Monday, September 03, 2012
Back?
Whoa! Look at me! I hardly even remember how to post to this thing anymore. But I'm glad it's still here.
Does blogging work as a way to get one back in a writing groove? I've heard people say that. I'm going to give it a shot. I really need to remember how to write. It's been a long time.
This semester, I've been able to set aside a fairly substantial chunk of time for writing; this, and joining Dame Eleanor Hull's fall writing group, is a way of making myself accountable for it. Sometimes this kind of accountability works really well for me; sometimes it just makes me cranky. I'm hoping for some good positive experiences this semester.
To that end, this blog may take on a slightly different tone. I've given up on hopes of resurrecting the crazy all-night-long conversations of several years ago; that was a magical moment, and I'm all kinds of grateful to those of you who made it happen, but it's not something can be manufactured at will. I'm not sure quite what this space will turn into, but for now I'm going to use it to report on my writing progress, and to try to make writing a more regular habit. (All of you are, of course, welcome to hang out, drink, burn things, distract yourselves from grading, and embrace various kinds of silliness at will.)
Where I'm at: I have about 300 pages of notes based on the last couple of years of research, in which I was just playing around with various sources to see if there was enough material out there for a book. Turns out there is. Right now these notes are a giant pile of loose ideas that need to be sorted and stacked so that I can build something out of them.
Big goal: A book draft, maybe by the end of next spring.
Goal for this semester: To get into a regular writing groove, at least 8 hours or 2000 words a week. Doesn't matter where - last summer I experimented with just diving in and writing various pieces to pull together these idea-piles, and that worked fairly well. I'm trusting that once I've done that for a while, a larger structure will start to take shape. But I don't think that can happen until I arrange some of these littler piles.
Here goes!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Customs
I ought to be more upset about the sausage than about the names.
The sausage was taken away from me in the airport, you see, by the ever-vigilant Customs and Border Control folks, along with a lovely little can of morcilla paté. Husband and I had purchased both in Europe during our last weeks there, planning to eat them for one of the frequent dinners we call “Bread and Things,” meaning a crusty baguette and an assortment of whatever goodies we fish out of the fridge and cabinets: cheese, olives, mussels, serrano ham. But the last few days got away from us, and we decided to try to take the unopened sausage and paté home with us instead. I did a quick check online and found no apparent opposition to such things, and since the sausage was cured and vacuum-packed and the paté was canned, I thought we might have a fighting chance.
Looking over the pale blue customs form, though, I found a checkbox for “I am (we are) bringing fruits, vegetables, food, meats, animal products.” Dammit. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to do these things; just that one has to declare them. The odds were that no one would have known about the sausage if I’d kept my mouth shut and checked “no” on the form, but I’ve gotten myself through any number of bureaucratic hassles by smiling brightly and following the rules, so I decided to fall back on the tried and true remedy of being obedient. I checked “yes,” and the first CBC agent said there probably wouldn’t be any problem with the sausage and paté as she waved me on towards the second checkpoint. The guard at the second checkpoint wasn’t so sure, and sent us to a separate area to have the products examined. (Here, not for the last time, I kicked myself for being obedient.)
The CBC agent in charge of determining the fate of our treats looked pinched and sullen and decidedly as though she had never enjoyed a dinner of Bread and Things and didn’t think anyone else should either. She read the paté label. “Asturias. That’s France, right?” “No, ma’am, it’s northern Spain.” She made a half-hearted show of flipping through a folder, deciding whether or not our food was worthy of entry into the U.S., and then she double-checked our passports and turned back to my husband and me with a sudden accusatory interest. “Why did you only fill out one form?” I was puzzled; I knew I’d done at least that part right. “Because they always tell us to fill out only one form per family.” She glared at us, nose wrinkled in distaste, holding up our passports. “But you have different last names.” She then proceeded to have another agent pull everything out of all four of our checked suitcases, even though we had already presented the offending food items.
Seriously? You’re going to mess up my stuff and throw away my tasty paté and sausage because you’re upset that I don’t follow outdated patriarchal American naming conventions? We’re still a family, lady. I bit back several unsavory comments, and reminded myself to be obedient. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I thought those were the instructions. We always fill out one form, since we’re married. Should we fill out two next time, because of the names?” She grumbled an unintelligible answer about how the previous agents should never have let us through with just the one form.
