"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.

Girl Fight

I know I should say "woman fight" but really, it's not as interesting.
As Middlebrow mentioned, I happened to witness a girl fight in the waning moments of the Sun Volt show on Sunday night.
First, I just want to gush (gush, gush) about how amazing Alejandro was. I can't wait to listen to him all the time.
Well then. Sun Volt was on. I had noticed earlier that a young man was backstage taking pictures of Alejandro when he was on. I assumed it was one of the members of Sun Volt because he had that kind of mussy haired-hip look to him. Turns out he was the bass player. Anyway, we were in the second row, front and center. When the show got going, many people stood and danced in the area just in front of the stage, which meant just in front of the people in the front row. As the show progressed, two girls (yes, girls) came and stood right in front of the people just in front of us. Annoying, but not a buzz kill. One of the girls, the brunette, held a huge jug of what looked like Kool-Aid and vodka. The other girl, a blonde, wore a tiny white sundress. They were, to my mind, trying to get the attention of the mussy haired hip guy.
The woman in front of us asked the girls several times to quiet down, or take it down. Not sure. It was loud. But from her hand gestures, I could tell she was less than thrilled with the presence of the girls in front of her. Instead of quieting down, the girls screamed louder and waved their hands. They were being truly obnoxious. I watched this argument slowly simmering between glances at the stage and some booty shaking.
During the encore, I noticed the girls arguing more. The woman's body language said to me "upset, but controlled." The girls were laughing, clearly enjoying the irritating effect they were having on the woman. Her husband stood beside her, uncomfortable.
I was clapping when I saw the woman's arm shoot out, right into the side of the brunette's face. There was no blood. The brunette clutched her face as if she had just noticed its existence. She looked confused, as if she had blacked out for a moment and then come to in the middle of a situation she didn't understand.
The woman's husband started gathering their things, cooler, folding chairs, blanket. The brunette looked around, as if for a witness. I turned my attention to the stage. I heard the brunette say, "This isn't over." The woman walked off with the two girls, her husband following close behind.
I felt sorry for the husband and the woman. It was the best show of the season, and it was ruined by two underage drinkers. Sure, she shouldn't have hit the girl. But I understand the situation. I've been there. I yelled at some loud talkers at the Chick Corea and Bela Fleck concert. Middlebrow regrets that he didn't deck a guy who talked about real estate through their entire second set.
We've become a society of rude people. Sad. But true.

Pie Update

On Wednesday (yes, the first day of school), I decided, oh, around 8 pm, to make a pie. I made this decision for several reasons: the blackberries were almost over ripe, I was awake anyway, watching "Rivers and Tides" trying to decide if I could use it in the Intro to Creative Nonfiction class, Son had just gone to bed, and we were having dinner the next night with Scorpion's Tail and company. A pie seems like a good thing to bring along.

Here's the pie. It was good, but not amazing. The crust was, overall, good, but tough in a few places. The filling was good, but, in my opinion, should have been sweeter. One friend disagreed. But.








This was my favorite part of the pie, the little lip where some filling was oozing out. I decided I like a pie that's not perfect, that has some imperfection. Otherwise, how would I know it was mine?









I have to say that the idea of "imperfection" has been greatly influenced by Andy Goldsworthy. I was watching, as I said, the documentary, "Rivers and Tides" as I waited for the crust to chill, then for the pie to bake, etc. He said (and I'm paraphrasing) that most art is so tightly controlled as to be airless. He likes to make art that incorporates surprise, chance, chaos. I think this is my theory of pies, and life, as well.
While making the pie I encountered the moment, as I do in most baking endeavors, where I ask myself, Why am I doing this? and simultaneously almost burst into tears. I don't want baking to be just another realm where I feel inadequate, and judged to be falling, well, just a bit short in the perfection category.
As I rolled out the crust, I couldn't help thinking of my many grandmothers, and the numerous pies they must have made in Iowa kitchens and Chicago apartments. They didn't worry about Martha Stewart or what the neighbors thought. Granted, they probably had much more experience, and guidance, in the pie making realm than me. But I don't want dessert preparation to be about doing it "right" and striving for "perfection." I want it to connect me to my grandmothers and to my son. I want it to taste delicious and look just a little bit out of control.

Thinking About This

In response to ideas raised by Sleepy E and Signifying Nothing, I am now pondering how the cool, hip guy (Ira Glass?) becomes The Man, or the dominant paradigm that others work against/ respond to. In reference to Sleepy E, it's when the Hero rises to such power that he becomes the Villain.
Except, I don't want to hate him. I admire him for what he's done, but now I want something new. This also refers to McSweeney's et al: the cool hip publication/radio show publishes up and coming unknown who then become famous. Then the hip cool publication/radio show continues to publish only those now famous people, and we, the listeners/readers get sick of listening to the same five people over and over.
So what do we do? Do we start our own hip publication/radio show?

Also, Paula Poundstone is coming in October. Anyone? Anyone?

Back to What?

I know. We can't fight it. It's coming. At least it's not a Monday. We have that to be thankful for. I have finished my syllabi, I have found two new articles, I have selected a movie. I have received the obligatory before school emails from pre-panicked students, and one from the distant past who wants to come discuss his grade. What? They never cease to amaze me, those wily students.
I still have not made pie this summer, but I may do that tomorrow. I still have to find a recipe.
Oh, back to school. It sends me into a "what did I accomplish this summer?" panic. I didn't finish my novel, but on the plus side, MB and I took Gus on a hike yesterday. We went on a picnic with Son this week. I'm (pretty much) back on the running/swimming schedule. I picked up my dry cleaning. What more can I expect?

I'm Lost, I Said

By way of an apology to Signifying Nothing for incorrectly correcting him about the lyrics to "America," I will post here the (seemingly) correct lyrics for the song by Simon & Garfunkel. I got them off a website and I listened to the song, and they seem correct, so here it goes:

"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together."
"I've got some real estate here in my bag."
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies,
And walked off to look for America.

"Kathy," I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,
"Michigan seems like a dream to me now."
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw,
I've gone to look for America.

Laughing on the bus,
Playing games with the faces.
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy.
I said "Be careful his bowtie is really a camera."

"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat."
"We smoked the last one an hour ago."
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine,
And the moon rose over an open field.

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
All gone to look for America

And I agree with SN that it's a beautiful (or accurate?) piece of Americana. We are all, in some way, looking for America. Or some of us have found it, our little corner, and we love it. Especially upon return.

Leaving CinCin

Parting Shots:
Met wonderful men, Joe, Amhet, Greg for night two at JeanRo. Had a Stella, a bourdeaux, and the Trout. Delicious.
Made all the more delicious by the fact that they expense accounted it. Then we went to a Martini club for two dirty maritinis.
All free, people, because many working professionals have expense accounts. And like to buy attractive women drinks. That's assuming, of course, that I'm attractive. Which, Joe, father of two, said I was, "naturally attractive."
And, hey,when that comes with free wine, food and drinks, it ain't for nothin.
So over and out, for now.
BTW, I saw "Becoming Jane." It's okay. I love James but am no big fan of Anne. My big problem with the film was the presumption that a man had to inspire her great works, had to teach her to feel passion. Anyway, the film didn't spend the time, as her novels did, developing the relationship. It was a good way to spend the afternoon, air-conditioned.
Am glad to return home in mere hours, as it is well into tomorrow already.

