Gracie

My little Dutch Excursion

2009-06-13T21:16:00.000-07:00

Today started out a little rough. I woke up with this strange crick/lump in my neck, forgot my office keys, paid for parking twice because I forgot my keys and had to go back home, and drove around twice as much in twice the normal traffic (UW graduation + road construction + sunshine= yuck) with about half my normal patience due to the previously mentioned aggravations, not to mention the sad frustration of realizing that I lost my phone last night at Golden Gardens. What are the chances of finding your phone at the beach? That run-on was probably about as smooth as the first part of my day.

But then, I got a hold of an individual called Gordon who happened to have gotten a hold of my phone through his brother who had found it at the beach... Things were looking up. I just had to meet him to pick it up. So, as soon as I had the chance, I headed over to Ballard to find Gordon, and my phone. He lived basically under the bridge he said, by the water. So I found the general stretch of the road where his address should have been, but it wasn't really obvious, especially being in the industrial part of Ballard. Then I spotted a bike shop with people, I hoped, who would have an idea where this address might be. The owner of the Holland import bike shop invited me inside to google it.

What was I doing, he wanted to know? I mumbled something about my phone. We walked back out, and I waved and thanked him, thinking we were done. But instead he pointed to his bike and suggested that he was going to give me a ride instead. There was a big wooden passenger box attached to the front, so cool, I hopped in. I felt so Dutch. He asked me again about what I was doing down under the bridge, because he seemed concerned about me, because apparently nothing good goes on there. Do I repair phones? No... I explained that I was fetching mine. He just wanted to make sure I was going to come out alive or something.

Anyway, we eventually made our way down a gravelly path through a chain link corridor and a bunch of ailing cars to the shore. He saw a woman he recognized and asked her if Gordon lived nearby. She pointed down the dock to his boat. Ah, he lives on a boat, he might have mentioned that. Oh well. The bike man said goodbye, and I found Gordon in his boat. He gave me my phone. He was an odd fellow, but quite nice to have called me back about my phone. I thanked him and thanked him and was on my way, thoroughly amused by the entire phone mishap. In a way I'm glad I lost it, because, it was quite a little adventure getting it back.

Guess Who Got Out?

2009-05-21T08:58:00.000-07:00

Well, I haven't posted since January, and I bet you thought I'd abandoned the blog now that I have an exciting life in the city. Not so, I was just waiting, building suspense. So this had better be a good one eh? Dog got out yesterday, for his first solo adventure in Seattle. He just wandered away, like he does. One minute there was a large white dog out in the yard, the next there was a black cat staring at me through the window. Not good. Cat presence means dog must be long gone. So the search began. Where would I go if I were a dog? No fresh steaming piles in sight (to roll in, not as evidence). Yes, that's would I would do if I were free for a day, go roll in pooh. At least if I were this dog, that is what I would do. I started meeting my neighbors. Have you seen my dog? Have you seen my dog? Have you seen my dog? I felt like I was living out a children's book instead of real life. The next big thing since, "Are you my Mother?"

Well, turns out about three different people had seen him and two others wanted to know if he was friendly if they found him. One woman wanted to know if he would come if she called him. I didn't really get into how it would depend on her tone of voice. But since she had two small dogs with her, I'm betting she wouldn't have too much trouble. Now, I am setting you up for a very complicated math problem, are you ready?

So, of all these people, how many of them were helpful? Figure it out yet? OK, two women tried to be helpful, and one guy actually ran into his house to ask his buddy which way they'd seen Sayers go. But all in all, nobody noticed which way he'd gone. He's sly.

I got a phone call. He had traveled down the street an entire block, and was at somebody's house. The man told me that my dog seemed very hungry. I pedaled on down to get dog, and when I got there his wife confirmed that he must be hungry. "He keeps looking for food." I didn't bother to ask how she knew what he was looking for, and just left it at, "he's always hungry." I don't know if that reassured them or not.

Anyway, this story isn't that amazing or exciting, it's just the only thing to write about at the moment. So there you have it, the furry beast is back from his jaunt around the neighborhood and he isn't even filthy.

And Now A Place to Live

2009-01-29T18:02:00.001-08:00

Yes, it's true. As Ashley so aptly put it, Surefoot no longer runs the risk of doubling as "Surebed." By the way, Surefoot is my trusty car, who you should meet some day. He's really a nice chap. So, if all goes well, tomorrow I sign my life away and will start my new life in a duplex. A first for me. Also a first is experiencing so much wood paneling in one home. It's a little overwhelming, but I like it. It feels slightly rustic. Oh, and get this. It has dark green carpeting. It was meant to be. And if Sayers makes it out, we will slowly begin the uphill battle of keeping that carpet green instead of white ;)

So, I Moved

2009-01-26T12:44:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. My blog is barely limping along these days with a few sad attempts lately to keep it alive. This is the latest and greatest. I moved to Seattle. Perhaps I'll have some stories to share soon.

Saunas and Dishwashers

2009-01-14T19:55:00.000-08:00

Today our dishwasher died. So we went out and scouted out the dishwasher sales situation around town. We found some high prices and some better prices, but nothing too spectacular. Well, then we were talking to a not-too obnoxious salesman (which is nice) who mentioned that he has a scratched dishwasher in back on clearance. It was the model we wanted. It was a lot less money. Sweet. It has some little scratches in the paint is all.... So today we bought a dishwasher of all things to to do on a foggy Wednesday.

Oh something about saunas. I forget what I was going to say about that. We're listening to Medieval Babes and drinking some delicious Belgian style beers and having a nice evening together. I'll miss such evenings.

Here goes nothin'

2009-01-11T20:31:00.000-08:00

Well, my friends, tomorrow is the first day of training. Marathon training that is. It's terrifying. Exciting. Daunting. Ambitious. So uh... for those of you who have done one o' these things before, perhaps you have some words of wisdom?

Snow, snow, snow

2009-01-05T12:56:00.000-08:00

We went walking again today. Three big people and a dog inn the snow... it's been falling since about 6ish this morning and it's beautiful. But dangerous. There are some cars out braving the snow and the ice, sliding and spinning their wheels just for fun. I don't know how much their people think it a good sport, but they're all creeping about the town anyway. The world in slow motion. The snowmobiles are prancing about too, showing off I'd say. We got to see all of this on our walk downtown. The dog skated about on some ice sheets and almost pulled me down. When I did fall flat on my back, however, we weren't on any ice sheets. I don't know what happened. I was talking about bad 80's hair styling... I was up. And then I was down. I'm still opposed to excessive hair teasing. And hair spray for that matter.

What a beautiful day! White fluff everywhere.

I'm Back!

2009-01-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

So, it seems nothing's been posted for quite some time. And perhaps anyone who reads this already knows... but I'm getting quite close to moving back to Seattle. That's the most exciting thing I can think of this morning. It's January. That in itself it not very exciting, I mean what happens in January? It's cold. Sometimes colder, like if you were in Ketchum experiencing -20. I don't recommend going out of you way to experience that. What else can we say about January? It sort of reminds me of argyle for some reason...

Burley to read Sunday booze ordinance again

2008-11-20T20:24:00.000-08:00

This is classic:

Burley to read Sunday booze ordinance again

By Damon Hunzeker
Times-News writer

It's all about free agency versus governmental restriction of individual rights - and if you're looking forward to ordering a shot of Jagermeister in Burley this Sunday, you'll have to wait at least two more weeks.

The Burley City Council agreed by a vote of 4-2 Tuesday night to allow a second reading of the proposed ordinance that would allow Sunday liquor sales in the city. Council members Dennis Dexter and Steve McGill voted to suspend the standard three-reading rule and vote on the matter Tuesday night. Instead, it will be either voted on or postponed by another two weeks during the Dec. 2 meeting.

Several people showed up Tuesday to oppose the potential ordinance - which City Attorney Randy Stone presented as a change that will allow the sale of liquor on "Sunday, Memorial Day, and Thanksgiving."

Burley resident Tony Hart stood up and said, "A lot of traditional things go by the wayside just because somebody else does it. I've lived here for 50 years and seen the deterioration of the community."

The remarks prompted Jim Bryant, also a longtime resident, to angrily denounce Hart's position.

"I'd like to take it back to the 1800s when it was our right to drink on Sunday, when it was our individual rights to do what we wanted without people like Tony telling us how to live our lives," he said.

Others in the audience of about 25 people related the issue to religion.

"We just let our barriers down a little bit, pretty soon they're all gone," Dan Crane said, "There was a law written down 6,000 years ago about keeping the Sabbath holy. What about the other things this will bring?"

Crane went on to cite increased law-enforcement costs and, without explaining a connection, erosion of the Constitution.

Forrest Hall lectured the city council about three evils in society: drugs, alcohol, and tobacco.

The first, he said, groups the only illegal intoxicants and seemed to suggest that the latter two should follow.

Hall praised the lack of tobacco smoke in most public places nowadays and said, "Alcohol is probably the most wicked of the whole bunch. Why should we support a person who wants to sell alcohol in the first place?"

Tawnya Hale, representing Nelson's Cafe and Pilot Lounge, pointed out, as she did at the previous meeting, that the business is already paying for a yearlong license, which is useless 52 days out of the year, and that bars already sell beer and wine.

Owner Shirley Middleton said, "As for Sunday being the Lord's day, every day is the Lord's day - and people who don't realize that need to take a closer look at themselves."

The overt opponent on the city council, Vaughn Egan, said, "I am strictly against whiskey on Sunday - for many reasons, and the majority of citizens in this city know what those reasons are."

He didn't mention any of the reasons but said that he would continue to support the ban "for the rest of my days on this earth."

Councilman Dennis Curtis, while voting in favor of a second reading, said, "If a man wants to sell hay on Sunday, I could care less. I've always been for commerce."

http://www.magicvalley.com/articles/2008/11/20/news/minicassia/149144.txt

how'd he do that?

2008-11-18T19:10:00.000-08:00

sayers is getting older. perhaps that explains it, or perhaps he really is my dog after all. i took him out the other day, and when it came time to go home i told him to get in the car. "kennel" in dog speak. so, he made an amazing leap into the back of the car (car mind you, not the truck). and then he slipped, or something, and fell out of the car right onto his back. his clean, white back mind you. the one that had just been bathed mere hours before. of course we were in a parking lot, landing in parking lot grease puddles. yes, that is my dog. i told him he was a good pooch, try it again. i'm still not sure what happened the first time.

We're Outrageous

2008-11-15T15:58:00.000-08:00

first of all we had a yard sale in the middle of november and everyone was freezing. but they came. but, our prices were enough to scare them away. one woman just walked off the property at the idea that we would want fifty cents for an assortment of fabrics. there were probably several yards there, but apparently our high prices were enough to make her take her business elsewhere. she was only willing to pay a quarter. she was rather upset as we called after her that a quarter would be fine... and didn't look back. of course there are the people who seemed shocked that so many things were "only" a quarter. it's amazing to me how many people thought they were getting deals and yet how many people thought they were getting ripped off. my favorite of the day was the guy who got upset because we did not provide him with a box to take his hangers from the free pile after the sale was over. who complains about lack of service at a yard sale? when it's over? and it's free?? seriously people. you confuse me.

In the Media...