I brushed it off at the time, because it seemed like such a petty and small thing. But it continued to bother me, precisely because it was petty and small – of all things, why get upset about the fact that our names are different? We’ve been married for twelve years, and in all honesty, this is the first time anyone’s cared. But she seemed awfully insulted by the fact that we dared to impersonate a normal married couple when we were clearly some sort of subversive communists, unworthy of enjoying tasty dinners.
To be sure, I’m cranky about the sausage too, and not least because the agent made a big display of dropping it into a container marked “Foreign Trash.” (I made a mental note to use this against my husband the next time we get into an insulting match.) But next time, I’m still only filling out one form, and I’m going to hide a whole bunch of extra sausage in my bag and not declare a damn thing.
The sausage was taken away from me in the airport, you see, by the ever-vigilant Customs and Border Control folks, along with a lovely little can of morcilla paté. Husband and I had purchased both in Europe during our last weeks there, planning to eat them for one of the frequent dinners we call “Bread and Things,” meaning a crusty baguette and an assortment of whatever goodies we fish out of the fridge and cabinets: cheese, olives, mussels, serrano ham. But the last few days got away from us, and we decided to try to take the unopened sausage and paté home with us instead. I did a quick check online and found no apparent opposition to such things, and since the sausage was cured and vacuum-packed and the paté was canned, I thought we might have a fighting chance.
Looking over the pale blue customs form, though, I found a checkbox for “I am (we are) bringing fruits, vegetables, food, meats, animal products.” Dammit. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to do these things; just that one has to declare them. The odds were that no one would have known about the sausage if I’d kept my mouth shut and checked “no” on the form, but I’ve gotten myself through any number of bureaucratic hassles by smiling brightly and following the rules, so I decided to fall back on the tried and true remedy of being obedient. I checked “yes,” and the first CBC agent said there probably wouldn’t be any problem with the sausage and paté as she waved me on towards the second checkpoint. The guard at the second checkpoint wasn’t so sure, and sent us to a separate area to have the products examined. (Here, not for the last time, I kicked myself for being obedient.)
The CBC agent in charge of determining the fate of our treats looked pinched and sullen and decidedly as though she had never enjoyed a dinner of Bread and Things and didn’t think anyone else should either. She read the paté label. “Asturias. That’s France, right?” “No, ma’am, it’s northern Spain.” She made a half-hearted show of flipping through a folder, deciding whether or not our food was worthy of entry into the U.S., and then she double-checked our passports and turned back to my husband and me with a sudden accusatory interest. “Why did you only fill out one form?” I was puzzled; I knew I’d done at least that part right. “Because they always tell us to fill out only one form per family.” She glared at us, nose wrinkled in distaste, holding up our passports. “But you have different last names.” She then proceeded to have another agent pull everything out of all four of our checked suitcases, even though we had already presented the offending food items.
Seriously? You’re going to mess up my stuff and throw away my tasty paté and sausage because you’re upset that I don’t follow outdated patriarchal American naming conventions? We’re still a family, lady. I bit back several unsavory comments, and reminded myself to be obedient. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I thought those were the instructions. We always fill out one form, since we’re married. Should we fill out two next time, because of the names?” She grumbled an unintelligible answer about how the previous agents should never have let us through with just the one form.
I brushed it off at the time, because it seemed like such a petty and small thing. But it continued to bother me, precisely because it was petty and small – of all things, why get upset about the fact that our names are different? We’ve been married for twelve years, and in all honesty, this is the first time anyone’s cared. But she seemed awfully insulted by the fact that we dared to impersonate a normal married couple when we were clearly some sort of subversive communists, unworthy of enjoying tasty dinners.
To be sure, I’m cranky about the sausage too, and not least because the agent made a big display of dropping it into a container marked “Foreign Trash.” (I made a mental note to use this against my husband the next time we get into an insulting match.) But next time, I’m still only filling out one form, and I’m going to hide a whole bunch of extra sausage in my bag and not declare a damn thing.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Almost home
As many of you know, Husband and I - did I ever come up with a pseudonum for Husband? I do not remember, which is a sad indication of how long I’ve neglected this whole blogging business – anyway, we generally spend two months each summer in Husband’s Home Country. This is absolutely wonderful in that it’s a place that I love, with excellent food and museums and culture and friends, and also the archives where I get all my research done.
