Things I Feel Guilty About

1. Not taking Gus for a hike
2. Staying inside on a beautiful, sunny day
3. Not writing
4. Not reading enough
5. Not being a good enough teacher
6. Not running
7. Drinking too much wine
8. Watching too much TV
9. Yelling at Son
10. Guilt-tripping MB for his outings (but he doesn't feel guilt on his own, so I have to!)
11. Eating pizza (but it tastes so good!!)
12. Piles of shit (paper) in the basement
13. Not having read all the books that clutter our tiny house
    

Okay, I know that's a lot. But there were some positive things about today: we purged the old computer and lots and lots of useless paper. We started piling some books (see #13) to sell at the used bookstore. And Son's last soccer game (yeah!). Saw a cool cartoon exhibit at the downtown library. Went shoe shopping with Middlebrow. Tried on jeans at Nordstrom Rack. That was a disaster. Does anyone else suffer from the big quads no hips no waist problem? Low-rise jeans help, but my god, who are these tiny women with their matchstick legs? It's why 501s never really worked for me (but I tried!).
Time to read Harry Potter to Son, and then try to get MB to watch a foreign film with me. Maybe I'll try guilt...

Knives

Two ideas converged today: the idea that, for the DFL, I could make a cool Power Point presentation with images that part of my story would cover (like layers). And the second thing is that in my collection of stories, I have more than one (two?) in which knives figure prominently. A friend pointed this out and I laughed. I said, "Yeah, that's funny." Which he found amusing, because knives aren't usually funny.
One story is called "Knives in the kitchen" and is basically a list of different knives, albeit with eerie overtones (think Lydia Davis's "French Lesson" meets Crate and Barrel). The second is one I posted a paragraph of in the summer. Inspired by Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me, it features a housewife wandering the house, butcher knife in hand. Madness ensues.
So I had to post this photo, which I love. Maybe I will use it. Note the "fotosearch" watermark.

What is the best candy?

This is a difficult question. I pondered it as I helped Son sort his candy on his bed last night. He went for the sugar candy: skittles, nerds, suckers.
Me, I prefer the chocolate. A ranking then:

1. Dark chocolate: this can include many derivations, including Mounds and Special Dark. Not a lot of dark chocolate in the Halloween haul.
2. Junior Mints: again, scarce. And I don't eat them very often, which adds to the allure.
3. Almond Joys: good, even if they are milk chocolate. I'm joining Al Franken's campaign to get them to make Almond Joys with dark chocolate. What, are they stupid?
4. Sweetarts: I only get them once a year!! What happened to the big ones that made you pucker like crazy and lasted all afternoon? Oh, Sweetart, where have you gone?
   
5. Reese's Peanut Butter cups: these are ubiquitous. And therefore less in demand. Good, but could be better with more chocolate and less peanut butter. Which is why the tiny ones are best.
6. M-n-Ms: if they gave out almond ones, they could move up the list. But alas, we are stuck with peanut and plain.
7. Snickers: good, but the caramel hurts my teeth.
8. Butterfinger: good, but with an odd texture.
9. Other candy bars: whatever. I could take them or leave them: crunch, baby ruth, 100 grand, this new Take 5 thing, smores, and all those odd, new candies.
10. Sugar candy: these are candies that lack any flavor beyond sugar: suckers, skittles, nerds, dots, etc, etc, etc.
11. Candy corn: the lowest circle of hell is reserved for these headache inducing nightmares. They are sugar with some sugar and then some high fructose corn syrup. They are terrible and represent everything that is wrong with candy.

Did I miss anything?

Top Issues in Unspeakableness

Here are some high (and low?) points from the panel on Saturday.

