Praise Song for Arugula; a few thoughts on the subject.

A
Ru
Gu
La

Arugulaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
It sounds like a magic spell straight out of Harry Potter.
It tastes a bit like greens, a bit like pepper, and a bit like walnuts.
It grows! So quickly! And so abundantly!
Even in the summer heat. Put the seeds in the ground, and they grow!
Baby sprouts, so rewardingly indentifiable,
Covered with the lace-like veil of row cover, bugs cannot eat you, and you grow!
I will eat you with pasta, or perhaps in a salad with
a juicy pear.

(I am much more sophisticated than bugs.)

I grew you! Or rather, you grew yourself. But I am proud of me for making you possible.
Yum!

P.S. You are also the President's favorite vegetable. He is a very smart man with obviously excellent taste. If he were coming to my house to dinner, I'd totally serve you. And then we'd be eating, and I'd be all like: hey Barack, you like the arugula? and he'd be all like: this is the most delicious arugula i've have ever put in my mouth, except for maybe the arugula my grandmother grew in her garden, but maybe that is just because of the Grandmother Magic. and then I'd be all like: oh thanks. well I grew this arugula. ORGANICALLY. in a COMMUNITY GARDEN. And when bugs were threatening its life, I posted a question on the COMMUNITY Q&A BOARD, and another friendly gardener/community member gave me REALLY ACTUALLY USEFUL FREE ADVICE. So you should give America some more government funding for urban agriculture, especially for low-income people. Like, why does the WI state capitol building have like an acre of grass and fancy flowers and things but a homeless shelter next door where they only can serve processed food? but I would say this modestly and with dignity, and not angrily. and then the president, he'd take another bite of arugula, and after he was finished chewing and swallowing (because of course, Barack Obama does NOT talk with his mouth full) he'd politely wipe his mouth with his cloth napkin that I made myself, look me in the eye, and then he'd be all like: you, madam, are a True American. I wish we had more citizens like you. And then he would make a law that for public money spent on landscaping public spaces had to be evenly split between ornamental things (because flowers and beautiful surroundings ARE important) and edible food, and the food would be given away to food pantries and shelters and people who use food stamps and who live in low-income housing. The food would be delicious and nutritious. And then I would keep that napkin forever, and never let anyone else use it. However, I would totally wash it first before I preserved it, because otherwise it would be a creepy and gross kind of stalker thing to do, and I am not a creepy and gross stalker kind of person. And on my death bed, my relatives would all fight over The Barack Obama Napkin. Except for that I would instruct in my will that they should either auction or raffle it off and give the proceeds to a community garden. All thanks to you, my tasty little arugula; all thanks to you.

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.

A Simple Lesson in Economics...

Consider a spherical cow. Or rather, consider the given that I Like Brussel Sprouts.

At the Farmers' Market, a pint of Brussel Sprouts costs 2 dollars.
A giant stalk of Brussel Sprouts costs 4 dollars.
The lady farmer selling the Brussel Sprouts says that one giant stalk can yeild up to several quarts of Brussel Sprouts, but that she sells them already trimmed off of the stalk for people who don't want that many or who don't want to do the work of trimming themselves.

I say "I have a knife and a freezer, and I'm not afraid to use them!"
We buy the Giant Stalk of Brussel Sprouts.
J. trims them, and blanches 1/2 of them for the freezer while I go shoppingrun errands.

Dudes, my life is made of so much win.

hilarious nerds on the high road

Scene: J and I are rumbling through Michigan in our beloved Kentucky Chicken Shack, returning from a Wedding Of Friends, when we hit a patch of rough road.

KCS: ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk
Me: ouch
J: I wonder if in the future someone will invent some kind of material that will make roads that won't crack.
Me: sounds like a good idea. Maybe you and Ben and Nick and Dan will have to do some Experiments For Science.
J: ahhhh.... Science. We'll add a little Science to a test tube...
Me: *giggle*
J: ... Powder of Science or Liquid Science? Maybe a little of both...
Me: *cackle*
J: oh, whoops. We're out of Science. Guess we'll have to substitute some History instead.
Me: *guffaw*... oh my god stop. i'm going to have to pee again.