Greetings from CinCin

I'm here! It's BLEEPing hot. And by hot, I don't mean the sun shines and makes me hot. Walking out of the air-conditioned hotel into the Cincinnati air is like walking into a hot blanket that's been soaked in hot water and put in a hot dryer where hot air blows on you.
When I stepped out of the airport last night I immediately tried to think of metaphors for the humidity. "The air clenched the water in fists." No. "The air fisted the water." No. "The air held the water loosely, so that it might drench anyone who dared step from the manufactured environment into the cruel night air." Closer.

Today I went to the Rosenthal Center for Contemporary Art, called the CAC. (Good thing they didn't add another "A".) It was designed by Zaha Hadid, and I came to see the building so I could write about it for the DFL.
My favorite aspect of the building was the curved cement where the wall met the floor. It looks like a place to skateboard.
I was most precoccupied with the stairs. They are low and unnaturally long, which forces one to walk more slowly. Form dictating function, in a way.
Through the window I spied this painting on a building across the street. Clearly done for the benefit of CAC patrons. But the man looks exasperated. Also, like he's melting.
The Reds were playing today. The street next to the stadium is Pete Rose Street or Way or something. It should be Alley, right? Apparently they still love him here.

Let me just tell you my tale of woe: I got in last night and the hotel had no record of my reservation. I must have bad hotel karma. I found myself thinking, for the second time in less than a week, "Anyone can take a reservation, but can you hold a reservation?" It was the fault of Travelocity. So kind Scott at the Cincinnatian found me a room (a parlor, actually, but who am I to complain about the thin fold out bed?) and I called David in Bombay to work out all the kinks. I was on hold for the greater part of an hour. Luckily I found a magazine! If I had to listen to that recording of a couple talking about how to change reservations one more time I was going to gouge my eyes out with some of the sharp artwork in the room! Anyway, I got a refund and made my own, new reservations at the Westin. All hail the Westin. They let me check in this morning AND I have free wireless. Hurrah! And for lunch I hade a Big Salad in the lobby. It was delicious.

Overall, the Hadid building was disappointing. I know it's a museum and as such its main function is to display art. But seriously, the most exciting thing about the building is the facade. And the stairs. The display spaces are cool, but nothing astounding.
So my question is, can public space be feminist? I don't mean can the space or building challenge dominant ideas about public space, because I know they can. But what makes a space, or a building, feminist? Many of Hadid's buildings are curvy, but does this make them femininist? Many architects are using more organic shapes/lines in their buildings. I'd hate to think that curves are strictly feminine. I got a book that I read some of on the plane. It was interesting, in that many of the essays investigate the public/private, masculine/feminine split. And one (which I have not read yet) attempts to get outside that binary.
But in today's political culture are we bound by it, because so much public architecture is masculine and supports (literally and metaphorically) patriarchial institutions? One need only look at the downtown library to see curves and open space. Designed by a man.
I'm left only with questions.
My goal for the afternoon: write, find a shopping center, and see a movie. In that order? Maybe. I have found a place (across the street!) for dinner. JeanRo. Mussells marinare and pomme frite, here I come!!
I will pause now so that you may reflect.

School Dread

I'm back from the jungles of Idaho where we braved storms and too many margaritas to enjoy family time and reminiscing with high school buddies, former teachers, parents' colleagues, and family friends and neighbors.
Highlights:

1. Sitting in hot pool that belonged to hotel nestled in evergreens, as it got dark.
2. Spending lots of time with parents and siblings.
3. Hiking with siblings in Lava Hot Springs.
4. Making the incredibly delicious pomegranate mojitos (not as sweet as you'd fear!).
5. Walking Gus in Lava and meeting the locals.
6. Talking to hip teenage niece about friends from Austin, myspace and emo-screamo.
7. Shopping with sister for shorts and buying two shirts and new dress instead.
8. Buying shorts at Ace Hardware.
9. Swimming laps at Ross Park Pool with my new polarized goggles.
10. Eating at Pocatello taco truck two times.
11. Running into high school friend and jewelry making wife at Pocatello farmer's market.
12. Hiking with grad school friend and dog on Boundary Trail.
13. Riding my bike in Island Park and Inkom.
14. Meeting sister's friend from State College. Mostly when he said things like "Yep, she's your sister" and "Don't you think 'Mike's Hard Berry' sounds dirty?"
15. Talking to cool sociologist who studies vampire culture and prison gambling.
16. Finally reading A Fan's Notes. What took me so long?
17. Eating lots of eggs and bacon for breakfast.
18. Eating lots.
19. Drinking lots.
20. Finally coming home and getting back to running. And sleeping in my own bed.

But, because I'm crazy!, I leave for Cincinnati on Wednesday to do research for what heretofore shall be referred to as the DFL. I'll spend two days at the Arts Center, also eating at whatever cool restaurants I can find, maybe having a martini, if I feel brave.
I hope I see many of you soon. Wish me luck.

Notes from Idaho

First, I think that could be a Hemingway title. Okay. Here's some things I've been thinking of.

Things not to talk about at wedding of high school friend:

1. God: How did this happen? To my credit, I did not bring it up. A friend from high school's husband began talking about how he wanted to take his kids to church. For some reason, I couldn't quite believe it. Maybe because he never struck me as the type. And, maybe it's just me, but I think when your oldest is 15, it may be too late to try to force them to go to church.
2. Pedagogy: I'm not sure how this came up, but I managed to throw it in. My friend, who also has a PhD, said something like "don't get all fancy on us" affecting an Idaho-hick mentality that he surely does not own. Oh sure, everyone else can talk about something where I'm excluded (fishing? world cup soccer? sword fighting?) but when I say a long word I'm accused of being elitist. The world isn't fair.
3. Friend's high school romance life: Who knew that relationships one had twenty years ago (and I use the term "relationship" loosely) should not be mentioned because husband's can get jealous? (I do have to mention, however, that friend threw herself down on the grass to imitate herself some twenty-plus years ago during an REO Speedwagon concert, bawling on the floor because of some guy who, even when mentioned by name, I couldn't remember). This was not the friend who was getting married, but a different friend.
4. Various drunken outings in Salt Lake City: I was telling friends about how bad I was two years ago, so bad that MB still mentions it as my "bad night." It was hilarious, only because they seemed so horrified about my behavior, behavior that, I might add, I no longer feel bad about. (which should be its own post, so rarely does it occur)

In general, my friend's wedding was lovely. Her parents were excellent hosts, the food was great, and I love me a backyard wedding. Another friend said, after the wedding, "well, that was a cute little wedding" and then proceeded to tell me how her own marriage was flailing (this was the friend whose husband gets jealous about high school boyfriends). I, however, felt that the wedding was perfect. I decided I love it when older people get married (and by older I mean my age or older). I love it because the couple is not naive, not starry eyed and are generally so grateful to have found each other. With this in mind, I have to say that my own favorite married couple are HighTouch and The Historian. I have never heard either say even something simply "nice" about the other. They always gush about how wonderful/amazing/superb/incredible the other is. I aspire to be like them. I, too often, say negative things about MB who, I might add, doesn't really even miss me. (sniff, sniff)

So for anything negative I've ever said about MB, I take it back. He's a prince of man, a genius, obviously, and if he can put up with me (the worst kind, high maintenance but I think I'm low maintenance), then he deserves an award. Or at least a week or so of pure batch.