1. Mental illness: apparently if you are depressed, or if you drink a lot (in fiction) you might be considered "mentally ill." By this standard, most people I know are mentally ill. I mean, who doesn't get depressed? And by depressed I mean would rather stay in her pajamas all day and swear?
2. Swearing: Apparently, here in our corner of the universe, swearing is bad. Where I come from (not too far to the North) swearing is what people do. According to me and Raymond Carver, swearing is fun and a less fatal way of relieving stress than bar fighting. Also, according to me, swearing is the only sane response to people who honk at you for yielding to pedestrians. Someone (he must have been from Provo) asked me if I worried about alienating my audience by dropping the F-bomb. First, can I just say that I hate (hate!) the expression F bomb? I had never heard it until I moved here. This, despite growing up not too far away! Swearing is good for you! In the name of all that is holy, start swearing! And I answered that I never thought about it. Which is true. My co-panelist, Christine, said she tried to alienate people and in spite of this was invited by our friends down south to read. She thought they hadn't read her book, but they had. So we try to alienate, but we fail.
3. Alcohol: Christine's protagonist is a self-confessed alcoholic. Mine just drinks a lot (martinis, wine, margaritas). I said it was a "social lubricant". It allows her to do stuff, like relax and get on with life. Much like swearing.
4. Indeterminate sexuality: I think that it's okay to be gay and it's okay to be straight, but we don't much like people who can't commit to one or the other. And in my story, it wasn't a case so much of that. A few people have commented on the "sexual attraction" between the female characters. I never thought of it that way, but more that the main character was obsessed with the other's (pregnant) body. But that falls into some indeterminate category, which makes people uncomfortable. (One editor called my story "edgy.")
5. Unspeakableness: One sharp listener observed that if we were talking and writing about it, then it wasn't "unspeakable." I agreed, sort of. We write around things, like depression and alcoholism and hope that readers put it together for themselves. But then he asked, what is, truly, unspeakable. My response: violence against children. I think there are times when it is acceptable to talk about it, but as a subject for fiction, I don't want it described or, I don't know. I just don't read books like that, and I do, in some cases, think it shouldn't be published. I think it's unspeakable, as a writer, to talk about subjects or genres that the first amendment shouldn't protect, but I feel that way about violence against children.
   
6. Librarian rudeness: Our panel ended at the same time the library was closing. The librarians ran into the room and said, "You have to leave" then proceeded to hang around as if we were ruffians bent on destroying The Word and not participants in the Book Festival that they were hosting. It was...weird.

All in all, the festival was fun. I heard Janette Turner Hospital read and bought her new book, Orpheus, Lost, which is good so far.
You should also buy Christine Allen-Yazzie's book if you haven't already. It's great.

Dinner

I made the Pumpkin Risotto (Scorpion's Tail's recipe) and some salmon (that Middlebrow overcooked, not my fault!).
But the highlight, the new addition was the Raw Tuscan Kale Salad with Pecorino.
I found the recipe at the New York Times. The woman who wrote it said she always orders interesting combinations on menus because she assumes that if the chef put it on the menu it must be amazing, and this recipe was.
I agree with her description of the dressing as Caesar-y (lemon, olive oil, salt & pepper, garlic) but the tender kale (not like the tough regular stuff) is also a revelation. It's like a healthy Caesar salad. Eat more! It's full of iron!! Pile on the cheese!! Yum yum!!
Of course, it helps that the pecorino is delicious and the homemade bread crumbs and the lemon etc etc.
It was delicious. And the risotto was as well. Pumpkin, roasted in the oven, and the finishing touch of vermouth.
Another nice dinner.
I hope to see you all at the Book Festival. Maybe at my panel? I'm subbing for a friend, so I'm not in the official schedule. But if you want to attend, email me and I'll let you know which one it is.
It's "Speaking the Unspeakable."
Sounds like me, right?

The Secrets of Isis

I was talking with some friends last night about TV. I asked if anyone remembered Isis. Of course it was another woman who remembered. The first female live action superhero!!
What? You don't remember Isis?
The same friend also reminded me of Shazam! Another gem of Saturday morning TV in the 70s.
Here's what I remember: eating Cream of Wheat (made with milk not water!) with lots of butter and brown sugar. Sitting in the basement watching TV all Saturday morning until American Bandstand came on. Remember "it's got a good beat and I can dance to it. I give it a ten"?
Well. That's what's on my mind today.
And, apparently, I confused Isis with She-Ra: Princess of Power, which was a cartoon. I must have watched it.
If I had more time, I'd dress as Isis for Halloween. As it is, I will go with my traditional costume of Tired Mother.

