Welcome Home Lucy!

Lucy contracted Parvo - a nasty puppy virus that has serious potential to kill - and has been staying at the vet's for the last two nights with an IV in her arm to give her fluids. But today she gets to come home again! The clinic has taken great care of her so she's doing well and her strength is back. We've missed her around here!

I've decided I never want to raise another puppy.

Lucy is still working on potty training, leash training, gathering enough courage to run down the stairs, and learning not to chew Mom's favorite dress shoes. Meanwhile, we haven't had to go through any of this in a year and a half because Radley is that much older and has it all down pat. I didn't realize how wonderful it was that we had a dog in our house who knew where things were kept, how to get himself put outside, what to do when there's a problem, and how to behave when we have company over.

Having Lucy around has made me realize that when we finally decide we're ready to have kids, we're having them close together. I do not want to get one kid trained to not pee on the carpet and not chew my shoes just to turn around and start it all over again years later.

Women's Fitness Celebration

Yesterday, Kathy and I did the Women's Fitness Celebration - a 5k around downtown Boise that raises money for local non-profit groups. This year the 5k became the largest 5k in the nation with more than 14,000 women and girls participating.

The energy was incredible and the whole event was just fun. Kathy and I are already planning to do another 5k next month. We ended up running the whole thing, even though neither of us thought we would. I think it has psyched K up for his half marathon in November too. Who knows - maybe I'm becomming a runner!

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

Her name is Lucy.

Yesterday I took her to the pet supply shop to pick her up a toy that is just hers. While there, a little girl - no more than five years old - sat on the floor and started playing with and petting my new pup.

"Good gir, Lucy," the girl said. "I love you, Lucy. Your fur is sooooo soft, Lucy."

Hearing my pup being referred to by a name was odd, since she didn't yet have one.

"We haven't given her a name yet," I told the little girl with red hair. "Are you calling her Lucy because you think she looks like a Lucy?"

From her cross-legged position on the cement floor of Zamzow's, the girl looked up at me with wide eyes and nodded. In a tone that indicated that I should have known better, she said, "That's her name."

When I relayed the story to K, he said, "Well, if that's her name then I guess that's what we should call her. Welcome to the family, Lucy!"

Thank you, stranger child, for naming our new puppy.

Radley's little sister.

K and I went to the Hyde Park Street Fair today - just an annual neighborhood event where businesses and vendors set up in the park and hippies peddle their wares. The Human Society was there with a 12-week old border collie pup who we fell in love with. We've been talking a little about getting Radley a playmate - especially now that we're both away from home more often during the day - but never did anything fairly serious about it. But when we met her, we thought maybe she was the one. We came home and picked up Radley so he could meet her and took him back to the park. They seemed to get along all right and there was no outward hostility - plus, she seemed to remember me and K when we returned.

So...Long story short, we brought her home with us today.



She's had a long day, so she's in the front room sleeping on the carpet.



I think she may also be resting from Radley picking on her so much already.



She was trying to cuddle Radley in the car on the way home, almost leaning over to him and sleeping on his shoulder. He just looked at me as if to say, "Mom, please make her stop. She's touching me!" So far she seems to be fitting in well. I'm sure she and Radley have a lot of figuring out to do, but they'll make it.

Obviously, we don't yet have a name for her. We've kicked around a few ideas, but nothing that has really jumped out at us yet. We figure that the perfect name will just come to us like an epiphany while meandering through the forest. Or something like that.

Just call me Doc.

Sandra told me about a marathon in Boise and so I told K about it. K is up to the challenge. He's going to start off with running a half marathon this first time to see how he likes it and then will perhaps work his way toward a full marathon. The first event is the City of Trees Marathon and Half Marathon on November 5. To make sure K is prepared for the event, I have taken on the role of his personal trainer. I created a training schedule based on research I have conducted on line through a multitude of marathon training websites that should increase his stamina and endurance enough in the following eight weeks for him to sustain a decent time during the event. We have no goals just yet since yesterday was technically the first day of training, but will evolve them soon. This is exciting for both of us: he likes to push his body and I like to stretch my brain. We both get something out of marathon training! I'll be working out with him and running with him, of course, but I'm undecided about attempting the race. I may sit this one out as the cheerleader and try the next one. I'm much more comfortable with that process rather than just jumping in.

Since I've taken on the Yoda role in this process, K has made a joke of calling me Doc, from the old Nintendo boxing video game Punch Out.



I think there's a direct resemblance, don't you?

I had to dry my clothes in the dryer today.

The fires around Boise are so bad right now that I haven't seen the sky in a week - maybe longer. For the last couple nights, the moon appeared in the sky as a bright orange ball and last night during sunset the sun peeked through the haze for a brief ten minutes, fuschia and not at all painful to stare into because of the thick layer of burnt trees in the air. Everything now reeks of campfires, only without the added bonus of toasted marshmallows and chocolate. For probably two weeks now there has been a mandatory no-burn regulation instituted in the area and last week they started advising against small children or the elderly being outside or anyone who has asthma. The Boise school district cancelled all outdoor sports practices all week.

All this also means that I could not use the gentle breeze and waning summer sun to dry my clothes today, lest they should all emit a burnt-tree odor as well.

Where is my blue Boise sky? Where is my comforting mountain-inspired air? Come back freshness! Return to me clarity! Wash over me with your opennes and let me inhale your cleanliness!

25

K took me to Portland for the weekend; he surprised me with the trip for my birthday. On Friday evening we hung out with his parents and went to the best Mexican restaurant in the universe. Saturday was his family's annual men's golf tournament, so he participated in that and ended up in a tie for third - which is great considering he's only golfed four times since we met. Sunday morning he woke me up a little before five and drove me out to the middle of nowhere. It was worth it. We went on a hot air balloon ride over the area.



We were up in the air for about an hour. After that his parents met us for a tour of eight wineries in the Wilamette valley.



Then he and I went to an old historic hotel for the night. First we took a nap but when we woke up we toured the hotel learning about its history chronicled in the art pieces that cover the place. Monday was his parents' annual Labor Day BBQ so we hung out with the family and visited. And then we're back this morning. It was a very full weekend, but it was tremendous fun. Thanks to everyone who remembered me on my 25th birthday with phone calls and text messages - Bethany (always the first one), Tera, Rheanon, Mom et al., and Patri. Special thanks to K's family for the celebration and to Kathy for remembering me all the way from her Chicago vacation. But the biggest thanks ever goes to K, the amazing planner of surprises.

How does language shape us?

My class blog is up and running, if anyone wants to check it out: How does language shape us?. My students this semester are far more on top of posting comments than my students were last semester. So far they're even more on top of it than I am. I think this group this semester is going to keep me on my toes.

Thanks

Thanks to my wonderful, amazing and loving husband, I had the best surprise birthday party of my whole life last night - a luau theme with tons of friends and my crazy family. My brothers and my neice shot everyone with marshmallow guns (I just finished cleaning the remaining marshmallow residue off my hardwood floors) and the boys wrestled with all Kelly's fraternity brothers. Denisha stole drinks from people when they weren't paying attention, but my mom said she didn't appear to have a hangover this morning. I found out that a great number of people have been hiding party plans from me and lying to me for a couple weeks. I like that they would go to those lengths for me; it makes me feel loved. Thanks also to Vince who worked for me last night. Evidently he knew why he was working for me, but never let on either.

Check-up

So sorry about the humongoid size of all those photos. I don't like the way blogger loads photos (because it in fact doesn't load them at all) so I did it another way that evidently posts the pictures in astronomical proportions.

Monday was the first day of school. I guess I'll like my classes all right. It almost seems at this point that the classes are just there as filler, reinforcing things we've already learned in other classes. Being in a cohort-type atmoshpere, even though it isn't an actual cohort, is really cool because I have many of the same people in many of my classes. Sandra, my super cool office mate and friend, is in all my classes (or is hoping to be if that tricky linguistics course works out right), which I love because that gives me an excuse to spend more time with her and therefore make us better friends. It's very different from the classes that I teach; in the grad courses when someone isn't there, there's at least two other people in the class who know why that person isn't there and what that person is up to and whether or not the teacher can expect to see that person in the future. In the beginning writing classes that I teach, no one knows anyone else and they all give me the impression that they couldn't care less about it.

Teaching is going well. My 102 class seems well-integrated into the school atmosphere already. My 101 class, however, has no idea how to behave in the college setting; they're still very high school-ish about things. I'm just looking at it as good training for my future as a high school or middle school teacher.

My spirits are up lately about being able to find a job next year. A few days ago I searched some of the district sites for this area. Many of them list no job openings, which I expected since school starts next week, but a couple of them still have the job postings on there from last year. The good news is that in the Meridian disctrict they hired six or seven (I can't remember now) English teachers and I know through the grapevine that the Boise district hired around that many also. And for all the high school listings, they state that they would prefer to hire someone who has experience working with at-risk kids. I have more experience working with at-risk kids through the shelter than anyone I know. I think I don't have as much to worry about as I once thought I did.

And on a final note, I have no idea where my comments section went. It disappeared when I posted those monstrously-sized photos. Maybe they'll turn up again soon.