I'm Home, Briefly, Before Returning to Idaho

First things first: PIE!I ate this delicious little rhubarb-berry concoction at the Almo Outpost in Almo, Idaho. First we had burgers, which were good, and then I ate this. It was yummy.
This is Son wearing goggles on the shores of Lake Alturas. He did get in the water, for the record, but he did not need the goggles.
My favorite recent pic of Son. Note the ice blue eyes. This was after he got in the water. The only reason he got in the water was that MB was out there holding a bag of M-n-M's. They were the disgusting white chocolate variety which no one else wanted, but MB was able to lure Son in to the water with the promise of the whole bag for himself, which he quickly consumed. MB accidentally bought them thinking they were the Almond kind. He still hasn't learned to read a label, but maybe someday he will.

We had a great time in Idaho, visiting with friends. My friend, who is married to the climbing ranger at City of Rocks, is a friend from junior high. She got out her yearbooks and reminded me of a prank we pulled on two (nerdy) girls who lockered next to us. We wrote them love notes from a supposed boy who liked them. (mean!) I had blocked this out of course. I remember all wrongs done to me, but have suppressed all the cruel things I did. I guess it's how we move on. But I also read what I had written in her yearbook, something like "we'll be friends long after all this is over" or something, which turns out to be true. Of all my childhood friends, I think she is one I have the most in common with now. She and hubby bought some land in Almo and they are going to build a straw bale house, which I've always wanted to do. I hope she calls me so I can come out and help!

Hailey was awesome. None of the icky grossness of Ketchum and Sun Valley, with all of the beautiful scenery and amazing food. We ate our weight in grilled meat (hamburgers from a ranch that Mark recently acquired as part of his job at the Nature Conservancy. Grass fed!), lamb chops (from local ranch, Lava Lake), and grilled veggies (heirloom potatoes that were sublime!). We also ate a ton of salsa from a local place, and went out for Thai food. Oh, and we drank real beer. I bought a pie at the farmer's market, which was great, but sorry, no photos. It was a mixed berry pie. We also ate wraps from a Ketchum place, Wrap City, which renewed my interest in the wrap as a food category.
The highlight was Lake Alturas, which we will definitely return to in the near future, hopefully to stay for a few days and camp and hang out at the lake to work on our tans and read fiction that's trashy, but only so trashy. It's not the ocean, after all.

Friday ErinAlice flies in with family in tow to begin the two week family festivities. We will go to Inkom, then to Island Park with side trips to Yellowstone. Then back to Inkom, where we will be joined by Sister 2, then Sister 1. We have a night of margaritas, guacamole and whatever else planned. Then to Lava for a few days before the big birthday bash for Sister 2. Then a big retirement party for Dad. Then we return to life as we know it, which is basically a long, screeching downhill slide into SCHOOL. (but I'm going to block that out for now)

I-da-Ho

We're off for some slightly cooler weather in Idaho. We'll be visiting a friend who lives at City of Rocks, then off to the Hailey/SunValley/Ketchum area for a few days to see some grad school friends. We hope to do a lot of hiking, and maybe some activities involving water. I also hope to have a good, old fashioned breakfast involving biscuits, and maybe eat some pie. You know how I love pie.
We'll check in next week. Stay cool!

Melancholiday

I love most holidays, I do, especially ones that primarily focus on food. This is why, in some ways, I prefer Thanksgiving to Christmas. Except for the fact that I usually see my family at Christmas and only sometimes see my Dad at Thanksgiving, but not always. But this year, I didn't see my family for any of the winter holidays. I did see my Mom and ErinAlice at Spring Break. And we went to Idaho to see my Dad for Memorial Day.
In spite of all that, I find myself somewhat melancholy this 4th. I'm not a big lover of the fourth, and I don't love the fireworks (especially this year, as I anticipate a Gus freak out), but I find myself a little sad. Maybe it's because last year we got to spend it with Otterbutt and ThirtyOne Flavors and children. (Son was talking about all the fireworks he did last year with "Camme"). Maybe it's because we weren't invited to any barbecues. Maybe it's because I didn't get it together enough to make either potato salad OR any kind of pie.
But really I think it's because I think of the fourth as a holiday that most people spend with their families. And we spent most of it inside trying to stay cool. I did watch some Wimbledon (a family tradition), and we did make some hamburgers with corn and potatoes (everything cooked on the grill, of course).
Maybe it's because I feel somewhat isolated and like a shut-in. I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself, but we don't really have a "group" of friends that we hang out with all the time and would, naturally, spend the Fourth with. We do have friends, but they are all from different groups (cliques?), not really forming a coherent whole. We don't really have people over (except sometimes we do). We don't really go out for drinks with certain people or go to bars (much) or etc, etc, etc.
I guess our social isolation is partly an effect of being a parent (babysitter? What babysitter? Ours is in France). And it's partly an effect of being writers who are trying to write this summer. We haven't been on the phone inviting people over. But partly, I think, it's an effect of the environment where we live. Lots of people here have lived here for a long time and have lots of friends that they have had forever. OR they spend holidays with their families.
I felt this way when I lived in Seattle too. But there, perhaps because I was single and very social, I made friends with other people who had recently moved to Seattle. Once, at a party, I made friends with a whole group of people from Ohio because they were in the kitchen talking and I thought they said "Idaho." I sat on the lap of one of these people, a man named Wheat (not kidding!), in a van on the way home. But that's a story for another post.
I also made friends with a woman who was a customer of mine at Starbucks because she went to College of Idaho. And she was good friends with the only person I knew who went there.
Maybe I just need to start an "I'm from Idaho or a state that sounds like Idaho" club. Or a "we used to have friends but then we had a kid" club. Or "My family's not here, want to have a barbecue?" club. Or "I like to drink pre-made margaritas" club.
I could go on like this for hours.

It's All About Food

It's all about food, and it's not just about the grill, though it is about that too.
Today, because it was supposed to be 100, I took Son to see a movie, "Ratatouille." We recently saw "Happy Feet" which I liked, but I have to say I was a little annoyed about the constant pop culture references, disco/Prince songs sung by penguins. It was cute, but maybe a little too cute.
But I loved "Ratatouille." It may be my favorite kid movie. It had all the trappings of cute kid movies, with extra jokes for the parents, but it seemed just a little smarter,and just a little, I don't know, better. Of course it had a bad guy, and a father, and a happy ending. But it was actually good.
And as far as the grill is concerned. I'll let pictures speak a thousand words.

