Hi, my name is Kate, and I'll be your therapist this week

So, Jay won with the estimate of 12 minutes until the first sniping between our newlywed friends. I'll call them "Jeremy" and "Alison"

However, there are obviously some deeper issues going on between Jeremy and Alison, and Jay and I feel compelled to try to help. Part of the problem is that Alison is young. She's only 21 and Jeremy is 29. She feels really insecure because she's never gone to college, she's never had to do anything for herself--parents spoiled her and her sister, and she's also gained a lot of weight in the last year and a half since they got engaged. They just got married. They should be happy, lovey, supportive of each other. The words "I hate you" shouldn't be a staple of their daily exchanges. I would think, anyway.

The thing is, Alison is so blatently unhappy that is hurts to watch. Jeremy doesn't make it any better because he just picks on her and puts her down even harder than she's already doing to herself. Example-- Alison: "I'm so stupid and flaky." Jeremy: "Yeah, pretty much." Now that's just ugly.

So the plan is for Jay and I to split them up tomorrow when they get back from Park City. I get to talk to Alison about possibly seeking help for what to me is an obvious dark depression, while Jay gets to discuss "How to support your significant other" with Jeremy. Jeremy keeps telling her that her problems are all in her head. The nice thing about that is that I can agree with him while introducing more productive concepts like "chemical imbalance" and "have your doctor check your thyroid function".

All Jay and I know is that we can't stand to be around them like this. Their misery is contagious. Alison has no self-confidence, and as a woman who dealt with a wicked smackdown of depression myself last year, I can't not try to help her.

Day off!

My first real day off since coming back from vacation. No school, no hotel. Thank god. Of course, I need to spend significant amounts of that time cleaning our filthy apartment. Especially since we are expecting house guests tomorrow.

Oh yes, did I not mention that yet? The NJ honeymooners are coming to visit us for their post-nuptial travels. Fortunately, we have devised ways to get them out of our tiny apartment. Sunday, I've arranged for them to stay up at the Inn for two nights in the penthouse for the discount rate of $79/night. Not bad, considering the room usually goes for $250/night, eh? Tuesday they're coming back to our place, and Wednesday night we're all going to the Dave Matthews concert - the tickets were Jay's best man gift. So we figure that on Thursday, or maybe Friday, we'd kick them out again with a few maps and some suggestions of places to visit in southern Utah. They're allowed to return the following Tuesday, and then they fly home on Wednesday.

Did I mention that we have a bet as to how soon after their arrival they will start bickering? And that neither of our guesses are more than 20 minutes? Oh yes. Should be interesting.

But now to clean.

Ça me fait mal

Ouch, does it hurt. I assigned a short writing exercise to my students last friday. They had to write a short paragraph of at least five sentences describing their summer. Not a hard assignment, I thought. I just wanted to see how their writing skills were, since the English teacher gave me the grim news about their reading scores... more than half are below grade level.

What did I discover? Three of 50 students understood the concepts of spelling, punctuation, and paragraphs. The rest of them? Well, some just gave me five sentences numbered 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Some had spelling so poor that I had to guess at their meaning. Others were barely recognizable as English.

This is depressing.

I'm going to start a program with a parent volunteer so the volunteer can work one-on-one with all the students on basic reading skills and speed reading exercises while I focus on the group as a whole.

I do not understand how these kids made it out of elementary school with such a lack of reading skills. Pretty sick if you asked me.

Oh, and about the nose thing

The doctor left much to be desired. After a ten minute exam in which he sprayed a noxious, numbing agent up my nose and stabbed me in the deviated septum with his metal lifter thingy, he raced through an explanation of a septoplasty and turbinate reduction and escorted me to scheduling. Yeah. "This is what's wrong with you, let's schedule your surgery. It won't actually affect the shape of your nose though. No time for questions, and I shall escape while you are sneezing and wiping your eyes."

Needless to say, I shall be seeking a second opinion. If I'm going to submit to the S-word, I sure as hell am going to get a straighter nose out of the deal. But the current diagnoses is "deviated septum and polyp-like scar tissue in the turbinates". Anyone know of any good ENT specialists in the Salt Lake area? I have a list from Internet searches, but I'd love some personal recommendations.

How talking about education quickly leads to ranting

Seriously, how the heck did it get to be almost September? (Sonofabitch. Did I just write "heck"? Must get out of Utah soon.) Anyway. My car registration expires in three days, but I need brake work, an emissions inspection, and a safety inspection before I can reregister. With money that I don't have, of course.