2008-10-31T08:18:00.000-07:00

ya know, i heard somebody on some newsy show say, "money is a tool, not a lover." it's sort of obvious, but also sort of a good point.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

2008-10-11T13:44:00.000-07:00

October 11th, and there is snow on the ground. Craziness... but it's really beautiful. I could handle snow and flowers all winter. Too bad the flowers can't. But they're being pretty brave out there, I have to say.

toes

2008-10-01T08:30:00.000-07:00

so, i have to make this quick. but a girl just walked by me wearing shoes with individual toes. like toe socks, but toe shoes. one question: why?? it makes me want to wiggle my toes just thinking about it.

on sale

2008-09-22T19:59:00.000-07:00

so, if you know me, you probably know that i rarely pay full retail price for anything. i don't try particularly hard, since i find shopping to be rather painful in most circumstances. i keep a mental list running of things i need or will need in the near future, and when i see a good deal... lisa and mike are the same way. for example, we went grocery shopping today and ended up buying some $44 worth of food. we saved over $72. so if we were to pay full retail we would have shelled out well over $100. but we're not into that. often we go to the grocery outlet and save more than we spend, but today was special. we ran across the street (more like a game of frogger on this arterial) for convenience and were drawn in by the deals. and i admit, i splurged.

it is almost october after all, so who needs a 2008 calendar? well, for ten cents, i went for it. wild flowers, come on. i am already scheming some uses for the pretty pictures once the year ends. i threw another ten cents at a pack of gum and was happy to find the only non fruity flavor in the basket. in my opinion, gum and hot tea should never be fruity. there was the thirty some dollar steak we got for $5 or so.

now, i am a little ashamed to admit this, but baby food was such a good deal (14 cents for a 6 oz. jar of apple sauce) that i almost went for it. i was pretty close, i mean big people eat apple sauce too. i like apple sauce. but then i got to thinking about it and looking closer at it and decided that it might be a wee bit over-processed for my taste. more like mush than sauce. so i passed. but then i left the store and started reconsidering the baby food, because couldn't you use the baby stuff in baking... and no one would notice? and then you could offer your special treat to people, and tell them it was made of baby food. or not.

thwarted

2008-09-14T22:18:00.000-07:00

the accumulation process can only go so far before it instills a desire to purge. so, today, having had quite enough of all this acquiring of this n'that lately, i was determined to find as many things (starting in my room) that i could to get rid of immediately. it's wonderfully therapeutic. let's begin with the things i know i'll never wear again. how about several pairs of pants that, no matter what i do, will not stay put without a belt, which only makes things worse by bunching them up around my waist. having thyroid is great, but the down side is... i lost my butt and my clothes don't seem to fit anymore. if you happen to see it, will you kindly send it on its way back home?

anyway, i found some pants to give away, some shirts to retire, and a few things that probably should just be thrown away... like the pair of pants i've been wearing since 1998 that don't really have much other than their gumption holding them together at this point. so, i was finding some good stuff... getting a fairly decent pile going when lisa came around. i told her i had some stuff she might want to take a look at before i donated it. so what does she do? first she offered me a sweater that she had shrunk, thinking it might fit me for some reason, though last i checked... there is no conceivable way of stuffing a person over the age of eight into a sweater that small. so then she tried her next move in her ploy to thwart my purging process. she pulled out a long, black wool skirt she thought might fit me, that she no longer felt the need to hang onto for herself. she'd bought it at a thrift store a few years ago. it's handmade. it fit. ooo.... pretty. ahhh!!! i give up, i'll take it.

will i ever have an occasion to wear a long black skirt? sort of doubtful, but i am now fully prepared... and slightly less than successful in paring down my excess...

a very exciting post

2008-09-09T20:25:00.000-07:00

so, i lied. this isn't even worthy of being called post material... but i need your help. my cell phone had an adventure and didn't come out so well in the end, so while he's recovering (don't tell him it doesn't look good), there's a new guy. he's still getting the hang of things and could use some assistance. he doesn't know all your numbers yet. he's a little overwhelmed with all the responsibility and it's still his first day. so go easy on him and just this once give him your phone number(s). you know the email address.

of mice and men

2008-09-02T12:45:00.000-07:00

i have had 'of mice and men' sitting next to my bed for weeks, telling myself that i should and will read it. it's short, it's a classic, and it's a book i can read and get rid of (which is ideal at this point). yet, for some reason, i never have to urge to pick it up and start reading. there is actually a stack of books next to my bed which i intend to read and discard. perhaps telling someone else about my stash of books will prompt me to actually crack the dusty things and absorb something from them. if you've read 'of mice and men' and tell me i'm missing out, i'm quite sure i will suddenly blaze through it, wondering what took me so long. and if you tell me it wasn't that great, i will may continue to glance at it occasionally, promising myself to one day look at the inside.

weird

2008-08-14T20:57:00.000-07:00

in a wave of strange happenings, i am feeling the urge to blog a bit.

today i was at the store and the girl forgot to give me my change. i didn't notice at first, so i went back a few minutes later for my ten dollars. they called a manager who said it was store policy not to give it back. i protested and asked to speak with the manager, who then came out to tell me in person that i could not get my change back, even though the cashier admitted that she had forgotten to give me my money. she said i could come back to collect it tomorrow, if the till is over. i protested. she said "store policy" many times. i was extremely irritated. supposedly they'll call me if they find an extra ten dollars lying around. yeah, right.

then later on today the amazing lincoln street trio decided to walk down to the park to see what the jamaican festival was like. we've been hearing about it on the radio for weeks. yes, you read that right. jamaican-themed festival, in twin falls. we got there and saw throngs of people, so i was excited. maybe some good food, fun music. well, a few people were standing around drinking beer and talking. a few loud shirts, one or two articles of tie dye, and not a dread lock in sight. there were a bunch of tables set up, and some people sitting and talking around them. no music. no food. there was, however, a giant tent with tables and baskets wrapped up: a silent auction. tell me, what is jamaican about all of this?? do jamaicans dig silent auctions? perhaps the items in the baskets were somehow related to jamaica. very confused, we dragged ourselves away from the raging party, while everyone else continued in their wild partying, periodically checking their auction items and sipping on beer.

so, hungry, we decided to make dinner. we pulled out a bunch of food from the refridge and decided that we had the makings for steak and bratwurst burritos. i was feeling rather carnivorous tonight and drooling over the idea of some meat, multitudes of meat in fact. grill. burritofy. eat. mmm, it was tasty. oh, but then, what's this? mike is standing up holding his throat. choking? yes. i was contemplating the heimlich when he stuck his head over the railing into the flower bed. i thought he was trying to puke. alright! yeah! i'm thinking, puke it up buddy. but then he pulls this long pink stringy thing out of his mouth, about six inches long and declares that he got it. apparently. i guess he decided to swallow sans chewing and got it stuck halfway down his throat. this next part i am thinking about censoring, but heck... no. then he fed it to my dog, despite my protesting against it. needless to say, sayers enjoyed it thoroughly and sat nearby hoping for more. fortunately mike supplied no more semi-digested treats this night.

ah, what a day.

la fiesta

2008-08-01T20:49:00.000-07:00

monica was in town yesterday, so we went to dinner, along with some other friends. la fiesta. i'd never eaten there before, but i was in the mood for mexican, so i was excited. for some reason the black bean soup sounded good, even though it was 90 some-odd degrees outside. but, travesty of travesties, the waiter came back to tell me there was no more soup. popular item. so i settled for a shredded beef taco, skip the beans and rice. man oh man, that was a delicious taco. and what made it even more delectable was the bill. my total came in under $2. which leads me to the question, why pay an extra $4 for rice when you can fill up on chips. freshly made, free chips. that was a darn good dinner, and one of the cheapest dining out experiences i've ever had. i figured i should leave more than the usual 15-20% tip...

oh, and after dinner we went to the thursday night summer concert in the park. there was a bit of a seventies theme with the music. it was also "crazy hat" and "crazy shirt" night. we were vastly outnumbered by senior citizens, but that is what makes the summer concerts so great. only one left this year... does that mean summer is slipping away?

motivation

2008-07-24T10:33:00.000-07:00

a little adrenaline will do wonders for a morning jog, as i found out this morning. i was out early this morning for a pleasant jaunt around the neighborhood. i thought it'd be nice to run out to the hospital and then by katie's old house. which i did, and happily i ended up at the hospital by choice instead of necessity. you see, about five minutes in a large, angry, brown dog started chasing me and barking and oozing drool all over my shorts and darting from my left side to my right side and behind me.... i think he was trying to decide where might be best to take a bite. and obviously i was not very pleased about this. then a man in a neon yellowish green shirt, who i think was about to start painting a house, started yelling at me to stop running. he sounded about as angry as the dog, but he was actually being quite nice. i was sort of still processing the fact that i was about to be attacked by a dog, and had forgotten that i was running, though quite aware that i wanted to get away.... and hadn't really gotten to thinking about the best way to deal with the beastly animal. as much as i didn't want to i stopped. and he didn't bite. the man continued to yell at me that i should not run away from dogs, which i will hopefully remember next time. i said, "yeah." he said, " i know it scared the hell out of ya." i said, "yeah." and then he said he'd call the pound. i thanked him and ran on, watching over my shoulder to make sure beastly wasn't following me.

temple escapade

2008-07-16T10:09:00.000-07:00

so i went to the new temple yesterday and got to see things like the celestial room, which is sort of like an all-white art deco waiting room gone sacred. and the pool where they baptize the dead, and the three rooms where you can be sealed for all eternity, in marriage, or to your parents... there was more visible security than the president gets, complete with black suits wearing ear pieces monitoring your every thought. i was a little disappointed, though not surprised, that questions were not welcome. i had a few. the guide talked a lot about how beautiful it is, its rich materials (granite from india, maple from africa), how it makes mormons feel exalted and uplifted and prepares them for eternity (though they left out the part about ultimately becoming gods and the part about husbands having to call their wives to heaven on the day of the resurrection, if she was a good enough wife). god almost seemed like an afterthought, though they claim it is for his glory. the whole explanation about the temple's use was rather.... vague and uninformative. it was one of the most organized events i have ever seen, everything was managed and controlled. all smiles. no questions. it creeped me out a little.

what's your favorite beer?

2008-07-10T16:23:00.000-07:00

today i was informed that slugs have a favorite frosty beverage. i'm perfectly serious. according to a very reputable source, slugs like beer and prefer budweiser to any other kind of beer. and how would one know this? well, slugs eat plants and plant people don't like that, so they try to devise clever ways of killing them. providing them with a local watering hole seems to do the trick better than just about anything, so there are things manufactured to trap slugs by luring them in with beer where they can literally drown in their sorrows (or happiness, as the case may be). different kinds of beer have been used, but slugs it seems, have a strong preference. give 'em a bud and they flock to their deaths. if it weren't quite so morbid and well, gross, budweiser might have a good advertising opportunity on their hands. i guess the major down side to dealing with your slug problem this way is the smelly, frothy mess you have to deal with when they start collecting and dissolving in your ingenious slug trap filled with beer.

invasion

2008-07-02T14:03:00.000-07:00

i'm sitting in a hammock on the porch, getting a little dizzy by the gentle back and forth motion. i was not made for carnival rides. if a hammock makes me a little queasy, just imagine what the spinning tea cups would do. i'll spare you the details of that experience. it wasn't so good. anyway, the breeze feels nice; it's a pleasant 95 degrees or so in the shade. just moments ago my quiet time out on the porch was disrupted by a pack of dogs that came into the yard. sayers perked up, so i looked to see what commotion might be heading our way. ah, a pack of fierce, howling, screaming, sometimes squeaking or screeching chiuauas. four of them. they were tearing around the front yard like they owned the place. i have to say, i think they have strength in numbers, because although one chiuaua barking at you is slightly absurd, you get a whole bunch of them and it's sort of frightening. it's like the birds. i thought about trying to read one of their tags to see where they'd escaped from, but then again i wanted to keep all my fingers intact, so i let them go on their way tearing up the rest of the neighborhood with their display of terrible chiuaua ferocity.

city boy becomes a farm dog

2008-06-28T20:53:00.000-07:00

well, i just got back from burley where we were watching the boat races from chris' garden atop "snob knob" and bbqing and enjoying the first truly hot day so far. it was in the 90s and tomorrow is supposed to get up over 100... and i suspect i will get roped into doing yard work in such ridiculous weather. besides returning from the races, i have also just been reunited with my favorite four-legged friend who was staying with some folks out in the country while i was away. i would have gotten him this morning, but he was over in elko, nevada on some errand. he was having quite the vacation from what i hear: poking around the chickens, frolicking with horses, chasing wild rabbits, and of course flirting with the other dog.