But it is also trying in that its culture relies on a much higher degree of mutual interaction and obligation than I’m accustomed to. The most relevant element of this is that we are expected to stay the entire time with my in-laws in their 700-square-foot apartment, which is uncomfortable for us and inconvenient for them, but anything else would be a Public Insult on our part and a Grave Failure of Generosity on theirs. I’m not well prepared for this – as a little kid I rattled around alone in a big house with my parents, since my older siblings were mostly out on their own by the time I was old enough to notice, and I lived alone for most of the 13 years between when I left home and when I got married. So all of this Living with Other People business isn’t a bad thing in itself, but it’s something I don’t have a lot of practice at. My sister said over email that this was a situation best managed by engaging in plenty of long walks and heavy drinking, which I think she meant as a joke, except that unbeknownst to her it’s been pretty much my MO for the past several weeks.
Don’t worry, I do smack myself every time I get too whiny about having a free place to stay in a gorgeous European city. I steadily lose little slices of my sanity over the weeks we’re here, but they grow back. It’s more than worth it, and for as much as I dream of getting back and lounging around in my big quiet peaceful house, by the time we get back, it seems awfully dull and empty without the sports news on at full volume and my father-in-law snoring in his armchair and my sister-in-law gleefully repeating everything she just read on Twitter.
Besides, here are things we have seen and done over the past couple of months, the things I will miss the most when I’m back to my quiet lonely peaceful house: striking landscapes, very very old churches, tasty food, and curious creatures of all sorts.
But it is also trying in that its culture relies on a much higher degree of mutual interaction and obligation than I’m accustomed to. The most relevant element of this is that we are expected to stay the entire time with my in-laws in their 700-square-foot apartment, which is uncomfortable for us and inconvenient for them, but anything else would be a Public Insult on our part and a Grave Failure of Generosity on theirs. I’m not well prepared for this – as a little kid I rattled around alone in a big house with my parents, since my older siblings were mostly out on their own by the time I was old enough to notice, and I lived alone for most of the 13 years between when I left home and when I got married. So all of this Living with Other People business isn’t a bad thing in itself, but it’s something I don’t have a lot of practice at. My sister said over email that this was a situation best managed by engaging in plenty of long walks and heavy drinking, which I think she meant as a joke, except that unbeknownst to her it’s been pretty much my MO for the past several weeks.
Don’t worry, I do smack myself every time I get too whiny about having a free place to stay in a gorgeous European city. I steadily lose little slices of my sanity over the weeks we’re here, but they grow back. It’s more than worth it, and for as much as I dream of getting back and lounging around in my big quiet peaceful house, by the time we get back, it seems awfully dull and empty without the sports news on at full volume and my father-in-law snoring in his armchair and my sister-in-law gleefully repeating everything she just read on Twitter.
Besides, here are things we have seen and done over the past couple of months, the things I will miss the most when I’m back to my quiet lonely peaceful house: striking landscapes, very very old churches, tasty food, and curious creatures of all sorts.
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
Random bullets of Hey, I'm back!
- I know, I've tried this before with not a lot of luck. But I also keep seeing all this advice about how the best way to get back into a writing habit is to, well, have a writing habit, and I definitely need to get the writing parts of my brain back into shape.
- And I haven't set anything on fire here for a while. And I miss all the cool people who used to come hang around this odd place.
- I don't know how many of you are still wandering out there in the blogosphere (though I'm delighted with those of you who are still writing!), and I'm not making any promises to be particularly entertaining, but I'm going to at least try to string some words together every now and then, and you're all welcome to pour yourselves a drink or light up a peep and join in.
- I feel like there used to be a lot more words in my head than there are now. Maybe they've all wandered off to more promising territory. Mostly what I want to do is to create a friendly place for words here, and see if I can lure some of them back.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Oh, wait...
...you mean I was supposed to do this more than once a year?
I like the idea of blogging, and I'm glad to stick with those of you who are still writing, but it's harder for me to write these days. I think I'm more in research mode these days than writing mode, and I'm also spending much more time in close quarters with other people than I usually do, which takes the edge off any need for communication. But I love it when you guys hang out here, and I need to come by and sweep out the cobwebs every once in a while, so if nothing else I'll toss out a few random bullets of crap.
I like the idea of blogging, and I'm glad to stick with those of you who are still writing, but it's harder for me to write these days. I think I'm more in research mode these days than writing mode, and I'm also spending much more time in close quarters with other people than I usually do, which takes the edge off any need for communication. But I love it when you guys hang out here, and I need to come by and sweep out the cobwebs every once in a while, so if nothing else I'll toss out a few random bullets of crap.