I recently discovered that teachers don't get paid until the end of the month. And that the paycheck represents work done the previous month. Yeah. So at the end of September, I will be paid for 2 and a half weeks of work from August. I won't get paid for all my September work until the end of October. How did I miss this little loop hole of teacherfuckingovership? Seriously. If I hear one more anti-educator rant in the papers or other media, I will flip the fuck out. People think they can do better? Come on in. I'd love to see it. I mean, naturally, there's some wackos in any field, but for the most part, the teachers I work with put everything they've got into their jobs, only to be smacked down over and over again. Smacked down by the students, by the parents, by the administration, by the legislature, by the federal government. You want to improve education in this country? Support your teachers, don't demonize them. Sure, test them, ensure their competency in their subject. Heck, test the kids if that's going to make you feel good about our educational system. But for godsake, put your damn money where your mouth is.

There's a huge disconnect in this country between the "management" and the workers, no matter what your industry. I have to wonder if this wasn't the way of things in Rome at the beginning of the end. One of my apocolyptic-minded relatives predicted the end of US dominance (and perhaps the end of the US entirely) in the next 50 years. I'm finding it harder to argue against that.

Yes, I'm feeling cynical today.

still hanging in there

Actually, I'm having a fabulous time with the students, I'm just experiencing technical difficulties. First, I have NO IDEA where to start with the reading classes. So far what we've done has been more organizational than curriculum focused. But, considering these kids are 12 and 13 years old (ie: TOTAL SPASTICS!!) organization is much needed.

The French is going a bit better, since I actually know how to teach that and stuff... but my first period has some girls with... massive attitudes. ohmigad, I can't imagine talking to anyone, much less and adult, the way these girls talk. Ack. I gave them a short 7 question survey on the first day. One question asked "Why do you think people study foreign languages?" One response: "I don't know. Ask THEM." I kid you not.

And then the district still hasn't decided if I exist or not. According to the computers in their office, I'm in the system. According to the computers at the school, I have no students, I'm not assigned, I'm not on file, or I'm invalid, depending on which system I try to access. But I refuse to stress about it. The Librarian..oops...Media Specialist and the Asst. Principal are both making twice daily phone calls to the district on my behalf, so I figure it will be fixed by Monday. Until then, I'll just keep up my daily visits to their offices to check status. At least I'm getting to know the Librarian well.

Tomorrow I have to stick around all day, despite only teaching 4 classes (instead of the normal 6), because we have meetings in the afternoon. Hopefully I will be able to get some idea of where I should be starting off with these reading classes. Then I get to try to keep a straight face through the foreign language department meeting... some of the other teachers... I won't get into it now, but oy. AND THEN, after all this lovely time at school, I'll finally be going to the Otolaryngologist to see about starting to get my useless nose fixed. My breathing quality is at an all-time pathetic low and it's seriously pissing me off.

Alrighty. I must go to bed or I'll never make it through the day. Even though I have no idea what I'm going to do with the darn reading classes tomorrow. Ack.

The nightmares have started

Last night I dreamt about the first day of school. All I can say is that it is pretty much guaranteed to go better in real life. I still don't know what I'll be teaching in terms of the reading classes. French is no problem. I really feel quite comfortable with that subject, but reading... maybe it would help if there was actually a course description, hmmm.

I'm going to scan the state Core curriculum online and see if I can figure out what I'm supposed to be teaching since no one else seems to be able to give me a straight answer.

Telegraph: Got the Job

Got home Sunday night, started working 8am Monday morning. First day of school is the 23rd. Am exhausted. Seminars yesterday 8-3. Work at the Inn 3:30-11. Got home 12am. Got up 6:45am. Losing brain function. Parent "Back to School" night starts at 6:30pm tonight. Worried won't be able to form sentences. Must shower. Maybe nap. Definitely eat. Also drink. Dehydrated.

Will update later when coherence regained.

Blog on Hold

Until the 16th... silly wedding to attend back East. On Friday the 13th no less.

Pick me! Pick me!

Interview went well, really well, I thought. I had to resist the urge at the end to jump up and shout "pick me! pick me!"

Principal and Assistant Principal seem like great people. I got a really positive vibe off both of them. And not only would I get to teach French, I would also get to teach Reading. Only my two favorite subjects in the world.

Sorry, I'm giddy with hope. Please please please please please. Pick me!

Additions

Added 3 new pictures to the new photo album link. I went through Jay's collection, and trust me, you're not missing much else. He took a lot of pictures from the South Sister hike, and while that's interesting for him, to me it looks like a bunch of snow and sky and rock. Notsointerestingeh?

