texas grind

San Antonio was sunny, busy, warmer than here, and one day, downright hot. I stayed on the River Walk, which is super touristy at night but quite pretty all the same. It almost manages to be the right kind of river for me. If only it was a little less Hard Rock Cafe and a little more Yuri Jazz Cafe, it would be perfect. I like the vines, the old stone, the arched bridges, the wrought iron. I like the precariousness of narrow, slippery paths dropping right off into the river (which seemed to me like a canal), combined with ample drinking places. Kind of European, or Asian, or any less litigious continent than mine.

I was not planning on going to the Alamo. Alamo, I thought - whatever. But when I told that to my dad, he acted like I had just said I was no longer going to pay taxes (although he doesn't seem to have let tax evasion affect his love of one Mr. Willie Nelson). So out of father-induced guilt, and because I basically stumbled right over it as I walked through a busy part of downtown, I did go. I asked the Alamo people how I could cut the hourlong audio tour into a much shorter time, and it seemed like they had been asked that before. Anyway, the first line of the audio tour was something like, "The biggest misconception about the battle at the Alamo is that it was part of a war between Mexico and the United States." I privately blushed a little then, and realized maybe I would actually learn something. And I did. But I'm not going to tell you what. You will have to google it, or go to the Alamo yourself.

I also went to a place called Mission San Jose, which was pretty. I saw wheat being ground into flour on a millstone. Jealous?

I had some trouble finding things that I could eat, so a few meals consisted of bloody marys.

I was taken to cool places, away from the tote-baggery of the teacher crowd that had landed en masse for the convention, by some friends of Alec and Mollie. They were so nice and interesting, and I got to see where people who live in San Antonio actually go.

My hotel had a snack bar called Muggs. I kept wishing that various members of the Detroit band the Muggs would be there. That would have made the whole trip so much more exciting and fun. I would have hung out around the lobby a lot more than I did. Plus, I am sure that Danny would have brewed me a mean cup of coffee.

Oh, I also went to a lot of conference sessions and got a lot of cool ideas and fresh inspiration for teaching. But that's not what you want to know about. You are all about the millstone...

bad dumb poem made while lying on my back, laptop on my stomach

Winter has descended.
I cannot feel my toes.
My glove is soaked in gasoline
from a leaky hose.

Don't want to pack a suitcase
or be a good fore-planner.
Just want to get to San Antone,
come back a little tanner.

Yeah, I'm going to San Antonio tomorrow. It is not a place I ever had any particular desire to go to, but now I'm excited to meander in a new place - any new place. It is for an education conference, and I am not paying for flight, hotel, or conference fee. The conference should be really good. Barbara Ehrenreich is one of the keynote speakers! But I can't think about the conference or which sessions I will go to; all I can focus on is the fact that it's going to be mid to high 70s and sunny. There is a pool at the hotel. Will I have time to sit by it? That, and will I find things to eat? Going out to eat has become not that fun to me. And it's Texas... (sorry, Jen).

It's only November - kind of early to be desperate to get to a warmer place. Also, it is already after 9, but I cannot seem to make myself pack. I'm either ahead or behind on all things, as always.

Our new national dish

OH MY GOD. I logged on all ready to explain about my lovely day and the nice food I made, and someone on the radio is talking about putting earthworms into a quiche in place of bacon. Umm... I know it's bad economic times, but are we really already at the Great Depression-esque eat-whatever-scurries (or slithers)-by point of the recession yet?

I also happen to have a very serious worm thing. I didn't think it was that bad until I read our new science curriculum and realized that we were going to have to keep worms in the classroom and do experiments and activities with them. Can you imagine? My coworkers said, "You just keep them in a jar with soil," and I was like, uh... jars are clear. That is a problem. Can't anyone else see that?

It leaked to my students that I hate worms, and they came in from recess the other day, which was rainy, saying, "We touched you FAVORITE animal today on the playground!" Of course I made them wash their wormy hands, but they definitely brought in the combined smells of a rainy day - wet leaves, rain, grass, mud, and worms.

