Directors I've worked with (who happened to be younger than me) explained it like this. "You're like Canada. No one really cares what you think, but they know that you won't be all judgemental." I think the fact that I never share anything that someone asks me not to helps as well. I'm also not really interested in the office politics and career building that many of my colleagues are. For me, hospitality isn't a life-time thing. It's just a job I do while I finish grad school and work on a real career. (Preferably writing, but teaching as a back-up.)

So, in short, I don't really know why people tell me their shit, but I do have some theories on the matter. All I know for sure is that I know more about the people I work with than is probably healthy for any of us. But hey, it does give me some neat ideas for stories... and I have the strangest dreams.

Say it five times fast

Otolaryngologist. Otolaryngologist. Otolaryngologist. Otolaryngologist. Otolaryngologist.

Yeah. That's the kind of doctor I need to go to to finally do something about not having been able to breath through my nose well for the last ten years. I mean, I CAN breathe through my nose if I'm totally relaxed (ie: sleeping under the influence of NyQuil) but otherwise, I'm pretty much a mouth-breather by necessity.

Over the christmas break, my dad said that he had really noticed the difference in my voice - much more nasal than it used to be. So he said to go get it checked out, and if they told me it was a purely cosmetic issue (again - I've been twice before when I was still in college) that he would pick up the tab. Awfully nice of him, considering that septorhinoplasty (correction of a damaged septum) run about 3-5000 dollars.

It would be nice to be able to breathe well again though. Hoping to get it over with in May - after student teaching is finished. Not really excited about the idea of someone slicing open my face and rearranging the part thought. Gak. Gives me the willies, or I would have done something about it before now.

Home again, Home again

Got in last night. We had a few flight delays due to the immense amount of snow that's been hitting Salt Lake for the past two weeks, but nothing major.

The trip was good - no melodrama to speak of. We spent about a week with my family in Pittsburgh and then headed to New Jersey by way of Arlington, Virginia and Baltimore, Maryland. Visited with my friend Kathryn whom I hadn't seen since 1999 and spent another night with Karen who had threatened to disown me if I didn't come visit before 2004. Snuck in just under the wire there.

The worst thing about the trip was sleeping on different, questionable surfaces. It may take another week for my back to recover. I think I can live with that.

I've posted my first assignment for the Two Year Novel Class on Forward Motion. I think the hardest part will be to maintain my progress on my current projects while moving forward with this one. Should be interesting in any case.

Happy New Year to you all.

Tomorrow I Fly

Flying home to Pittsburgh for the holidays. This will be Jay's first introduction to my entire family. Up until now he's only met my sister Karlyn... Should be interesting all around, I think.

And I have almost finished all my christmas present making. I just have to finish off the piece for my parents and I will be ready to roll. Or at least to pack...

Wheee!!!!

Visitin'

Yesterday morning I went to the school where I will be student teaching starting in January. I didn't actually get the chance to observe the classes that I will be teaching, but I sat through three of her other classes. The first two were okay, but the third? Little snots. Rude, disrespectful, barely listened to her... Then she asked me to get up and speak to them for a few minutes at the end of class... they listened for all of thirty seconds. One little hootchie mama calls out at she's leaving "See ya, whatever your name was."

My god. Do these kids have to work so hard to be cool that they can't practice the most common of courtesies?

That said, in her other classes, there were at least two of three students who were very interested in the language and several who had questions for me about studying French and living in France as a student. So... not a totally bad experience, and I know I shouldn't be quite so appalled at the third class's behavior, but...

The snow is a comin'

So, Jay says that we are going to get hit with a storm right about the time I'm supposed to leave work. Brilliant. Now, the plows are very good about keeping I-80 clear, but if it starts dumping an hour before I leave and doesn't stop for four or five hours... not going to happen.

If it is snowing like that, he wants me to stay up in Park City for the night - either at the hotel or at my friend Kelsi's place. I have to be back up in town for our group meeting Monday before work anyway. I just hope that Terry doesn't have any problems driving up for her shift, since she's the one to relieve me at 11pm.

Damn snow.

(Actually, I love the snow for skiing purposes, it just sucks for driving in.)

Argh

So many things to do...

Must finish family christmas presents by Monday.
Need to continue with revisions on Revival.
Should finish off two more crits this weekend.
Want to keep working on Retribution.

Also, before leaving on the 22nd, I MUST get rid of this awful sore throat and ear ache. Gah.

More on the weekly theme

That would be Sleeplessness, of course. Somehow I find it depressing that it's not quite 6pm here and I've already been awake for more than 12 hours.

I use the term "awake" loosely.

On the subject, but in a different vein...