Tomorrow is my interview. I'm trying not to stress about it.

I'll let you know how I do with that.

Hmmm... maybe that's the reason my tummy hurts. Stress-related ickiness?

Last minute chance

Got another call today about a job interview!! With one of the junior high schools in Granite District. It's for a position that's only mornings, and only until January, though it could last all year, but I don't care. I want it! I want it bad.

Interview is on Friday.

It would just be so nice to be in a school, teaching, instead of scrambling around trying to fill time with something sort of related to what I want to be doing.

I really want this to happen.

Wasting Time with Random Comments

As I expected, the images seem to have repaired themselves with no invention on my part. Where do they go when they disappear? Is there some sort of vacation spot in the Web for "broken" images?

I took down my previous chapters from the critique circle and posted summaries instead. Sure, it's a private board, but I really would like a serious shot at selling the books someday (like, after they're finished) and posting that many chapters just seems like a bad idea.

I'm working on yet another wedding present. Jay's next door neighbor from childhood is getting hitched in New Jersey on Friday the 13th. Jay's been tagged for best man duty, so he heads out this Friday to supervise the bachelor party on Saturday. I'll be joining him on Sunday and we'll be hanging with his family for the week. The wedding's on the north shore, nice and informal (aka: shoes optional) so hopefully it will be a good time. In any case, it's always nice to have a change of scenery.

My Images are Broken

And I don't know why. I'm hoping that they will miraculously fix themselves like they did last time.

In unrelated news, I still have no teaching job. But I did hear from my long lost, crazy English roommate Pamela. Hey Pamela! We lived together for 8 weeks when I first arrived at the Grand Canyon, and I must say that none of my 4 subsequent roommates...no, wait there were 5... (Meriel, Rachel, Stephen, Regina, and Aaron) could hold a candle to her. How can you not adore someone who hangs South Park memorabilia on the wall and can imitate all the voices with eerie accuracy? Not to mention the fact that she drove in the mother of all storms to meet me in Oxford in October of 2000 during my last foray onto British soil. Got to love that girl. And now she's going to be a policeofficer... frightening thought that.

A story about Karma

Karma will get you every time, and she's a bitch. Perhaps you think you're beyond her reach. But allow me to tell you a little story that might change your mind. Or, at the very least, make you smile at the cosmic justice of the situation.

First, I must say that while someone was very definitely harmed in the making of this story, no one has died, and I was in no way responsible for the incident of karmic kickback.

So, this "gentleman", and I use the term loosely, called the hotel last week and wanted to speak to our General Manager (GM). Our GM wouldn't take the call, because he didn't recognize the name. So the Guy leaves a voicemail message after asking me about our standard rates. GM calls me back a few hours later, tells me to give this guy 50% off on the suite he wants. Okay. Whatever. Guy calls back to confirm the reservation and give me his info. No worries. He calls back half an hour later to see about an early check in. I said I wasn't sure because the room was occupied the night before, but we would have it ready as soon as possible. Guy tells me to let the GM know to get the room cleaned early. Ha ha. Okay, I'll tell GM to be quick about it, strip that bed quick like a bunny, GM! Right.

Anyway, Guy checks in, I go home, don't hear anything more from him. However, the other staff were not so fortunate. He bullies GM into giving him two 2-4-1 vouchers so he can eat cheaper at our restaurant both nights. Now, the voucher also says that a 20% gratuity is added to original bill automatically. But fine print (it's not that fine, BTW) is for peons, right?

Guy is a pain in the ass, very demanding, but writes in a $14 tip. Now, if he thought the tip was not included, let me just say that $14 was a less than appropriate tip considering his bill. But anyway. He comes in the next night, evidently having read the fine print at last. Wait for it. He demands his money back. That's right. He tipped "by mistake" and wants his money back. The cheap ass tip that he left, he wants back. Hah!

I'd like to present the facts that he drives a high-end Mercedes and owns an expensive mountain bike. With me? Yes. He spends lots of money on toys, but on service and vacation? Cheap bastard.

Anyway, he was even more of a pain in the ass the second night, but I won't get into details, because they're too depressing. Oh heck, well, they involve him eating all his food and then claiming that he didn't like it so they better take that off the bill as well. (They didn't.)