One more final note...Thanks to K, who bought me a wildflower bouquet yesterday for my first day teaching.

Not since I was sixteen...

Yesterday, K and I went shopping for one pair of jeans each so that we have a nice new pair - me for school and him for work.

Well, I chose a random pair from the clearance rack at Banana that looked like nice jeans and weren't faded or pretorn, since those are the only kinds I can wear in a public school. I was skeptical, but K told me to just try them because at some point soon I will be able to wear eights again and I may as well see what they're like. Besides, he thought they would fit. Upset and prepared for a massive disappointment, I dragged them into the fitting room with me. But, to my amazement, they slipped on with no problem! They didn't gape in the back and they hugged without suffocating!

I haven't worn a size eight since I was sixteen. Lately, though, we've become so heavily involved with bettering our health and bettering our bodies that, like I said, we've trimmed and toned all over. We don't eat a lot of sugar, we never just sit and watch television, we work out every day, we use our bikes for transportation whenever humanly possible, we limit our drinking, we lift weights and we encourage each other daily to practice healthy lifestyle behaviors. It has been fabulous and it is just getting better.

This isn't so much about getting skinny as it is being healthy - so I don't want to hear from anyone that I didn't need to lose weight in the first place. True, I was and still am right about at a healthy weight. The problem that got me started paying attention was that my body fat percentage was a little too high, I didn't watch my sugar and fat intake like I should, and I was inconsistent about working out and lifting weights.

I look at my parents and I see two fat people, even though neither one of them is particularly over weight - especially my mother. I look at my whole family and I see a bunch of people who are incredibly out of shape and I know that as they age, their bodies will get sicker and less able to perform normal tasks. I don't want this for myself. I am still young enough that I can change my entire life by starting with my current lifestyle. I can make sure that I am healthy and prepared and I can get my body into a condition where it feels good all the time, not sluggish or out of sync with reality. I can tone up and lose unnecessary body fat that just gets in the way when I try on jeans and overall makes me feel down about myself. I can train myself to run faster and longer. I can build myself up to be able to lift my own suitcase into the overhead compartment on the airplane without heaving and without assistance. And I can still not understand all those people who tell me they can't live without soda pop, Easter candy and hamburger helper.

Plus, in a few years I would like to start having children and I know that being pregnant takes a definite toll on a woman's body. The weight of the baby and the physical strain on every aspect of a woman's health makes it difficult for many women to make it through pregnancy (and delivery) without too much pain, increasing irritability in both mother and father. Plus, as I get older before getting pregnant, it will be harder to lose the baby fat and regain my pre-pregnant figure. I refuse to be that woman who carries baby weight for the rest of her life, along with the flabby skin and stretch marks that won't ever go away. I refuse to give up on myself and instead donate every part of my personal humanity to my newborn child. What good is that baby's life if its mother is no longer a person, but instead a parasitic host?

I can think of no better way to be healthy and in shape later and for the rest of my life than to be healthy and in shape now. So here's to my all those people who say that it's too hard to "stick to a diet" whily they have a silver spoonful of triple ripple fudge sickle ice cream in their drooling mouths. You're all motivation to me.

T minus one measley week

Ahhhhh! School officially starts in a week from yesterday and I start teaching in a week from today. And I have no syllabus for my 102 class! That's my goal for this evening, but so many other things would be cooler to do...and I have no idea how I want to frame the class still! But I NEED to get it done! And blogging about it isn't getting me any closer to finished...

Diplomacy

Last weekend at our bed and breakfast we received quite the earfull from the proprietor about her gay neighbors.

Evidently, the two men moved in next door a year ago. They claim that she built on the property line and she claims that they have spread rumors about her around town and have stolen some of her irrigation water. To seal the deal, the two men built a pig pen on her side of their property, right behind the bathroom windows of two rooms in her bed and breakfast.

Saturday morning at breakfast when Sharon was relaying this story to me and Kelly in addition to a couple from Colorado, she explained that they were "like this" because they are gay - which means they're "just weird." Evidently, the fact that they're gay means - in her world - that everything is off in their world, that every abnormality in their lives is explainable by their sexual orientation. Hardly the time or place for a lecture or debate on acceptance, tolerance and bigotry (and not wanting to offend Kelly by being outspoken, as has happened in the past), I turned back around in my seat and finished my breakfast in silence, unable to acknowledge Sharon after that except to thank her for the meal. The other gentleman did the same. Kelly and the other woman did a nice job of continuing the conversation, which had grown tangibly awkward among those of us at the table, even though Sharon didn't seem to notice. I was intensely impressed (an perhaps a little envious) with the woman's ability to ask diplomatic questions and respond with nonapproving, yet nonjudgemental replies. The meal ended abruptly when Kelly "suddenly" realized that it was time for us to go to meet our river guides.

Before we left on Sunday, Kelly wrote Sharon a note of thanks for her hospitality that weekend and left a post script that said: Good luck with the situation with your neighbors. Take it easy on their lifestyle. We all need a little understanding now and then. I hope sincerely that Sharon reads this and thinks to herself "You know, maybe this is right. And you know what else? Maybe I need a little more understanding and maybe I'd like to be a little better understood." I doubt it, but I do hope that our attempt at diplomacy reaches her somewhere where she houses some openness and free thought.

Hooray for Tera and Salmon!

Hooray for Tera! She brought her crochet hooks to work today so that I could borrow one to finish my blanket that I started seven years ago because I lost the one hook that I have. I was going to continue my granny square until it was a good size for a bed, but I'm stopping at the end of my current skein instead. It's about the size of a baby blanket. Since I expect that some day down the road I will have a baby, it will be appropriate to have a blanket on hand. Besides, I've had an unfinished blanket sitting around doing nothing for seven years; I may as well keep a finished blanket for a few more years.

Hooray for Salmon! Kelly and I leave tomorrow for Salmon in eastern Idaho for a weekend at a bed and breakfast and a raft trip down the Salmon River. It will be so great to have a little break and see a new part of the state.

Six seconds of my life

The woman next to me has an answer - the answer.

Excitedly, she raises her arm and her high-pitched, Fran Drescher voice rings out: "Well, this is our brain expert right here. Go ahead, tell him what you told me." Her left hand made contact with my right shoulder in an effort of encouragement and her head nodded wildly, lightly curled hair bobbing in tandem against her forehead. Yes, I told her a little about basic brain structures. Yes, I revealed to her that I majored in psychology. Yes, I told her that I once held a research assistantship with the Idaho Neurological Institute. But this was during our peer time, during our group discussion time. This wasn't during the time that I was trying to show off or stand out. This wasn't information I intended to share with thirty other adults - thirty strangers - with whom I just wanted more than anything to belong, to fit in. I just wanted to be one of them - to be like them - not to be a wild individual capable of standing up to the teacher.

But the teacher, in response to the words "expert" and "go ahead" without a raised hand, but instead with a loud and excited voice, walked three steps in the direction of our table, eyebrows raised, nose pointed at my nose. He said nothing. He merely looked. He looked at me. He expected me to speak. He expected me to share wisdom with the rest of the class, perhaps wisdom he did not already contain or wisdom that would provide him with new information or a new perspective.

As the blood rushed to my head, warming my core and flushing my cheeks it brought a rush of thought to the forefront of my mind. None of it an answer. Nothing brilliant. All of it excuses for why I should not talk.

I don't know what she's talking about. I'm no expert. I was only a psychology major. My natural emphasis was in English - that's why I am here! My assistantship was only for a summer. And I never actually saw any brains. I was stuck in a lab the whole time reading old charts and stuffy medical books. I don't want to speak out. I don't want to speak up. I don't want to show off my knowledge. I just want to fit in, to be part of the crowd today. This is inappropriate. I don't even know what she is talking about. Wait, I can't say that. I can't give him an excuse. Look at him, his eyebrows are raised. He's waiting for something from me. Is he waiting for me to say something stupid? Is he waiting for me to correct him? Is he trying to check my arrogance? My creativity? My experience? My legitimacy? I have to say something. Say it like a student. Include her in the answer. If I include her in the answer, it isn't all about me and I stand out less.

I straightened up slightly in my chair, sweating in my tank top in the ice cold room, and opened my mouth to deliver what I hoped would sound like an eloquntly prepared response.

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BSWP

I recently took a class that was far more like summer camp than a class. Sandra, who mentioned it in a comment below, was my only saving grace in this endeavor. It was three weeks of people crying, talking about their miracle children (who were just normal kids with nothing special to boast), musing about their miracle spouses (who were just normal spouses with nothing special to boast), making "Where are the tissues?" jokes, turning EVERYTHING into some sort of sexual innuendo, and extolling the rejuvenating, inspirational qualities of the class. It was wretched. On the final day of class, it took them two full hours to say good bye to each other. Everyone needed thanked, and hugged and then someone had to take a picture and then someone else had something touching to say and then the box of tissues needed to be found and another "Where are the tissues?" joke erupted among the masses. For so much time during this class, I was acutely aware of the minutes of my life I was wasting - the minutes that I would never, never see again. There was some learning - about three hours a day after the first three days - but even that was touch and go. I took the class because a professor I trust told me that I would absolutely love it and that it would be instrumental in my teaching career. I took it because he somehow had me fooled into thinking it was free - something I learned was contrary to the truth 90% of the way through the class. But alas, it is over and I will never have those three weeks or that $700 again. And if someone sees this "internship credit" on my transcript or resume when I apply for teaching positions, what will I say to them? I will tell them it was inspirational, one of the most influential classes of my college career that has truly shaped the way I instruct a classroom.