- This sabbatical semester, in terms of the living-in-close-quarters-with-others issue, is going so much better than I had feared. I like a lot of privacy and alone time, and I'm pretty much guaranteed not to get much of either for the next several months. I was seriously worried about going batty from that, but we're a month in already and it hasn't been half bad - partly because I'm constantly learning to adjust more successfully, and partly because my in-laws have been unusually gracious in creating more space for us and tolerating my odd little quirks (like enjoying going for a walk by myself once in a while, which is deeply mystifying to people in this hyper-social culture.)
- We have a giant leg of ham in the kitchen. I love this because I'm just Spanish enough to appreciate good ham, and just touristy enough to find it highly amusing that we have a very recognizable animal leg in a wooden stand on the kitchen counter, that we gnaw on every now and then. I promised seabright I'd post pictures, and will as soon as I get the camera and the netbook in the same room.
- The clear fashion trend for women 25-50 here is to wear long tunic-sweaters over leggings with boots. Or very narrow pants. All my nice floppy-leg pants are not going to fit in so well. Good thing I gave up on fitting in several years ago.
- The day after tomorrow, I get to start digging into the Inquisition archives. Harder to read, but so much fun.
- The students who are housesitting for us back at home keep telling us everything is going fine. I mostly believe them, but once in a while I worry that the house burned down two weeks ago and they're not going to tell us until we get back.
- I've been very entertained lately to watch the slow evolution of the social networks... I met most of you via the blogosphere, and then for a while we were all running around on Facebook, and then a bunch of folks headed over to Twitter, and now there's a group over in Fallen London. It's not all precisely the same group, of course, and I'm sure there are a bunch of people hanging out in some cool spot I haven't found yet, but it's interesting to see the trends and to wonder where I'll see you all next year.
- Oh, hey, the Superbowl's starting! People here are largely mystified... they know it's a big deal, but they were doing man-on-the-street interviews this afternoon, and the most common response was "Yeah, I know it's today, but I've never been a fan of baseball." Still, I'm pulling for the Saints.
- Enough random bullets for tonight. If I quit trying to come up with Thoughtful Entertaining Posts I'd probably write a lot more. In the meantime, it's time for bed. 'Night all!
Friday, December 19, 2008
The elephant story
Many many years ago, back when I was young and foolish, I was dating a slightly less young and more foolish young man who invited me to run away with him to Thailand. Just for the summer, of course; we would backpack and travel throughout the country and be Adventurous Travelers. I turned him down at first; I was a Responsible Young Woman more than an adventurous traveler, and I had a job, and a rented house, and a cat. But then I remembered my brother’s sage advice: when faced with such a choice, imagine yourself being ninety years old, looking back at your life. Which would you rather say, that you had a summer job and kept your lawn mowed and fed your cat, or that you were an Adventurous Traveler in Thailand?
Duh. I quit my job, sublet the house to someone who would feed the cat, and bought a plane ticket.
After a few days in the heat and noise and chaos of Bangkok, we escaped for a couple of weeks to the quieter, jungly north, near the border with Burma and Cambodia. We met some other Adventurous Travelers there, including a charming Scot named Daihi and his friends. A guide offered to take the group of us on a hill trek, several days of travel by foot and canoe and elephant into the villages of the northern hills which have never seen roads or electricity.
I should have known what was in store when we all piled into the back of a small covered truck to take us on the first stage of the journey, the only part that was accessible by road. We realized that the top of the truck had a sort of platform, and we asked the guide if we could ride on top rather than inside. He grinned and shrugged, and we all clambered up, wondering who would be so dull as to stay in the covered part. Riding on top let us see the little villages we passed with their huts and curious children and indifferent water buffalo by the sides of the road. It was infinitely better than riding inside, until we hit a length of road where the truck stirred up an enormous dense cloud of red dust, which stuck to our sweaty bodies and instantly transformed us into a mass of unrecognizable muddy creatures. Daihi howled with laughter as he looked at my caked face and matted hair, and shouted “Ach, if your people could see you now!” (I flushed with pride rather than embarrassment, thinking that at least they would see me being adventurous!) The guide just smiled.