Moab: The Stats

So we're back. Thanks to my superb navigational skills, we took the long way (and by long I do not mean more scenic route) there. But we took the more scenic and shorter route home. We made it, hurray!
We ate a lot of meat, but did not drink excessively, due to race day. We ate at Eddie McStiff's, The Moab Brewery, The Moab Diner (breakfast), and ZAK (something like that). I think my favorite meal was the post-race hamburger at ZAK. But it also might have been the tiny pb and j I scarfed at the post-race feed.
But okay, the details. Well, Saturday night when we were having dinner the wind was howling. I imagined snow. But when we woke up Sunday (yes, at 6 a.m.!!) it wasn't too windy, only really way too cold. We boarded school buses (first time since 1984) and waited. And waited. Then we were driven up to the start. During this time we overheard strange conversations about which shirts to wear and Texas schools.
As soon as we arrived at the Start we got in line for the Porta Potties where we met some nice women from Eagle, Colorado and a man from Salt Lake. We made it to the bathroom before the Start, so that was good. In line, we debated how many layers to shed and put in the sweats bag. I ended up keeping my cotton sweatshirt worn over two different long-sleeve shirts. We saw my friend Adrienne from Idaho (also in line for the pottie) and wished her luck.
We lined up behind the 9:00 minute pace. I thought it optimistic, but Scorpion's Tail said we could always slow down later. Part of her evil plan, no doubt. We ran our first mile in about 9:55, but then we sped up. I shed my sweatshirt around mile 4. ST took a double-espresso clif shot around mile 6. I had part of a chocolate one. Hard not to gag....
There were more hills than I expected and I kicked it on mile 7, only to find that we had like three more hills. (gasp, wheeze). The hills were probably our slowest miles, but not too slow. I guess those hill workouts worked!
But, thanks to Scorpion's Tail, I PRed. Hard not to do when it's only your second half-marathon ever. But we finished in 2:04:09. My goal was 2:10, so we smashed that. We ran a lot of 9:10 or under miles. But the last mile we ran in 8:54. I didn't think that would be possible!!
It was the most beautiful racecourse ever, on Highway 128 just North of Moab. It started at Dewey Bridge and ended at a resort. People were actually drinking beer at 10:30 when we finished (and by people I mean the guy from Salt Lake who we met at the start. Okay, he wasn't the only one!). I saw a former student and a mother from Son's school. So it is a small world after all.
Well, you might be wondering, what's next for the running Dr. Write?
No running. I'm going back to swimming and yoga. But I do plan on doing this small triathlon in the spring. The swimming is in a pool, and the run is only a 5K. I think the 10K is the longest race I'll do in the near future. So maybe some running, nothing longer than 6 miles. I was happy with my six miles this summer.
At the end of the race, I think Scorpion's Tail could have run another 13, but I was done. DONE.

Moab...here I come!

We're off tomorrow for The Other Half, the half-marathon I'm running on Sunday. As the day approaches I simultaneously feel surprised (what?) and excited (the heart races as I plan what to eat, wear, etc.). It's an odd feeling.
I am excited, and just hope I'm not slower than I was last summer when I ran my first half. But it will be fun. I'm mostly excited about our escape to Moab, for sunshine, I hope, and some amazing scenery.
I'll post my time and story next week. Wish me luck!

"Once" and Exhausted

If you haven't seen the movie "Once," you should. Absolutely. Now. Stop reading and go see it. Good. Now, you should listen to the live concert from NPR.
I saw "Once" by myself on Saturday, which probably contributed to the over all weepiness of the experience. But it was so good. And surprising. And original. Okay, enough cliches. But still. So. Good. I was listening to the concert last night and I think it annoyed MB. Too folky, or something. He doesn't like emotions, of course.
In any case, does anyone want to fly to Portland just to see their concert? I do, though I recognize it ain't gonna happen and it's ridiculous, because what's the point of having a job if you can't just fly off to Portland to see some musicians from Dublin?
In other news, I ran my last long run before the Half Marathon. I'm exhausted. And I think I'm getting sick (sore throat). But I literally fell into bed last night. But not until I had eaten a metric ton of food, including: bag of Spicy Thai chips, three Hermit cookies, some Reese's Peanut Butter cups, a turkey burger, some roasted beets and potatoes, broccoli. Not in that order. And a beer. Then I fell into bed. I also crave a sugar cookie with lots of nasty icing. I'll get that later.
Did everyone see "Once" then? Don't tell me you hated it. I can't take it. Only love, people.