I can understand why people like morphine.

Saturday I came down with the worst case of the stomach flu known to man. Since then, my days have been filled with sleeping, Kelly catering to my every need, sleeping, and trying to choke down a 200-per-day calorie diet. Add to that abdominal pains and the gross effects of the stomach flu and you have a fairly accurate idea of my misery lately. Sunday night Kelly and I went to the hospital because I was getting worse and was in such agony with pain and the inability to maintain even the smallest amount of water. They gave me morphine...atop other things that helped. It took away the pain and placed me in a happy, hazy place where I slept in utter content. There were no worries. All I knew was that Kelly was next to me and I was comfortable for the first time in two days. It was bliss.

So the next time you get down on that old woman who lives three houses away because she can't live without her next morphine fix, just understand that she's in a far, far better place than you could ever offer her for that length of time and smile knowing that she's happy and sleepy and has too little energy or care to fret over you.

Radley's brush with the afterlife.

Friday, we went camping with some friends up in Stanley. Saturday afternoon we went mountain biking with said friends on a pretty easy trail. Since it was supposed to be an easy trail we took Radley with us because we always take him to do stuff like that with us. We're always taking him trail running or biking with us and when we play ball with him it's for sometimes more than an hour and sometimes in the direct sun. But Saturday was not a good day for the pup. When we got about a mile into the ten-mile trail, Radley went kaput. We had stopped for a drink so I poured him a drink too. But he was all off balance and his eyes weren't focusing on anything - not even me and Kelly, who were talking to him and telling him to drink water. I told Kelly we needed to get him out of there so Kelly left his bike, picked up Radley, and started running down the mountain. Through our own fear and the help of a friend we were able to get Radley to the bottom of the hill and into the airconditioned car in about ten minutes and both my bike and Kelly's bike into the back of another friend's pickup. Through a scary course of events that included more help from the awesome lady at the emergency clinic in Stanley, my nursing skills and Kelly's mad driving skills, we got Raddogg to a vet who said that he had recovered just fine. The vet said that Radley had heat exhaustion - borderline heat stroke - and that it sounded like he had had a seizure when we were carrying him down the hill. But he promised us that everything with Radley was back to normal and that he was again a healthy functioning dog. After we left the vet's office, Kelly and I realized just how scared we had been because we felt the release of the stress. Radley slept the hour-long drive back to the camp site and Kelly and I breathed for the first time since Rad fell. He's precious, our boy.

For ethnic diversity in Boise, visit Lucky Peak on a Sunday in June.

Yesterday, Kelly and I rode our bikes up to Lucky Peak and back. Afterward, Kelly looked at Google Earth and decided that that means we could have ridden to my mom's house and back, distance-wise. It is about 11 miles each way. The ride was awesome. It took an hour each way - an hour that had us traversing some of the valley's most beautiful sights. We found out new things about this path we'd traveled so many times by car and saw old things in a new way. With the sun above us all day, we pedaled and pedaled. We stopped at Lucky Peak, at lunch and ventured into the freezing water before heading home. It was quite the workout and so enjoyable in so many ways.

Oh, and the whole point of this was to say that there were more groups of non-American ethnicities than at any other place in Boise that I have ever seen. There were Spanish-speaking families, families from India, and one family speaking perhaps Portugese. There were people from all over the globe at Lucky Peak yesterday. It was so wonderful to hear so many different languages and see such varied skin tones and think "I'm still in Boise."

Summer 2006

So far, I would characterize this summer as taking place at the shelter. I've been working so much that I'm starting to feel like I should just move in. I'm at a point with it, though, that I'm stressed out and have told my supervisor to cut my shifts back before I go looney.

Last week, Kelly and I went camping with Radley. It was our first official family camping trip. We camped in Stanley in the Sawtooth Mountains. It turns out that the night we were up there, Stanley recorded the coldest temperature for the entire nation. I suppose that's why the night was more about staying warm than sleeping and why our little shivering puppy climbed up between us to sleep. And why we let him.

I'm currently taking a class with teachers from across the state learning how to be better teachers. I'm the youngest person in the class, which is bizarre for me because I'm seldom the youngest anywhere I go. I'm usually in the same age group or I'm older. I grew up as the oldest sibling. I work with teenagers. In this class, the next oldest person is at least ten years older than me, and some people are 30 to 40 years older than me. It sort of makes me feel awkward, like they're all looking at me as though I'm one of their students, or at least in the same age group. I feel like they don't take me seriously and don't expect that I have anything to add to a conversation about teaching. Kelly says it's good for me to be out of my comfort zone a bit. I just want to learn and have the class be over.

Parents are big, fat liars.

I'm not just talking about my parents here – I'm talking about all parents.

First of all, parents tell their kids that a fat, happy man in a red suit will bring them every material possession their little heart desires if they behave. Yes folks, I'm talking about Santa Claus. The idea of it all is a little scary, if you think about it. There's this old man who watches all the children of the world, ensuring that their behavior warrants such gifts as remote control cars and Barbie mansions. Does that make Santa a pedophile or God? And the stories parents create surrounding the jolly fellow! When I was about five or six we lived in an apartment building. This created problems for me, since in our apartment building we had no chimney and in every single Santa story, he lands on the rooftop and slides down the chimney with his bag of goodies. My father, always quick on his mental feet, concocted a tale to calm his stressed and worried daughter. He told me that those stories were written a long time ago before apartments existed and that with the development of time Santa had to be more proactive about getting to children in places where chimneys were not installed. And so, Santa started carrying keys to everyone's apartments. Then I asked him how Santa knew which key went to which apartment because that is a LOT of keys to keep straight, even just for our complex. This is when my father ceased to be logical about it and resorted to the cure-all answer for kids: the keys are magic keys.

Skipping over the lot of the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and all Disney-reincarnated princes and princesses with magic springing eternal, here's another big parent lie: hiccoughs mean you're growing. I remember growing quite stressed when hiccoughs came to afflict my spasming abdomen because I did not want to grow that much. I had fearful daydreams about being this incredible expanding woman whose height would rival that of the Eiffel Tower. I would stomp around the world a complete anomaly, as people ran for their lives a la King Kong films and the media guys would scramble for a good shot of me eating men in three-piece business suits or trying to nestle myself length-wise across the Golden Gate Bridge for an afternoon nap. It didn't dawn on me until later - probably when I was about six or seven - that adults hiccough too and that if hiccoughs actually meant you were growing, we would all be gargantuan, making my crater-causing exploits around Europe a completely normal event.

How about the good ol' Your Face Will Freeze If You Make That Face Again ploy? Or my personal favorite, the Be Nice To Your Brother Or One Day He’ll Grow Up To Be Bigger Than You And Then He’ll Be Able To Beat You Up And Then You’ll Be Sorry warning? And I'm sure that, if polled, the majority of people my age would remember being told to eat the heels of the loaf of bread because "they're good for you. Those two pieces have the most vitamins." Which is a load of crap, by the way. The ends of the loaf of bread have no more or no less vitamins than the rest of the loaf of bread - including the crusts on the outside of the inner, most delicious part of the bread. Besides, to all parents who thought that telling kids to eat something because it has more vitamins would make that food item more delectable: You're nuts. The ONLY thing that makes vitamins at all appealing to kids is when they come in pastel colors and are shaped like Flintstones characters. In which case, give me a Betty Rubble any day. But the browned outer part of a loaf of bread? Come on. You can be more creative than that.

If anyone reading this has some examples of Lies Parents Tell, please share them here - whether you’re remembering your parents' lies or you're a parent coming clean on some of your own lies. I'm not a parent yet, but I'm sure I'll tell my future kids plenty of lies. I'm a big fat liar today as it is. I won't tell my children the lies around holidays (Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc.) or about religion (down with Judeo-Christian righteousness) or about vitamin stores in bread crusts, but I'm sure I'll develop a few good ones. Maybe I'll tell my children they were adopted and that they should start looking for their birth mother. Or maybe I'll tell them that if they ride a bike too fast they'll hit the speed of light and find themselves on Mars and that the people who live on Mars are evil cannibals who like to feast on the eyeballs of earthlings. I don't know...Just a start.

Drinking Red Bull at 3 a.m. makes me nauseous.

I don't even know if I spelled that right. Usually, when I want to say nauseated, I say nauseated because I'm unsure of the spelling of nawshus but I don't care enough to look it up.