Between the time I was 11 and 15, my parents had the master bedroom in the basement. My bedroom was in the attic (3rd floor) and my baby sisters were right below me. Naturally, the walk up one floor to my room was a lot less scary than going down two floors to my parents. During these years, I learned to wake instantly when high-pitched voices whispered my name from the hall. Or at least to wake enough to lift the covers and let the munchkin of the moment crawl up with me.

Did I mention that I had a twin bed? Not large. And very small children, particularly the youngest, can somehow command sections of a bed totally disproportionate with their physical size.

So during this time I also learned to sleep in uncomfortable positions - smack against the wall, with knees and elbows in my back... I think that's why I have no trouble sharing a bed now.

Just a thought.

Edited to add the "NO" that I forgot

Not a morning person

There's something about waking up before 7am that just makes my whole week become a blur. I've started back to work and have been on the morning shift. Since I have a 45 minute drive up there, I have to get up at least an hour and a half prior to my shift. When the shift starts at 7am, this means I'm waking up at Oh Dark Hundred Hours.

Definitely not my preferred time of day. However, might as well be at work while I'm semi-conscious instead of being semi-conscious at home and totally alert at work...

The hardest part is not letting myself take an afternoon nap after I get home. Soooooo sllleeeeeepyyyyyyy.

Back, I think

Only got 2 hours sleep at Jay's Mom's house in New Jersey on a bed that had feather pillows. (I am mucho allergico to feather-o pillows.) Having not slept with feather pillows for a long time, I had forgotten how miserable said action leave me. Sneezing sneezing sneezing.

Also did not sleep on the 5 hour plane ride. Have been home for 3 hours. Very tired. Fading fast. Promise to be interesting sometime in the future.

Wham Bam

And I passed the 50K mark for NaNo today. Nowhere near done with the story itself. I have at least another 50K to go before that's complete, but now I get to let the idea stew over the holiday weekend while I'm traveling and away from computer access. (I could take the laptop, but I don't think it's worth the hassle, and I won't have that much downtime anyway.)

No end to my talents...

Yep, so I was cutting up potatoes the other night (to make some garlic mashed ones) and the furnace guy was here, because our heat wasn't turning on and this weekend the weather dropped into the 20's (fahrenheit)... Anyway. So the guy walks around the corner and starts talking to me. Distracted, I look up but forget to STOP CHOPPING.

Nearly took off the tips of my middle and ring finger on my left hand. Thank god for my strong fingernails. Stopped the knife from going any farther, but I still have nice slashes on the sides of my fingers. Haven't had any of those since I used to work with the jeweler's saws in high school art classes. (Mrs. Posey, 4th period English, just shook her head when I'd show up with bandaids on half my fingers.)

Still not as bloody as the time I sliced into my middle finger (again on the left hand) with a professional bread knife when I was working at the grill. Damn rolls. Went through seven bandaids and had to wear a finger condom for a week at work. Most annoying. Not as annoying as amputating my entire finger would have been, of course...

Considering my record, it's amazing that I'm as comfortable with a knife in my hand as I am.

Just a few subjects

There aren't many issues that I am unable to see both sides of... Most of them revolve around prejudice of some kind.

In the last five years, two of my close female friends have "come out", two more have always been "out", off-hand I don't know how many of my male friends are gay... more than a handful definitely, and if I tried to fit all my other-than-totally-straight friends into my apartment, there would be no room to move. So on the subject of "allowing" gay marriage, I'm sure you can guess which side of the bigotry line I stand on.

Last night I was hanging out with a few friends--girls' night--and one of them says, "So what do you think of that decision allowing gay marriage?" And the tone of her voice led me to believe that she somehow thought that it was a bad idea. Whooomp. I jumped on that subject like a cat on a mouse, baby.

Me: It's about freaking time. Why should there be any regulation of two adults wanting to spend their lives together? Is there such an overabundance of love in the world, that some of it has to be declared illegal?

Small-minded girl: Well, don't you think...

Me: Yes, I do think, that's why I think that this should be a non-issue. Of course same-sex partners should have the opportunity to make their union legal just like opposite-sex couples. Preferably, I'd like to see it kept to humans, of course.

SMG: (humor flying right over her head) I think this is going to be a major issue in the next presidential election. The republicans think it's wrong and the democrats are split 50-50 on it.

Me: Bullshit. Not all republicans are evil.

SMG: Um... (again, missing the humor)

Me: (taking a different tack) What part of the world will start to crumble if gays are given equal rights? How will this hurt anyone else? I fail to see why the "marriage protection" fools think that recognizing gay marriage will bring the sky crashing down. What is the big deal?

At this point, one of my other friends stepped in with "Actually, I think that the state of the economy is going to be a bigger issue." And from there we settled into less volatile subjects.

Now, I didn't like this girl before because she's... she's... actually, I wasn't sure why I didn't like her before this, but now I think I have a solid step up on understanding what it is about her that makes me wish she would go play in traffic. I'm just still in shock that someone I considered reasonably intelligent could hold such a backwards viewpoint.