The next stage of the trip was by elephant, as we ventured into areas where motorized vehicles had never penetrated. Elephants don’t plod heavily around like they do in zoos; in the jungle they are astonishingly nimble, and they can climb steep jungly hillsides more quickly than I could have on my own. On the second day of the trip, we started off early for a day-long journey, two elephants bearing three people each and one lead elephant with the guide.
The elephants snacked along the way, seizing clumps of tall grasses with their trunks and munching them as we ambled along. Several small streams crossed our path, and the elephants took advantage of those as well, slurping up the cool water. Ours drank his fill, and then filling his trunk again, suddenly swung it up in the air and sprayed himself – and us – with a shower of stream water. We howled with surprise and then pleasure, as the cool water felt wonderful in the sticky heat. We hadn’t showered for days anyway, and were still streaked with red mud from the truck experience, and it fit into our National Geographic sense of adventure to be sprayed clean by elephants. We crossed several more streams, and began to cheer every time we saw the elephant’s trunk swing up to give us a good dousing.
As we climbed higher, there were fewer and fewer streams to cross, and fewer trees to give us shade. The tropical afternoon sun beat down on our heads. The elephants lowered their heads as they trudged up the hillsides, and they probably missed the streams more than we did. We did pass a sort of ditch by the path, where stagnant water had gathered and a rich profusion of plants grew up out of the damp ground. I experienced a moment of horror, thinking surely the elephant won’t find that nasty stuff appealing? A cool mountain stream is one thing, but I don’t really want to be sprayed with swamp water. He didn’t, fortunately, but he did help himself to a few good-sized mouthfuls of the tender plants, and we were relieved that he was only interested in the snack. We climbed on, as he munched contentedly.
Then the trunk went to the mouth, and filled, and the trunk swung up in the air. We had just enough time to realize what was happening, but not quite enough time to duck, as we were drenched with an enormous trunkful of juicy green elephant spit. It was cool, and wet, but not exactly refreshing, though the elephant seemed to enjoy it a great deal. The rest of the day was filled with our howls of despair every time we saw that trunk reach out for another fat mouthful of squishy plants. The guide just smiled. Ach, if my people could see me now.
Some travelers complain that these northern hill treks are patronizing to indigenous cultures, because they take wealthy white people around to gape at the uncivilized tribes. I can assure you that it was more the other way around. Every evening as the elephants arrived at whatever village we were stopping at for the night, all the children came running out to stare and laugh at the stinky, mud-streaked, green-crusted foreigners who had come to visit. We experienced many of the wonders of Thailand that summer: temples, jewels, islands filled with coconut trees, luxurious fruits. But I will always associate it most with the smiling guide, and the sensation of being covered in elephant spit.
Duh. I quit my job, sublet the house to someone who would feed the cat, and bought a plane ticket.
After a few days in the heat and noise and chaos of Bangkok, we escaped for a couple of weeks to the quieter, jungly north, near the border with Burma and Cambodia. We met some other Adventurous Travelers there, including a charming Scot named Daihi and his friends. A guide offered to take the group of us on a hill trek, several days of travel by foot and canoe and elephant into the villages of the northern hills which have never seen roads or electricity.
I should have known what was in store when we all piled into the back of a small covered truck to take us on the first stage of the journey, the only part that was accessible by road. We realized that the top of the truck had a sort of platform, and we asked the guide if we could ride on top rather than inside. He grinned and shrugged, and we all clambered up, wondering who would be so dull as to stay in the covered part. Riding on top let us see the little villages we passed with their huts and curious children and indifferent water buffalo by the sides of the road. It was infinitely better than riding inside, until we hit a length of road where the truck stirred up an enormous dense cloud of red dust, which stuck to our sweaty bodies and instantly transformed us into a mass of unrecognizable muddy creatures. Daihi howled with laughter as he looked at my caked face and matted hair, and shouted “Ach, if your people could see you now!” (I flushed with pride rather than embarrassment, thinking that at least they would see me being adventurous!) The guide just smiled.
The next stage of the trip was by elephant, as we ventured into areas where motorized vehicles had never penetrated. Elephants don’t plod heavily around like they do in zoos; in the jungle they are astonishingly nimble, and they can climb steep jungly hillsides more quickly than I could have on my own. On the second day of the trip, we started off early for a day-long journey, two elephants bearing three people each and one lead elephant with the guide.