I think that people should not own guns. I think that if people do own guns they should be kept unloaded out in the garage or on a shelf in the shed. It cracks me up when people in the country keep loaded guns under their beds so that they can protect their home if necessary. I live in the middle of the city, not far from downtown, and have never wished there was a live rifle under my bed. How many people break into homes in the country? I would venture a very, very low guess. Criminals are lazy. Why hit one house in the middle of nowhere rather than four or five apartments in one night? Besides, people in the country aren't usually rich enough to leave Granny's antique pearls lying next to their HDTV and a Rolex resting on a wad of cash. I also think that people should not own deer-and-antler hat racks.

More people should ride bikes around town. It's awesome exercise and it's way, way cheaper than visiting Chevron three times a month. We're down to filling our car about once a month. I would ride my bike to work, but I work really odd hours, making one trip inevitably in the dark on a poorly-lit, five-mile path.

Along the lines of being active, Kelly and I are keeping up with this lifestyle change to eat better and to exercise a bunch. I have lost a solid seven pounds and a couple inches all over. I'm starting to notice other women's arms and how it's rare for women to have great arms. Usually they're flabby and not toned. Mine are almost visibly tone even when I'm not flexing. I've lost my muffin top and the little dimples on the backs of my thighs are disappearing. Kelly's belly is nearly non-existent and he's increased his shoulder and arm size so much that when he went in for a tux fitting today the guy told him that they don't have anything that will correctly fit his large shoulders and small waist. It's super easy to trim down and the payoffs are amazing!

We get to go to Portland this weekend and Rex has already promised a trip to the world's best Mexican restaurant. I've been wanting to eat there for about a month now - since we started planning for the trip.

Nighttime Bike Ride

Kelly and I attended a show near downtown tonight (Thanks, Kathy!) to which we rode our bikes. Then we decided to ride around downtown for a little while. I have to admit that at first I was not at all excited about the extra riding. I slept for about four hours last night and was up this morning at five. I'm tired. But, Kelly was thrilled about a little downtown exploration so I went along trying to let him think that I was looking forward to it as much as he was.

It wasn't long, though, before I became equally enthralled with the bike ride. We rode close to the overflowing Boise River, which is, I think, still at flood capacity for the first time since (I'm trying to remember from old news reports I heard weeks ago when the flooding began so don't hate me if my statistic is wrong) the 70s. We crossed a pedestrian-only bridge that I have never before traversed - mainly because I have been so dependent on my car for so long - and passed places I have only ever before passed at 30 miles an hour. Downtown I saw new shops I never knew existed, old shops I would like to visit again, and people all over having a good time. I felt cracks in the pavement in a way I have never felt before, because to me on my bike above the rubber tires, they were entirely new cracks. The night air was warm with a cool edge to it and periodicaclly the sky would light up with a flash of lightening, signaling the storm the weather forecasters predicted this morning would come and that I have doubted all day.

Tonight I felt alive. It made me feel alive to see my city in a new way, to be out carelessly riding with Kelly, aiming only for around the corner. Sometimes I think I strive too much to get somewhere, without taking the time to just live. Tonight I lived. I loved. I felt. I sensed. I didn't worry about being tired or wanting to take a shower or being fearful of riding near traffic. I let all that go, opened my eyes and breathed. It was a breath that filled me with itchy-eye allergens, but filled me nonetheless. Now I am full...and ready for a few drops of Visine and a good night's sleep.

I rode my bike home slowly today.

I enjoyed the feeling of the slight breeze mixing with the setting sun. I felt the sway of the bike with the grain of the sidewalk and the thrust of my pedals. My semester - the semester I never thought would end - is finally over, with the exception of grading, which will take all of 20 minutes and is something I find infinitely more enjoyable than writing papers or taking tests.

My computer and I will be going through a trial separation soon. It won't last long - only a couple days, I'm sure - but there will be a small separation. Lately, I have been feeling chained to it, as though it is my only friend in the world and is the only place for me to be. Except that it has been a matter of necessity rather than want...which is why we're going to have a trial separation. Our relationship has just gotten to be too much for me lately - too much to handle. There are too many obligations and expectations with my computer. I'm starting to feel like it won't allow me contact with my friends any more and like it's dictating how I spend all my time. Pretty soon it will start telling me what to wear and what not to say and will get pissy about our level of physical affection in public and I don't know if I can take all that, honestly. So for a few days, I will just steer clear, spending my time doing other things, things that don't involve my computer. I think that when we get back together again we'll have a different understanding, a new definition of the boundaries of our relationship. I have hope.

Lucky 13

If anyone is looking for a great pizza spot in Boise, Lucky 13 is the place to be. It's in Hyde Park across from Little Richard's and features some of the tastiest pies around.

I'm sick of complaining about school.

I feel like there isn't a whole lot else going on right now, though.

I don't seem to have a witty remark about things in my day any more sometimes. I think maybe I've lost my edge, like there's no more edge left to be had.

What if that is true? What if there are no more witty and thoughtful remarks left in me? What if I am destined to be an old, boring woman for the rest of my life with no spunk left in me? What if that started at the ripe old age of 24 and eight months? How did I let myself get to this point?

Will this generalize to what I can respond to? Will I cease to find humor in classics such as A Modest Proposal and South Park? How will I spend the remainder of my days? Being a literature teacher will surely have its drawbacks on this one. I will no longer be able to recognize the sarcasm in a Brautigan poem or the poignancy in a Faulkner novel or the social commentary in a Doors album. My classes will be a drag for students. I will be the teacher they warn future generations about in yearbooks and on myspace. "Don't take that Mrs. H," they'll say. "She just doesn't get it any more."

Soon, I shall spend my days searching for that which I am certain I once had. Perhaps I'll find it under the couch or at the bottom of the bread bag all covered in crumbs. While I look I will be lost in a frenzy of uncertainty and confusion. I might do things like dress like Britney Spears and go out downtown with my cooler-than-I'll-ever-be friends or maybe I'll start sleeping on benches in the library.

In a pinch, I could rip off something from the Boise Weekly writer Bingo Barnes and try to pass it off as my own. I doubt anyone would notice and I bet he wouldn't care. He could charge me royalties for writing term papers and daily scripts and I could plead temporary insanity and he could take pity on my eternal soul and lift the couch as I peer under, looking for my commentary on life. Without help, I'll probably be able to write about nothing again except my dog or the fact that I spent all day sitting on my porch or the aggrivations I have with school. But that's boring...so I'll keep searching...and searching...

When I find my commentary on life again, what will I do with it? Will I even know how it works any more? Or will it be rusted with neglect and stiff with unuse? Will it talk back to me, telling me I don't know anything and that it wants to be its own person or will it sit obstinately, refusing to budge despite my pleas and dark chocolate bribes? Will it have shrunk because of sitting still for so long? Or will it have grown on its own, without my help or awareness?

*sigh*

So much to consider. In the meantime, I'm ready for school to be out and my dog is really cool. I would spend more time outside, but I have a mess of work to do at my desk and it's too cold outside still to really enjoy myself. Soon, I'll be on my stomach in the living room, though, peering under all the furniture.

Ideas

I have had some great ideas lately that I think are ways to solve everyone's problems. Or, at least, some people's problems. Here are just a few of my brilliant plans lately.

I think that Kelly should write to random politicians throughout the country telling them that if they do not send him $1000 by June 1 then he will share conclusive evidence with the politicians' spouses that the politician has cheated within their marriage. Now, the particulars of this plan are not completely worked out. We would, of course, need to figure out how the $1000 should be mailed because it needs to be done in a fashion that will not let the feds trace it back to Kelly. Cash is a bad idea...Maybe a money order. If Kelly were to obtain a pseudonym and a fake ID to match, he could cash the money orders at one of those check cashing places. Sure, they would take a cut, but it's money that isn't Kelly's to begin with anyway. Also, there's the idea that politicians are public figures and their extramarital affairs have probably already been made public, so Kelly may want to target CEOs instead - basically, other rich people who have extra time on their hands, therefore giving them the ability to have an affair. Then there's also the factor of how many letters to send out. I think they should all be mailed at the same time and done only once. Sending out too few may not yield a good return, but sending out too many could make him suspicious. So if he sends them out nation-wide, I think that he could get away with sending about 200. Of course, that also depends on how many CEOs there are in the country. I haven't done my homework on that one. As you can see, this plan is still in the planning stages.

We have a friend who sells stuff at the Saturday market downtown every Saturday morning. We saw him there last week and he said that being there meant that he couldn't have any late Friday nights. I told him that he should just keep his wares in his car and sleep on a park bench when he was out late on Fridays. He could dress in tattered clothes so everyone thought he was a bum and then no one would bother him. In the morning he could just throw on his selling clothes and be off. It would save him so much time in transportation alone.

