In the past week...

I have plastered wall holes. I am very good at this.

I have not been out once to visit my garden. I am very worried about the state of things, especially as regards my baby squash plant. Also, I have some fall crop seeds that I need to get in the ground, like, yesterday.

I have subsisted off of snack foods, quesadillas, coffee and beer. I could really use a vegetable.

I have finally found the coffee maker in The Forest of Boxes. Of course, I don't have enough clean counter space to set it up yet, nor do I know where the coffee filters are. I don't want to move again until I'm rich enough to pay someone to do it for me. This whole thing is ridiculous.

I haven't yet found my clean socks, but I did find the box where I packed a pair of sandals, so now at least I don't have to worry about not having socks to wear with my sneakers. However, I have only found one flip-flop. I need two flip-flops, because I have two feet. Frustration continues.

Last night J took me to the New Pornographers' concert as an early anniversary celebration. He bought the tickets months ago, and it was a suprise! Yeay! I love suprises! The concert was a lot of fun- very high energy. It was my first concert at the Orpheum as opposed to the Barrymore or the Majestic. It was strange how not-intimate it was. Neko's voice is like scotch (non-original comparison, I know...) and I loved how the band just seemed to be enjoying playing the music... they didn't seem to be so much "performing" it as just "playing" it and having fun. I liked that. I wished the crowd would have settled down more during the few moments in between songs when Neko and AC would banter a bit back and forth. Those bantering moments are my favorite parts of concerts, but the crowd was super hyped up and kept a-hootin' and a-hollerin' so I couldn't really hear anything the musicians were saying. Boo.

We don't have internet yet at the new house. I really dislike this. However, I think Internet will have to wait until we get boxes unpacked and things all in their rightful places and such.

wisdom?

enabling "advice" I gave myself yesterday to boost me out of the grumps: if chocolate doesn't fix it, try vodka...

I'm making a quilt in June. What was I thinking...

holy crap, we're moving again at the end of July. New apartment is cooler, but smaller than current apartment. I need an assisstant to help me Throw Out Crap.

oh yeah, I've agreed to spend tomorrow doing The Bikeride To End All Bikerides. I think it's something like 70 miles round trip, and it's ALL HILLS. There's breakfast at the half-way point, but still. I have not-so-secret-fear that I might not make it, and all the other children will point and laugh at the fat chick. And that I might DIE a horrid Death of Doom. Again, what was I thinking?

The Road To Nowhere Leads to a Bar

J and I rode our bikes out to Lake Mills to visit the Tyranena microbrewery today. It would have been a 60 mile round trip. It was kind of a spontaneous thing - I COULD have spent the day attending a conference all about Labor Organizing, and indeed had been planning to do so until J made the tempting suggestion to NOT spend my day in an oxygen-deprived conference center, but out on the open road getting a workout and exploring a new part of Wisconsin instead.

However, in the spontenaity of the moment, we neglected to consider that we were leaving our house at noon. For a 60 mile bike trip. Bike as in bicycle, not as in motorcycle. Had we stopped for about 6 seconds and put 2 and 2 together to get four, we would have tossed our lights into our gear bag. As it was, it got dark when we had about 20 miles to go. Dark, not "dusky" or "twighlighty" or "dim." Full on dark. We locked our bikes to a convenient tree and called some kind friends who came and got us.

Here are the specs of the trip.

Actual distance ridden: maybe 45 miles.
Beers I drank: 1 pint Scurvy IPA and about 1/3 of our tasting flight. The beers that best fitted with my preferences and tastes were the Hefeweizen, the Scurvy IPA (a not-overly-hoppy IPA that is brewed with orange peel) and the Femme Ameins, which is a version of Tyranena's beloved Bitter Woman IPA with kind of a Belgian Farmhouse style twist.

The Amber Alt was good, too, but I was not overly impressed by the Three Beaches Lager or the Rocky's Revenge Burbon Barrel Brown.