Just Had to Blog

I don't have anything to say, but I felt the need to blog. MB is home and he thinks the nook looks fantastic. I'll post some pictures, eventually. We still have to finish the benches, but still. And maybe get new cushions? Always something.
Today as I was walking down the hall at school, I saw a young woman carrying her young son. He had his head on her shoulder, just snuggled up. It made me pine for those days. Son is much too big for prolonged carrying, and when I do carry him, it hurts me. I fondly remember those days when he would lay his head against my shoulder and relax into me, making him easy to carry.
One of my fondest memories is of a day when we lived in our old house downtown. His bedroom was in the front of the house and our "office" was in the back. He was taking a nap and I was in the back working. I was probably reading for my exams. He got up from his nap and came and found me in the office. He climbed into my lap and snuggled as only a boy who has just awoken can.
I miss those days, but I do so enjoy my conversations with him now. He read to me tonight, and I'm continually amazed at the words he can just read.
He also was explaining to me earlier that at school he got a folder and a bag to keep pens in. He held his hands parallel to one another and smacked them down on the table in unison to emphasize that he "just got it. Today." (thump thump). He's a gesturer. Wonder where he gets that?
In other news, I finally printed out my book. But now that I've done that, I've received some feedback from my adviser. Should I take her advice and change stuff and then print it out again? Have I mentioned I'm sick of this book and hate it and wish it would go away, like to the publisher, for example?

Children, Crying and Crying about Children

While the gander is away, the goose is busy trying to keep her head above the rain water. Okay, seriously.
Last night, I watched way too much TV. And way too much of it involved: children, death (which made me cry) or children themselves crying. Example: I was watching "The Office" (pretty safe, no kids or crying) but stupidly flipped and saw about 3.2 seconds of "Grey's Anatomy" which involved Alex getting punched out by a guy who stole his own child (toddler age) who was addicted to crack because they had been making it in the house. And then, I watched about 5 minutes of news, which, of course, had to involve child murder, etc. And then I watched some "Nightline" which in a weird convergence of reality and TV involved a girl (child) with an artificial heart who received a visit from McDreamy.
In any case, I shouldn't watch TV when I'm alone. It just makes me cry. But then I kept watching "Nightline" and it had a short segment on wine. And that didn't make me cry.
In an effort to redeem the post, let me list some happy things I've discovered while the gander is away: (not news any of them, but perhaps, only to me?, interesting)

1. I love voice-over narration. Maybe it's the fiction writer in me, but I love the voice, no matter what it says. I like to hear it. Not explaining, but commenting on.
2. I love snow in a movie. A scene with snow falling, lightly or heavily, characters walking or running. Your work is done.
3. I like foreign films. Yes, they are difficult. Those pesky subtitles. But I love to hear a foreign language. And after awhile I forget I'm reading. Really, I do.
4. I love food.
5. All these things go together of course: "Mostly Martha." I think it was Lis who recommended it. Thanks!
6. But I did cry, a few times, during this movie. So thus, the theme.
   
7. I also saw "Notes on a Scandal" last weekend. Amazing. I can't believe Judy Dench didn't win for that. I know, I'm sure Helen Mirren was amazing in "The Queen." But I can't believe she was better than JD. Omigod. An astounding film. Perhaps the best of last year. Also with a voice over. Also based on a novel. What can I say? I'm loyal.
8. I also watched "Open Season" tonight with son. I'm sure you have many nasty things to say about Aston Kucher (his name sounds like slang for women's anatomy?) but his voice and insane dialog made this movie enjoyable. Really. I'm not kidding. Usually I find him as annoying as a trucker hat on a Hollywood star. But he was funny. The whole movie was funny. Sorry.
9. I like to not cook and have Wild Oats sushi for dinner with Wild Oats soda and Wild Oats cookies. Why not?
10. Who takes out the garbage when the gander is away? The goose. That's right! The goose!
11. When the gander's away the goose has to do fucking everything. Is that fair I ask you?
    