I think that people should be born into a commune and given a stellar education. Then, at nine years of age, people could apply to live in whatever country they wanted. Each country would run on a fairly socialist system and have quotas to meet for population spread. For instance, they could only have a certain amount of wealth, a certain percentage of women and men, a certain percentage of each race and disability and IQ. You get the picture. At first, people may not want to live in places like Somalia because of the natural predisposition to thinking of it as a bad place to be, but after all the previously developed countries were full then people would realize that they had no choice but to live in Somalia and so they would and then they would realize that it wasn't such a bad place to be and eventually people who detest harsh winters and like open spaces and the challenge of creating something out of sand would start applying there in mass numbers. Of course, the applications would be reviewed by a panel of educated people - mixed races, mixed genders, mixed sexual orientations. This system would also discourage people from having children for the sake of laziness of not using protection, but to propagate the species. When a child is born that child is immediately transported to a commune - probably there will be one on every human life-bearing continent - where, as previously mentioned, that child remains until the age of nine. On that child's ninth birthday that child can submit the application and that child will be placed with a family within two months. This way, children can only go to families who want them and can support them. I think that this system would increase racial inter-marriage and decrease prejudice on more than one plane.

I'm currently developing a plan to get Kelly to start doing all my homework for me. He turns me down when I ask him, but I'm pretty sure I can work something out that he can't resist. I may offer to make him bacon in return or find someone to sit and rub his feet all day. I'm still working on the incentives, but the idea is golden.

The sun is shining today, but I'm inside.

I sat on the porch for some time this morning so that I could feel the goodness of the sun soaking into my skin, but now I am at my stupid computer writing that stupid lit review. While I was on the porch the wind blew slightly and ruffled our wind chime from Belize, which made me think of walking around San Pedro in my white skirt and bikini top with my hair pulled up and the hot sun keeping me company. I felt so good on that trip - no worries, constant relaxation, and time that seemed to slip evenly by, without my awareness. I thought of Robin, our homeless escort, and the hammock on our porch that went crazy in the wind, and sipping Belikins on speedboats. I think perhaps I'll stay there in my mind while I write this lit review.

Huh

So the end of the semester is upon us. Kelly told me the other day that he has been dreading this period since Christmas. Last night I turned in one humongous project and Tuesday I'll turn in another. When I'll find the time to work on that one...? Who really knows? Tonight I have a meeting for this summer institute I'm doing and on Saturday morning I have another meeting for the same thing, followed by a full shift at the shelter. Maybe I'll start it - and hopefully finish it - Sunday. Right now it's just like one thing is stacked on top of another...and another...and another...

In other news, I think I may get my gifted education endorsement. Evidently, there isn't a GT program in Boise at the secondary level. Well, there is, but it's new as of this fall. And there are no gifted English teachers. I heard a lecture last night on gifted students and it was like my professor had done a case study on some of the intricate parts of my personal life and delivered a three and a half hour lecture on me to my class. So I talked to him about it and he told me about the developing GT secondary ed program here in Boise. I've been worried about the job outlook lately, because English teachers are a dime a dozen in this country. I've tried to do things that will set me apart as an English instructor and I've tried to make friends with some influential English teachers in the valley, but there's only so much I can do - especially when it comes to the matter of basic job openings. BUT...if the gifted program is only now being started at the secondary level - and I'm talking differentiated instruction, not just lame old AP classes - and there are no English teachers in the field yet, then that looks really good for me. I used to think that I wanted to teach the AP classes, but then I realized that AP classes are lame. You just give everyone a lot of work and expect that they can perform like college freshmen (so that when they really are college freshmen their composition teachers can think "Oh, great, this kid thinks he knows everything. Fun.") and prepare them to take a test. Wow. Plus, in order to teach the AP class you have to put in your time - which means that I won't see that class until I'm 50. People want that class because it's easy to teach. I have decided that I don't want that at all. I don't want the easy class where all students need is academic support and college guidance. I want my students to challenge me. For that purpose, I have been thinking about perhaps getting my special ed endorsement. I like the idea so much of differentiated instruction and keeping everything straight and giving each individual kid exactly what he or she needs to succeed in school, my class and life. But my life feels like time moves slower when I work with kids in special ed. I have the know-how and the patience and the drive, but I think that time actually slows to a barely beating pulse. I just never really knew until last night that AP and GT were two totally and completely different things and how exciting working with gifted ed could be. Actually, the concepts of working with special ed and with gifted ed are the exact same - as are some of the methods - just the pace and work load are different, really. I'm going to be in touch with my professor and try to observe one of his classes at the elementary level before making this decision, but the more I think about it, the more excited I get. The problem that has been in Boise, and the reason our GT program is just now developing, is that there is very little government funding for gifted education. Kids in special education cannot do mainstream work, so their parents have thrown fits about it and gotten specialized instruction. The problem with the gifted community is that they CAN do mainstream work, even though it is severely below their intellectual capacity, so they don't pose a problem. It's odd to want a higher, more stimulating challenge. And by gifted programs in Boise, I'm talking six year olds who attend junior high. Like I said - truly gifted. IQ of 140+. Plus, what adult wants to provide funding and programs for some first grader who can tell them more than they ever wanted to know about nuclear fission? Adults have this weird pride thing that they just can't get over sometimes. I see this as something that could be such fun and could really be challenging in a number of different ways. *sigh* That's a lot of random thoughts. I'm still looking into it. Right now I feel a little overwhelmed about it.

When I worked last I had one of our residents tell me that he may be in my English class next semester. He's getting his GED this summer and since he's so young and is hispanic and part of DHW he can get a ton of scholarship money. I really, really like this kid and it felt good that he remembered that I teach English 101 and that he would at least consider wanting to be in my class.

I need to get working on my lit review. I hate doing lit reviews. But first, I need to go eat the yummy-smelling breakfast Kelly is making me. You know, even though he says he has been dreading this time of the semester, he has been great with support and helping me and bringing me snacks and tea and reminding me that it's almost done and that the semester is almost over and that this is all worth it. Without him, I would probably be a basket case. People say that marriages have a high percentage of failure while one spouse is in graduate school (I want to say it's somewhere around 80%, but I could be making up that statistic), but I don't see that happening with us. Rather, graduate school is strengthening our marriage and the love and support and appreciation we maintain in our marriage.

Easter

Yesterday was Easter at the H House. We had my family over for a big meal, egg dying and an egg hunt. I think that the whole thing went really well. Everyone seemed to have a good time and enjoy the food and the kids went nuts over scavenging for plastic eggs in our yard.

I really appreciate the ability to have family over for large meals. My whole life is punctuated by visiting different family members' homes for holiday gatherings and thinking to myself that one day that would be me in the kitchen pulling a delicious meal out of the oven for everyone to ooh and aah over and thank me for as they left my home hours later. Yesterday was one of those days for me and even though I was exhausted then and I'm exhausted still, I loved it. Maybe I won't love it so much when I've been doing it for twenty years, but I suspect that I will.

Blanket and Slippers

All I want to do these days is lounge around the house in my tee shirt and panties with my slippers on (that I stole from Kelly) with a blanket across my lap, reading and dozing intermittently. It isn't that I'm depressed. I think I'm just sick of doing everything else. I don't want to be on time for a class or for work. I don't want to iron my clothes (or sweetly ask Kelly to do it for me, knowing that he always does anyway) for school or plan my next meal or put stuff in my backpack. Besides, I'm starting to like the way my legs look the more time we spend at the gym and it's kind of fun to not feel compelled to hide them under pants all the time. Plus, they look great when they end at the floor in my slippers. They look great when they end in my cool new black grown-up heels, but the heels just aren't as comfy and when I wear them while lounging on the couch I'm always afraid I'm going to scratch or put a hole in the fabric. When school is over and everything is turned in, I plan to spend at least one whole day in my tee shirt and slippers, reading and dozing intermittently. I also plan to get a facial and perhaps a pedicure. Then, I will come home and take off my pants - because that's my new comfy way to be these days - and sit around smiling and feeling fresh and renewed in my skin. And Kelly will tell me that I'm so lighthearted and free-feeling whenever I come home from the spa and that perhaps I should go there every day. And this time, I will more than only slightly consider it.

These are the numbers of my life...

ONE loving man who follows through and reminds me why.

THREE jobs that ebb and flow, keeping my date book filled and the bank account fresh.

ONE fun and excited puppy who loves playing ball more than he loves anything else on this entire planet and who is good at cuddling, even if he isn't as little and as easy to squeeze onto your lap as he was just a year ago.

TWO rockin' good years with Kelly as of tomorrow.

EIGHT students - two of whom have been MIA for a month - and all looking forward to the end of the semester as much as me.

TWENTY-FIVE seventh graders who I will miss when I stop going to West in a couple weeks.

ONE seventh grader who always notices my shoes and last week asked about my high arches - he evidently has flat feet.

THREE siblings with whom I spent my weekend flying kites, eating ice cream and bowling.

ONE sibling who is now a year older.

TWO long-time friends I haven't seen in a year and a half, but will spend time with again this evening.

I'm Having a Baby!

I found this website that conducts pregnancy tests using remote sensor technology rather than pee-on-stick tests and boasts a 99.9% accuracy rate. So, of course, I took the pregnancy test.

It came back positive.

Here's a copy of the birth cirtificate. Part of this really cool test is that it can instantly tell you who the father is, too. Which is nice because I sleep around A LOT.



If you would like to check the status of your womb, click here.

Spring break is finally here!