Kites and Beaches

2008-06-22T19:39:00.000-07:00

i was at golden gardens last night, sitting there watching the sail boats and the waves and the olympics, and the sun sinking down into them... and this guy came up and started flying his kite. it was one of those fancy trick kites, and he was pretty good. and then after a while a young guy came up to this older, kite-flying man and started talking to him about it. and so he started explaining how it's done, and showing off all his best tricks and his skill. i very much enjoyed watching the older man teaching the younger one how to fly a kite like that. very much, until he flew, like daedalus, a little too close. but instead of melting, his kite got bit by a wave and swallowed by the sound. a little while later the poor kite emerged, dangling with sea-weed, and a little worse for wear. and they were at it again.

oh shin

2008-06-14T23:40:00.000-07:00

ouch. why might my shins be sore one would ask? i had a scuffle with a grocery cart and i clearly lost. today was the bbq/garden party which was quite nice... i ate too much. getting ready for the event i had to make an emergency run to the store for pineapple and some other odds and ends. not so many things that i couldn't carry, but at check out they gave me a cart even though i didn't have one upon entering the checkout line. ok, i thought, this will be easier than juggling everything. sure, why not? i drove my cart out to the car and started unloading. but apparently for some reason the parking lot in the flattest town you can imagine is deceivingly slanted and my cart rolled away without me. it wasn't going very fast, and it was actually heading straight for the cart return. amused, i watched for a second, then realized that it was veering for a parked truck. so i ran, no sprinted, after it. in flip flops. and flung myself at it at the last second smashing both shins into it somehow and landing and skidding on my butt. and then we crashed into the truck anyway. hopefully it was already dinged there... i still don't understand how it could pick up speed like that. that shopping cart was joy-riding i say. confounded cargo-bearing contraption...

and by the way... sorry, no good nephew-related stories to share. they ended up not being able to come. such a let down, i know. but look on the bright side, i didn't have to grow a mustache.

My Cat Twinkletoes

2008-06-11T09:52:00.000-07:00

i found this recently ... and i have no idea what grade i wrote it in, but it's kind of funny.

My cat Twink is a mixed cat in color. He has a pink nose with a black spot. Most of him is covered with long black fur. He has white paws and some white on his face and chest also.

He acts strangely sometimes. He rolls in dirt, chases his tail and always wants in when he is out, and out when he is in.

Besides all his weirdness and cuteness he is a good cat. He doesn't try to get food from the kitchen counter or the dining room table. He doesn't get in the way or under your feet. He doesn't get on people's laps unless they invite him up.

A great thing about him is that he is hardly any work at all. All we have to do to take care of him is to fill his self feeding food dish when it runs out, take him to the vet, and occasionally give him medicine, clip his nails and clean out his sandbox. We don't even give him water. He drinks the cool water from the toilet.

I suppose there is one more great thing about him. We can take him to Ketchum when we need to. He just sits on his cat-napper the whole way.

namesake

2008-06-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

movies rarely make me cry, but the right one at the right time can have that effect. nicki came out to ketchum this weekend to visit me and another friend of hers. we rented namesake, which i had never heard of. it was a movie that i would normally like and then forget. it was a rich visually, which i appreciate. i liked the characters, you have to feel for them. but something about their story hit home with me right now. certain parallels, as you often find in others' lives or narratives. i had a hard time fighting the lip quiver. i cried, and though the plot meandered and might even leave you wondering where the climax might be, it resonated. there's not much you can do when something resonates with you. usually its just a small piece you see somewhere else that makes you think, 'i know that exactly, and i thought it was just me.' and for a second you're stunned and comforted and unsettled. the old becomes fresh as if it were new, just for a moment.

mystery solved

2008-06-04T13:03:00.000-07:00

there has been a strange odor coming from somewhere in or around the bathroom for some time. it isn't really bad, but definitely not good, and most disturbing is that i can't explain it. i clean, and clean, and each time the bathroom is sparkling and practically glowing with cleanliness, i think 'good, it should smell that way.' but then i walk by, and it's still there. is it me?

well, today i finally figured it out. there is a laundry chute right outside the bathroom. and downstairs at the bottom of the chute there is an open bag of cat food which permeates the air up and out of the chute with a greasy cat food aroma. not the most appetizing, and probably from now on the smell of cat food will make me think of bathrooms.

fruit, calendars, and romance

2008-05-30T07:20:00.000-07:00

i think there is something about a single gal that makes some people nervous. especially here. i went to get my hair cut several months ago, and when the gal cutting my hair learned that i have no children and am not married the conversation sputtered and died. she didn't know what to say to someone like me. you know, female, mid-twenties, and unattached. the horror. i'm an unusual phenomenon here. and what's really a mystery is that i am not especially concerned and not actively going out and trying to find myself a man. something must be done.

roscoe started years ago, trying to get me up to canada to meet his grandson. that failing, he tried to get us to meet here in twin. alas i happened to be out of town when the canadian lad arrived. it would almost seem as if i were trying to thwart his near fail-proof plan to marry me off.

never to fear, the next attempt soon followed. except this time my next-door neighbor is scheming. whenever someone prefaces what they are about to tell you, it usually means they ran over your cat or they are trying to set you up with someone. "you might think this is really weird, but i'm going to say it anyway. i know it sounds crazy, but..." ok, ok i'm thinking, who is he? ah, her nephew. hmmm.... "it's no big deal, just dinner, or maybe coffee," she says. dinner!? dinner no big deal, since when is dinner no big deal? i mean, it is no big deal. if it's your mom, or business, or an old friend, or even someone nice you meet. but dinners with nephews, or grandsons, you've never met seem too much.

apparently the nephew knows very little about his aunt's plot, and apparently he's coming to our barbeque with her in a few weeks so that we can be coincidentally introduced. wow. the best part is that lisa and mike, no matter what drama unfolds or doesn't, are sure to make fun of me for the rest of the summer. oh boy. something must be done.

thyroid revelations

2008-05-27T16:27:00.000-07:00

i was flipping through some old journal entries today. i was surprised when i noticed how many times over that last couple of years i said something to the effect of how tired i felt. one entry was so short that i pretty much said, i'm tired, too tired to really write anything. that is pathetic. of course, now with all kinds of normal thyroid levels coarsing through my veins, i feel relatively superhuman. you know, pretty good. and it just got me to thinking how that's like life. when you have some problem in your life, and it's just a part of life, you don't necessarily notice that anything is wrong. the status quo is accepted, it's normal, so why complain about it or try to improve anything? maybe it was always there, or maybe it crept up so slowly that you never even noticed that anything was wrong until it became much more serious. a thyroid problem is about as easy to fix a problem as they come. just take a pill... well in this case, it's actually true. i was scraping together all my strength to function mentally and physically by the time i got around to seeking help. so thinking about dealing with scarier and more difficult problems, like drug abuse or domestic violence, for example, i can hardly imagine trying to find the strength to deal with it. there is no social stigma attatched to having to take thryoid like there is for going into rehab or jail, or being in an abusive relationship. to an outsider, the problems seem obvious, but maybe to that person it isn't so obvious that things could be better.

memorial day

2008-05-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

today kathleen and i went to decorate the graves with some flowers from the garden. i said hello to the georges, cora lee, ruth, muriel, and william. later on today we are going to see indiana jones. hope it's good.

bright idea

2008-05-24T19:10:00.000-07:00

so here's what you should do.... i think. takes some walking shoes and put them on your feet. have your dog leash in your left hand, ice cream cone in your right hand, and go for a nice long walk in some gorgeous, long-shadow weather. i highly recommend it. and if you don't have a dog, just skip the leash and go for the ice cream. kids will start talking to you left and right, and even adults will stare enviously at your ice cream. or, at the least, someone will smile. it's quite a nice little outing.

Stories

2008-05-21T15:11:00.000-07:00

What makes a good story? What do you think makes a story good, or worthwhile? I love stories. But why are some stories more memorable or better than others? Is it a combination of elements that makes them good? Or who tells it? Maybe it has partly to do with why it is being told in the first place, whether for pure entertainment, humor or amazement, or for a moral lesson, or to teach us something about ourselves and other people. There are many reasons stories are told and different reasons why we like them. So while I ponder, share some thoughts on the subject if you have any, and I know you do.

erin with an i

2008-05-18T19:09:00.000-07:00

i am erin with an i. my roommate is eryn with a y. and that is how we are known, now that we've met. thank goodness our names are spelled differently, otherwise no one would be able to tell us apart. we are both friends of the bride, and now erin and eryn have met, and are roommies for a couple of days... and as it turns out we have more in common than our common names. we both eat meat. which ordinarily would not be much of a coincidence, but in this crowd we're two of a kind. we discovered that we have some other funny similarities while we sharing some stories and pizza after the wedding.

the wedding was nice, very casual, and quick. afterwards we had a delicious vegan lunch and changed clothes to play frisbee, football, corn sack... tomorrow is breakfast with the nicki and billy and then maybe some kayaking. hopefully the weather holds out.

back east

2008-05-16T21:02:00.000-07:00

i've gone east for a wedding. it's kinda cold for late may, i have to say. and twin is supposed to jump up all of a sudden this weekend to 93. yikes. summer (and spring together) decided to show up while i'm away. as one would expect, lisa and mike are drooling over all the plants here, which are much farther along than in twin. and lamenting the short growing season in idaho.

anyway, good trip. went to the national gallery of art today, and the air and space museum. pretty cool.

Neighbors

2008-05-12T20:33:00.000-07:00

you know, i got to thinking... i have pretty great neighbors. and i have almost always had good neighbors (with one major exception of a man who came pounding on my door and proceeded to call me and my roommates "retarded sheep", among other things). but my neighbors these days are really great. in fact, i can think of at least a dozen reasons why. just to list a few: they had me over for elk stew, invited mike over when lisa and i were away, they have great stories, have a huge extended family and seem to know half the town, have access to horses, like camping, have the cutest kids on the planet, watch my dog when i'm away, help with yard sales, got me to go with their church group to do a ropes course... which resulted in a job offer to teach a ropes course... which i had to turn down, but it ended up introducing me to another cool neighbor. you get the picture. i just wanted to say that i have great neighbors because they have made my time in twin falls, so, so much better. there are even more, and more amazing reasons why they are such a blessing, but what i've already said should suffice to say that i have incredible people living next door to me.

Orange Meal

2008-05-08T21:00:00.000-07:00

tonight's dinner was ecclectic, but it was themed, unintentionally. it was completely orange (and red). here was the menu: one carrot, peeled; several strawberries, sliced; bbq chicken breast; crab pieces, in shell; and gnocchi from a discount frozen package. i also had some green tea, but i felt like i should maybe have gone for the orange spice. oh well, variety is the spice of life. so it wasn't a terribly spicey meal. but it was tasty.

2008-05-05T16:16:00.000-07:00

i have just recently had reality hit me i think. for months and months i have been busy doing the most pressing tasks before me, and as i am nearing the end of those demands, i am finally seeing beyond them. i'm thinking beyond twin falls and thinking more about what life as an ex-executrix will look like. and i can't believe the obvious. i have some more thinking and praying to do about, oh, everything. it'll be good. interesting. terrifying. but good.

2008-04-24T21:44:00.000-07:00

today i had nap time with hilary, we ate beautiful spinach salads, and dined out for life (in support of an AIDS oraganization). it was the best italian food i have eaten in a very long time. and tomorrow there'll be wonderful leftovers. today i also saw greg and gianna, who might just be the cutest baby in the northwest.

vacation is such a nice invention.

the pass

2008-04-23T18:28:00.000-07:00

good day today. becky and i ferried on over to whidbey island just to have a good looksie. though the day started out fairly cloudy and a little rainy, by the time we found ourselves on the rocky beach at deception pass, i don't think the weather could have been nicer. cool, warm sun, and the water was enchanting. i don't know what it is about water that is so captivating and so calming. it's the symbol of rebirth, it's refreshing, renewing. and we couldn't quite get ourselves to leave. for a couple of hours we gazed , sat in silence, talked about life's quandries, and sat silently some more, followed by more profound thought and talk. my expectations for the day were easily surpassed, and so simply. it was just wonderful to be there. me and my friend sitting on an old rickety picknic table at deception pass.

waiting to bloom

2008-04-21T20:39:00.000-07:00

i went to see the tulips today. and there were lots, in every color. pinks, reds, yellows, purples, oranges, whites. and they were very beautiful. some had bloomed their little heads off and were done. most were mid-bloom, at their height of tulip beauty. and some were just waiting. whole rows of them. some of the whites, and the yellows. the time wasn't right, maybe they need more sun, or more warmth, or more rain. they were the shy flowers who weren't quite ready to make their big debut. and these are the most fascinating flowers because you can't quite tell what they'll be. already their green bud shape is lovely, but what about the petals hiding inside? are they smooth or frilly? and what about the color, pure or varigated? so easy to overlook in a rainbow of tulips, but if you notice, you can get hung up on them, waiting for them to bloom.

well...