12. Am I a goose? And what does that mean, really?

Tomorrow I must go to the market (rain or no rain) and fetch some tomatoes if there are any to be had, and most importantly, a pumpkin for Son. It is never too early in October for Pumpkin buying. I anxiously await the weekend I can buy a sugar pie Pumpkin and make a pie. Yum.
Son is already looking forward to Christmas. Today he asked, "Why can't we sometimes just stay here for Christmas?"
I told him we were staying here for Christmas and he was happy. Not so happy about the fact that we have to get a small Christmas tree (so to avoid chewing by the Gus dog). But we came up with some possible ways to hide the tree from Gus, so we'll see. But he's happy, so that's good. He being Son.
MB returns on Sunday to a house filled with dirty dishes and, hmm, we'll see, tomatoes? In any case, he'll have his hands full as I have some papers to grade and have made no progress thus far.
What? What's that you say? I can watch "30 Rock" on-line? Must run. Kiss-kiss.

Twit: new blog

Hey! Come join us over at Twit: Where Big Minds Take on the Small Screen. So far there have been a flurry of posts, as is typical with the new blog (yeah!). So much shinier and more fun than the old blog (boo!).
If you want to be invited, just drop me a line. I tried to invite everyone I thought would want to post/be involved. But you have to post. And it doesn't necessarily have to reflect the "big minds" (i.e. intellectual) but if you are involved, that means you have a big mind (because you're so smart to want to blog with us). And it does have to be about the small screen.

Flight of the Conchords

These are the funniest things I've seen in a long time. I may be the last person in the world to hear about the Conchords, but if not, I had to pass it on. Enjoy.

The Joys of Parenthood

One of the great (anticipated, but no less enjoyable for being so) joys of being a parent is listening to Son read. I know I have mentioned this before, but I love LOVE it when he reads Frog and Toad to me. Is it the froggy- and toady-ness of the characters? The subtle philosophical questions it evokes? Just as an example, last night Son asked, "Why is Frog called Frog, why isn't he called Toad?"
I know part of it is the familiar rhythm of simple sentences and declarative statements, such as "One morning Toad sat in bed."
Maybe my favorite part is the meta-narrative element. For example, in "Dragons and Giants," Frog and Toad decide to figure out if they are brave after they read a book about brave people. They go out for an adventure and get scared by a snake, an avalanche, and a hawk, and then run home and hide in the closet, but not before Frog and Toad assure each other that "I am happy to know a brave person like you."
They have very simple conversations like: "The people in this book are brave," said Toad. "I wonder if we are brave," said Frog.
Having Son read to me is the best thing ever. It makes me want to write in simple sentences and return to that time when I was just discovering the amazing world of reading. I love it when Son reads and laughs as he's reading, because he understands not only what's being said, but that it's funny. He loves the irony of Frog and Toad running away from the hawk screaming, "We are not afraid!"
I look forward to listening to him read to me at night for a long time.

Name That TV Blog

What shall we call our new TV blog? We are going to create one, and we will invite you if, IF, you agree to blog once a week. Maybe we'll give you time off for grading. Maybe.
My idea is: Twit (but the W is made up of two vees, one for T "v", get it?) but we're not twits. It's for TV wit. We are witty, right?
Ideas:

For HighTouch: Why the American Version of "The Office" is so much better than the British