MB: The Grill Master

The First Grilled Meal: Tuna!
Tonight's Meal: Chicken Kabobs and grilled corn

As MB said, the grill opens up a whole new food group that we used to be excluded from: grilled foods. As in, grilled corn, kabobs, grilled mushrooms which are the best things ever, and grilled vegetables, also the best things ever.

What I'm Doing Or Gus's Epic Journey

Just to get it out of the way: I'm not writing. The word whore has not been whoring. She has been shoe shopping and music swapping (thanks High Touch!), and she has been making rhubarb crisp, and she has been running with the dog.
To wit: This morning I made plans to trail run with a friend to Dog Lake. How can you go to Dog Lake and not take the dog? You can't. So I loaded up the dog in the small car and off we went.
Once on the trail, we encountered some other trail runners. We ended up running in front of and behind them most of the way to Dog Lake. Just before Dog Lake I called Gus back to me, gave him a treat and held his collar so he wouldn't get too far away. When we got to Dog Lake, he jumped in like a good dog and ran around a bit. Then the runners passed by the lake and I saw him chase after them. I walked in that general direction and after a few minutes I began to call him. No luck.
I ended up going about another mile in the direction of the runners calling Gus and whistling. I encountered some hikers who had come from Big Cottonwood and they had seen Gus "leading the pack" of runners. Eventually I realized I couldn't catch up with the runners and turned around. My friend and I agreed to go back down to the parking lot and wait for the runners. She thought maybe they were running a loop which would be 10-12 miles.
We waited in the parking lot for about ten minutes when a mountain biker came dashing down the trail. She rode directly up to us and asked "Did you lose a dog?" She had taken the dog from a group of hikers who had taken him from the runners who, it turns out, were not doing a loop but were running over to the next canyon, probably at least a 15 mile run. Her friend had Gus on a leash and was riding him down to the next parking lot. After I got in the car, I let myself cry a little, but just a little.
We met up with Gus at the parking lot. We had probably been separated for about 2 hours. He was glad to see us and seemed to just want to get into the car, though I made him drink some water first.
He's been sacked out on the dog bed since we got home. I think he'll be tired for at least two days.
So today my plan is to eat chips, drink water and iced tea, maybe some wine later, grill some salmon and not leave the house. It's too damn hot out! And I'm still a bit shaky from the adrenaline of running around looking for Gus and not finding him.
But then I did find him, so it's a happy ending. Thanks to lots of nice people who like dogs. The biking woman even said if she hadn't found us, she would have taken him. So the world is full of good people who love dogs.
Let's hear it for nice people who just want to reunite dogs and their owners.
In other news: I made the Lone Star iced tea and it's delicious.

If it swims, grill it!

When I worked at a summer camp the year after I finished college, I became good friends with the lifeguard. She and I would take nightly trips into the closest grocery store for ice cream and double dipped chocolate peanuts.
Once, we wandered back to the seafood department where we found and stole a sign that proclaimed, "If It Swims, Grill It!" She kept this sign inside the pool shed. I like to think it was a warning to wayward campers.
It seems appropriate this week, as MB and I have finally become the proud owners of our first grill. It was no easy process, acquiring this grill. We had to go to no less than three stores. We waited at the second for them to tell us that they didn't actually have the grill we wanted in stock. Off to store three, where we obtained the grill in no time flat.
Then the real fun began. I should have taken pictures of what I like to call "Assembly for Humanities Majors." Every instance of confusion was seized upon by MB as both an example for him to share with his classes AND as the epitome of bad technical writing. For us, what the box proclaimed was a grill that "assembles in minutes!" became a one hour plus extravaganza of trying to figure out the difference between a 20 1/4 X something screw and some other screw that looked exactly like it only was thicker and shorter. Whatever. Luckily we had plenty of beer and hard lemonade on hand to assist us.
To christen our grill, we had tuna.
Tonight we had friends who moved away (to Nebraska) and who are back for a short visit over. I took the opportunity to make something new. Lamb burgers with apricot salsa using a recipe from Bon Appetit. I've never made anything from that magazine before, because it usually looks too complicated or has tons of cream or cheese. But I highly recommend this. I made the salsa using apricots from our beloved Farmer's Market. I ate one this morning. It was delicious. The salsa also had red onion, roasted red peppers, pistachios and mint. It was a hit!
Our friends brought over their son who is Son's age. They also have twins who are about 17 months. They are incredibly adorable and surprisingly low maintainence. They just kind of hung out and walked around. Even Gus was good. Big fun all around.
I might post pictures of MB manning the grill eventually. But we expect to eat a good portion of our meals outdoor and straight from the grill.
*As a side note, while looking for a grill we found a stylish outdoor bar complete with bar stools and umbrella. That's going on the wish list.

It's Too Damn Hot Update

First, there have been questions about what, exactly, happened to Gus. We took him to a dog park and he got bit by a dog. It was partly our fault, as we let him play rough, etc. But the other dog got him good: punctured his ear. He seems to be okay, though we are constantly worried that it is infected. We did take him back to the dog park and he played with a nice dog, Baxter.
Currently he is sleeping on his doggy bed in front of the air con.
Oh yes, have I mentioned that it's too damn hot? I know, it's not yet July. Summer just offically started. How can I already be complaining? It's because complaining is an art form I have perfected.
Last night I had to restort to fruity drinks. But I was too hot to make my own delicious fruity drinks (which also might have required a drive to the liquor store in the too hot car), so I bought the bottled kind of fruity drinks that one can purchase in grocery stores here. Yes. A new low. But not quite as low, I might point out, as the time last summer that I purchased Bartles and James margaritas. Did they taste like margaritas? No they did not. Were they fruity? Yes they were.
Last night was spent on the couch with said fruity drinks watching "The Office" marathon which was just a sad excuse to promote "Evan Almighty" (which I will go see, btw). And then I had to watch "Studio 60" imploding on itself. I love this show. I adore it. But even I am beginning to hate it. Gone is the snappy, witty dialogue. Gone the romantic comedy element that we love so well. Gone the brief views of the writers' room with the deadpan headwriter and the witty British Lucy. It's devolved into melodrama. But even so. I love to see Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford and that Harriet. I will cherish the few, final, terrible episodes. I will. Because it's all I have left.
Except for "Entourage." Ari Gold has to be the best character. Ever. I can't even dislike him, because I love him so much. He has the best lines. His wife has some good lines too. As do his assistants. We're on season 2, so don't ruin it for me, those of you who are in the know.
Writing? What writing?