What I was PLANNING to write about is that I haven't had a day like today in a long time, where I just wake up at my leisure, hang around in bed for awhile, make a big pot of coffee, and start a cooking project that will take a little while, because I don't really have anywhere to be. Isn't that nice? The past week was long and hard, due to conferences and a psychologically broken student. I had been wanting to try Heidi Swanson's cornmeal crunch recipe, but every evening was filled and there was never an hour to spare. Still, I could imagine exactly how it would taste and what it would be like to eat. And, oh my god. I was right. It is amazing. I want it to be available everywhere I go. Made with parchment paper instead of butter and flour on the baking dish, it is gluten free. I also left out the cheese, but I think it would be really good with it, too. I kind of want it to be our new national dish. It fits, right? It's inexpensive and wholesome, which is what people need. It's got that comfort food warmth and texture. You could top it with lots of different things, or dunk it, as she suggests. It seems like a perfect recession food. FAR superior to earthworms.

getting heavy, like the blanket of smoke at the new way bar

I tried to go to bed early, but it didn't quite work. I swear I still smell the smoke from the bar last night, even though I have taken TWO showers to get it off me and washed the clothes I wore. I think I may have sat on my bed before taking the clothes off, and that small contact must have transferred the smell to my bedding. When, oh WHEN will Michigan get that public places smoking ban in place? Last Tuesday, voters passed medical mary jane and stem cell research proposals, after all. The smoking thing seems relatively easy. I really liked the bands I saw last night, and despite being spooked by a possible psychopath or sociopath and ending up being accidentally alone at the show with a whole bunch of youngsters, I had a great time. The youngsters seemed to accept me into their fold. It was just the damn smoke that makes me feel like I never want to go to another show again.

I continue to get emails, invitations to various online networks, etc. from a guy I went out with ONCE last fall. At the time, it was immediately obvious to me that I just had to get through the date politely and then I would never have to deal with him again. It was originally an aesthetic turn-off, which made me feel shallow, but it quickly turned into a total personality revulsion. He was clingy, needy, and totally inappropriate in his "feelings" for me after ONE MEETING. It was ridiculous, and I was very clear that I was not at all interested.

This week I have gotten an invitation to his flickr page, another bullshit invite that I can't remember now because I deleted it (oh, after googling myself just now I see it was an invitation to be his friend on amafuckingzon.com), and an email titled Halloween, which I haven't opened. I have gotten several other emails over the last months, and I just don't even open them, but clearly this is a person who cannot take hints? I should probably just respond with a "fuck off," but I don't want to engage the crazy, I guess. I have tried to remove all traces of myself from the internet and managed to make my flickr and some other things stop showing up, but I can't figure out how to disable my amazon profile (even though it's got no information in it, it still shows up). And I have a facebook page that he has tried to contact me through, but he can't get past the basic page or look at my (less than ten) friends.

I know this is not the kind of thing I usually write about, but it is seriously upsetting me. What kind of loser just keeps sending missives out into the ether even though the person not only never acknowledges them, but removes evidence of herself as a result? Does he think he is going to wear me down or something? Twisted.

I am actually paranoid about internet dating because I'm afraid he would be on there posing as someone else! That is very telling of my level of anxiety, huh?

Also, if you google me (try it!), he comes up as the second hit for friending me on my amazon page. Nice, huh? Love that my workplace also shows up there. Ugh. Why can't I have a name like "Mary Smith?" My combination of first and last are unique, according to google...

important lesson

Right now I'm wondering about skinny jeans, and if there is any kind of law about me wearing them or not.

Also, I am enjoying reflecting on this moment at school today, as students were grappling with the economic concept of goods vs. services:

Me: "Well, services are things like getting your car washed. Or having someone cut your lawn. I would hate having to cut a lawn, if I had one. I live in an apartment, so I don't have a lawn. Or, some people get their nails done, and that's a service. Obviously, I don't (holds up hands for all to inspect)."

God, why didn't I just go on with things like, "Obviously, your moms all have personal trainers or tennis coaches and I don't. Check out this flab! And your parents probably have financial advisors. I pretty much just let whatever happen with my money, since there is so little of it. Oh, but I do have a real estate agent. That's a service! Of course, I'm trying to only look at things under $90,000. Your houses cost at least five times that, if not more! But it's cool. At least my preferred candidate won the election"

Then we all would have shared a large, deeply unflattering belly laugh, they would have advised me to never wear skinny jeans, and I would have totally agreed.