First of all, to get this out of the way, let me just admit that I am a huge fan of the British series "The Office." In fact, I resisted watching the American version because I just didn't think it could live up to the British.
It is a well known fact in my household and in other parts of the United States that the Brits are just funnier than Americans. In general, this is true. I think it is caused by their flavorless cuisine and their far superior beer, but it could also be attributed to the sogginess of their environs, which leads to wet socks, and everyone knows that causes one to make dry and acerbic comments. I'm sure there are Brits who are not funny, but I don't know what rock they are hiding under. Let me also say that one of my favorite office moments is when Tim puts Gareth's stapler in gelatin (since it's England it's not Jello, or maybe it is).
That said, the American version has far surpassed the British version, in my heart if not in reality. Partly this may be a function of the length of the series. The American version is beginning its fourth season, and the British version was only two, plus the bonus special. The additional seasons have allowed for more character development.
In the British version, the minor characters remained minor characters, colorful, funny, but never wholly human. In the American version, as the seasons have progressed, minor characters have come to the front, so that "The Office" is not just the story of Michael, Dwight, Pam and Jim, but also the story of Toby, Phyllis, Angela, Kevin, Kelly, Ryan, Creed, Oscar, and Roy (etc. I know I'm leaving some out). And this, I contend, is what makes the American "Office" a superior television product. If a series is to survive, it can't simply be funny. It must be funny, yes, but it has to be funny with heart. I know veteran readers of this blog will balk at my use of this word, but I mean it. "The Office" has been engaging my emotions, and not just on the Pam and Jim front. (I will admit here that I was obsessed, in every sense of the word, with Pam and Jim when I finished watching Season 2 and was waiting for Season 3 to come out on DVD. I googled the actors and found out all I could. I looked for pictures online. What was I going to do????)
The greatest surprise, and reward, of Season 3 has been the emergence of my favorite sub-character: Toby. And the fact that Roy becomes more than just the "bad boyfriend." And the episode when Michael shows up at Pam's art show and buys her watercolor of the office building for the office is truly touching. And this is what elevates Michael Carrell's character above his British equivalent. Even though David Brent is witty, and, we guess, ultimately a nice guy, we get to see that Michael is a nice guy; in spite of his being an ass in many situations, ultimately he does care about his employees. And I think the decision to humanize Roy was a good one. He moves beyond the stereotype of the boyfriend who only cares about sports to become a person.
And Toby! My favorite scene is when he must accompany Michael to New York for the salary negotiation. Ryan and Kelly are fighting in the cubicle next to his and Michael tells him he has to go with him. When Toby asks why, Michael says, "I'm going to hit you in the head with a hammer." Toby listens to the fighting for a minute, then picks up his bag and follows Michael.
I notice that I have not yet mentioned the cringe factor, which adds to the appeal of "The Office" but I fear I have overstayed my welcome. I'll leave that for another post.

I Like This One

I like this little quiz, and was thinking about it earlier, so I decided to do it. Plus, HighTouch and I were talking about the general lack of blogging, so I thought I'd contribute something for you to read, and it goes a little something like this:

What’s your ringtone?
What's a ringtone? Oh, you mean for the cellphone I don't have? Oh. My ringtone is "MMBop," if that exists as a ringtone. If not, it's probably "My Humps" because I think that's hilarious for a flat-ish chested woman with no butt.

What’s the most incongruous song on your MP3 player?
It's a pair really, "Home" by Michael Buble (when I played it for him MB said, "You like that song?") and "History of My Future" by 7 Year Bitch. Please. I'm at least a 10 Year Bitch.

What is the one genre of music you cannot stand?
That new kind of country that sounds like Pop. I like the old country (Willie, Johnny, etc.). I also dislike that rap stuff.

What’s your desert island disc? Right now it's Neko Case, "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood." She rocks.

What’s your musical weakness? Pop that is ridiculous, I know it's ridiculous, but I can't help myself, I like it. (see: Shakira, Justin Timberlake, Hansen)

Do you play a music instrument? In a past life, I played the flute. I was forced to be in the marching band and I never played, I just marched and faked it.

Best make out song ever? What's making out? (Umm, Peaches and Herb? Captain and Tenille? Barry Manilow? Bread? Styx? The only time I remember making out it was to "Monty Python." Or it was quiet. Or was it the soundtrack to "St. Elmo's Fire"?)

Best driving song?
Anything by the B-52s. "Private Idaho" works, especially if you are driving in Idaho.

One song that you think everyone should read the lyrics of?
"Sunday, Bloody Sunday" by U2

Is downloading music for free a sin?
No, it's an effect of the whole corporate music scam. But I think the artists deserve your money, so it is a quandry isn't it?

Do you karaoke? Do I karaoke? Right now I'm singing "Love Shack." But I'm pretending I'm Hightouchmegastore.

One musician you would happily whore yourself to?
Rufus Wainwright, but that probably wouldn't work. Bruce Springsteen. I don't care if he's old, he's sexy. And David Byrne.