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.

A long December,er, July.

St. Louis was great. If you go there, check out the art museum (free!), especially for its amazing collection of 20th century German artists. They have a whole room dedicated to Richter, and another whole room dedicated to Max Beckmann. It was overwhelming, and I almost cried.

St. Louis is made out of bricks and humidity. It was fabulous to see J again and to visit with the sparse family I have down there. We sadly did not get around to eating any barbeque, but since I don't really like pork, that is ok. We did find some pretty good Japanese food, though, which was exciting.

I've actually been back for over a week and just have not bothered to update on my adventures. To be honest, it wasn't really that adventuresome of a trip. We hung out, did some crossword puzzles, had some good food, some good conversation and gazed goopily into each other's eyes and all that romantic stuff that people do. Coming home to an apartment devoid of people was hard. Having good friends around for the next weekend was amazing. This weekend I'm headed out west to visit the family. Good times all around.

Frankly, I haven't been doing too much out of the ordinary lately. Went to a Mallards' game. We lost, but some strange dudes sitting next to us helped balance my legs when I basically dove over the fence to grab at a T-shirt the Rightfielder (Go Scotty!) had chu(n)cked our way. Discovered what an amazingly cool place the Monroe St. Bistro is to be on a Sat. night. The French Bistro Cuisine isn't as refined and as well-articulated as the food at Brassierie V (which is just down the road) but who can say no to a happy hour special that lasts ALL NIGHT, especially when there is good, cover-free live music and a super-friendly bartender? Nobody, that's who. And now you all know where to find me on Saturday nights from now until the end of time.

I have no good reviews of films or books to offer you, nor do I have tales of romantic adventures to relate.

So, my dear Internet Friends, I leave you with this: 1) there are some awesome things on the GAP clearance rack right now, and Land's End is selling pants for $7.50, and 2) I learned how to play euchre tonight and totally kicked butt.

3) Sometimes it's the little things that make life worth living - sometimes it's the promise of a quesadilla after all the little things are over.

PS:
The Harry Potter movie was good and really scary during that one part. I apologize to anyone who may now be suffering ruptured eardrums as a result of my terrorized shrieking. They probably heard me in Iowa. I'm sorry, Iowa. I hope your eardrums get better soon.

Random Wish

It would be cool to live in Russia or some other Slavic-speaking language, because those languages have the BEST nick-name forming diminutive suffixes. EVER. And in general, that language family has lots and lots of different slide-y silibants and different kinds of c/ch/ck sounds that are fascinating and fun, and tickle the inside of my mouth when I try to say them.

For example, how awesome is the name "Katyushka"?
Very, very awesome. Far more awesome than the rather-less-spit-inducing English equivalent "Katie." No offense intended to all the Katies out there. You have a perfectly lovely name. But I think that everyone should have something in their lives named Katyushka. I think I'll name my iPod Katyushka, or perhaps I'll just hang onto the name until I convince a certain someone that I absolutely need a baby hamster. I think that Katyushka would be a great name for a hamster.

Do you name your inanimate objects? I do. My laptop is Eloise and my bike is Maude. What do you think the best name ever is?

Psychopharmacuticals, I love you!

I'm currently trying out a new combination of medicine to help me combat my depression. Yes, at the behest of my doctor. Yes, under the supervision and advice of a professional psychotherapist person. So far, I LOVE the newest ingredient in my "sanity cocktail"! I have felt so focused, so determined, so confident ALL DAY LONG. My thoughts have not been this clear since I-don't-know-when. I am superwoman. I am Maniac-Brainiac McGee. I am on the ball, on top of the tallest tree in the forest, balancing serenely. Got any shit, world? Just throw it at me, and watch me cope with it in an efficient and competent manner!