Word Whore Update

Well. Son is in Bug Camp this week, so I'm back to the Word Whoring. I passed the 40,000 word mark (I'm at 41,195) But that's not quite halfway to the 90,000 word goal that I may have to revise, just for my sanity.
But I want some kind of draft by the end of summer. I realize that I will have to do revising, in that I have some ideas about earlier chapters, etc. But it will be nice to finish a draft of something!!
I am here at the downtown library where they are setting up for the summer festival already. It's a bit crazy outside, with the tents and whatnot. MB and I saw a dog swimming in the fountain.
Dog update: Gus is okay. His bite seems to be healing and he hasn't been complaining, so I assume that means he is alright. We're keeping him away from the dog park for the time being. He almost yanked my arm off last night. Geez!

5K Update

Well, my 5K was okay. It was hotter than I expected at 8:25 when I began the uphill finish. (Uphill finish? Whose idea was that?) On the plus side I passed some people who looked younger than me. On the minus side, many, many, many Masters runners beat me by 10 minutes. And a 79-year-old woman finished right behind me.
Another plus was the pancake breakfast, which MB, Son and Son's Friend also got to indulge in. It was very good. I was also chatted up by a man in the 50-59 age division at the starting line. This made me feel better (wouldn't I make a great second trophy wife?) and worse (so this is my fate, I'm now only attractive to men over 50? And my husband).
We had Son's Friend for a sleepover last night. They went to bed at 10:30 and got up at 5:45. Yes, that's right, 5:45. I had to get up at 6:30 anyway for the race, but still. There will be enforced napping today.
Alright. So here are my stats.
I finished in 28:08, making my pace approximately 9 minutes/mile. Or, as I like to think of it, only slightly faster than an octogenarian. My goal was an 8:30 mile, but I didn't reach that. Maybe next time. I think my first mile was under that, but, as they say, I started too fast.
There was an award ceremony after. I liked watching the young girls get their medals. They were cute. I think I liked to run when I was younger, and then I had my love of running killed by a terrible track coach in junior high, Mr. Bodily. I'm not joking.
I'm getting the love back.
But I still think the running should get easier, shouldn't it?
Today I'm shopping for a swimming suit. I will triumph. I will!!

Nothing + Nothing = Nothing

Here's an update on what I've been doing: nothing. Well not strictly nothing, but nothing productive. Son was supposed to be in a language camp this week, but there were not enough people signed up, so it was canceled. Which means that we've been holed up, plus MB's computer troubles, so you can probably imagine for yourselves the domestic drama that we've been embroiled in.
What have I been obsessing over this week? Thanks for asking. My current obsessions are

1. Entourage
2. The Sopranos
3. The Office, and all that entails: John Krasinski, Evan Almighty, Toby, etc.
4. Studio 60: Why does it have to end, sob, sob, etc.
5. New Music: I need some, I'm getting bored, etc.
6. I'm not writing
7. Maybe writing doesn't matter, after all, when I'm dead, I'll be dead, not looking down from above saying "Look how much everyone enjoys my writing!"
8. Swimming
9. Running (I'm doing a 5K on Saturday)
10. Reading shallow things
11. Disliking successful writers whom I won't name, but who might have some talent, but also get things published in magazines, like The New Yorker, for example, not because they are good, but because of who they are.

So now you're up to date. I hate everyone who's not blogging, by the way. Please blog and save me from my shallow reading and self-loathing.

ErinAlice + HighTouch = Dr. Write

Borrowing from the inventive genius of ErinAlice and HighTouchMegaStore, I have found inspiration for a new post: A combination of Conversations with Son, and Some of Us.

Son: Bacon comes from pigs.
Son's Friend: Animals are made from meat. Like cows are meat. And we are meat.
Son: No. We're made of water. You're mostly water.
SF: And meat.
Son: Mom, are we meat?
SF: We are meat.

Recent accomplishments from the domestic sphere of Dr. Write and Middlebrow:

• Some of us have finished the final chapter of our dissertation
• Some of us have learned how to swim (back float and arm part of crawl)
• Some of us are still reading Cloudsplitter (9 months and counting)
• Some of us stayed up late every night watching at least 3 episodes (per evening) of "The Office" Season 2
• Some of us spent all morning trying to figure out how we could watch Season 3
• Some of us can't sleep at night because we are secretly worrying that Pam and Jim will/will not get together (if they get together, the show will fall apart/be cancelled)
• Some of us have started and abandoned several novels we were reading this week
• Some of us have lost confidence in our ability to finish any writing project longer than 25 pages
• Some of us need a schedule to get any work done
• Some of us run because it makes us feel like we have accomplished something, anything, please god, I just want the feeling of having finished something
• Some of us need some friends to distract us (hint, hint)
  

My Five Seconds

Here's my five seconds of local fame: a book review column in City Weekly. Just two things to note: MB helped me with the clever "best read" part. And since writing it (two weeks ago) I have finished Devotion by Howard Norman. Even though he is one of my favorite writers, I did choose not to stalk him at AWP (I saw him at the Starbucks in Atlanta). But having finished the book, I can no longer recommend it. It was thin, like an over-stretched short story. The sad thing is, the characters and set up were good. But he didn't deliver. No delivery! So, skip that one. I stand behind the rest, however.

Also please note Scorpion's Tail has an article on running in the same publication. We're co-published. It's a first!

New Strip

New Story

As I was writing on the novel, which often feels like slogging through mud, I received inspiration for a new story, which I began working on.
So, I wrote very little today on The Novel, but I wrote 10 pages (4,150 words) on the new story, "Domestic Drama."
I will post a bit, the inspiration for the story, here. I feel like the inspiration was just in time, as I was beginning to feel, because of the slogging, that I am not much of a writer. But the new story was fun. Which leads me to question why the novel isn't. But I've always loved brevity, so there's that. And doing something new always has its appeal too, doesn't it?
I hope to get back to the novel later tonight, or tomorrow. And to finish this story for my writing group at the end of the month.
So here's the first paragraph, which came to me in a burst of inspiration. Thank you, to wherever it came from.

He found me in the bedroom. I had the butcher knife and I was holding it in my right hand and with my left I was looking through a pile of clean laundry I had left on the bed. I was looking for a red handkerchief which I had given him for his last birthday and which would make a good tool for wiping up blood, but that was not why I was looking for it. I was looking for it because it had just sprung to my mind as I was deboning the chops for dinner. I hadn’t seen it in months and I thought that maybe it was missing or, I thought, maybe it was in the pile of clean clothes on the bed. That was the only place it could be.

Back at It

Last week was a wash, all the way around. Monday was a holiday, Wednesday was my last day of co-oping at Son's school, and Thursday was Son's Graduation extravaganza, complete with caps and gowns, The Magic Treehouse plays (in which Son played a guard, a juggler, and, his favorite, a monkey), food madness, and awards (Son got the Future Author award, proving conclusively that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree).
So I wrote a little on Tuesday and Wednesday, but nothing on Thursday or Friday. This weekend was full of madness (doing what? who knows! oh, we did plant two plants and I took Son swimming and I did run for two hours on Sunday).
But now I'm back at it. Never fear. I got up "early" (by my standards), and drank coffee and wrote a bit. I might try to split my writing days between production on the novel and revision of the collection. I'm trying to get it ready to send out in the fall.
But I also want to take Son for a hike, possibly with Dog, and I should be on my summer running schedule, but I'm tired. Oh so tired.
And I'm trying to plan a short vacation for July. Plus Middlebrow had several illness/injuries last week and I had to nurse him back to health (with Excedrin and fudgesicles). And, as I'm sure he'll point out, buying him generic Pepto-Bismol and then going out with the girls.