2008-04-20T00:17:00.000-07:00

i came to seattle with a great plan. that plan has been scrapped, due to outside forces... and it looks like i am going to have to wait to finally explore the rainforest. maybe in nicer weather, when i'm not cold, alone, and without transportation. it's sad, but the week is not lost. ash isn't coming after all, sniff, sniff..... i will spend my time here in the city, for the most part, and will find more time to spend with people.

in other news, i fought the law, and the law won. the lyrics don't lie. but though i lost my case, i got a chance to put myself on a witness stand after swearing in, got to make a statement before a judge, and got to cross examine somebody. pretty exciting stuff. don't necessarily want to do it again.

also the furnace at home went out. i should call lisa and see if she's freezing to death.

gross

2008-04-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

this morning sayers wandered off and i couldn't find him anywhere in the neighborhood. so i gave up and waited for a phone call, which came about two hours later..."i have your dog." ok. i went to pick him up. let me mention that i gave him a bath yesterday, so he was perfectly clean and lavender smelling. yeah, yeah, he has girly dog shampoo. well, maybe that just ticked him off, because when i went to get him from the nice people down the street, he had a nice brown patch on his rump. pretty sure he was rolling in someone else's feces... gross dog. so i scrubbed him and now he smells like lavender again. hehehe....

the sale

2008-04-12T21:17:00.000-07:00

the yard sale went so well that i am too tired to say much about it. we started working at 6am and went until almost 4pm. the house feels emptier, which is so relieving. stuff weighs on you.

also, after the sale in the evening, a guy drove by, turned around, parked and asked if we were going to sell the house. he seemed very interested, and he seemed like a really nice guy. he used to own a funeral home in town, and i think he's really sick now. there was an article in the paper about him having to sell the business now that he is facing his own mortality. which is very depressing even though i only just met him. i want him to buy this house and live happily in it for a long time. i want him to get better and enjoy it. it seems kind of silly after such a brief interaction, but i want him to fulfill his dream of having this house and i want the comfort of selling it to someone who will appreciate it and make this their home.

just a normal morning

2008-04-11T13:50:00.000-07:00

we all sat around drinking coffee, checking email, discussing the latest news story about the flds goings on in texas, the promise of warmer weather, and the plans for the day... getting ready for our monster yard sale. which is tommorow. heaven help us, please. there is so much to be done. right now we're all punchy, exhausted from today's long hours... i think we're going to eat some dinner or a snack and go to bed so we can get the mountains of stuff out to sell early in the morning. i don't even know if i make any sense at all right now, as i am just trying to keep alert. oh yes, i was going to tell about the big excitement this morning.

we let the cat out, and she's a little afraid of the big outside world still, so going out is a little bit of a big deal for her. defending her territory is not something she is at all excited about. anytime she sees another cat, she runs and begs to be let in, or goes and hides behind the wood pile. so when we looked out the window and saw her facing off with three other cats twice her size, it was pretty exciting. we watched to see what would happen. at first she looked for escape, but then, for the first time, she walked right toward a big cat. they sat and stared at each other for a while. the other cat noticed the three face from indoors watching and decided today was not the day to pick a fight. out cat had backup. good job kitty. brave kitty, we let her in and i walked out with the dog and watched all the big cats scatter.

little cat is growing up so fast....

i'll fly away

2008-04-07T22:20:00.000-07:00

tonight, in a few hours, i will get on a plane and go back to idaho. hopefully i can sleep. katie, thanks for the visit and letting me get acquainted with merlin. it's been a good visit. see you on the other side of the pacific... eventually.

dirt, i love you

2008-04-04T20:42:00.000-07:00

red dirt

you're beautiful

you're so red and orangey

like the old rusted car

that sits on the beach

you grow things that are green

and pretty to look at

you're rich like this cookie

i'd like to eat

dirt, i like you a lot

Five Years

2008-04-04T19:22:00.000-07:00

five years ago i was living in new york doing the ivy league thing. a lot has happened since then. last night kt and i got to talking. two questions: what were the last five years like, and what about the next five? we never got to the prediction stage in the conversation. strangely enough we were interrupted by a phone call from taiwan, and stephanie lu and i played catch up about the last seven years. a lot more has happened in seven years. i never would have predicted more than one or two small things, so i guess there really is no point in projecting the future. but in a way, that's what planning is-- you say you're going to do A and B, knowing full well that mystery option C is going to sneak up and usurp the position. but if you didn't have A and B lined up, C never would have come along.

this is what usually works for me, so people like my father who knew exactly what they wanted to do from the age of seven and never deviate from it, they amaze me. but i think this is not the norm. and knowing my father, that makes sense. i have never met anyone with less concern for what people think. self conscious, embarrassed... though good at making the kids feel that way at times, these were, as far as i can tell, foreign concepts to him. it's an admirable, but potentially dangerous trait. he was deeply convicted, focused, and maybe too brilliant for his own good. he was the hardest person to get to know, but well worth the effort. his drive drove me right to the edge of my sanity at times, but is was amazing to watch his tireless pursuit of ideals. i miss it.

he could not understand my decision to leave cornell, deviate from the plan, or in his words, throw my future away. my sister convinced me that he would never speak to me again if i went through with it. but i have a streak of my father in me, and i didn't care what anyone thought about me transferring to an "inferior institution." about three years later, he let it go. but he never talked about my future after that. it's not that he didn't care, but more like he had done all he could. i, like most people, do not know what the next years will look like. but i think that's ok. i think it makes me listen more and rely more on god, on the people around me. it challenges that independent detweiler streak.

not having a clear picture forces me to look harder, be more inquisitive about the world, the nature of things, and my place in it. and i hope that it will keep me from pursuing anything with too much vigor, where i end up neglecting or hurting people for the sake of some goal, however worthy. that would be like viewing everything through the lens of a microscope, seeing more that everyone else, yet seeing nothing they see. it would make relating and loving immensely difficult. in a way my father was that focused on his passions, but i know he loved very much. it was just hard to understand sometimes. as for my future, i am expectant, but without exact expectations.

Merlin the Jeep

2008-04-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

me and merl went trekking far and away

to the jungley jungle and the misty-topped mountains

roaring through rivers and potholes galore,

winding, twisting, mucking up mud

and splashing the soup,

we gurgled and jostled and made such a racket

to make every gecko fly up and away,

save one stray amigo who made a great leap

and landed on merl, the incredible jeep

his poor little eyes must have grown thrice in size

when he saw what a zipping good ride he would get

the brave merl-surfing gecko held on with each toe

but catching more air than he really did care,

he scampered up quick from window to roof

so off we all went, over rock, under stream

me, merl, and the gecko, who since hasn't been seen

monkey pod

2008-03-31T17:58:00.000-07:00

i took my tears to the monkey pod tree

who sat beside, consoling me

the grass beyond looked soft and green

but i chose the monkey pod tree

tall and lean, but wider branches still

his arms seemed to welcome me

so there among the thorny, dry grass

i lay beneath this gangly tree

there i rested 'til my eyes were dry

my tears no more to quench the ground,

my shadow grew long as the monkey branch

then disappeared with a disappearing sun

alas the nightly breeze bade me leave my monkey pod friend

and thanking him for a kindly ear, i followed suit with sun and shade

moses supposeth

2008-03-28T15:18:00.000-07:00

if moses supposes his toeses are roses,

then moses supposes erroneously.

kauai keiki

2008-03-28T13:58:00.000-07:00

well, i'm sitting here at shaka taco, not eating a taco. but here i am, with my birthday buddy, katie. yesterday i became another year wiser, and tomorrow so will she. so, the only thing to be done about that is to make two birthday cakes for two people in the span of three days. i am a yellow cake with dark chocolate frosting type of person, and katie is a german chocolate kinda gal. which means she will be eating the whole thing since i must abstain from coconut-laced delicacies. good luck katie.

we just stopped by her classroom for a minute before she delves into her paper grading and lesson planning. the eighth grade teacher, my friend, the eight grade teacher. we met in ninth grade, which means i've known her for.... a long time. about a decade. ah, long gone are the days when i sat behind katie cugno and graded her math assignments in class when we traded papers. for me first period meant math and staring at the back of this girl's head (and her fluorescent orange barrettes) and getting my papers graded in fluorescent orange ink. for her, so i learned years later, once we actually became good friends, first period meant getting my dog's fur all over her backpack... very aggravating. sorry katie. he still sheds.

now, we're teachers on spring break, scheming some new plan, as usual. i've decided to learn how to make cheese, and katie is talking about picking apples in the future. i like it.

pink dinners and irish dinners

2008-03-25T04:47:00.000-07:00

i've known kathleen forever. i lived with her for a while when i was younger, and then she came to live with me for a bit when i was older. she came over the other night for st patricks day because she's the most irish person we know. we made irish food and watched waking ned divine, which is hilarious. it's about a guy who wins the lottery and then dies, well not really about him i guess, because he never really makes it into the movie alive. it's about everyone else, and it's very funny. you should watch it sometime.

the dinner/movie thing reminded us of the last time.... the last time we cooked, or at least the last memorable time. and the last time we watched a movie together. dinner was entirely pink. we never intended to color coordinate our meal, but for some reason everything we ate was pink, which if you think about it is a fairly unusualy color for natural foods. prepared ones anyway. i remember it tasted good, but it just never looked very appetizing. i have also had yellow meals with the same effect. Color-themed meals are not pretty.

anyway, the movie was even funnier than the food, not that it was a comedy. we decided to watch the ghost and the darkness, which also happens to be a pretty good show. there's this scene where val kilmer is hunting a lion and he's about to get pounced on. lion is crouching, heavy drama music swells. it doesn't look good... and i looked over to kathleen at this moment, who is sitting in her chair, on the edge of her chair, looking very tense. and unbeknownst to her, at her feet the cat was sizing up the leap to her lap. cat on screen jumps, cat jumps onto kathleen, i say 'boo', kathleen jumps. really, really high. all in a matter of about a second. oh, it was so funny.

it is what it is

2008-03-17T22:12:00.000-07:00

i have a feeling these next few months are going to fly by. it's scary, because it's like life inexorably escapes me. i don't know where it goes, but it goes, continuously. it is here and then gone, unending moment upon moment until one day. gone. and the irony is how it just seems to crawl, getting nowhere, all the while everything whizzes by. gone. i have a lot coming up, a chunk of time dedicated to this activity, a chunk to that.

some time spent on estate-type work, work that necessarily rewinds bits of life, examines the memories, judges them, and eventually moves on knowing that many of those unearthed recollections have been recalled for probably the last time. the stuff of those dear thoughts must be sold or given away to someone else who can appreciate them and give them new purpose and life. who knew that just a tub full of fabric scraps could sum up an entire childhood, telling of forgotten school plays, old wardrobes, curtains that used to hang in the living room where so much laughter and talking happened, curtains made for lisa's far-off dorm room, projects i watched take shape over the years, all the textiles that are most familiar too me, now that i remember them. april 12th they will sit in a yard sale, waiting for someone to come along and make them into a quilt, work them into their own stories.

very soon there will be some leisure, some reuniting with friends... but what am i doing? what i do has to be done, but what is the value in it? it seems so... slow and stuck in the past. i am anxious to move on, but to what? i am terrified of living a life to pay the bills and feed myself. if it ever boils down to that, i will have a real problem. but that is my fear, having potential and never using it. not recognizing it or not being brave enough to . settling. i seem to be lacking in the department of great ideas, and struggling to be content with what life is. it is what it is. but i seem bent on knowing what it could be. living in the present can be so difficult.

The Ducks

2008-03-14T20:01:00.000-07:00

Every year, two ducks land in our pond about this time of year. They usually leave after several weeks of lazing about our yard and entertaining us with lots of waddling and "waa waa waa waa". I am no avian expert, so I can only speculate where they are going or why they hang around while they do. But I think they might actually be spies disguised as ducks, gathering information all along their "migration route." Good cover, no? Satellites are a little suspicious, but who would suspect a duck? I'm going to have to look into it. I'm also trying to figure out if these are the same pair every year, or if by chance we happen to get two random duck visitors every year. The second scenario seems unlikely, but I am beginning to wonder how long ducks live. They've been coming for years.... which makes the spy theory look a little more promising. I may need to read up on my birds.