So I go into work yesterday and learn of the divine intervention. It seems that our executive chef (EC) was driving up the steep hill on the way to work. Coming down the hill, he notices a biker coming down really fast. Too fast. The front of the bike is already shaky. But he might have made it okay... except for the big SUV also coming down the hill. EC doesn't know whether the rider freaked out or whether the wind pressure from the passing car did it, but the bike veered off the road into the gravel ditch. Bike and rider flew about ten feet in the air before landing, hard, and rolling another 30 yards or so. EC uses some creative language, pulls a Uey, and rushes over to the guy, already dialing 911 as he runs.

And, ohmigoodness, who could it be? Yep. Our favorite Guy. Broke his collar bone visibly in two places, compound fracture in his arm. We find out later that he broke his back in not one, but EIGHT places.

Want to know the best part? Guy argues with the EMT's, complaining about the expense of an ambulance. Tried to bargain them down to $500. When they refused, he tried to convince our EC to drive him in his car...

So, yes, I have met Scrooge, and he lives in Salt Lake City.

Oh, but she did... and she was

Alien Posing as Human: "Um, yes, I uh, well, you see, I'm looking at this... Here I see in the... You know what this is? In the paper. Your... for your restaurant. What does it mean?

Me: What does what mean, Ma'am?

APaH: The ad. The coupon. In the paper. The Tribune, I mean. What does it mean?

Me: I'm sorry, which advertisement are you looking at? We have several running right now.

APaH: The one for the restaurant. It says Two Dash Four Dash One. What is that supposed to mean?

Me: Oh, you must be looking at the early bird special. It's two for one entrees.

APsH But what does that mean?!?!

Me: Uh... it means that when you purchase one entree, you get one for free. In other words, you get two for the price of one...

APaH: Oh, well, that's very confusing the way it's written here.

Me: ....(I could come up with no appropriate response at the time.)

APaH: So we but dinner for one person, and you give us one dinner free?

Me: Well, not the whole dinner, just the entree.

APaH: What's an entree?

This kind of questioning continued for another five minutes. They made reservations for dinner tonight.... I warned the restaurant on my way out this afternoon. Oy. Can't wait to hear about them tomorrow.

At least be consistent, people

Okay, after reading about and listening to various morons politicians and asshat fools other conservative Americans declare that really, it's because marriage is a "sacred union" that homosexual marriage should be declared constitutionally illegal. And not because they're narrow-minded bigots...oh nooooo, how could you possibly say such a thing.

Now, excuse me, but. Since when has marriage been this sacred union? Oh, but traditionally, it has been, they assert. On what planet, I must ask. Traditionally marriage has been more about politics and economics than any sacred bond. So what makes that any more sacred than a business merger? You're not trying to outlaw marriages of convenience, why worry about same-sex marriages?

Second. What about atheists and others who don't buy into the whole God thing? Should they not be allowed to marry because their union would not be "sacred"? Because it would not be guided by the loving hand of god? What the @*&! ever! And I can hear the rebuttal already (because I talk to crazy religious people all the time and actually enjoy it...see previous posts.) Maybe those people are afraid to let god into their lives, but that doesn't mean that he isn't keeping watch over them. Again I say, as my brother used to so eloquently say to our mother, put down the pipe. Step away from the baggy and put down the pipe. Now.

I'm not saying that these people can't hold on to their ignorant little opinions. They can believe whatever they like in the privacy of their own shrines to prejudice and intolerance. But when they take an issue to the national level and try to amend the mother@&*!ing United States Constitution, they better come up with a better reason than the whole "sacred union" protection whine. If they ain't trying to ban atheists and gold diggers from getting married, then there's no call to discriminate against the homosexuals.

And don't get me started on Utah politics. Gah.

Still Waiting

I still haven't heard anything back from the private school interview. They said they'd be in contact "soon", but that's a rather subjective term. My instincts tell me that I didn't get the position, and I have to admit that I'm not really surprised. Or all that disappointed. It would have been a good experience, but a frustrating one in the end, I think.

Of course, maybe they loved me and are just trying to think of the proper way to say that.... Right.

Roach update

By the way... Jay's taken a few more blasts at the little buggers. We did stop to purchase one of those long-handled lighter thingies though, so no more worry about blisters. Plus, Jay's hand doesn't need to be as close to the actual flame.

Their numbers seem to be way down. Haven't seen anymore around our front door at night, and haven't seen any inside for three or four days.

I'm just going to enjoy the reprieve and not question the reasons or duration.

Fingers Crossed

I just had a job interview today for a teaching position with a brand new private school. I think it went well, but it's so hard to know. I have to believe that if they don't offer me the job, that it was just not meant to be.

I don't even know how I feel about teaching at this school... Not that I'll turn down the opportunity to teach if they want me. Ack. I hate the post-interview wait.

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.