Word Count total: 27, 958

Son's Comic

My Turn with the Comic

The Whore Returns to Whoring

I'm back. For photos of the Long, Lazy (and Inebriated) Weekend, see Middlebrow's latest post. Of course, I had to readjust to home life (drink green tea and check my email) before I could begin writing this morning.
But still, I managed to write about 2,000 words. My mind is also consumed with silly tasks to be done. Plus Son's last day of school is Thursday, and there is the portfolio to finish and photographs to be picked up.
And a trip to Costco, for healthy food, now that Middlebrow and I are (once again) on the eat heathy spend less money trip. (We seem to take this trip periodically, and then return to our insane eating and spending ways.)
Middlebrow tried to convince me over the weekend that we should buy a Honda Element. I think this was brought on by trying to pack all of us and our stuff plus the dog into the little Saturn. But on a hike, I managed to talk him into buying a used vehicle for camping, meaning no car payment and no worrying about mileage, since we will only use it for trips. I think it could work.

Word Whore

As I was telling someone last night, I'm just a word whore. I don't care if it's good, I'm just getting it down. I am taking to heart Anne Lamott's advice about Shitty First Drafts. It's shitty alright!
Yesterday started rough. I wrote 900 or so words and then Middlebrow (aka The Devil) said we should go out for lunch. We went to Lone Star (best fish tacos ever!!) and then to Target (we bought a lamp) and then to DSW (I got nothing; MB got thongs). Needless to say I despaired of ever meeting my word count.
But, on Mondays, Son goes over to a friend's house after school and gets home around 5. Somehow, in spite of leaping up every five minutes to quiet the dog, I managed to write 3,000 words.
Today was much the same. I ran, then stretched, then found various things to eat in the kitchen, etc. I wrote about 1,000 words, then ate some soup.
But, again, as the time for Son to return home neared, I managed to exceed my word count. I think I need the pressure of limited time.

Stats
Today's word count: 3,585
Summer word count: 20,736

(in other news, I think Jordin will win American Idol. I'll be watching!)

Camping Trip update: Not bad. I almost had a nervous breakdown trying to pack, but once there it was okay. I was happy to see someone else brought box wine, there were smores for everyone, and lots of good food. It was fun to socialize with the parents in a relaxing environment, even if there were four trains a night to wake us up. Oh well, it couldn't be absolutely perfect, could it?

Numbers

I know my blog is mind-numbingly boring. But it keeps me honest. Thanks for indulging me.
Tuesday's numbers: 1,772
I also wrote 274 words last night. Just a minute of inspiration.
I'm including last night's in today's total of: 2,046
bringing my grand total to: 10,648

Scorpion's Tail and I are going to exchange manuscripts in August. I want to have at least 60,000 words by then. I'm going to include the first chapter, which is a story I wrote last summer, and the chapters I've already started that I'm going to finish this summer. So I should have the 60,000 words by the end of June. I hope.
Thanks for keeping me honest.

Writing Stats

First I want to thank you all for your encouragement. I feel like I have made some sort of contract with all of you, so I want to thank you (in advance) for nagging me if I seem to flag in the production department.
So here's my update:
I didn't write on Friday because it was graduation. I thought I would catch up on Saturday, but we took Gus for a walk in the canyon and then went to a retirement BBQ. Sunday was Mothers' Day of course, so I didn't write because of many things.
But today I finished my chapter for last week. Today I wrote 598 words to finish the "Linda" chapter. Final stats on Linda: 7,653 words, 25 pages!
Then I wrote 949 words on the "Patrick" chapter. I had started this chapter before, so I already had 6-ish pages. I got onto page 10 today.
So for today: 1,547 words.
Now I have to go help out at the Bookfair at Son's school.
(I also ran for 38 minutes and 45 seconds this morning.)
I think if I started writing earlier (i.e. before 11 a.m.) I might get more done. So I'll work on that. I'm thinking of using the word count for NaNoWriMo, but counting only weekdays as writing days. I may start that tomorrow. I'll let you know.
I have to up my word count every day this week, because this weekend I am taking Son and Friend on the class camping trip. Should be fun and/or insane. Or both.
Thanks again, readers. I count on you for encouragement and pressure.

Day Four

Word count: 1,871
Must now go swim. Need exercise. Feel crazy.
I think everything I am writing/have written this week is pure crap. But I'm doing it. I hope that as I go along, the writing gets better.
At least it's not pure gibberish. I think.

Day Three: Redemption!

You have to love a summer writing plan that delivers damnation, but swiftly followed by redemption. And at such a low price!
I managed to redeem myself by escaping to the neighborhood public library and putting in my requiste words, before dashing home to pick up Son and Friend, then pick up Friend 2 and drive them all to school and put in my 3 hours of co-oping.
Then I dashed home, gave son a snack, drove him to soccer practice, watched as he practiced, dashed home, showered and attended the "Evening of Honor." It wasn't as bad as it sounds. There was an open bar. Unheard of! I attended the EOH because I'm giving a faculty lecture next year. I got to stand up for about five seconds while everyone applauded and smiled at me. I smiled back. It seemed okay.

(As a brief aside: I mentioned in my list of addictions "saying I will do things that I'm not sure I can actually do." Since we have passed the 27th, my deadline, I will tell you now that I did actually do it. And "it" was write a magazine article about an urban horseshoer. It was quite short, 1,500 words, but it was fun. I got to go talk to a horseshoer, and watch him shoe, and talk to some young girls. Quite entertaining. And I actually met the deadline and wrote the article. So I'm happy about that. And, barring any unforeseen circumstances, it will be published in a glossy magazine sold in airports. So. I'll let you know when that will happen. The most money I've made on one piece of writing. Or will make.)

Weekly word count: 4,508
today's word count: 1,916

Day Two: The Devil and Dr. Write

Day Two was less of a success. We took Son and Friend to get comic books. We stopped for coffee. Then we did go to the lovely library to "work" (word count: 927). We went out to lunch. We browsed at the bookstore (and ran into Signifying Nothing).
The Devil (aka Middlebrow) decided to buy wine. I will admit that I was the one who insisted on watching "American Idol." (It was Barry Gibb night. Come on!). But then the whole evening was a downhill slide into debauchery and media stimulation.
On the up side, we finished season five of "The Sopranos," so we are out from under that addiction, if only temporarily.
We also watched "Children of Men," which was intriguing and disappointing at the same time. And depressing. If that's the future, then we are going to start planning for our Quietus packs right now. Plus what film so under uses Julianne Moore? I mean really.
But now it's day three. Time to play catch up.