Wildlife seen:
Chipmunks: 20 or so. extremely adorable.
Toads: 3; 2 alive, one not so much.
Catapillars: about 20,000 more than I wanted to see. They are all doing that swarming thing, and that dangling from the tree by a thread thing, so I got a lot of catapillars on me as a rode, which I did not like. I like to touch bugs on my terms, not on theirs.
Cranes: 1. J identified it, and even though I called first baby ducks of the season, first goose pups of the season, first chipmunk of the trip AND all of the frogs of the trip, he pretty much just beat me in Animals: Competitive Identification by like a million points FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. Because seriously, a crane? That's just awesome. I'm not telling him that he won, though.

Interesting people we encountered:
Lesbians riding their bikes from Chicago to Minneapolis: 1
Lesbians who asked me if I was a lesbian: 1*^
Assholes who have no trail ettiquette: 2
Cute dogs: more than 15


*It was actually the same woman.
^It amuses/bemuses me when I scramble people's gay-dar. On one hand, yeay for screwing with binary paradigms of gender and sexuality! On the other hand, I am quite blind to what it is about me that would cause somone to "read" me in this way, and knowing that I have this blind spot with regards to myself makes me uncomfortable.

Interview went ok. Now I just have to sit tight and see if there are enough enrollments for them to justify hiring me.

In other news, I'm slogging through the last circle of grading hell... after I'm done, I'm taking the world's longest shower and assessing the Fiber Arts Situation I've got going on around here.

Oh, so you think my ramblings about Fiber Arts would be more "interesting" if I posted pictures, too, do you?

I can't decide if I should flip you the bird or just start laughing maniacally. I am, after all, working on about 3.5 hours of sleep here.

Pictures! hah! Oh the technology! oh the humanity! the horror! the horror!

The digi cam and I, we are not such great friends, to say nothing of that creepy little digi cam cord that transfers the pixely pictures to the 'puter...

... but maybe after the World's Longest Shower, and the Fiber Arts Situation Assessment, I'll see what I can do.

until then, slog through the blue books I shall.

what do you think the strong verb declension for "to slog" should be? Let's have a contest! The winner will not receive a used blue book.

Second Thoughts...

In less than 5 hours I will be interviewing for a job in which I will use my finely honed bullshitting skillz to cater to the egos and college-application-resumes of extremely entitled, privileged teenagers. I will be expected to lead "seminar-style" classes, but am dubious about the whole "ability to assign homework and hold students accountable for doing it" thing.

Remind me again: why I am *voluntarily* exposing myself to judgement, eye-rolling, pubescent hormones and youthful self-importance?

16 bucks an hour, baby. Mama ain't got no standards, and apparently no pride, neither.

I will let you know how it goes. If I get the job (which I actually do kind of want) I promise not to whine about my every day material reality of pandering in this space.

As a woman much more famous, witty, educated and self-confident than I am recently wrote: rich kids need teachers who are interested in social justice, too.

Notes from my Little Black Book.

...So, I'm one of Those People who carry around a mini-Molskine journal and constantly jot in it. Mostly I make lists, but it also where I make note of random encounters with the world and gem-like thoughts. It matters not to me that my gems are more like rhinestones and less like diamonds; I'm going to save them for posterity anyway. And now I'm going to share them with you.

Awesome things seen on or around campus during 1st "week" of school:
-dude riding to class on unicycle.
-dudes flying a plastic Sesame Street kite on The Hill.
-stocky, bearded dude wearing actual revolutionary war-style tricorn hat made out of actual leather, walking down street.

Don't make me choke on my own snark:
- young undergrad dude walking past me, talking on cell phone ON TUESDAY: "... yeah, it's been a long week... thank god we've got a friday coming up soon..."

First World Problem of The Week:
I bought a (semi-costly) new refill for my (fancy, imported from Germany) refillable ball-point pen. The ink in the refill doesn't flow AT ALL. I realize that in the grand scheme of all social injustice everywhere, this is meaningless, but it's an important problem. to me. right now.

Best Conversation Ever:
Me: mmmmm... garlic and bacon sauteed together... it's too bad I missed the bacon train on liking bacon.
Him: huh?
Me: remember? The New Yorker said that bacon isn't the cool food to like any more.
Him: Oh yeah. Bacon totally sucks. Wonder what the next cool food to like is going to be?
Me: I dunno.
Him: Me either.
Me: Maybe little hamburgers?
Him: heh. sliders. yeah, they're kind of everywhere these days.
Me: I'm anti-little hamburger.
Him: ... well, I'm not pro-them.
Me: ... I mean, I wouldn't shiv one if I met it in the dark or anything... I just think they're dumb.
Him: I might eat one.