First album you ever bought? I don't really remember, but I remember most vividly receiving Billy Joel's "Glass Houses" as a gift. Oh, it was probably Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA."

Most recent album you bought? Pink Martini, "Hey Eugene!"

Favorite Beatles song?
No question, "Norwegian Wood."

One song that represents your teenage years?
Def Leppard, "Pyromania."

One song that represents your 20s?
Tori Amos, "Crucify."

One song that represents where you are right now?
Neko Case, "Margaret vs. Pauline" (which, if you haven't heard it, begins "Everything is so easy for Pauline.")

One song that represents your blog?
"I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" by Wilco

I'm Not Gone, Physically

Though I have been absent, I am here. Wednesdays just kill me man!
It all begins way too f*ing early at 6 when I get up, drive to the park, and, today, did "speed work" with my running partner Scorpion's Tail. Then I dash home, shower, eat breakfast and make lunches, pick-up another kid and co-op at son's school.
If anything makes me love college teaching, it's spending three hours with 20 first and second graders. Things I've learned so far:

1. Second grade boys are an entirely different animal than first grade boys.
2. Boys without front teeth are cute.
3. Some kids will. not. focus.
4. Saying "don't do that" really isn't effective either with first and second graders or with students in English 1010. Saying it repeatedly really doesn't help either.
5. If you give the kids tools, they will use them for any other thing except for what they were intended. Example, tape is for making and covering a cardboard wallet, NOT for affixing pictures to the walls. Chips are not for counting, but for playing tiddly winks.
6. There is nothing cuter than a four-year old boy with glasses.

These are the life lessons for now. I'm sure I'll be learning more about pedagogy from the six and seven year olds as the semester continues.
Oh, the other thing I learned: a combination of first/second graders and English 1010 is a sure recipe for needing a cocktail by 4 p.m. This is a well established Truth. Trust me. I know.

I'm Awesome!

As if this is news.
But I just invented, based on other things I've made, a Peach Salsa to accompany some grilled salmon I made for dinner. I served it with grilled Portabello mushrooms, grilled potatoes and garlic, and a plate of fresh veggies (heirloom tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, carrots). Delicious.
Sorry, this is all I can blog about right now. I'm busy thinking of a delicious but not too difficult dessert or side dish to take to the Department Party this weekend.
Also, what outfit do I need to wear to convey Julie, the Cruise Director? (Cue the theme song for "The Love Boat")

Pretending I'm Not Old

I went out last night with some, shall we say, younger people. Not only did they drink me under the table (they were under the table, metaphorically, while I was upright, sipping my ice water), they reminded me why I am usually home, asleep, after 11 p.m.

1. Music at clubs is loud. And mostly incomprehensible. Witness Sleepytime Gorilla Museum. I couldn't bear to listen to the music at their website, but I'm guessing it's just as incomprehensible as it was last night at 12:42 a.m.
2. You can't talk to anyone. (see number one)
3. Young people are weird. Maybe it's just that people are weird, but there were lots of people with face piercings and abundant tattoos. But perhaps even more strange was that, mixed in with those people, were some girls who clearly were trying to dress like/be Paris Hilton.
4. I'd rather listen to music in my living room while I drink beer or wine or whatever. I can control the volume and, what's better, turn it off if I feel like it.
   

On the plus side, I did like the opening band, whose lyrics were more comprehensible. One of my companions compared their music to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! The only lyrics I could hear were "I like shiny things." The lead singer then proceeded to name all the people in the band and say, for example, "Lewis likes shiny things." Apparently the front man/song writer for this group grew up in Orem. Enuf said. I think they are called Perbats, but as it was so loud in the club, that is only a guess.

The Sleepytime Monkey people were scary, in a screaming, speed metal way. AND the lead dude looked like a satyr. He should have been playing a pan flute.
On the plus side, I ran in to old friend Brian K, who was a sight for sore eyes. And whose eyes aren't sore when one is standing in a smoky bar past midnight?
One of my companions showed up after 11, was surprised to find me still there. I bought him a big (huge!) beer in honor of his 25th (that's right!) birthday. I made everyone promise me that they were walking home before I left. Ever the mother.
I also had to promise to show them pictures of myself with a shaved head. But that's a different story.