Let the Summer Writing Begin

Today was offically the first day of Summer Writing, wherein Dr. Write gets the mornings (until noon, I suppose) and Middlebrow the afternoons (when do they end? Unknown). The bonus is that Son is still in school until the end of the month. So Monday through Thursday we both get afternoons.
I have signed Son up for an ungodly amount of camps: language camp, swimming lessons, bug camp and weather camp. And that's just June!
I am hoping that I can finish a draft of my second novel. (the first, of course, remains fragmentary and incomplete)
In July we will travel to Washington state for some vacation. But we have vowed not to let some ideal of a "balanced life" interfere with writing. Meaning: no good intentions in regards to camping, gardening, socializing. Maybe some hiking. That's as far as we'll go.
So, my goal is a chapter (25 pages) a week. That means five pages a day, with weekends to catch up if I fall behind. I hope I can keep it up!!
Today: word count 1,665. So far, so good.

Cupcake Convergence

In a weird convergence of space, time, and hunger, cupcakes have over taken a larger than expected portion of my brain.
See, when I was on the dreaded elimination diet, I went to see my mom for Spring Break. While there, we had a dinner with her friend, who brought over a crazy assortment of cupcakes I couldn't eat. There were Oreo cupcakes, German Chocolate cupcakes, Ding-Dong cupcakes, cherry filled cupcakes, carrot cupcakes, etc. Anyway, the whole experience left me with an insatiable desire for cupcakes.
Yesterday, when Assertively Unhip was over we began to discuss cupcakes, and she informed of where in town I could get the best cupcake ever.
Today, I went there with Son. We got one of each kind they had, to wit:

1. New York: Valrhona Chocolate (cupcake and icing)
2. Madagascar: Vanilla cupcake with vanilla cream cheese icing, dipped in white chocolate sprinkles
3. Paris: Chocolate cupcake with raspberry butter cream frosting
4. Vienna: Chocolate cupcake with apricot butter cream frosting

Also, I had the best decaf americano I've had in years. Years! I ate the Madagascar (a mini) while I was waiting for my coffee. Middlebrow had a New York when I returned home and he confirmed AU's assessment of "best cupcake." I'm saving my New York for tomorrow. We have to pace ourselves people.

To confirm the cupcake convergence, two pieces of evidence: this blog post by Suzi Q. And I remembered the video "Lazy Sunday" which shows the Magnolia Bakery, also shown in Suzi's photo. So I'm not the only one who is cupcake crazy!!

Memo from Course Assessment

As some of you know, I (and some of you!) was lucky enough to participate in a course assessment in the past few days. Yes, it stretched out longer than expected with some of us bringing papers home to finish up. (But not until we'd self-medicated with vodka, watched some TV, slept a little, etc).
Here are some highlights from student prose that remind me of why teaching is often an (unintentionally) funny business.

• "Throughout time, students have always brought guns to school"
• "As I was in a situation where a drunken man holding a butterfly knife began to be irritated and angry"
• "all of which makes a paper sound like a symphony"
• "somewhat glib goes by many different names"
• "I would like to end here so that you may reflect"

I also learned that I should keep my big mouth shut and just nod and agree (I've learned this several times, but it hasn't taken yet!).

Also: I don't like reading student papers. Also: the smell of magic marker lingers on the papers and gives me a huge f*ing headache. I would like to convey more lessons I gleaned from this experience, but that may take some more vodka.

I will end here, so that you may reflect.

Not Funny

Am I the only person on the planet who didn't find Borat funny?
We started watching it last night. I didn't find anything about the opening village scene funny. The only funny thing in the first fifteen minutes was the chicken getting out of his suitcase on the subway. And the fact that most Americans threatened him with violence. That seemed like an insight into Ameircan culture.
But the rest of it was just stupid. "Let's make fun of retarded people! And Jews! And women!" Haven't heard that since, when, seventh grade?
I appreciate complex humor. Even simplistic humor done well. But this wasn't any of that.
So we turned it off (and returned it, promptly, to Netflix), and watched some TV. It's depressing. The success of "Borat" and the general stupidity of the evening news does not give me hope for the future of the American people.

We're Almost There....Where?

We can now see the light at the end of the tunnel. Is it an on-coming train? The happy light of the ever after?
It might, possibly, be the sun. Or maybe a funnel cloud of love and illumination. Or maybe it might just be the sneaking suspicion that all of humanity is not devoid of intelligent thought and compound-complex sentence structures. Maybe it's something like optimism.
Maybe it's an hallucinatory image of ourselves sitting in the cozy breakfast nook writing something that came out of our very own heads. Something we made up. Something strange and familiar. Something that makes us smile with its unpredictability. Something that scares us with its fierce insistence to be written.
Sigh.
Maybe it's just an idea. That would be novel.

Addictions

I'm addicted to the following things, in no particular order:

• Potato chips (specifically: salt & vinegar, thai spice)
• Chips and Salsa
• Avocados
• Thai Food
• American Idol (we will now celebrate the departure of Sanjaya. Yeah!!)
• Chocolate (dark)
• Red Wine
• Crossword puzzles/sudoku (alternately)
• Listening to music late at night on my iPod when I should be sleeping
• Procrastination
• Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies (in season)
• Rice
• Smoothies
• TV Shows that are in danger of being cancelled or that networks just stop showing (Love Monkey, Studio 60, Men in Trees)
• All of your blogs (you know who you are!!)
• Gossip (my new fave: Jake & Reese!)
• Imagining myself in really sexy outfits when I'm wearing khakis and tennis shoes (my uniform)
• Counter-transference
• Talking about stuff I really don't know about (Judith Butler?)
• Talking about all the stuff I'm working on when I'm really not doing anything
• Rewarding myself when I feel bad by eating bad stuff (see Potato Chips)
• End of the semester pep talks from self and MB ("It's all good! It's almost over!! Good job!!")
• Imagining dancing while listening to Shakira
• Protein
• Cookies
• Hugs from Son
• Sunshine
• Days with no school
• Saying I will do things that I'm not sure I can actually do (more on this after the 27th)
• Lists