Also, I didn't hear what Kanye West did to make the world think that he is a dumbass, or to make President Obama say that he (Kanye West, not Obama) is an asshole, but I'm mad at him (Kanye West, not Obama) anyway, because I'm sick of being exposed to the media fallout about How Kanye West may or may not be a dumbass or an asshole.

Rash Behavior

I have a heat rash. It is located on a body part that is Inappropriate To Discuss On The Internet, so I will call it my "groin" because that it what it really is. At one point in time, I may have referred to my rash as "leprosy" because that is way more amusing and far less embarrassing than a rash, which, let's face it, has all kinds of nasty connotations about one's personal hygiene. It turns out, people get REALLY worried when you start talking about the leprosy you have growing on your skin, so I decided stop being embarrassed by the rash and just be amused by it. Hahaha! Isn't this the most delightfully blotchy skin you have ever beheld? Aren't you exceedingly diverted?

The thing about this rash is that it's not just hideously ugly, it hurts. So I tried a lot of different creams and salves on it. Creams and salves that I own because I have ridiculously sensitive, dry skin. Creams and salves that usually make my stupid skin feel better. Guess what? The damn rash did not feel better. So, about 5 days after I first notice the rash, I think, oh, maybe I should just google this. Because possibly some random idiot inside of the computer will have advice that is superior my own first aid training and experience with my own skin. Guess what? There are these people called 'doctors' who write stuff on the internet! They said to stop using creams and salves and to use powder. I did, and my rash finally feels better. I guess everything you read on the internet must be true.

Mantra of Wisdom

Do not get in mud fights with pigs. Do not get in mud fights with pigs. Do not get in mud fights with pigs.

*sigh*
Maybe someday it will sink in and I will have learned.

Some days some of the more illogical Pro-Life people make me want to stab a fork in my eye.

We Gotta Get Outta Cape Cod Tonight, and other random thoughts.

Vampire Weekend is so stuck in my head right now. They are sound like what the love child of Death Cab For Cutie and a steel drum calypso band would be, if said love child were to be cherished and loved and dressed in handmade clothes and given balloons, instead of being made to sleep in the fire grate and scrub the stairs. I love them.

J ran the marathon on Sunday. I followed him on my bike for a good part of the route. It was such a feeling of joyful anarchy to ride my bike on streets that are normally not bike-safe against the 'regular' flow of traffic. The marathon people provide water and gatorade at regular intervals, but we were unsure how hot the weather was going to get, so I had a couple of otter pops in a soft-sided cooler in my backpack to offer J in case he got overheated. He did not, but we certainly enjoyed the otter pops after the race. Friends met us at the finish line to congratulate J and make the requisite post-marathon visit to The World's Largest Brat Fest.

I enjoyed Brat Fest less well this year than I have in previous years. Now they have one of those transportable carnival midways set up, which makes things a lot more crowded and noisy. I hate carnivals. This probably makes me un-american and thus ineligible to be featured on a postage stamp some day, but I do not care. I hate them. Carnies are creepy, the games are always rigged, the prizes are made in sweat-shops in poor Asian countries, and I do not like rides. Rides at Disneyland and permanent amusement parks are ok, but I am always afraid of the traveling carnival rides. For one thing, you can see the rust. For another thing, who is to say that the carney who bolted it togeter this time wasn't drunk or high? At Disneyland, the rides stay in one piece the whole time, so you know that none of the bolts are poorly fastened. And they have safety inspectors. And if you die, you actually know the name of the actual company to sue in order to pay for your funeral.


Damn, I'm either a total chicken or a conservative grown-up.

Fork in your eye!

Him: Y'know, I was reading about this physicist guy who does lots of great work, and is really brilliant, and he doesn't even have a phd.

Me: Yeah, people like him, the universe make them in order to mock people like us.

Him: Oh geez, what what his name? Ah well, I'm going for a run. Have a great day.

Me: I'm so blogging this.

*leaves*

Me: Wait, was he just talking about Einstein? Why do I suddenly feel stupider, as if the joke was on me instead of by me?