I'm officially in the middle of spring break and it is nice. I have a list of things I want to accomplish in the next few days, but it's just nice to know that I don't have to turn anything in or make a time committment (class) for another week. Last night, Kelly and I sat up far too late watching movies and neither of us felt bad about it at all. Rather, we enjoyed the relaxation.

LA was a good time. We spent a bunch of time in the car, but when we were out of the car we were walking on Hollywood Boulevard (where I purchased a really cool Gucci rip-off purse), catching the end of the LA marathon (which was touching), and eating yummy food. I had been hoping for dramatically better weather than we've had recently in Boise, but there was only about a four degree difference. Plus it was overcast and rainy for much of our time there. Weather aside, though, it was great to hang out with old friends and to make new ones. It really reinforces my belief that all my friends who are scattered across the nation should move to Boise.

I get to work at the shelter this week. This really is the coolest working environment ever. We have some kids right now who are BIG into drama. It's sort of cooling off now as we rotate kids, but for a while the drama was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Now we just have a bunch of boys, all of whom think they're the bomb diggity. It cracks me up to hear a bunch of 15-year-old boys talking about the best way to have sex because I know for a fact that because they're boys and because they're 15, they know NOTHING about sex. It's just funny.

LA or Bust!

We're going to the City of Angels tonight for a few days. I cannot wait! I'm not taking any work or worries on this trip. I'm leaving it all here to disappear in my absence. It will be great!

Ski Bunny

Kelly and I went skiing at Brundage on Saturday and at Bogus on Sunday. Sunday we took my siblings with us and a good time was had by all. Janessa didn't get along with her snowboard very well, but skis worked out much better for her. Denisha is still young enough that she has no fear, so skiing came as quickly as walking for her. Theodore also still has no fear and since he likes skateboarding, snowboarding was a piece of cake. I saw him fall pretty hard a couple times and was just relieved it wasn't me. TJay is impressive on a snowboard. I think that he could be really phenomenal with some fairly regular practice. Me, on the other hand, I freaked out on the back side of the bunny hill. I think I need to stick to the easiest trails possible.

My Birthday: September 2, 1981

I found this fun site on Crystal's site. You just put in your birth date and it spits out birthdate information. Here's mine:

Your date of conception was on or about 10 December 1980 which was a Wednesday.
You were born on a Wednesday under the astrological sign Virgo.
Your Life path number is 3.

Life Path Compatibility:
You are most compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 3, 6 & 9.
You should get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 1, 2, 5 & 11.
You are least compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 4, 7, 8 & 22.

The Julian calendar date of your birth is 2444849.5.
The golden number for 1981 is 6.
The epact number for 1981 is 24.
The year 1981 was not a leap year.

Your birthday falls into the Chinese year beginning 2/5/1981 and ending 1/24/1982.
You were born in the Chinese year of the Rooster.

The date of Easter on your birth year was Sunday, 19 April 1981.
The date of Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent) on your birth year was Wednesday 4 March 1981.
The date of Whitsun (Pentecost Sunday) in the year of your birth was Sunday 7 June 1981.
The date of Whisuntide in the year of your birth was Sunday 14 June 1981.
The date of Rosh Hashanah in the year of your birth was Tuesday, 29 September 1981.
The date of Passover in the year of your birth was Sunday, 19 April 1981.
The date of Mardi Gras on your birth year was Tuesday 3 March 1981.

As of 3/3/2006 8:12:39 PM EST
You are 24 years old.
You are 294 months old.
You are 1,278 weeks old.
You are 8,948 days old.
You are 214,772 hours old.
You are 12,886,332 minutes old.
You are 773,179,959 seconds old.

Your age is the equivalent of a dog that is 3.50215264187867 years old. (Life's just a big chewy bone for you!)

There are 183 days till your next birthday, on which your cake will have 25 candles.

Those 25 candles produce 25 BTUs, or 6,300 calories of heat (That's only 6.3000 food Calories!).
You can boil 2.86 US ounces of water with that many candles.

In 1981 there were approximately 3.6 million births in the US.
In 1981 the US population was approximately 226,545,805 people, 64.0 persons per square mile.
In 1981 in the US there were 2,438,000 marriages (10.6%) and 1,219,000 divorces (5.3%)
In 1981 in the US there were approximately 1,990,000 deaths (8.8 per 1000).
In the US a new person is born approximately every 8 seconds.
In the US one person dies approximately every 12 seconds.

Your birthstone is Sapphire.

Though not meant to replace traditional medical treatment, Sapphire is used for clear thinking.
Some lists consider these stones to be your birthstone: Agate, Moonstone, Lapis Lazuli

Your birth tree is the Pine Tree, the Particularity.
Loves agreeable company, very robust, knows how to make life comfortable, very active, natural, good companion, but seldom friendly, falls easily in love but its passion burns out quickly, gives up easily, many disappointments till it finds its ideal, trustworthy, practical.

There are 297 days till Christmas 2006!
There are 310 days till Orthodox Christmas!

The moon's phase on the day you were born was waxing crescent.

Gross!

This morning after yoga I went to the bathroom to change into my non-yoga clothes. I could hear another woman in the bathroom with me. She finished her business, flushed the toilet, and exited the stall. Then I heard her walk to the sink and run her hands under the water for approximately two seconds before leaving the bathroom. At that moment I knew - I knew - that in order to get out of the bathroom I would have to touch the now-wet door handle covered in her dirty, sticky wet germs.

Who did not teach people these days to wash their hands? Was that a mishap of the 80s when people didn't know about things - or at least didn't want to admit to things - like AIDS and fashion sense? How did it become OK to run your hands under cold water for less time than it takes W to smirk about public health care and count that as "washing"? If you're using soap - as the age-old mother educt dictates you should after using the bathroom and before eating a meal - it should take at the bare minimun ten seconds to rinse, lather, and rinse again, thus killing the germs on your hands instead of moisturizing them in preparation to leave an imprint of them on the bathroom doorknob.

One more thing to all those drunk people who visit Pita Pit: Stop tearing the bathroom up. Property damage is not cool; it's rude. When you rip the sink off the wall and cut the piping to the toilet, I can't wash my hands before enjoying a nice, delicious pita. You're a jerk.

WOAH!

It's been crazy busy around these parts lately! Between school and picking up a couple shelter shifts and homework and teaching and grading papers and helping family and doing observations at West and writing for the newspaper, I'm swamped!

...that means that laundry hasn't been done in a while. The mountains of clothing are starting to overtake the laundry room...They are growing exponentially - I'm pretty sure they've started mating rituals in there. If anyone wants to get me the perfect gift just because I'm cool, it would be some way to magically always have all the laundry in the house washed and put away. That would be blissful.

Radaley

Public Service Announcement

Let this serve as a warning to all Boise State University English graduate students: Do not - I repeat - DO NOT take English 554 unless you want a boring, boring class full of statistical information and high brow, useless research that only applies to the clinical side of writing as it corresponds to conducting field research. You will find no purpose to this course and will spend your semester dreading all reading and homework assignments for this course. All work completed for this course will be entirely prescriptive in form, its only significance being that the instructor will read it and assign you an arbitrary grade that he keeps in his secret notebook. Consider yourself advised.

Report: Poor People Pretty Much Fucked

(I pulled this from The Onion. Not only do I think it's funny, but I see a little truth in here too. Perhaps that's what makes it so funny.)

WASHINGTON - According to the results of an intensive two-year study, Americans living below the poverty line are "pretty much fucked," Center for Social and Economic Research executive director Jameson Park announced Monday.

"Although poor people have never had it particularly sweet, America has long been considered the land of opportunity, where upward class mobility is hard work's reward," Park said. "However, our study shows that limited access to quality education and a shortage of employment opportunities in depressed areas all but ensure that, once fucked, an individual tends to stay fucked."

According to U.S. Census Bureau statistics, 34.6 million Americans were living below the poverty line in 2002.

"Not only are the down-and-out fucked, but the number of down-and-out fucks is growing," Park said. "Conditions of disadvantage are often passed from one generation to the next, making it especially difficult for young people to emerge from the cycle of poverty."

"Man, my heart goes out to those poor fuckers," Park added.

America's increasingly rigid class system worsens the situation for the poor.

"After analyzing the economic performance of U.S. households over the past several decades, we concluded that class mobility, while steady in the '70s and '80s, declined in the '90s," Park said. "About 40 percent of families ended the decade in the same economic strata in which they began it. That's up from about 35 percent in the '80s. That's good news for those sittin' pretty, but it spells 'fuck you' to the poor."

As a result, Park said, there are more poor people, and those poor people are much more screwed than poor people were a decade or two ago.

"As the split between the upper and lower classes grows, and the middle class continues to shrink, we're moving closer and closer to what can only be called a 'no way out, dude. Sorry, you're fucked'-type situation," Park said. "Not only are the poor fucked at the moment, but any chance they once had of changing their miserable lives is pretty much gone, too. Essentially, they're fucked for all time."