I Answered the Phone...

2008-03-13T21:28:00.000-07:00

I rarely answer the phone anymore, because every time it rings I think... either it's Roscoe, or a telemarketer. It's almost always a telemarketer, so I don't often answer it. And this irritates Lisa because it might not be a telemarketer. Who knows, it could be someone looking for one of the several people who once lived...here. Anyway, a couple of days ago, by chance, I was standing right next to the phone when it rang. Why not? I picked it up. Not a telemarketer, a survey. Oooo... ok, I was feeling cooperative, not too busy. I took the survey. And the "quick survey," in fact, turned out to be more involved than quick.

Have I ever been called for jury duty?
Would I be able to be on a jury if asked?
Would my employer compensate me?
What do I think about this aspect of the legal system, that aspect?
Is everyone guilty?
Have I ever committed a felony?
Do I know any cops?
Jailers?
Lawyers?
Judges?
Do I know this lawyer, that officer .....
How well do you know him?
Does he live in your town?

... oh, I forgot a page of questions... and on and on. Lisa was glaring at me. "Who are you talking to? Erin, I need the phone."

Ok, so eventually the lady tells me that the research group is having a focus group this weekend. Would I be willing to be an alternate in case one of their participants cancels? It would only last from 9am-5pm.

And then I heard myself telling her that that would be fine. Wow, Erin, you hate these kinds of disccussions: talking with a large group, of complete strangers, for hours on end, without food or sunlight, about topics you know virtually nothing about. What is your problem? For some reason I tend to sign myself up for things that I know will make me uncomfortable, thinking that I might grow into it, or something. I don't know if this is a good habit or a bad habit. But it is definitely a very annoying habit. I kicked myself and tried to envision myself sitting in a room with a bunch of people, telling them what I think of the legal system as it functions here in south central Idaho. And I drew a complete blank.

So, today the researchers called back with the good news that they now have an open spot, if I would be willing to participate. Sure, I said. Good grief Erin. But for some strange reason, I am acutally excited about this. I have never been in a focus group, maybe never will be asked again. And quite frankly, I am very curious to see what this is all about and to see what the process is like. And I guess it doesn't hurt that breakfast and lunch will be provided... I'm always a sucker for free food. And I suppose the $200 they are going to pay me to talk to them about what I think is a pretty nice bonus.

Good thing I answered the phone.... now I've qot a little adventure this weekend. I will sit in a room with 24 other people for 8 hours talking about all kinds of legal stuff. Hmmm... could be interesting. Could pay for a plane ticket to Seattle too.

Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa

2008-03-10T21:15:00.000-07:00

I think Otis Redding says it best. Faaa fa-fa fa fa fa-fa faa fa. What does it mean...? Who cares, I mean it's a sad song, but it's a lovely song. It's like listening to someone with a great accent. You don't really care about what they're saying. They could be talking about their ailing grandmother and you'd still be smiling. I was watching a commercial on tv recently when some pennsylvania friends were out for a visit. It was about a vacuum. It was captivating. Do I care about vacuum technology, do I even remember which vacuum was advertised? Pretty much no, but Shannon and I were still drooling over it. Was the guy particularly good-looking? No, no you would be missing the point here. He was...British I think. Which means that whatever he says is absolutely fascinating.

Now Matt picked up on this right away and was giving us a bad time. He said it's so annoying how girls will swoon over an Australian accent, New Zealand, English, Irish, Scottish... I admit, it's completely shallow, but... ahem... it's not just girls, I reminded him. Which he conceded. So why is that? What is so lovely about some accents, and let's face it, repulsive about others. Not all accents are appealing. The Brooklyn doesn't do it for me. But Scottish, you can't even understand sometimes... which is just perfect.

I think it must be the combination of familiar language and the strangeness of its sound. It demands your attention, to really catch it and somehow you just get caught up in catching it all. Maybe that's part of why we like lyrics and poetry. It's not the mundane language we're used to hearing and saying all day. It makes you think about what's being said, but mostly it's supposed to sound pleasant. There's a rhythm to it, which is hard to resist.

Hi Kids

2008-03-05T20:43:00.000-08:00

i just recently came accross the last letter my father wrote to me, which is significant because i don't remember him ever writing one before it. he wrote it last february, and i am so glad to have it since he will never give me any more advice. he wasn't big on advice, so i don't know what came over him to make him write this:

Hi Kids,

It has been on my mind to pass some thoughts along to you.

It constantly amazes me how fast time passes. Be sure to savor every moment even if it is somewhat bitter. The bitterness defines the sweetness. Smell the flowers. Plan for the future, but live in the present. It is only here for an instant and then it is gone forever. Treasure your memories and savor the past, but don't live there. Make life a well planned adventure. Always look foreward.

I recall your mother's quoting her father telling her that she will make mistakes, but try not to make the same ones twice-- there are enough to make without repeating any. I have found this true. Sometimes you may find yourselves lingering too long in one mistake. Once you realize it, move on. Don't dwell on your mistakes, just learn from them.

People and family are important. Stuff is just a tool to help you enjoy life. Live for the Lord and work in his will. Real happiness is found there. Remember that temporal life is a journey and a preparation for eternity, where real peace abides.

All my love!

Dad

Elevator Romance

2008-03-03T21:45:00.000-08:00

i know, nothing screams romance like an elevator. or perhaps you disagree. but before you're set on your opinion, let me tell you a little story. this is a story about two people who meet in an elevator, an elevator that would change their lives in a way they never could have known. call it fate, call it technical difficulties, call it whatever you like, but don't laugh, because for all you know, it could be a true life story.

one day, (i'll change the names to protect the actual characters) hildegard got onto an elevator at the fourth floor. the elevator went up. the elevator stopped at the seventh floor. the doors opened. ademaro [which means glorious in battle, but is completely irrelevant since this was not actually his name] got onto the elevator. the doors closed. the elevator went up. it got stuck between the tenth and eleventh floors. it would not go up. it would not go down. the elevator was stuck for nineteen hours. hildegard and ademaro were together for nineteen hours. they talked, and talked, and talked. finally, the elevator went up and the doors opened. hildegard and ademaro were tired. they were hungry. they were thirsty. they were in love. three months later they got married.

if you do a little editing, make all the verbs simple present tense, change the names back, you pretty much have the story i gave to my students. they thought is was pretty funny. but like i said, don't laugh, because i have a certain friend who once had a very special elevator experience. i wasn't there, but i've heard the story many times. apparently she was wearing a nice sweater that almost got her a suiter.... almost.

Plans

2008-03-03T08:06:00.000-08:00

i am ready. ready for summer. i realize that i may be rushing things a little, but there's nothing like anticipation right? besides, it's already march, which has got to be one of the best months known to man. and i'm already planning some fun summer goals. last week i went snow shoeing twice, which was super fun, but now i am waiting for the melting to hurry up so i can get to my favorite activities. like hiking, running, climbing in and out of the canyon, biking, and finally, yellow stone exploration.

as for hiking: must hike pocatello with monica, and something in boise... maybe mt. borah, you ready monty? and of course the endless possibilites north of here. day hikes, yes, but there is also some exciting scheeming going on about a 60 mile hike from galena to stanley, where we can resupply, and back. and apparently mike wants to hike every peak in between.

and then maybe a half marathon in june, which i would be more likely to do if i had a running buddy, even if that running buddy only ran with me on race day... hint, hint.... katie. i think you should do it. and then, maybe, maybe, maybe in october if all goes well, maybe i will run a full marathon with gen and bobby. finally. or else... one day i will run one.

i am thinking i might bike to buhl one day, i've always sort of wanted to. i don't know why buhl exactly, but smith dairy does have very good ice cream, so that might make it worthwhile.

so that's what i'm thinking for now. if you want to come visit, bring some hiking boots. i'm going to the canyon first, it's not as snowy right now.

mine cough

2008-02-27T22:02:00.000-08:00

i have a little friend i'd like to lose, but he will never go
he follows me and comes with me and goes with me
the sneeky little devil cannot take a hint,
for when i think i've seen the last of him
he shows up once again

i beg and plead, and nearly weep
but does he care a enough to give me some respite?
no, not he, my selfish friend
he wouldn't give a second thought
if he had thought a first

and now i can not stand it any longer
go! you silly, stupid thing
i do not want to see you hanging 'round me more
i tell you leave, you insolent grime
i need you not today nor ever any more

Bears are Picky

2008-02-27T15:05:00.000-08:00

So, I just met up with an old high school friend, and she told me a story about how she went camping with her family. Their foodstuffs got raided by a local, hungry bear, who apparently was not completely satisfied with the macaroni salad. He bit through the lid (I saw pictures as evidence) and ate the whole salad, except for the pickles, which he left in the bottome of the bowl. Who knew scavenging beasts could be so picky, but on the other hand I have been a bread scavenger of sorts. And I may have been a little choosey in my selections.

Linguas de Gato

2008-02-21T20:43:00.000-08:00

Doesn't that sound appetizing? I'm eating some right now, delicious. Cat Tongue Cookies. Or at least they're supposed to look like cat tongues. I'm sceptical about the actual resemblance had by these little biscuit-like human cat-anatomy-shaped treats. And on the bag are three cartoon cats, presumably tongueless ones. Their names are Tobias, Malaquias, and Jeremias. I have no idea where the trio is supposed to be from, and even less idea where the bag of cookies came from, but that doesn't keep me from enjoying them. I do know the person who sent said cookies in a care package marked "Detweiler & Crew", I mean I met her a few years ago. I suppose they are more my sister's cookies than mine since they're from her friend and all, but I seem to be more enamored with them, so perhaps the cookies would prefer to be eaten by one such as myself. I think so.

Earthquake!

2008-02-21T08:55:00.000-08:00

i woke up early this morning thinking that the dog, sleeping at the foot of the bed, had woken up in an itch/scratch thrashing frenzy. man, how obnoxious! i told him to knock it off. quit. but then in my fog i thought, sayers isn't actually doing anything, must be an earthquake..... what!? we don't have earthquakes here. but i didn't really care or think about that, it just seemed logical. i went back to sleep. so of course i was a little surprised to find out when i got up that there actually was a quake near wells this morning, a 6.3 according to richter.

my run-in with the chinese mafia

2008-02-20T17:48:00.000-08:00

my teacher wanted me to write a story, and i was more than happy to tell her what i did over my christmas break. i spent it with my family, and my family was in the mafia. but only being in the second grade, i wasn't sure how to spell "mafia" yet. i tried. and i wrote all about my christmas with the chinese mafia who came from out of town especially to pay us a visit. grandma bessie, uncle egg, bonnie and mary were all there. christmas was big and loud and very exciting.

and then my teacher wanted to have a special chat with me. "your family is not in the mafia," she told me. "is there another word you're looking for?" i told her no, mafia is exactly what i meant, i just didn't know how to spell it. i asked her how you're supposed to spell it. i tried to explain how my family really was in the chinese mafia, and she got this sort of worried look on her face. she thought i was making it up. she refused to believe me, i bet she even talked to my parents about it. i was insensed that she did not like my story, my very true story.

years later, i was crushed to find out that my family was not, in fact, involved in any mafia. i found out what the real mafia was. we just called them the mafia, because.

it's sort of like that time in fourth grade when i confidently raised my hand to answer the washington d.c. question. that was easy, i knew what d.c. stood for, my father always referred to good ol' dixie cup, he used to live there. i was sure i was right, but when my teacher said no, that is most certainly not what the d.c. stands for, i was stricken with disbelief. how could i be wrong? had i been lied to all these years?

well, i have since realized that not everything my father said should be taken completely seriously. a lot of what he said, actually. and as a kid, with a very smart, knowledgable, witty, punster dad, it can be hard to figure out what is real and what is a joke. because the delivery is always the same, and the jokes always get repeated so many times that nearly anyone could believe they were true. but then there were those strange things he would say, that weren't really a pun or a joke, but his own peculiarity.