Instead, here I am, still not sure.

Conspiratorial angst

Why did I get an email from John McCain just now, asking me to vote for him? Considering that all my monetary gifts go to Planned Parenthood, I don't really know where his campaign may have gotten hold of me as a potential love interest.

I am really scared about tomorrow. I'm glad I don't have to go to work; school will be used for voting. I would be unable to focus or maintain the neutral political stance required by my job. I'm just really scared that bad shit is going to go down, and it won't matter how people actually vote. I'm in a conspiratorial place.

I wish I had something good to eat right now. I have nothing. good. to. eat. in my home, ever. I should change that, maybe. No, wait. I am all twisted up with nerves. I couldn't eat even if I had something good, like almond-stuffed olives, guacamole, and/or fresh vegetarian grape leaves with pine nut hummus. Well, maybe I could eat the grape leaves. Yeah, I probably could.

Ohio Power

I think we should have set the clock back 25 hours instead of one. I could have used a whole extra day this weekend. I say this as I survey my surroundings, which have somehow erupted into chaos when I wasn't looking. I have laundry that i haven't put away yet, half-graded papers strewn around, and the components of my Halloween costume on the floor. I was the Statue of Liberty at school (and then slutty Statue of Liberty that night). (Just kidding, but I kind of like the idea). I was a hit with children and adults alike. Apparently no one could tell the difference between me and the actual SoL, it was so realistic. It's amazing what a nicely draped sheet can do.

Instead of tidying all this up, I went to my nephew's championship football game. They got to play under the lights because it was already dark. It was also super cold. I got confirmation of something I already suspected: Something in my brain refuses to understand the rules of football. Something with claws will not let go of my unwillingness to understand it. Mostly I just did funny hairstyles on my niece and occasionally was reminded (usually by an obnoxious parent) that a game was in progress. I realized at some point, too, that all of the players who were acting all tough on the field were going to be going home in car seats. Did I mention that they are first graders?! Anyway, my neph's team won, I am pleased to report.

Has anyone heard the new Pretenders? I love the idea of it - the Pretenders do country - and I also love that they recorded it in Chrissie Hynde's hometown of Akron. It does an Ohio girl's heart proud. Dave Grohl just had a street named after him in my hometown. His hometown is my hometown. Ohio power, everyone. Ohio power.

dazed and confused

I went to the Hentchmen show tonight. They have been playing for 16 years, and I have been watching them for most of those. I wore boots of questionable sluttiness to mark the occasion. I was happy to see that hardcore Hentch fans Long Haired Guy and Old, Jean Jacket Guy were there, too.

On the way home, after dropping Alice off, I found Dazed and Confused on the radio. If there was an all Led Zeppelin station, I would be happy (except when Fool in the Rain or whatever it's called came on; then I'd have to change the station). Anyway, I was rocking out to Dazed and Confused, and didn't realize until it was too late that a Who song came on next. It turns out that I had listened to quite a lot of the Who song before realizing it. The thing is, I hate the Who, and I always have. Really, I just had gotten to thinking about other things, but nonetheless it made me feel like I had lost my ability to discern between things that I do and do not like. I feel like that happens to people as they get older. I am not ready to accidentally like the Who yet.

I feel like you need to see what my bedroom walls looked like when I was a kid (above). Maybe it's because I am in house-buying mode; I am all pre-approved and ready to go. Soon I will have chosen a house, and will only have to decide things like, "should I replicate the walls of my youth?"

She and I are not ignorant (but she and me are)

Tonight I learned that I don't like gluten-free beer. At least, not the brand I tried at the Berkley Front. Could it have anything to do with the fact that when I requested it, the bartender had to consult with the waitress and then disappear for awhile, eventually bringing it out from a mysterious room, then dusting it with his shirt before setting it down? Still, nice that they had it at all.

The dude at the next stool tried to woo my friend/coworker and me* away from our drinks with offers of more drinks and darts at the place next door. I had to laugh, wondering which overheard snippets made him all into us: the endless conversation about a mentally ill child, or the complaining about feeling old and broke? All so hot.



*I'm tired of people thinking that this should be "I" instead of "me." People have over-generalized some rule they once learned about "You and I, not you and me" to the point where I am paranoid that people think I am ignorant when I use it correctly (as above). You don't think I'm ignorant, do you?