Anyway... I should be doing homework about now instead of ranting on here. Aaaagh! So pissed, though.

I think I'm addicted to online quizzes and polls...


Elvish


To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?
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dinner table conversation

So last night Jay and I were sitting down to a lovely dinner of leftover spaghetti with turkey meatballs - we eat so well, it's sick - and the subject turned to education. Not unusual since I'm in a Masters of Education program and Jay's taking an education class this term... And I realized why I was getting so fed up with my classes. I don't think I want to teach in the schools here because the schools here are not set up for learning OR teaching. They're total crap.

Average class size around here is 30 kids, usually closer to 40. A lot of teachers have a full course load - in other words, no prep periods, no consultation periods, no breaks at all. So, 7 classes, 35 kids per class... each teacher is trying to get to know and figure out how best to reach 245 kids. TWO HUNDRED FORTY FIVE. WTF? How does anyone think that's going to happen? I can't fathom it in my reality.

Add to that the contradiction between the push for more authentic teaching and the totally incompatible goals laid out by No Child Left Behind (another paving stone in the path to Hell)... well, gee, let's just make it totally fricking impossible to do the kind of job I'd like to do. I don't think I'm cut out to make that many compromises.

However, all is not lost. With my handy dandy teaching certification, I will be able to pick up the lush jobs at tutoring centers and do all that other real, hands-on, actually getting to know the kids sort of teaching.

Which should give me plenty of time to work on my writing and getting published goals, which are a heck of a lot more enjoyable.

Drat. Phooey. Darn. Poo.

Sheila (Starlines) and Holly (Real Writers Bounce) are packing it up. While I suppose this means that I will have fewer excuses to procrastinate in the mornings, uh, afternoons, and uh, evenings... I will miss the near-daily does of both of them.

I am happy that both of them are doing so fabulously with their writing... and I look forward to reading their next books. In fact, I have a B&N Gift Card burning a hole in my pocket, so maybe I will go pick up Sheila's most recent - Blade Dancer written under her S.L. Viehl pen name - which I haven't bought already because I've been BROKE.

I hope both of them continue to pop in from time to time on Forward Motion.

On critiquing

Yes, another writing entry.

Critiques are an invaluable resource for a writer. Often we're so close to our own story that we don't even see the words that are actually on the page anymore because we're so caught up in the images we see in our heads. (you say nutcase, I say writer...)

But, we need to remember that not all critiques are created equal and not all critiquers (hereafter referred to as critters) are going to have comments that are useful for you or constructive for your story. This is what we have to remember as writers. That we ARE the writers and that we're writing a story that only we can write. We are not bound to change something in a story we love because another person thinks it might be better their way. (Unless that person is your editor and they want to pay you for the book, in which case, negotiation is the way to go.)

All of us have preferences. Some people like everything spelled out for them -- they like to see all the workings behind stage, see all the world-building elements flash through because it makes the story richer and more involved for them. They don't want teases and flirts with the world, they want to KNOW. Other people could care less about things like the monetary system or the art history of your made up people/country because all they want is the story -- what happens, who it happens to, why it's happening in the first place, and most of all, how the hell the characters are going to survive the next twist. For these readers you can drop tidbits along the way, fleshing out the world as you go and that's A-okay.

Either way, someone's going to have an issue with your style.

So what can we get from these crits if half the comments are going to lead us down the winding path to misery? How do you know which comments to listen to and which to dismiss. And I mean dismiss as not helpful to the story you are trying to tell, not dismiss as meaningless. If you made all the changes a critter suggested, THAT reader would be ecstatically happy with your revisions, but you might not be. And guess who has to finish the damn book? Here's a hint-- not the critter.

What this means is that you have to have a strong sense of what you want from your story. You need to know what your central themes are. You need to know what your character motivations are. You need to know everything you can about your story. AND you have to have the confidence to stay true to that vision.

Some of the comments you get, you won't like. For instance, maybe you love a certain scene and can't bring yourself to cut it, but after reading five crits about how it throws off the pace and flow... well, you could keep it, but maybe you'll realize that the critters are right and it does need to go. ("But I love it." "But it doesn't work." "But I love it." "But you know it has to go."... so goes the mental conversation)

Some comments will be pompous and frankly so far off of your vision that you will just have to sit back and stare, jaw on the desktop, because the critter seems to have been reading a different story than the one you thought you posted...

And maybe I'm weird (Hah! MAYBE?) but the whole long disclaimer about how the critter doesn't really know anything, they're so uneducated, but they'll do their best to make you a better writer and possibly that much more fit for publication... PISS ME OFF. Now I don't have a problem with "hey, this is my opinion, take it or leave it" but I don't need the self-effacing BS seasoned with the implication that you actually do know what you're talking about but would never be so rude as to say that outright.

