Best part about the packing process?
Watching Crispin hide and take naps in the various boxes and laundry baskets scattered throughout the house.
In other news, I'm feeling really low energy, isolated and sad these days. My inspiration and enthusiasm for Fiber Arts seems to have dropped off the face of the earth as the temperature crept towards 80. I need to turn my attention to the soul-harrowing process of applying for jobs, and deciding what I'm going to do with my life come September when the rest of the world as I know it goes Back To School.
Also, I taught myself how to use a manual roto-tiller. As in: the kind where the only power comes from my body, no fossil fuels involved. It was crazy hard work, but I was proud of the beautiful loose soil I created out of clay-y lumps.
I'm showing my summer-program students Casablanca. As we watch, I'm impressed with the wit, the subtlety of the script, the beauty of the images, but I'm hit over the head and in the gut again and again by the chauvinism. As if it were a 20 pound brick. I really kind of want to show them Campion's The Piano as an antidote, but don't think I can get away with showing a rated-r film to high-schoolers.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
July Pie in the Sky
It's July, and it is far too hot and muggy to even think about baking a pie in my kitchen. I've discovered, however, that by putting my pizza stone on the grill, I can make an outside oven and make baked goods without turning my apartment into a sauna. Bread, pizza and cobbler have all worked out well so far.
I have a job. It eats up a lot of my time and basically all of my energy, but mostly I like it. Which is to say, I like my students, but find the program I'm working for to be seriously lacking in organizational goals, integrity, and basic, um... organization.
That is all for now. I'm still alive. I still haven't actually packed any boxes. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
I have a job. It eats up a lot of my time and basically all of my energy, but mostly I like it. Which is to say, I like my students, but find the program I'm working for to be seriously lacking in organizational goals, integrity, and basic, um... organization.
That is all for now. I'm still alive. I still haven't actually packed any boxes. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
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?
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?
Saturday, May 22, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, May 17, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
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.
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.
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