My feet, they are cold. Almost like blocks of ice already, and it's still October. It is supposed to go down into the low 30's tonight, so I guess it makes sense. Having a house guest (the lovely Chris) motivated me, at least, to turn the heat on. Also to clean the tub and coffee maker.

I'm thinking about how nice and warm my feet were in the picture above. I was in Santa Fe, sitting by the pool at the Sunrise Springs resort. I was on a break from writing, and I had my Amy Hempel book there at the pool with me. I felt a little bit guilty reading at the pool during a designated writing time, but no one cared. We were there to write like adults, not like kids. It had to involve wine and frequent breaks in the sun or the shade. It had to involve plenty of snacks at all hours. Some people even napped, but I am not a good sleeper. Despite all this, I was productive. It was those blocks of time. Now the project I started there is almost due and I had to force myself to work on it tonight. I enjoy working on it. I always, always enjoy writing. It's just getting myself to do it. I do think it's harder when my feet are cold.

I like this picture. I like the dog wandering in (although I think it is the same one that snarled at me). Unfortunately, the junk on the roof is kind of reminiscent of some of the bank-owned houses I looked at with Chris last weekend (note to self: do not look at any more bank-owned houses). But that aside, I like this picture very much. Was I really in New Mexico in June, driving around on my own and exploring all kinds of little places? I know it was, but it seems like so long ago now.

Circus Peanut Pumpkin Dreams

That is a seasonal candy given to me this morning by a crafty student. It is made from a - you will like this - Circus Peanut. Oh, Circus Peanuts, you still exist? That is kind of gross, yet comforting in a way. I just found out that one ingredient in the Circus Peanut is pork-skin derived gelatin. Also, that some cereal dude sliced one up on his cereal and that led to Lucky Charms. Yeah, I googled "circus peanut." Anything to avoid the debate. I followed the Liveblog on Jezebel.com, and even that made my blood boil, so now I'm just going to pretend I live on Planet Circuspeanutluckycharm. There are unicorns and rainbows everywhere! And the Circus Peanuts make lovely pillows.


This is my green-on-green-on-green, etc. salad, a.k.a. tomorrow's lunch. First I cut up some Swiss Chard and massage it with a tiny bit of flax oil until it bends to my will. Then I throw on some steamed broccoli, some fava beans, some pepperoncini, and some avocado. It is delicious, and also quite pleasing in its monochromaticism. I have other things I could add, but they would ruin the color scheme.

I am up late for the recent me, but tomorrow isn't a real day, really. It's one of those days where the kids take a state-mandated test all day and I "proctor." They pretty much have to do all the thinking. I just have to tell them, "Sorry, I'm not allowed to help you with anything. Oh, you can't read the directions to the math problem? Apparently the math test is also a test of reading, because I'm not allowed to help you with that at all, according to the state. Best wishes to you."

Mean state.

My Dinner

I made an actual recipe for actual dinner tonight! I planned ahead, bought the ingredients, and followed all the steps. I am very proud. Lately I have just been eating in a way that shows very, very low expectations for myself. But it's fall, and I wanted something warm. I wanted lentil soup, specifically. I wanted to make a very typical Lebanese lentil soup, but then I found this recipe in Heidi Swanson's cookbook, Super Natural Cooking. I love her website, where she mostly tries out recipes from other cookbooks, and her book, which consists of her own recipes. I had already made the Black Tea Spring Rolls, which were awesome, although slightly unconventionally shaped due to my, um, overly creative methods. So tonight I made the Chunky Lentil Soup. The chunkiness comes from butternut squash. I had to watch an internet tutorial about how to cut a butternut squash, because all day I carried a vague anxiety, knowing I had this potentially digit-removing activity ahead of me. I like having fingers. It turns out that my usual method was correct. Cutting squash is just inherently risky. I enjoy life on the edge as usual.

Oh, the soup also has tomatoes and smoked paprika. It's super good!

Blame-placin', ma'am style

I'm kind of tired of people calling me "ma'am." I just don't believe I am a "ma'am." But if I examine the evidence....shit. No matter how long into my thirties I insist on shopping at Urban Outfitters, I am still a "ma'am," really. Just a slightly hip ma'am.