it's funny how every significant day in his life happened on a thursday. "daddy, when did you become a boxer?" and his reply would be, "on a thursday." "when did you get married?" .... "when did you get your first job?" - always on a thursday.

or how about this one, "where are you going?" do you know where my father was always going? "to see a man about a duck." tell me, what is a kid supposed to do with that? in his mind, it made sense, it amused him, and he didn't need anybody else to get it, but he did always get a huge smirk on his face when he thought he was being particularly clever and saw that he had thouroughly confused some poor soul who knew it was a joke but couldn't figure it out. ah, but the giant smile and kickback of the head, followed by an attention-getting gaffah, that was reserved for those who did figure out his best lines. and as a kid, that is so embarrassing.

the guy who made me cry on valentines day

2008-02-14T20:07:00.000-08:00

today i went to get the stitches taken out of dog. back to the vet. i felt that i would hold my own, i had already gotten the bad news, so there was nothing new to get upset about. i would be fine. don't you think? and hey, we were going to the young, good-looking vet, not the old grouchy one. how bad could it be? snip, snip, dog treat, drool, dog treat, dog treat, done. which is exactly what happened, except that mr. vet started talking about the course of the disease and how one day, probably sooner that i had thought, i may have to bring sayers back so they can euthanize him.

he made me cry, and cry, and snot all over the place, and cry a little bit more. it was terrible. but at least he gave me some kleenex. man, i'm such a cry baby. and i really hate crying in front of people, for whatever reason. i may have a stoic or two in my family. or used to anyway. the stoics have died, along with some of the non-stoics, which is probably why this is so hard. he is just a dog, and yeah, i'd be a mess regardless, but somehow it seems like a last straw. dogs aren't family, but they're loyal. and sayers is special because he's tied to a past that i have a hard time remembering. i had him when i still had my whole family. grandma was always afraid that the puppy would take her out, walker and all, as he went racing through the house, lap after lap. my mom knew this dog, she helped me raise him and put him on the truck on my sixteenth birthday when it was time for him to go. and when sayers came back four years later, he kept my dad company when the house was empty and he was so lonely.

silly as it may sound, losing this dog is going to feel like a break with the past and starting all over, and who will be there? your parents will always be there for you. your dog will always stick by you. life's a different deal without that sense of belonging to more than, well yourself. because what is the point in that? of course, i am not alone. there is my sister, my aunt and auntie, and wonderful friends. there is a god whose love for me i continue to learn, sometimes despite myself. but there is still something to be said for loss. it is not the last word, but it is significant, it must be swallowed and digested. you recover, but you can never regain what has been lost and so the void will always ache a little bit, sometimes a lot. i am finally learning this and learning to accept it, but it has been a slow, hard lesson. there is nothing worse than finishing a good book. you want more, you want the story to continue, or as paul harvey would say, "the rest of the story." and usually, the rest of the story is quite unexpected. so i guess we'll see...

2008-02-05T23:24:00.001-08:00

Last Wednesday

2008-02-05T23:05:00.000-08:00

It's Wednesday. I've decided to skip teaching and go to Ellen's memorial, because that is clearly more important than studying the verb "have to" and reviewing body parts vocab and how to make a doctor's appointment on the telephone. A little bit ironic huh? Ok, so we drive up to Hailey, me, Lisa, Mike, Bonnie, Bessie, dog, and cat. We're dressed up because Ellen got sick and died, because that is what people do when other people die. We arrive, we park, and I let the dog out to pee before we go in. Except that Sayers doesn't want to get out of the car. He's acting weird. I pull him out in the snow and tell him to pee, which he is really good at usually, but this time he won't even move. He won't walk, he's slow, he's not responsive.

Mike asks if he got car sick. Um, I don't think so. I start thinking that maybe he has carbon monoxide poisoning. Maybe when Bonnie spun out on the highway a few days before and crashed the fuel up side into a pole, maybe that did something to the fuel system and poor doggie got gassed on the car ride up. I put him back in the car and figured he'd recover. We went in, I hung up my coat, started to mingle with Ellen's friends, but of course all I can think about is my dog dying in the back of the truck while I'm inside trying to mourn and remember Ellen, but really only thinking about my dog instead and doing nothing for him. That would be a cruel turn of fate. So after piling my paper plate up with food I put my coat back on and went to check on the dog.

He was worse. Couldn't quite manage to lift his head or even want to. He was at the vet just the day before to get a routine vaccine, he was fine. They said he looked good. Could it be some freak delayed reaction to the vaccine? I took a peek at his gums, which instead of being a healthy pink color were about the same color as his teeth. For a second I questioned myself, they are supposed to be pink, right? Clearly giving him some fresh air turning off the car was not helping. I went back inside and got directions to a somewhat nearby vet and Mike drove with me down to the vet in Bellevue. We were, by far, the best dressed people in the place. I was even wearing my long black coat, which is taylored and which was now completetly covered in white dog fur from lifting him in and out of the truck several times.

Of course, the minute you get there, they want you to fill out paper work and expect you to remember things like your phone number. Come on people, I have no idea. I just need you to fix my dog so I can get back to my funeral. They were very nice though. They asked where I was from: Twin Falls. It was pretty clear though, the way they looked at us that they had a hard time believing that any two folks dressed the way we were could be from Twin. Look, people die . And their friends, even their friends from Twin Falls, dress up all classy for them. I told them I needed to go back to Hailey though, for a funeral. But that I am staying in Ketchum. They were so confused. Here I came from Twin Falls to Hailey, then took my dog to Bellvue, had to go back to Hailey, but was not staying there or going back to Twin Falls. I was going to be in Ketchum. OK. It seemed he was bleeding internally, so once they got a diagnosis they would refer me to a vet in Sun Valley, which is close to Ketchum.

We went back to Hailey, back to the memorial service. I found my plate of food was still there, so I ate it. And I mingled a little bit with folks, looked at Ellen's photo albums and found some embarrassing photos of myself with my equally dorky sister in them. It was strange, and sad, but sort of happy too, an Ellen celebration. But then I got a call from the vet and they explained the most likely scenario. Sayers' spleen was exploding; he had a tumor growing in it and it got big enough that the organ ruptured and the bleeding made him go into shock. That was his problem. He would probably have to have his spleen removed. "Have to." I have to go to work. You have to go to the dentist. My dog has to have his speen removed. Such application, I could use this in my class. But maybe there are too many haves, they might get confused. It is, after all, first level ESL.

Anyway, the vet made me cry because I was convinced that my dog had cancer and was going to die, and here I was, at a funeral, the only person crying. And I was crying because of my dog, not because of Ellen who did just die from the big C. I imaginged how she would respond to the news. I bet she'd be pissed. She was pissed that she got sick soon after finding the best dog she had ever had. And this was exactly the kind of thing that she would see as unfair and would get upset about. Ellen likes happy endings and cheesy movies that are unrealistically upbeat.

Ok, so to wrap this thing up, I took Sayers to the Sun Valley Vet Thursday morning and they took out his spleen and sewed him back up and he got to come home on Friday. He's healing up nicely now, though a little depressed now that i've taken his morphine patch off. But the vet did call this morning to say that he tumor was cancer. He has something like a 90% chance of dying within 12 months. So that sucks, but I can't say I didn't expect it. I had a feeling. I like my dog a lot. He's mine. He's my buddy, so we'll have to hang out and be pals and enjoy each other as much as possible. I really, really like him.

Cat Women

2008-02-05T23:02:00.000-08:00

one day at work i was making some muffins or scones or something along those lines... and the manager walks up to me and says, "you know those two mills sisters who come in here all the time?" yeah, i tell him i know them. so he asks, "are they cat women?"

ok, do you understand the question? because i had no idea what he was talking about, i had to clarify. cat women?

"yea, cat women," like this is a normal term that people use everyday. i'm thinking about cat woman, batman... is he asking if they think they have catlike superpowers? really, i have no idea what he's talking about. so while i'm trying to compare the mills sisters to the only other cat woman reference i know and figure out whether or not they could in fact be cat woman, or cat women, he finally enlightens me with the meaning of the phrase.

apparently, a cat woman is, yes, a woman.... who will not only be a spinster, but will be an overenthusiastic cat owning spinster in her later years.... which means probably having more cats than friends.

oh, of course. cat women. no, i told him that the mills sisters are not cat women. one is actually getting married soon, and little does she know, ruining her chances of ever becoming cat woman. what i failed to tell him, however, was the really amusing part. that he was in fact asking a cat woman, who didn't even know she was a "cat woman," about cat women, without even realizing it. let me clarify a little bit here. i am not a self-professed cat woman type, but it has been hinted at before. i once had two friends give me a crazy lady action figure, a prediction of me in my gray years. batteries were not icluded, but six or seven cats were. she was old, independant, poorly dressed, and yes, crazy and surrounded by cats. but i am determined not to let this be a self-fulfilling prophesy. receiving the crazy cat lady figure has made me determined not to succumb. however great the tempation to acquire litter upon litter of cats, i vow never to start a cat collection, never to open an feline orphanage out of my home, and never even to own more than one cat, if that, if and when i am an old, crazy spinster woman. its not that being a cat woman is necessarily such a bad thing, but i would prefer to be known for something other than a multitude of cats, and i just don't think many people could ever see past a cat infestation.

Hair Flare

2007-02-03T23:23:00.000-08:00

I was on a road trip once and for some reason one guy decided he needed to take a brush to his head. Mistakenly, he thought that borrowing one from the one of the girls would be a safe bet… girls are into grooming right? Yeah, I guess…Witnessing his horror to find that not one of us had brought a brush or comb was slightly horrifying in itself. You could see it in his eyes, at first disbelief, then the realization that we were either not real girls or that girls, some girls, don’t brush their hair on occasion, maybe ever… Oh the horror! No rouge, no perfumed lotions, ok, but no brushes? Unthinkable. We, on the other hand, were equally perplexed by the fact that someone with such short hair would try to brush it. How? And to what effect? Detangling is clearly not the issue, and style… can you really style an inch of hair? But more importantly, why would you?

It got me thinking, and after some serious reflection I realize that it’s not that I’m against grooming and styling and such, but that my approach is just a little unconventional. I maintain clean on a regular basis, save kempt for the slightly special occasions, and even get classy every once in a great while. And I never find a brush necessary. Don’t be fooled into thinking that I just don’t care. In fact, my alternative methods are a direct result of my vanity. Blow dryers take time and dry out your hair, which is why I choose air drying. I do this on my commute, and find that the vents in my helmet are perfectly suited to it. The helmet technique not only dries my hair thoroughly, evenly, and naturally, but adds volume and a slight to dramatic wave, depending on the frequency and speed of wind gusts. The other advantage to this method is the simultaneous hands-off styling that occurs. When I am ready to take off the helmet, the ends of my hair have already been flawlessly sculpted and the roots are ready for a quick ‘do’. The accumulated sweat makes for a remarkable styling agent that quickly dries in place. One quick finger comb does the trick. No need for dryers, irons, sprays, or ties. Less is more. Dirty is the new black. Kidding. Seriously, who do you take me for… fresh sweat is clean. Trust me.

Surprise, surprise

2007-01-14T23:07:00.000-08:00

Someday I plan on writing something profound. Something so insightful or creative that I will have to take a pen name for anyone to take it seriously. But that day is clearly not today. Nope, I am too young to know a whit about anything. And even this I am not so sure about. Ironic isn’t it? Clearly I am confused. But I’m willing to put that aside just now, if you are. You are. Good, good. That’s the attitude I like to see. You are pressing on, hoping to glean something, anything from my scrawling hand. For now I have another one of my stories, the type that don’t need imagination or interpretation. A little anecdote from my days thus far. One that is a little off, and therefore somehow noteworthy. I do appreciate your patience in the drawn out quest for something worth saying. My deadline is quite literally death, and I need deadlines. So I may be dying before I find anything much worth saying. In the meantime I give you this…

Head injuries. That got your attention no doubt. You are hoping for an explanation. No, no, this story is rather recent, so don’t jump to conclusions. You know, life is always full of surprises, sometime good, sometime very well disguised as not good. And let’s face it, sometimes things are just baaad, but you go forward and find something good to do with it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to pull out the lemon analogy. There’s one I hate, even if it does have a point. Well, on a generic Thursday I had an interview with some guys who are opening a corner grocery/deli. A funny little small-world thing happened when I found out that the owner knows my former boss from Atkinson’s. He likes Tom, and Tom likes me (or did, I’m assuming he would remember how much he loved me and begged me to come back). I don’t know how they know each other, Tom is from Idaho and mister new market man is from England. But a good coincidence eh? There’s nothing like networking to land you a job, even if its dumb luck. And you realize you can use a little dumb luck when you learn that you are only one of forty or so applicants. To be a cashier. A very prestigious line of work.