The elephants snacked along the way, seizing clumps of tall grasses with their trunks and munching them as we ambled along. Several small streams crossed our path, and the elephants took advantage of those as well, slurping up the cool water. Ours drank his fill, and then filling his trunk again, suddenly swung it up in the air and sprayed himself – and us – with a shower of stream water. We howled with surprise and then pleasure, as the cool water felt wonderful in the sticky heat. We hadn’t showered for days anyway, and were still streaked with red mud from the truck experience, and it fit into our National Geographic sense of adventure to be sprayed clean by elephants. We crossed several more streams, and began to cheer every time we saw the elephant’s trunk swing up to give us a good dousing.
As we climbed higher, there were fewer and fewer streams to cross, and fewer trees to give us shade. The tropical afternoon sun beat down on our heads. The elephants lowered their heads as they trudged up the hillsides, and they probably missed the streams more than we did. We did pass a sort of ditch by the path, where stagnant water had gathered and a rich profusion of plants grew up out of the damp ground. I experienced a moment of horror, thinking surely the elephant won’t find that nasty stuff appealing? A cool mountain stream is one thing, but I don’t really want to be sprayed with swamp water. He didn’t, fortunately, but he did help himself to a few good-sized mouthfuls of the tender plants, and we were relieved that he was only interested in the snack. We climbed on, as he munched contentedly.
Then the trunk went to the mouth, and filled, and the trunk swung up in the air. We had just enough time to realize what was happening, but not quite enough time to duck, as we were drenched with an enormous trunkful of juicy green elephant spit. It was cool, and wet, but not exactly refreshing, though the elephant seemed to enjoy it a great deal. The rest of the day was filled with our howls of despair every time we saw that trunk reach out for another fat mouthful of squishy plants. The guide just smiled. Ach, if my people could see me now.
Some travelers complain that these northern hill treks are patronizing to indigenous cultures, because they take wealthy white people around to gape at the uncivilized tribes. I can assure you that it was more the other way around. Every evening as the elephants arrived at whatever village we were stopping at for the night, all the children came running out to stare and laugh at the stinky, mud-streaked, green-crusted foreigners who had come to visit. We experienced many of the wonders of Thailand that summer: temples, jewels, islands filled with coconut trees, luxurious fruits. But I will always associate it most with the smiling guide, and the sensation of being covered in elephant spit.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Done/not done
Sorry I haven't been around the bar much; I've been hanging more around Twitter lately. Oh, and trying to survive the end of the semester. But memes are easy and fun, so here's one making the rounds lately. Things in bold are things I've done. You can play too!
1. Started my own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band (if singing counts)
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than I can afford to charity ("more than I can afford" for me sounds like bankruptcy, so no, I have not managed to be that charitable)
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sung a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched lightning at sea
14. Taught myself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child (no, that one's just not likely to happen.)
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty (is it still possible to do this?)
18. Grown my own vegetables (used to have a gazpacho garden, with onions, garlic, tomatoes, cucumbers. Man, I miss that.)
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France and was completely awed.
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitchhiked (on a bulldozer, no less!)
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill (I am just beginning to learn how to do this. Too much of a rule-follower, I am.)
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset (are there people who haven't done this?)
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught myself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (that doesn't take much for me, fortunately.)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt (oh, I've wanted to do this ever since I learned about it as a little kid. I remember reading that it was very gradually erupting less often, and I cried to think that it might not exist by the time I was old enough to go. Hang on, old thing, I'm still working on getting there...)
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had my portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris (was at the bottom, but didn't want to spend the hours in line to go up)
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain (that was the best first date ever, with Bruce-Springsteen-look-alike guy)
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie (does a promotional university video count?)
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business (kind of unintentionally; I need to close it down by the end of the year)
58. Taken a martial arts class (years of tae kwon do; a little karate)
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies (would much rather buy them. oooo, Thin Mints!)
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma (all three, and some bone marrow to boot)
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check (I could live without doing this, or the ambulance trip, thanks)
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job (I was about to once, but I think I managed to quit first.)
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London (and Madrid!)
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (hee! this still astonishes me sometimes)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had my picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (if fish count)
88. Had chickenpox (somehow I skipped all the childhood illnesses.)
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby (no, thanks)
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a lawsuit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee (just once. Thanks, Rocket Boy.)
100. Ridden an elephant (and for real travel, not just a photo op)
1. Started my own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band (if singing counts)
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than I can afford to charity ("more than I can afford" for me sounds like bankruptcy, so no, I have not managed to be that charitable)
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sung a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched lightning at sea
14. Taught myself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child (no, that one's just not likely to happen.)
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty (is it still possible to do this?)