Danger

In light of the shootings at Virginia Tech, I feel it is appropriate to reopen the question of guns in the classroom, something we've been discussing in our fair state for, oh, ever. But not only that. Not only guns on campus, because, as gun rights advocates state, even if we have rules, people will break them. But guns in general.
When I was on a ferry once from England to Ireland a nice man asked me "Why do Americans love guns so much?" What could I say? I'm an American. I don't love guns. He referred to a deadly school shooting in Scotland and said that less than a month afterwards it was more difficult to get a gun in Scotland. "Why doesn't America do that?" he asked. Why indeed.
But I've gotten off track. I meant to say that, as a teacher, I don't want to be afraid that a student who got a bad grade will hunt me down. I don't want to be afraid that a student will come in and threaten me with a gun. I don't want to be afraid that the classroom will not be a place for the free and open exchange of sometimes unpopular ideas because students are afraid that a peer might not agree and bring a gun.
As a parent, I'm afraid that my son will encounter a bully with a gun, or anyone with a gun, at his school. Probably not at the school he attends now, but he can't go there forever.
Even more, as an American, I'm sick of having to turn the channel when an ad for a violent TV show or movie comes on when I'm watching TV at 7 pm with my son. I'm sick of our culture that thinks killing and violence is entertaining. I'm sick of watching PG-13 movies that treat violence as an everyday occurrence that we should not react to with outrage and horror.
Show a nipple and you get an X rating. Show hundreds of people being murdered by machine gun fire, PG-13. (I don't know this for a fact, but based on my own movie viewing, this seems to be true).
What I'm really sick of is turning on the radio and hearing that someone, any one, the number does not matter, has been killed by another lunatic with a gun. I'm tired of gun rhetoric. I don't feel like I need a gun, and I sure as hell don't think anyone should be able to buy one at their local big box retailer.
I'm sick of lines like "guns don't kill people, people kill people." Sorry. A person without a gun is just an angry person. An angry person with a gun can kill someone. I can deal with an angry student. I do it more often than I'd like. An angry student with a gun is, unfortunately, sometimes a murderer.
My thoughts are with the survivors in Virginia. My thoughts can't do a lot. How about a law?

So It Goes

Kurt Vonnegut has died.
Here is where I would say something profound and beautiful about the myriad ways in which he shaped my aesthetic and helped me to become the writer and person I am today.
Let me just say that I read Slaughterhouse Five because my father told me that I should read every book that had ever been banned. I started with Slaughterhouse Five and I became addicted to Vonnegut. So I worked my way through many Vonnegut novels. I learned from him that a book can be funny and make a bold political statement. That it can be imaginative in the largest sense of the word and can say something huge about the way we live.
I think for me this is the first time I have confronted the death of one of my literary heroes. I definitely would not be a writer today if I had never read Slaughterhouse Five. Or Cats' Cradle. Or "Welcome to the Monkey House." My favorite for a while was a sappy little story called "A Long Walk to Forever." It is sappy, but kind of sweet.
Vonnegut is dead. Long live Vonnegut!

When the Goose is Away

I know that's not the phrase, but it's apt. This weekend while Middlebrow was pursuing his Tallness Studies, I bonded with the wee one. We played Sorry (he wins every time!), read a few chapters of The Incredible Journey, played baseball in the backyard, and let Gus tug us along for a walk.
I watched a girly movie, "The Holiday," which I actually liked for many reasons.

1. Cameron Diaz: despite myself, I'm starting to actually like her; see "In Her Shoes."
2. Jude Law: dimples. No explanation needed.
3. Kate Winslet: already liked her. still like her.
4. Jack Black: not overly jokey, for once. Great!
5. Adorable sub-plots: kids, old men.
6. Amanda (Diaz) makes movie trailers for a living. Sometimes she hears movie trailers for her own life in her head. Complete with the movie trailer voice guy. These were some of my favorite surprising moments. I want someone to make a movie trailer for my life!
7. Heart: Lately I just want a movie with heart. Some emotion. Down with irony and cynicism! I want my romantic comedies to be romantic and funny with happy endings.

I also managed to drink a little too much red wine (oops!) and stay up late listening to Justin Timberlake and Shakira (and the Dixie Chicks and Cheryl Crow) on my iPod while doing (actually, messing up) Sodoku.

I also discovered I make a terrible single mother because I forgot to do the Easter Bunny shopping and had to have a friend do it for me. Easter was made more fun by my mid-afternoon nap which made me late picking up Middlebrow from the airport. Luckily, in the spirit of Easter, he was forgiving.

Made the basic potatoes-lamb chops-green bean Easter dinner. All in all it was a fun weekend. Did I mention the bottle of pre-made Margaritas? No? Well, those were good too. And the first meeting of my uber-writing group. All good.

Now it's the mad dash/sprint/grading marathon to the finish line.

Alanis Morissette "My Humps"

I actually like the Blackeyed Peas version of this song (good for running), but hearing Alanis sing it makes you realize (once again) how ridiculous the lyrics are.
It's hilarious! Must watch!

Not Another Spring Sonnet

Inspired by the contest over at Prarie Home Companion, I decided to write a non-spring Spring poem. Plus I still owe Hightouchmegastore about 9 poems from September. Plus it is Poetry Month and I hear tell that several poets are doing NaPoWriMo. Not me, but someone, somewhere. So here it is. And forgive my wonky lines. It's my first poem since September!

So here’s your sonnet, without daffodils,
sentiment or rain. Lacking any reference to green,
anything floral, fecund, or new. Not full
of love or harmony or peace. Do I seem
bitter? I’m not. It’s just when the pollen
comes out, I sneeze, and then I think
of all the chores still to do, chairs to haul in,
grill to put out. My husband needs to fix the sink.
Also, my perennial failure to maintain a garden.
But too, I’m glad. For one thing, this year
I vowed to give up on a lush yard. In
winter it’s easy to do. But I’ll renege, I fear.
Because, once again, I love every growing thing.
Despite myself, in spring I love the spring.

So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright

I've had that song in my head ever since I got back from Spring Break, where I visited Taliesin West, Frank Lloyd Wright's haven in the desert. The development in Scottsdale is so insane that it almost reaches out to the site. But when he bought the land (in 1937) there was no running water, no electricity, no road. He's spinning in his grave!
But the place was gorgeous, and the structures amazing. FLW was way before his time. He would be happy now, with the developments in environmental architecture and what not. But I had a good time. My father and I went on the "Behind the Scenes" tour, which included a snack inside the dining room, and several talks by intimates of FLW. What sticks with me is that FLW said that "architecture is frozen music" (actually I think someone else said it and he was just fond of it) and that architectural fellows used to be asked to bring a musical instrument and a formal outfit. Every once in a while they had big dinners and the fellows provided all the entertainment. That was back in the day when people were well-rounded. Now we just want to be good at one thing.
I'm in a bit of architecture obsession. I'm reading Devil in the White City, which Frank Lloyd Wright appears in, however briefly. The book has a lot of architecture big wigs in it (Olmstead, Sullivan), which I didn't know. Of course it makes sense, but I wasn't aware before I started reading it. The book combines two of my major obsessions: architecture and crime.
My obsession with architecture really has to do with an essay project I'm researching, but not really working on yet. It's called First Person Spaces, and it connects to the stuff I've done before, but I want to do a more sustained project, maybe linked stories and at least one essay.
I appreciate all the comments (two) about my blog silence. I've been busy and tired. Doing what, you might ask. Who knows? So far I know I'm not allergic to wheat, corn or tomatoes. I'm not allergic to decaf coffee. I've snuck in some beer and wine. I also ate three vegan cookies at a potluck and I didn't die. So I guess I'm okay. Slated for this week: oats, yeast, and maybe butter. I'll let you know. I have two boxes of Girl Scout Cookies in the freezer that call to me incessantly. The prognosis is not good.
On the up side, I did run a few times and I'm sore! I've also done yoga. Also sore.
I love you all, my pretties.