The CSER study identified four major poverty groups within the U.S. The first two groups - one composed of disenfranchised blue-collar workers, the other made up of members of poor rural populations - have been adversely affected by the nation's gradual shift to a technology-based, global economy. Researchers have dubbed disenfranchised blue-collar workers the Factory Fucked, while members of poor rural populations are called the Farm Fucked. Park characterized the individuals in these two groups as "fucked from the get-go."

The other two rapidly expanding groups of poor fucks are the suburban poor, whose members can't afford the rising cost of such basic necessities as healthcare, and the urban underclass, whose members are found in the nation's troubled inner cities. Researchers termed these groups the Recently Fucked and the Utterly Fucked, respectively.

Economist Harold Knoep said there's little reason for sympathy.

"In a healthy capitalist economy, some people are going to be out-competed," Knoep said. "I'm sorry, but some of those fuck-ups have fucked themselves. I am not condoning an anarchic 'fuck or be fucked' ethos, but I can hardly get behind a welfare state that punishes the unfucked by fucking all equally."

While he expressed concern for the nation's poor, House Speaker Dennis Hastert (R-IL) said increased funding for social programs isn't the answer.

"Nobody's saying poor people aren't fucked," Hastert said. "But what about all the people in this great nation who are not fucked? If the financial resources of the economically stable are diverted - through some well-intentioned but fiscally irresponsible social-service program - to the people who are fucked, where does that leave those who were sailin' along fine? Fucked."

Ed Cranston, an under-employed, Detroit-area machinist who made $14,000 last year, said he was not surprised by the report.

"They say I'm fucked?" Cranston asked. "Shit, man, tell me something I don't know."

Ketchup

Ah...It has been a while since my last visit here. Last weekend I took some time off. I asked Kelly when we woke up Saturday morning if the whole weekend could just be the two of us spending time together NOT working. He thought it was a good idea and I'm thankful for that because I needed a relaxed weekend.

As part of our relaxed weekend, we went up to Bogus Basin for skiing. I went skiing once when I was 10 and thought it was one of the most traumatic experiences of my childhood and swore I would never go back. A few years ago my roommate Steve convinced me to let him teach me to snowboard and I let him, despite being terrified of skiing. Steve promised that snowboarding was easier. I went three times that season, but never really felt comfortable with it. It hurt my joints and I couldn't control my speed. After my terrible fall down the mountain, during which I was airborn at least twice, I decided not to return to the snow. But Kelly has been asking me to try skiing once more, this time with him, for the past two years. Last weekend I relented. It was actually a terrific time - after I got over the nausea and stopped crying when he showed me how to click my boots into the bindings. I only fell a couple times all day and found the things far easier to control than a silly old snowboard. I'm even looking forward to returning at some point in the near future. Here's a picture of us just before leaving for the day:


I think that the relaxation of last weekend must have had some medicinal effect on my motivation. We just finished the fourth week of school, which means that there's only 12 weeks left. Somehow, I set 12 as my magical number after which I could definitely make it. It's working. I don't feel as worried or stressed about the rest of the semester at all and it's nice.

I've been saying for a long time that I would post photos of some of my completed knitting projects, but have been quite negligent. Well here's a photo of a hat I just completed for my neice.


Thanks to everyone who commented about the insurance thing. The frustration continues, but I think it's nearly over. I'm going to stick it out with the stupid on-campus people, but only because it's easier. After I graduate I'll get a real job as a real teacher and have health care through their provider. I'm never sick, so hopefully I won't need the insurance for anything serious in the next year and a half.

I added two links in my sidebar for two other blogs - both my own. One is for my class; it's a place where we can discuss our class theme of community. The other is for my observations on my junior high experience. I've started doing observations at West Junior High and have to maintain a log for my professor. I thought I would do the log in the form of a blog so that I have easy access to it and it's easy to maintain if I want to go back and look through stuff at some point down the road.

Kelly said the other day that he wants to not drink for the next month in an effort to be more health conscious. I told him that I was going to hold him to that and that I would even join him in the endeavor. And so we bet on it. If he drinks alcohol prior to March 3, he has to go to the gym wearing nothing but his underwear and sneakers and do five squats in the free-weight area on a day of my choosing. If I drink alcohol prior to March 3, I have to teach an English 101 class in an outfit of Kelly's choosing. This whole thing could prove quite interesting.

Top 10 Romantic Gifts

Here's the article I wrote with help from many of you. If you see yourself here and something isn't entirely right - like your name or where your from or how I know you - just remember that I have creative license as the writer.

1. The gift of time.
Sometimes life gets so wrapped up in phone calls and out of town business trips that we forget to unwind.
For a change, turn off your cell and clear your calendar. Take time together. Bogus Creek Outfitters offers rides through the snow on a turn-of-the-century bobsleigh for $65 per person. After cuddling in the sleigh, enjoy a warm meal and cowboy poetry in a mountain cabin.
"We had a good time keeping each other warm on the sleigh ride, looking at the beautiful wildlife covered in snow," said Boise State University faculty member Annie Ritter. "We talked and laughed and forgot about everything else for a while."
2. The gift of service.
Has she been asking you to make her a new set of shelves? Has he been wanting you to make his favorite dinner? Make now the time for that activity. If your partner has been asking for it, you know the action will be unappreciated.
"Brandon is not a cook. It takes him twice as long to make things as it would if I made them myself, but he spends hours shopping for and preparing healthy, fresh meals because it means a lot to me," said Julie Johnson, a diner at the Flipside Cafe. "The dinner itself isn't as important as the fact that he's doing something difficult for him simply because it will make me happy."
3. The gift of memory.
Frame some old pictures of the two of you.
"She gave me pictures once that she took of herself," said Patri Thompson, a hostess at Asiago's in Boise. "They were a big surprise because they were for no reason at all. Unless you count love as a reason - and I do."
If scrapbooking is more your speed, Boise has a number of scrapbook shops that carry all the supplies you'll need. Plus, they have cooperative and creative staff who can help with your project.
4. The gift of relaxation.
Taking the entire day off is one thing, but it's better to spend some of that time at a spa, especially since that isn't a luxury most people invest in for themselves. Most day spas offer services for both men and women in a calm and rejuvenating environment. Zoberski Salon on State offers a couple's massage at a location of your choice. They bring music, champagne, snacks and flowers to accompany the hour and a half dual Swedish massage for a package cost of $265.
5. The adventurous gift.
If your loved one craves adrenaline, look in to an extreme activity that you can do together or your partner can do while you watch and take pictures. For $175 each, you can skydive with Skydive Idaho. Or, for about the same price plus a quick jaunt up to Sun Valley, you can paraglide with Fly Sun Valley.
6. The practical gift.
Sometimes the most wonderful gifts are those that fulfill a need.
"Thoughtfulness can be very romantic - especially thoughtfulness to give someone something that they might never buy for themselves," said Echo Savage while perusing the literature section at Barnes and Noble. "My work shoes are the best gift I've gotten in a while. I was about to start a new job where I'd be on my feet all of the time, so she bought me a pair of Danskos because she knew that I needed them. I wear them every day."
7. The sexy gift.
It doesn't matter who it's for - everyone appreciates something that makes them feel good. This could be anywhere from lingerie to a satin robe to massage oils, just so long as it's something you think the two of you would be able to enjoy together.
8. The gift that tastes good.
Treat your partner to a delicious restaurant with a delectable atmosphere. Milky Way, Mosaic and Mortimer's are wonderful downtown spots, with Berryhill and Cottonwood a little farther out. Be sure to sample the wine at any of these restaurants, as they have a terrific selection. For dessert, try French pastries at Le Cafe de Paris or a Split Decision sundae for two from Goody's.
9. The gift of words.
"When we were dating she had to leave to visit her parents for awhile so I gave her 30 envelopes, each with candy and a love note, in a little box - one envelope for each day," said George Irwin over his coffee cup at a poetry reading at the Flying M.
Compose a poem or a letter. Make a card. Write "I love you" on sticky notes and leave them around the house. Tell your partner why you are in love with no one else and make sure your words are something to remember forever.
10. Combine the gifts.
Anything on this list is enough to be a pleasant surprise, but if you're really aiming for an over-the-top encounter, combine ideas. Prior to dinner, stop by the spa for your hour of pampering. During dessert, slide a package across the table with a love note on top. Purchase you and your partner a set of matching gloves, scarves and hats with a new fuzzy blanket you could share on a sleigh ride. Ultimately the choice is yours, but whatever the decision, remember that your gift will be most appreciated if it is from the heart.

Sometimes I really hate Boise State.

Insurance.

If I'm covered under the school's plan it's far less expensive than if I were to be covered under Kelly's work plan. I didn't know that my student health insurance wasn't accepted anywhere under the sun except for BSU. So three months ago when I went to pick up my birth control I had to pay full price for it because my old insurance had finally died and my new insurance was worthless at the old place.

So I talked to the people at BSU and they gave me pills for the following month. To get more after that I needed to have an annual exam done. I looked into having it done at my old place, but my doctor has moved offices and is no longer practicing in Idaho, so I would have to change locations anyway. Plus, as previously mentioned, my insurance is worthless anywhere but on campus.