Don't worry, I will only use my newfound superpowers for good. I will leap tall trees, write coherent and intelligent papers, save puppies from drowning and dance my booty off in the privacy of my living room every night from now until the end of time.

(I am totally going to regret this public jubulation, aren't I?)

If you could be the patron saint of something, or of some group of people, what would you be? For example, St. Jude is the patron saint of Lost Causes, but there are also specific patron saints for blacksmiths, sailors, actors, and television.

For example, I coud be St. Regina, patron saint of Tone-Deaf People Who Sing Kareoke, or St. Regina, patron saint of Thrift-Store Shoppers.... or, or, or... The possibilities are endless and endlessly amusing. So, what or whom would you be patron saint of? Choose carefully, because this is something that could totally make or break your resume!

There and back again

County roads through the Wisconsin Driftless Area are windy and make me nauseous.

Our campsite was isolated and overlooked a lake. Raccoons visited nightly and each time I was terrifically torn between the emotional desire to snorggle their cuteness and the knowledge that Wild Animals Are Not For Petting And Probably Have Rabies. (Raccoons are less scary than Possums.)

I couldn't find the sunscreen the first day, despite knowing that I'd packed it. My burn will fade to a tan, and that pleases me. When I think of myself in my mind-mirror, I am tan, and I like it. It's good when the mirror me and the me-mirror match. My shoulders feel a bit leathery and every time I get a new freckle-mole, I think thoughts about skin cancer. Much aloe vera is in order. Next time I'll pack my straw hat.

If it were not so cliche and hyperbolic, I'd say I have a sore gut muscle from laughing so hard. Instead I'll say the truth, which is that I laughed a lot, but that my sore gut muscle is probably from eating so much delicious food cooked over a fire.


I know I'm the overly emotive, touchy-feely one of the bunch, so please don't laugh when I say that I wish we had ended the long weekend with a group hug. I will try to convince myself that our round of beers at the Grumpy Troll was an equivalent in the parlance of the collective.

My apartment still seems oddly eerie and foreign. What is this thing called a ceiling, and why do I hear exhaust fans and not birdsong? My bed, however, is divine.

My coffee this morning was acrid and strong. I tempered it with cream leftover from the adventure. I'll probably cry a little when that bottle is empty.

Let's go camping again, and soon!

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?

I am SO blogging this

Eloise (my new laptop) and I are out and about today, and so I have the fine opportunity for sharing some of the Very Valuable Things I am Learning About Humanity with all of you lovely people in real time. yeay.

For example, two rather egotistical undergrads are sitting in the cafe next to me, studying for some sort of Philosophy Of Science exam. They are spending most of their time Talking in Very Loud Voices about how much smarter they are than their professor, who is "Far too insistant about everyone else adopting his definitions for words." It should also be noted that their profesor "is British, so there's no way we can expect to understand him as if he actually spoke English." And that in general, they find his english to be "exceptionally poor."

Also, complaning about how the sample questions on the study guide are 'ridiculously vague' and proclaiming that when the professor is SO STUPID they Just Don't Care. Oh thank god, they have just declared they should stop studying because "At this point, it's just pandering," "well, there's not much difference between pandering and understanding."

Poor, poor undergrads. Their time is so wasted here at college, doing an undergrad degree. There really is nothing they can possibly learn here. It's too, too bad and sad that they don't immediately recognize the brilliance of Some People and admit them into grad programs straight out of high school.

I told Jesse that we should also Talk In Loud Voices About Stuff That Makes Us Sound Smart, and his response was "I like hot dogs." Then we spat our tangerine seeds out on the sidewalk and wiped our drippy tangerine-juice-hands on our jeans.

I am so glad that I am not 20 and an arrogant little snot-rag any more.

Also I am glad that I do not teach philosophy classes.

I'm not sure if I'm disgusted or amused that I ate salad with my fingers tonight.

At least I used a napkin.