A few weeks ago, Jen and I were having a drink and they were playing Band of Horses at the bar. I recognized some of the songs (ok, mostly I recognized the one used in a commercial), and I bought the album from ITunes the next day. I love it so much. It is what I want to listen to these days. I don't even care that they gave some car company commercial rights to their song. It is just beautiful.

Reality hit me today that I have a deadline. The article I started in Santa Fe is due soon. They gave me this gorgeous, perfect writing experience for very minimal cost to me, and in return, I owe them a polished, finished product. As of a few hours ago, the article was anything but. I have been working at it diligently over the last couple of hours, though, and I think it will be OK. But what have I been doing since late June? All I can say is, it's so typical of someone whose root chakra is blocked... That, plus long-term effects of gluten poisoning, are my new excuses for everything wrong with me. Why haven't I followed through with the part-time writing thing I pursued this summer? Root chakra. Why didn't my students score better on their end-of-year writing assessments last year? I was in a gluten (pictured above) haze and couldn't properly coach them. Why can I never get anything mailed in a timely way? Obviously root chakra!

I am being facetious, but only kind of. I got confirmation of the whole gluten thing this week, and it is staggering to realize that I have been unknowingly harming my body for who knows how many years. I have always tried to be a healthy eater, but all along I was malnourished. It explains a lot of vague health problems I have had. Ugh.

Time for a fresh start.

the degrading thing that i do

Sheeesh. One month into the school year and all my stories relate to school. There has got to be more. Um, I could tell you about my chakras, I guess. I found out via an online quiz that my root chakra is terribly blocked. That is one thing I have recently learned (I have been doing Kundalini yoga, and it is apparently a gateway drug other new agey things?). Another non-school thing is that I talk too much about gluten. See, all of these things are coming together in my mind and making me realize that I might need an intervention. A "please stop talking about school/chakras/gluten" type intervention.

But I don't know what else, so just one last school story before I start living it up in some other way and can tell you about that instead.

There is a thing I do that I don't internally approve of and did not come up with, but that is a needed thing for this one kid in my class. It is a daily update sheet that goes through each part of the day - "Writing," "Math," "Snack," etc. I have to assign a smiley face, a straight-mouthed face, or a frowning face for each part, as well as comments. Anyway, I started thinking about what it would be like if someone was following me around all day with a clipboard containing that sheet. Hoooo. That's a horrible, horrible thought.

Getting up: Frown (major abuse of snooze)
Drive to school: Straight line (went kind of fast on the curvy road)
Pre-student-arrival: Straight line (could have been more sharing with the copier)
etc.
I would have gotten a smile at snack (ate all of her banana! GREAT JOB!!!) and possibly at science (effectively used a healthful flower at second dissection attempt!).

But, oh my god. It just adds a whole new perspective. Especially if I have to imagine that the kid actually has to complete the sheet. How degrading!

Lilified

Just when I start thinking I can drink many glasses of wine on a Thursday night without fretting about my extra-long teaching day on Friday comes one like today. i really, really could have used all of my brain functionality today. Or maybe it wouldn't have mattered, really. It went something like this....

Wouldn't a flower dissection be an interesting way for kids to learn about the parts of flowers? Why yes, it would! Pistil, stamen, anther, etc. - I brushed up on it a bit, but in the end I felt like I needed to buy flowers with as clear-cut examples of these parts as possible. Looking at the alstromeria at Trader Joe's, I couldn't see everything. The more expensive lilies, on the other hand, were gorgeous, big, and very obvious in their anatomy. I decided to buy an extravagant amount - one for each kid, plus a bunch left over to brighten the classroom. I spent a bit more than I meant to, but I thought, fuck it. A lot of things have been hard/upsetting/disappointing lately, and I should buy the prettiest flowers possible.

I walked into school this morning all Miss America-like, with this big spray of lilies across my chest. I was so excited, and expected the kids to immediately start quizzing me about them when they walked in, the way they start quizzing me if my hair is sticking up or I have accidentally worn a similar outfit as the day before. No one said anything about them, though, which I was also kind of happy about, because it would be such a great surprise come science time.