As a counter to this trend, I think I will add "this is the word of the Lord, as channeled through my glorious self" before every crit I do... At least it would keep ME entertained. The hell with y'all.

edit: It occurs to me that it might not be obvious that I meant the last paragraph entirely tongue in cheek... just wanted to clarify.

And another strange writing experience...

So before I started up on the NaNo book on Saturday, I was digging through my stuff (one of the boxes that is yet unsorted and contains all manner of odd tidbits) and found the original map for the Three R's Triology (Revival, Retribution, Restoration). I spread it out on the table and was trying to repair some of the torn bits in the middle when Jay saw it.

He went nuts. "This is so cool. Do you realize what a great teaching tool this would be for meteorology?!?! You have to make me a copy. What's your scale? Where's the 45 degree?"

Me: "What? I just drew this to get story ideas." Another idea hits me. "So, um, well, what do you think the weather would be, say..." I point to the WIP's locale. "HERE?"

Anyway, it evolved into a very interesting discussion about weather and how it would effect my world. Had to add another continent and raise the mountains higher in order to get snow to fall where I want it to, but that's the joy of making up your own world.

When we had some of the boys over for dinner on Sunday, Jay brought out my map again and quized them on what the weather would be. To my surprise they were really excited about it, too. Dang. If I had known, I would have brought it out long before now.

I am a happy girl.

Passed the 20% mark

I'm a fifth of the way to 50K for NaNo. Most of what I'm writing will need serious revision, of course, but at least it will exist to be revised instead of swimming around in my fishbowl brainpan.

I think I'm going to take one day a week to work on Revival though... I'd like to finish the rewrite before the end of the year. Though I now know more about the ending of Revival just by sketching out the start of Retribution. Nifty how that works.

But really, when I go back and read what I've written so far on Retribution I'm like... okay, where did that come from. Because I'll start the scene not knowing how things are going to work out and by the end of the chapter all these characters and dialogue and scenarios have just sprung forth from my fingers. But WHERE is it coming from? I'm not consciously thinking of this stuff while I'm writing. I'll go back and reread and find things that just make me go "what?" I mean interesting stuff that I have no active memory of typing out.

What's most surprising is that it doesn't all suck. So whoever is channeling into my little typing fingers... Thank you.

Strange but true

My mom just sent me a clipping from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. I don't watch TV so I totally missed the whole thing, but the guy - the "star" - of the Joe Schmoe show is a guy I went to highschool with. In fact, he was in my homeroom. His last name Gould - my last name Gold - so we pretty much sat right next to each other for four years.

The article went on and on about what I nice guy he is... perhaps. I don't remember him being particularly nice. But then again, who hasn't improved since high school.

I envy him the $100,000 check though... sigh.

Motivation

I'm finding it extremely hard to be motivated for school anymore. I feel like I'm just jumping through the hoops at this point. Maybe I'd feel differently if our instructor wasn't a complete moron. He's not stupid, he's just an ass. Two more weeks of him and we get to move on though. Back to one of the instructors we had near the beginning - for our third class, I think. And this next class should be interesting. It's officially titled "Action Research" and is supposed to replace what would otherwise be a Master's thesis.

Too bad, because I would LOVE to see some of the yahoos in my program try to write a thesis. Most of them bitch and moan over five pages... Maybe that's the real reason I'm sick of the program. We're all a little burned out, but some of these guys are acting like ten years olds who've been kept inside too long. They practically sit there pouting.

The other night, we went to the Eccles Broadcast center up at the University of Utah to see where and how they broadcast the Ednet system (very cool) and then drove back to school for the last half of class. The instructor was late getting back, so two of the guys decided that they wanted to get home earlier than usual that night and set the clock in the room ahead twenty minutes.

Hello, fifth graders?

I'm not just disgusted with our instructor anymore, now I'm ready to smack half my classmates. No wonder the prospect of blowing off class to go to the NaNo kickoff has me excited.

Argh.

Hmm...


You are Form 4, Gargoyle: The Fallen.

"And The Gargoyle mended his wings from the
blood of the fallen so he could rise up from
imprisonment. With great speed and
resourcefulness, Gargoyle made the world his
for the taking."

Some examples of the Gargoyle Form are Daedalus
(Greek) and Mary Magdalene (Christian).
The Gargoyle is associated with the concept of
success, the number 4, and the element of wood.
His sign is the new moon.

As a member of Form 4, you are a creative and
resourceful individual. You are always
thinking of possible solutions to problems you
face and you generally choose one that is
right. Much of your success comes from your
ability to look at things a little differently
than everyone else. Gargoyles are the best
friends to have because they don't always take
things for face value.


Which Mythological Form Are You?
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