Unfortunately, this little bit of luck is probably overshadowed by the fact that my first impression was probably less than, well, impressive. I don’t know if I could have wowed them on a good day, but remember, this day was a little off. I was a little off. I don’t remember too much, other than sitting perched on a very tall chair, dangling my feet in a most professional way. And trying to sit up straight, and alert. I don’t think I said much. I couldn’t think of any questions. I think I went along with whatever they said. Let me just say that I don’t expect them to contact me for a second interview. Not unless Tom happens to call up and mention how magnificently I performed my cashier duties back in Idaho. I did mention crashing before I arrived, but I doubt they took much note of it.

I didn’t. I met Ashley at a Chai Lounge right after presenting myself as a witless want-to-be clerk at my interview. She asked what was wrong with me. How offensive. She called me slow. Said that I was slurring my speech and screwing up my word choice. Well, uh… nooo. I mean, “I crashed.” That was my explanation. I got a look. Fine. I explained the story… I hit ice near Cowen Park and slammed my head into the street. And the rest of my body. Head hurt, and the rest of my body was also not feeling so hot. The head was also feeling a little sluggish, which Ashley confirmed to be true. She mentioned doctors and concussions, to which I replied “nonsense.”

We sat there for some time, had some good conversations. I don’t remember what about, but good conversation. Barbara showed up. Good surprise, a very good time. I love those two. Darkness fell and stomachs and parking meters needed feeding, so we decided to go make some dinner. Ok, so here’s the part where the yucky surprise (namely the meeting of road and bike, of brain and boulevard) leads to something good that would otherwise not have happened. Obviously my confidence was shaken, but you get back on the horse, right? So I did that for a while. But then I saw some more ice and lots of cars and not much shoulder and some hill and the descending darkness making all of it so ambiguous and horrifyingly scary… I was not ok with all of this. What’s the word? Terrified, unreasonably terrified. Petrified. I couldn’t do it. I’d get a grip tomorrow, or maybe when the snow and ice melted away, leaving the roads approachable once again. I’m usually pretty level-headed about this kind of stuff, but my head was wonky. So clearly I got off and walked the horse back.

Well, on my way back to the metaphorical barn, I was caught off guard by someone yelling at me. From where? I didn’t see anyone. Great, my problems are bigger than I thought. Now I’m crazy and stupid. Alas, I looked up and saw a man waving from a balcony across the street. Oh boy… “I locked myself out.” Oh. He’s real, that’s good. “Uh-oh,” I reply in relief. But he had his keys on him. And I caught them, which was pretty exciting I have to say. I wasn’t counting on it. Ha-ha! The good Samaritan…. Was having trouble with the key. Shoot. It goes in, and does not turn. I try again. I try two, three more times, meanwhile the poor man upstairs is freezing and wondering why he couldn’t have found a more competent rescuer. Finally I admit defeat and walk back within view of the balcony man. “It’s not working, it’s the brass key right?” The patient, freezing man directs me to the other door, the one on the right. There are two?? I go back. Yes, two doors indeed. Which is excellent news. For one thing, the key actually did open the other door, quite easily. And for another, I was glad to note that this meant that I wouldn’t have to enter the part of the house where the fierce snarling and barking was coming from. It was a mild concern, but it had crossed my mind. It also crossed my mind that perhaps the whole stranded thing was a setup and that the nice man was actually planning to catch me and feed me to his carnivorous little dog. I took my chances. For which he was grateful. Brief introductions, his name started with a Y… minor chit chat…. And I was on my way. Riding again with renewed confidence. For about a hundred feet before I convinced myself once again that riding on ice is the most terrible thing in the world and proceeded to walk most of the rest of the way home.

The rest of the evening was pleasant, filled with food and more friends joining in. Excellent surprises. Especially the phone call from dear Gen Sofie in Chicago. We all got to say hello, and three of us will be her bridesmaids…. Oh what a night. To follow such a day. I’m not sure if I should have tried helping Barbara practice driving a standard transmission on this particular evening, but its ok. Though I wonder how helpful I was... Anyway, I still have a lingering headache a few days later, and I still would rather have not hit that particular patch of ice in that particular way. But uh, what can I say? The rest of the day was quite good, the balcony guy was saved because I was walking not riding, and it’s good to know that someone is willing to take you to the emergency room even if they have to get up early in the morning (and even if you refuse).

from belgium

2006-12-10T15:37:00.000-08:00

La Grandmere de Lyon
by detweiler on August 19, 2005 09:41PM (CEST)
I had breakfast with the grandma this morning. And dinner was just the two of us again. I thought about going out with a bunch of other students, but as I am still pretty jetlagged, I stayed in. Grandma fed me a big plate of pasta. And she made me finish it. With just a few bites left, I was done. The portion was intimidating, but grandma's words were encouragement enough: "Vous ne le finissez pas?" She didn't have to say it, I could hear her thinking about starving children accross the globe. I cleaned my plate pronto. Unfortunately, she was not satisfied. There was bread and a very large piece of cheese to follow. (Did I mention that I had accidentally dumped about two fistsful of cheese into my pasta? Because I did, ever so gracefully of course.) But how could I refuse the french grandmother who was offereing me (more) cheese? I'd rather risk the effects of too much of a good thing than commit such a sin. At this point, I was determined to keep up with this little lady who had so far eaten the same amount I had, but apparently was not getting the satiated signal as strongly as I. Next, she offered dessert. Mercy me, I can't do it.... but what's this? Prunes? Hmm, not quite appetizing, but probably not a bad idea at this point... After the feast we sat down to watch the weather forecast followed by the news. Then I waddled out for a walk to explore the neighborhood and give my digestion a pep talk. When I got back, grandma was watching a documentary show about the ships that go between London and Denmark. Interesting. I sat down to join her for a bit, and soon headed off to bed. It was a quality grandma evening, even if she's not actually my grandma.

Words of a Host Mom
by detweiler on October 13, 2005 03:55PM (CEST)
“Unfortunately Belgium is going to lose because they play so beautifully against those other lousy players”

A rundown of my incredible weekend with Barbara:
by detweiler on October 23, 2005 12:56PM (CEST)

It all started Friday evening when Barbara and I met in Brussels, after missing each other at the train station and then exchanging several emails about what to do about finding each other... Five or so hours later than originally planned, I found her waiting on my doorstep in the rain. The rain and doorstep part were not in the plan, but I think it set the tone for a rather…flexible weekend.

Saturday we went on a quick field trip with my lit. class, ate some hot-off-the-iron amazingly delicious waffles, horded away some Belgian chocolate and beer, caught a glimpse of mannequin pis all dressed up and surrounded by a cultish group of men who were also strangely clad, drinking beer, and singing (at him?) while periodically raising their glasses, and then, still wondering at the spectacle, hurried off to catch the 2:40 train to Paris.

When we arrived we obviously wanted to find a place to sleep. I thought I had responsibly reserved a place at the “Young and Happy” hostel online, but when we arrived we were not expected. They only had one bed, so we went on down the street. The Comfort Inn looked possible, until we saw their price listing, turned around, and headed straight back to the hostel to beg for a chance to occupy their floor. Better yet, they gave us each a two euro discount for the luggage room suite. Sweet.

That taken care of, we headed to the André Citroën Parc to go for a 12 euro hot-air balloon ride… according to my friend’s guide book. We found the park, which was locked up and surrounded by a moat. As described, in the middle of the park was a big blue and yellow balloon which for all I know really does cost only 12 euro to go up in. Unfortunately we could not get close enough to it to confirm this. Instead we went up to Montmartre and visited Sacre Coeur (one of my all-time favorite places and best at night). It was grand… except for a very pesky Italian portrait artist. You’ll have to ask Barbara about that.

When we got back to the hostel around midnight it was a party. Well, being the Latin Quarter, the whole neighborhood was a party. Barbara and I ate crepes and then got comfortable in our “room” (after moving all the luggage to one corner). People came and went, but for the most part it felt pretty private. We were pretty excited about it really. It felt like more like a slumber party than anything, we stayed up and talked for hours. We even thought about playing truth or dare… Meanwhile out front the DJ was going crazy with the Madonna. We listened to her until about two am when he finally got Madonnaed-out and briefly switched to Mexican music before calling it a night.

So then we got some sleep, but not that much because it gets a little chilly without blankets and sheets and because they started up again with the Mexican music at about seven. We just started laughing, which if you think about it is quite a nice way to start off the day. Never before have I started a day laughing at it, I would recommend it sometime.

Well, it was Sunday, so we took a little stroll and attended mass at the neighborhood cathedral, Notre Dame. You may have heard of its flying buttresses. Sorry, I just wanted to say buttresses. Anyway, I would recommend that too. Well, we were on a roll and just couldn’t stop all the fun if we had wanted to. Lunch was ice cream so good we had to sit down and eat it in silence and a shared loaf of brioche (which probably deserve its own food group). We then meandered along the Seine, checking out old books and art prints, and made our way down to the Musée d’Orsay, which is an old train station. I had no idea… Well I’m an impressionist fan, so that was very enjoyable, also the most crowded museum I’ve ever been in.

Since museum-going is a very tiring business, we squeezed in some tea/cappuccino drinking and people watching on the Champs-Elysée before heading to dinner. Dinner was at Chez Papa where the salads are as good as they are big. Mmm, I will have to improvise a chez papa salad creation when I am doing my own cooking again.

Everything was going so well and we were in such good spirits that we underestimated the time it would take to swing by the hostel to get bags, where I could then bid Barbara farewell and dash off to the train station for the 7:55 back to Brussels. It could have also had something to do with the fact that we didn’t realize that this little sidetrack would involve three different metro lines, two separate tickets…and large crowds that make it like trying to skate through molasses. We realized that it would be tight when we left the restaurant, but no sweat…. Right?

Well once we figured out just how many transfers were involved, we realized that sprinting to the hostel to fetch stuff would be necessary. Since I was the one running late, we said our goodbyes at the metro and I was off…nothing like a little post-feast sprint to aid digestion…but wait, what’s this? Crap. I don’t usually come out on this side of the metro…where am I? where do I go? Ahhhh…

Fortunately there happened to be a knowledgeable-looking Asian man carrying a mattress walking by, so I asked him which way my street was. He pointed and I ran, through the Latin quarter I ran, dodging people, hair flying, generally looking like a crazy person… but then I got a little disoriented again, I was on the right street but not quite sure I was actually going the right direction. I stopped and asked a lady working a crepe stand if she knew which way the Young and Happy hostel was. Good, I was going the right way. Oh and there was Barbara, she’d caught up while I was getting more directions. We got to the hostel, I grabbed my bag, more frenzied goodbyes followed by more sprinting back to the metro.

I caught one straight off and made the appropriate changes. I’m sure I was an amusing or obnoxious sight during all of this, flushed and sweaty and giving frequent, compulsive glances at my watch and then at the map and back at my watch after every stop. The guy sitting across from me was certainly perplexed/annoyed/aloof. I doubt he would have accepted running late as a complete explanation for my behavior, but I had left the cool, calm, and collected traveler image behind long before his furtive glances started implying that I should cool it. What did I care if he thought I was nuts? So I kept obsessively checking my watch as if it would make me get there faster. It was going to be close, really close.

And it was. Once I reached the station I had no idea which platform I wanted. I played the flustered tourist card once again and asked a security guard…train, Brussels? Number 8, so I jumped on. But why was it empty? I jumped back off and ran over to another employee who was making fun of me for running as I approached him. Nothing like someone mocking you to inspire confidence that they will help. But to no avail, my train had just left. Sadness.