18. Grown my own vegetables (used to have a gazpacho garden, with onions, garlic, tomatoes, cucumbers. Man, I miss that.)
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France and was completely awed.
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitchhiked (on a bulldozer, no less!)
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill (I am just beginning to learn how to do this. Too much of a rule-follower, I am.)
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset (are there people who haven't done this?)
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught myself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (that doesn't take much for me, fortunately.)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt (oh, I've wanted to do this ever since I learned about it as a little kid. I remember reading that it was very gradually erupting less often, and I cried to think that it might not exist by the time I was old enough to go. Hang on, old thing, I'm still working on getting there...)
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had my portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris (was at the bottom, but didn't want to spend the hours in line to go up)
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain (that was the best first date ever, with Bruce-Springsteen-look-alike guy)
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie (does a promotional university video count?)
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business (kind of unintentionally; I need to close it down by the end of the year)
58. Taken a martial arts class (years of tae kwon do; a little karate)
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies (would much rather buy them. oooo, Thin Mints!)
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma (all three, and some bone marrow to boot)
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check (I could live without doing this, or the ambulance trip, thanks)
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job (I was about to once, but I think I managed to quit first.)
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London (and Madrid!)
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (hee! this still astonishes me sometimes)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had my picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (if fish count)
88. Had chickenpox (somehow I skipped all the childhood illnesses.)
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby (no, thanks)
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a lawsuit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee (just once. Thanks, Rocket Boy.)
100. Ridden an elephant (and for real travel, not just a photo op)
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Recipe for a really great day
1) Sleep in a good two hours later than usual.
2) Wake up and spend an extra half-hour reading in bed.
3) Make blueberry pancakes and eat them while reading the New York Times. (Bonus points to your husband, who has been indifferent to pancakes all his life but has suddenly decided that they are the world's greatest weekend breakfast.)
4) Head into the study to grade, and take twenty minutes to grade an assignment you were sure was going to take over an hour. Get caught up on a bunch of pesky tasks that have been irritating you.
5) Take a break to head to the park down the street and play an hour of tennis and enjoy the spectacularly beautiful fall day.
6) Come back, grill steaks for lunch. (More bonus points for getting really good steaks half-price on sale at the store yesterday.)
7) Write about the really great day now, because the rest of it's all going to be grading. Even so, take substantial pleasure in the fact that if you stay on schedule, you'll be caught up by tomorrow and might actually be able to enjoy the rest of October at a more sane pace.
8) Get through the afternoon by looking forward to repeating at least steps 1, 2, and 5 tomorrow.
2) Wake up and spend an extra half-hour reading in bed.
3) Make blueberry pancakes and eat them while reading the New York Times. (Bonus points to your husband, who has been indifferent to pancakes all his life but has suddenly decided that they are the world's greatest weekend breakfast.)
4) Head into the study to grade, and take twenty minutes to grade an assignment you were sure was going to take over an hour. Get caught up on a bunch of pesky tasks that have been irritating you.
5) Take a break to head to the park down the street and play an hour of tennis and enjoy the spectacularly beautiful fall day.
6) Come back, grill steaks for lunch. (More bonus points for getting really good steaks half-price on sale at the store yesterday.)
7) Write about the really great day now, because the rest of it's all going to be grading. Even so, take substantial pleasure in the fact that if you stay on schedule, you'll be caught up by tomorrow and might actually be able to enjoy the rest of October at a more sane pace.
8) Get through the afternoon by looking forward to repeating at least steps 1, 2, and 5 tomorrow.
Monday, September 15, 2008
can I buy an indulgence?
I think it says something about my state of mind at this point (how in the world did I manage to get so far behind, so early in the semester?) that I saw an e-mail promoting Classroom Performance Systems, and misread it as Classroom Penance Systems.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Another scene
We're working in the shared study, where the LWI is putzing around online while the radio plays Semisonic and Matchbox 20 in the background.
LWI: We're going back to the 90's!
Me: I noticed! That's excellent.
LWI (after a puzzled pause): It's good for music. It's not so good for temperature.
LWI: We're going back to the 90's!
Me: I noticed! That's excellent.
LWI (after a puzzled pause): It's good for music. It's not so good for temperature.
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