Going entirely through the on-campus clinic wouldn't be such a big deal to me except that every woman I've talked to who has been to that clinic has a scary story to tell. Scary annual exam stories make me anxious. That is an exam that should be done carefully and nicely without problem or cause for tears. I have yet to hear about that story from the BSU clinic.

Plus, in order to get my pills from last month on, I need an exam. However, the BSU health clinic only does same-day scheduling. That means that you can only make appointments for Monday on Monday. You can only make appointments for Tuesday on Tuesday. That means that if you call in five minutes after everyone else has called in, you're shit out of luck. Last month I was unable to secure an appointment and was lucky enough to have one prescription refill at the old place, so I just picked up another pack of birth control at full price. This month, however, I don't have that option. I either get them from the campus clinic or I don't get them. The problem is that I cannot get them unless I get an exam. I cannot get an exam because I cannot get one scheduled. Plus, I don't really want them to give me the exam because I feel like I'm entering the wolf den based on all the horror stories I've been told.

At this point, I'm just frustrated. I don't feel like I have any options. This prize of birth control is being held over me for one stupid exam and all I want is to have sex without worry of a pregnancy. But to them, the important thing is giving me that stupid exam - no exceptions. I don't have options, I can do nothing to change the situation, and I have no possible course of action other than to do what they require. It isn't fair, it isn't fun and I almost want to cry over it all out of sheer futility.

What I really want

It's snowing today, but instead of sitting next to a window with a good novel and a cup of tea, I have chained myself to my desk in an attempt to be a real student and a real teacher. I did do my preferred activity this morning for about two hours, but it just isn't the same as doing it for an entire day. The thing is, I haven't actually started the semester yet. I mean, I've been attending classes but I haven't been doing my homework or reading assignments or even really grading anything my students have turned in. I'm still in winter break mode. Only 14 weeks left until the end of the semester. What does it say about my motivation that I'm already counting the weeks until summer break?

What I miss...

is feeling well-rested throughout the day.

is the anticipation.

is knowing that the only reading I have to do is for me.

I know will come again, if only because I will make my own time for it.

is staying up until 3 a.m. and feeling OK about it.

is working because I genuinely want to.

is saying "Yes" to extra obligations.

I hope misses me too.

Neighborly Goodness

Our neighbors came over for dinner the other night. I went out on a limb I don't frequently go out on and basically asked them to be our friends. I'm so glad they accepted; I don't think my shyness could have handled a denial. But my insecurities with friendships are another post entirely.

The point is...They came over for dinner and we all had great fun. I informed them that we decided that they should get a dog so that Radley has a neighbor to play with on lonely days when he's home alone being a latch-key dog. They informed us that they had decided that we should soon have a baby so that their newborn would have a neighborhood kid to play with so that they don't have to be his primary entertainers.

I like it that we're already to the stage in our friendship that we're deciding things for each others' lives.

However, I told them that getting a dog is easier than getting a kid and so therefore, our request trumps theirs. They laughed.

Yay for Kelly!

I have pretty much the best husband ever. He's in the kitchen right now chopping, slicing and stirring away with two cutting boards out, the stove on, and stuff outside on the grill making me stuffed peppers for dinner. I'm sure they'll be delicious, if only because of the love put into them.

In honor of our yummy dinner, here's a picture of our little family up in McCall this winter.

That class did not inspire me.

Today was the first day of class and, true to form, was anticlimactic. I only have six students in my two 101 classes and the other professors with offices in my hallway have found out. That, I think, spurred the most exciting part of my day. Annie came stomping in my office shrieking about it not being fair and saying she would gladly give up half of her 50 students to me. I've promised them all that it wasn't my fault and that there was no hexing or candle-lighting ceremonies involved in my low class size, but I don't think they necessarily believe me. I decided I wouldn't feel threatened until they started coming after me with pitchforks and lit torches, but I'm starting to think that may be just around the river bend.

I had one class today that I'm taking (as opposed to the two classes today that I taught). So far, it is as George said (the genius behind this post's title): completely non inspirational. The rest of the classes have got to be better than the first one, where I almost fell asleep (yes, I realize the bad impression that makes on a professor). One good thing about that class will be that George is in it, which means we can argue all semester about when he invented the internet.

This morning one of my profs from last semester gave me a huge compliment. I saw him in the mail room and he let me know that he requested for me to come work with him for my student teaching stuff. This guy is really good at handing out praise but doesn't do it unless you deserve it because you've worked your ass off. When he does praise, he does it very well. I contacted the office that sets up student teaching and they verified that I will indeed be working with him, so that makes me very happy.

Thanks to all the people who posted romantic gift ideas! I had no idea that some of you could be so sweet and thoughtful. I've started the article and it's going well so far, but if you come up with more ideas, lay 'em out here. I think I may post the article when it's done. I don't usually post the articles I write because they're boring articles about people I don't know, but this one is turning out to be a lot of fun!

Off to start my first homework assignment of the semester...

CALLING ALL LOVERS!!!!

Even though my slacker reader base doesn't often respond by commenting here, I'm asking - even begging - you to comment just this once. I'm writing a newspaper article on the top 10 most romantic gifts and would like your input. What has been something romantic (and I'm hoping for a little unique) that you've either given or received? I 98% refuse to put flowers, chocolate, lingerie, jewelry or stuffed animals on this list, so that may save some of you the inconvenience of posting. I say 98% because I'm not completely closed to a really good idea.

K - So tell me the most romantic gift you've ever given or received (or both) so that I can perhaps put it in my article. It would help tremendously if you told me why you think it would work because if I like what you've said I may just use it in my article.

I can't believe it isn't noon yet.

Last night was a rough night for both Kelly and me. He has a cold right now so sleeping was frought with moments of difficult breathing that would wake him up. His difficult breathing made it difficult for me to sleep as well. When he came downstairs at 8 to try sleeping sitting up on the couch, I couldn't sleep in the bed any more either so I came down with him. We watched a movie and then finally napped some together on the couch sitting up. Because I'm already feeling the strain of stress sneaking up on me - school starts in a week from today - I had to get up and start working on something. Besides, now he's sleeping peacefully because he can breathe easier.

It always catches my attention how beautiful Kelly is when he's sleeping. He looks strong, but not stern, and ever so calm. His attentiveness to me remains; he can sleep through any noise, but when I whisper to him to roll over or to wake up, he responds appropriately. He is gentle and requires gentleness in return. It's one of those images that makes me want to create an exquisite painting on a rich canvas with delicious colors that emote true adoration and elegance.

Mini-poll

A friend of mine has been wondering about this, so I thought I would see what help I could uncover here...

How soon after you start "hanging out" with someone should you become exclusive?

In other words...You go on a first date...then a second date...it's going well...What amount of time - if there is such a standard - should you allow to lapse prior to settling into a serious dating relationship with just this one person?

Up for grabs!

We have half a box of instant white rice in the cupboard left over from when our roommates moved out about a year ago, but we're not going to eat it. We prefer our Japanese rice in the rice cooker. And so, this year-old half a box of instant white rice is up for grabs. Perhaps you like year-old instant white rice. Or perhaps you're planning a prank or an illegal after-wedding rice affair. Whatever the case, if you would like this year-old half box of instant white rice, just say the word and it is all yours.

Here we are

...at the beginning of a new year. I've never understood everyone's fascination with the new year, how people can look to it as though it has rejuvenative properties. The season is the same dead season and the stress of the holidays is still upon us. Things from last year are not wiped clean and are not forgotten. It is merely another beginning of another month, a carry-over of yesterday and the day before that. We still like the same things, dislike the same things, worry about the same things, and know that in reality nothing is different now from before the year changed. In this time of resolutions and great hopes we somehow lose the perspective of the continuity of time and look to this moment to make a great change in hopes that now will be different, that now will make the difference.

As for me, I can say that I love this time of year simply because it means that the holiday bullshit is over. Drivers return to normal driving patterns and shoppers return to normal shopping patterns. Strangers stop wishing me holiday greetings on every street corner and the numerous and oh-so-joyous holiday gatherings are finally over. I like this time of year because this is a re-entry into reality - what life is like before the glitz of strings of tiny lights and fat men in red suits change the community perspective of what "cheer" should resemble. Because we all know that all that egg nog-induced happiness is just a way to excuse the normal human tendencies that encourage us to be rude to our friends and pass it off as "not my problem, not my fault." It's a way for us to feel good about ourselves if for just one or two weeks out of the rest of the miserable, miserable year. Or at least a way to convince ourselves of that goodness. Meanwhile, every holiday party becomes our own to control to our leisure.

So welcome to 2006. I encourage you to donate to the homeless and starving throughout the year - because they aren't only hungry from November 15 through December 31. Lose weight all year long by exercising and eating vegetables every day. Be nice to people, especially your friends and the people you love most. Talk to people everywhere like they're someone you know. Don't be so foolish as to think that you can make decisions without checking first with the people those decisions will effect. And don't crash parties or invite others to do so either. Recycle.

Here we are - facing all the seasons and all the holidays all over again. Birthdays, anniversaries and celebrations will come again and in a year we will be back at this place...This irrelevant space in time that inevitably contains so much expectation.