I went over to the desk and got my ticket changed for an hour later, no problem, no extra charge. Wow, I wish I would have known it was that easy a little earlier… But the metro drama was certainly a lively and memorable way to finish the weekend. So despite, or maybe really because of, all the madness, I had a very fine weekend with Barbara.

Fly on the Wall
by detweiler on September 14, 2005 05:43PM (CEST)
I had a strange experience yesterday. I was sitting, waiting for class to start when two of my professors ran into each other at the end of the hallway and started talking. About me. Ok, that’s awkward because obviously they don’t see that I’m right there (even though I am the only other person in this rather short hallway). It was one of those fly-on-the-wall moments that you imagine, but don’t think actually exist. I was there first, but I was eves dropping. What was I supposed to do, join in? “Oh yeah, Erin is a little strange, but once you get to know her, she’s really crazy…” Leave? Right, like I could do that discreetly. Or would pass up an opportunity like this. What are the chances of this happening, and me not being discovered? Because I wasn’t. It was like a scene from a movie. As one professor walked out she walked half backwards to keep talking, thus completely excluding me from her field of vision as she passed by. I sort of wonder if she caught on too late and played it off like she never saw me. I don’t know though, it was pretty slick. And the other prof only knows me by name, so that was smooth sailing. If you’re itching to know the content of their exchange, I’m sorry. I feel your pain, but I'm not actually going to tell you.

TGIStrike!
by detweiler on October 13, 2005 03:49PM (CEST)
A major Belgian trade union announced a strike for Friday, meaning …well no one was really sure what to expect. Some people said there would be no transportation, some said there would be a tram or a bus now and again. Maybe a few metros running… At any rate, bring a map is what my host family said. Confusing, yes, but at least they gave fair warning. If you can’t make it to work on time, or at all, no worries. That ‘s life in Belgium. So Friday morning I went down into the metro station to attempt the commute, expecting long delays or perhaps no transportation at all. What happened instead? I caught a train in short order, not even packed. Excellent. They can make their point without paralyzing the city.

Nope. Apparently that is the point. I found out the hard way that they get you to work on time and then leave you there to figure out an alternative way home. I guess that’s what happens when your are stupid enough to go to work on a strike day. And with no more trams, buses, or metros running, alternative means walking. Taxis? Please, taxis are for pansies. And I am not a pansy, so I set out on foot…an hour and twenty minutes later I had nothing to show for the winding, tangled kilometers I had traipsed except for the sweat that was, um, percolating through my clothing (hope that doesn’t ruin your next cup of coffee…). I was basically where I started. Definitely forgot my map at home, and obviously the angle-of-the-sun navigation technique was not working for me, not that I could actually see the sun… Damn those socialists. Go on strike if you going to do it, what is this half-striking crap? They were to blame for my course-plotting woes.

I was mad, but eventually I found and (this is key) successfully read a street-corner map. It was actually my third attempt at such a map, but this was the first one to work properly. I was oriented. I was actually homeward bound. Progress at last. And I was setting a furiously good pace. From downtown I cut through the modern EU sector and then on through a big park with a big triumphal arch. Triumph indeed, I was going to make it home before dark. Yeah! Take that, unionists. I was taking the metro, above ground. Walking, walking, walking…this went on for some time, hours, days, I don’t know, time became irrelevant. The scenery was certainly plentiful; it’s amazing how you miss in underground transit. Some of the nicest areas in fact.

I think the endorphins kicking in had something to do with this revelation. I wasn’t really upset, in fact I realized that I should be thanking the strikers for giving me a reason to get out and see …well the entirety of the Brussels. The smell of fall was in the air, the streets were lined with crispy-leafed trees. There were fountains and bicycles and cafes and people in the streets… By golly, Brussels was beautiful.

But alas this new and blissful euphoria was interrupted by the grumblings of my feet. When I looked at my watch at nearly seven the sun was already diminishing. My mental to-do list for the day was also quickly fading. Two goals remained: get home, solve hunger. To distract myself in the meantime, I started talking. …I wonder if I will ever really grasp degrees Celsius, that’s a nice house, I wonder if it’s art nouveau, hmm, must be ten in the morning at home and only their second week of school, I guess that means UCF is tonight, I wonder what kind of tree that is, maybe Lisa would know, she would stop and dissect its fruit, or she might saw off a branch and take it home, gosh, what would my host family say, good thing she’s coming when all the plants are dormant… Somewhere along the way I transitioned into French and slightly deeper reflections on the sens de la vie.

One French stream of consciousness and six theoretical metro stops later, eureka! I was home (just three stops shy of the end of the line). It was dusk and I hadn’t even gotten lost (unless you really want to count that first part…). Once through the door, I shed my shoes and tottered my way over to the kitchen where my host mom had left dinner waiting… Food. It was probably the best meal she’s ever made. It was a full, though not entirely productive day. It was memorable though and perhaps a little character building.

this is not a story, ok?

2006-12-10T15:26:00.000-08:00

I should have known better than to set my alarm for 6:30 because the next morning, when it sounded, I was rather put out and promptly slithered out of my tall, tall bed, down the ladder and fumbled to reset it for 8:00 before reverse slithering back up into bed. In case you were wondering, slithering is actually a fairly accurate description of what I must do to get in and out of what I like to think of as my tiny indoor tree house. It is the loftiest of beds and only ever so slightly inconvenient when it comes to getting in, getting out, putting sheets on, and taking them off. In all other respects it is a remarkably wonderful bed. It is missing an important support bar, but nothing that cannot be overcome with a some rope and a little ingenuity (sometimes referred to as Matt MacAdam).
Anyway, enough about the bed… eventually I got out of bed.

Not quite by eight since my alarm-setting skills seem to have been impaired by early morning grog. Besides, I was having some interesting dreams, apparently too good to interrupt… dreams about giant trucks with strobe lights and sirens screaming through a medieval-looking city in a mountainous canyon landscape. Please, don’t ask any of this to make sense. I was on a journey, an epic journey… except I had no idea what. The trucks were carrying massive quantities of , basically, otter pops. Even in my dream, this seemed strange to me… why otter pops? I wanted to know, and I made it my mission. Eventually I discovered that these were no ordinary otter pops. They were medicinal, and they were on their way to stop an epidemic. I don’t know who was sick, but the otter pops were going to save the day. So mundane, but so tasty. I tried one and wondered if it was bad to eat them if you didn’t really need their special medicinal qualities. It seemed magical, like I should be a hobbit (no, I’m too tall… Gandalf, or an elf maybe…). You get my gist. It was LOTResque (ahem…that’s Lord of the Rings, in case you don’t care to admit that you are nerdy enough to know that). The clarity of the rest of the dream drops off significantly after this, but I do remember hiking up into the hills and finding some castle ruins and a little white goat that was not so very goat-like, but more like a puppy. I don’t know what the goat was doing there but it was one of the most vivid parts of the dream (and seemingly least relevant). It was so very the-dentist-bleached-my-teeth white, unnaturally white. And very cute.

I was still puzzling over my slumberous adventures when I slid down from my loft again. If only my last name were Robinson… I made some toast and was staring out of the kitchen window eating it, thinking that if I hurried I could still get my homework done before class, when I heard an enormous crash and saw some chunks of tree fly by. They landed on the neighbor’s porch directly across the way. Interesting. Seems odd. Maybe a tree fell. Hopefully not an ent… Ashley appeared from her lair. If my room is a forest, hers is definitely a lair. Big, open, and home to a creature of hibernation. Yes, well, we decided to investigate. We ventured outside and climbed up the hill and sure enough, there was a tree, and the tree was on the roof. Yup, we solved it. On second thought, maybe my last name should be Holmes… So fun, so satisfying, but not so good for getting my Spanish done. But then again, when your assignment is to watch a soap opera and then speculate about the characters’ lives, you don’t feel too guilty about letting it slide for the sake of the clearly more important study of, um trees. Or physics, yes, and earth science. Environmental studies perhaps.

Not to worry now. My case for forsaking español to observe the effects of gravity on a poor old tree may not be much sounder than the soggy soil that swept it away in the first place, but hear me out. The day’s academic pursuits were not all lost. Spanish may have suffered slightly, but not all academia was abandoned. I attended a modern Europe lecture by Denis, who is most likely the most overqualified TA known to man. I do not exaggerate. It’s even more ridiculous than my bed, but also just as good. He’s practically a PHD, knows seven or eight languages (that I know of), has numerous personal connections with significant historical figures or their families, and flat out knows nearly everything about nearly everything. And yet somehow he manages all of this without being pretentious. It’s very curious, a scholar who is still in touch with the non-academic world and willing to stoop to TAhood. So he, being from former Yugoslavia, gave the lecture about Yugoslavia. In a mere fifty minutes we covered the Balkans from medieval times to the present. That’s a lot of wars and peacetime to cover, and a lot of intricacies to overlook, but I managed to glean at least a general understanding of the rise and fall of Yugoslavia and its relationship to everywhere else in under an hour. Tall order for one lecture, but one well done. And certainly most interesting.

Work, unfortunately, was not as stimulating as Denis’ lecture. There are slow days when the customers just don’t come into the store, and there are really slow days when business is not good and there’s not a lot to do. And then there are dead days like this particular Monday, when its pouring out, and no one comes in and there is absolutely nothing to work on. You can generally at least look busy, if necessary, by walking around and straightening anything that has been touched or looked at. But that was the problem. Nothing was getting touched or looked at and, short of intentionally dismantling the displays and putting them back together, there was no faking productivity. So I got bold. I dared to ask to build a bike. I’d been promised to be able to go back “there”, the shop, the mechanics’ haven. We sales folk are discouraged from mixing with that crowd, lest we deviate from the straight and narrow path of customer servitude, er service. But here was my chance, there were no customers to satisfy. A glimmer of freedom, followed by a reluctant yes from the general manager himself. Glory be.

So I went and asked bike-builder Derek if we could build some bikes together. There was a cruiser with a build order… Um, not my first choice, but whatever. Fortunately Derek, also less than thrilled with the idea of building up “that creature”, steered clear and grabbed some real bikes to get us started on. Long story short, we built a couple of bikes. And I will retain, hopefully, maybe, a third of what I learned during my crash course on the assemblage of bikes. It was my second whirl wind learning experience of the day. So I’m neither an expert on Yugoslav history nor on building bikes, but at least a little bit of all that knowledge rubbed off on me and some of it is bound to stick.

So yup, all in all, it was a fairly uneventful day. My life is not dramatically altered. But a good day it definitely was, spiced with some things new and unexpected. I even finished it off in like manner by taking Sayers for a jog. It doesn’t sound too noteworthy, but, well, with this dog it definitely is. There is nothing worth writing home about, but I got sort of antsy and decided to write about all of it anyway. So there you go. Consider it cheap entertainment (for me).

think it over

2006-12-10T15:16:00.000-08:00

Run through it and around it.
Feel it, smell it, try to let it sink into your bones.
What is this cloud that gathers round my head?
And fogs up my mind, rains down on me til it trickles through my soul?

There’s reason, but not here.
That’ll get me somewhere, but not where I need to be.
Resolved, a myth of miracle cure.
Chase it, catch it, and watch it disappear,
A parting of the clouds

Followed by the rain god’s fickle pleasure
And a dense gathering of insanity again.
Is the weather inside or out?
Or inside-out?
My head is empty and gushing forth
The eternal tide of making sense,
And sensing the senselessness all around. Within.

On Heart of Darkness, Lord of the Flies, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Hamlet, and life

2006-12-10T15:03:00.000-08:00

Fire Walk

My heart’s been fire-walking

In the brooding darkness

Felt the horror, the horror in the flames

The beast speaks that there is no escape

And society breaks down

Hatred singed our pride and made liberty cry

A mother lost, a family torn

If you flip that coin again

Maybe life will change

Something inside me fell off the shelf

So when I’m done soliloquizing I’ll go beyond planning to act on what I know

Something is rotten in the state of man

But my thoughts be hopeful or be nothing worth

Remove the blindfold and see the light

There’s joy I’ve found that leaves no room for bitterness

Call me Shadrach because my heart’s on fire

But it’s not burned

I’m refined by the fire

And Ithaca nears- my home- a city on a hill.

(2002)