The room was all lilified and fragrant by 11:00. The tighter blooms had opened in the sun. I cut one for each kid, and gave the first set of directions: to make a sketch from the top and one from the side. As I was cutting, I noticed that the anthers (yeah, I've internalized at least that vocab word) were fucking full of pollen. Like, tons of pollen spilling out. I'm not that smart and didn't think much about it except, "Wow. That's a lot of pollen."

Soon, coughs started up around the room. Kids started clearing their throats. "I don't feel right," someone said. "Me either." "My throat itches." "My eyes burn." "My head hurts." "I'm dizzy." Then my personal favorite: "My tongue feels funny."

That did it. As a person with long-standing tongue-feeling-funny paranoia, my attention was caught. I took a good look around at a sea of watery eyes, blotchy skin, and woozy expressions. Shit. I had triggered a mass respiratory event in my classroom! Now my throat was itching like mad, too.

The next minutes were a blur of emergency lily confiscation, rapid-fire hand washing, and classroom evacuation to the fresh air of the outdoors. My fears worsened when about half the class opted to sit listlessly in the wood chips on the playground rather than actually play. I pounded on a colleague's classroom window and asked her to remove and destroy the lilies, open my windows wider, and alert the principal. This colleague later reported that the lily smell upon opening my door was overwhelming, sickening, unbearable...

I gathered the kids in a temporarily empty classroom and read to them, hysterically noting in my mind who was reacting normally and who was not, hoping my voice wasn't betraying my own swollen throat. My students were bizarrely sedate, glassy-eyed, zombie-esque. One girl's throat bloomed with red splotches, and I sent her to the office to be watched over.

I finally took them to lunch, then cried a little from stress and worry. This day was a low, low point in my teaching career thus far. Almost any job seemed preferable. I would have strongly preferred to be a fish-catcher, and I have deep existential fear of both worms and fish.

Instead of eating my lunch, I scrubbed every possible pollen-harboring surface and sniffed the air fretfully. By the time the kids came back in, only a lingering perfume remained. We talked about what had happened, and I explained that the room was now totally lily-free, even though the scent was still there a little.

"Don't we get to take our flowers home?" they cried.

Uh...no.

Heavy Metal Food Fight

Oh my god! Mike Hentch told us at TV Nigh about doing this heavy metal food fight voiceover for the Del Taco website, with Danny Muggs playing backup on guitar. He had kind of demonstrated, so I knew he had some skillz, but wow. I am so proud to say I know him. If you click on each item at the bottom of the screen (for some reason they are hard to click just right, but be persistent), you can hear their interpretations.

Doomy, gloomy mornings

I have been springing out of bed so easily these days, because when my radio goes off early, I don't want to loll in bed and listen to NPR like I usually do. I want to propel myself away from the radio, source of all the terrible news and doom and gloom that seems to be so relentless lately. Luckily, my radio is on the side of my bed near the wall, so propelling myself away from it gets me to the bedroom door, not against the wall.

I always thought it would be cool to have some effective way of giving myself reality-check messages in the morning. I used to leave notes: YOU HAVE TO GET UP NOW BECAUSE YOU NEED TO STOP FOR GAS ON THE WAY TO WORK!!! or, YOU DIDN'T MAKE YOUR LUNCH LAST NIGHT AND IT TAKES FOREVER! But when the alarm went off, I never looked at the notes. Even if I had looked at them, I would have thought I was above the person who wrote them. That's how I am in the morning.

Maybe this is one of those pragmatic reasons for cohabitation, like free rides to the airport: someone to make you get up.

With all this American doom/gloom blasting into my ears in the morning, though, I'm able to handle it on my own just fine.

House Schooled

I had a pile of the Mindless Cutting Tasks that come with being a teacher, and as is my habit, I turned on the TV for distraction. House was on. I watched this show when it first came on a few years ago, then I stopped because every episode was so much the same. It still really annoys me, I found out. Like, they really tolerate this assholery day in, day out? I started to imagine the elementary education version of the show. I am the star, and i am just impossible. However, my genius in the education of children, and solving complex educational problems through out-of-the-box thinking, is unparalleled at my school. Almost every day, or at least on Tuesdays, I get sulky when something doesn't go my way, and I take off, just when a third grader most desperately needs my expertise. My colleagues bumble around ineffectively, trying out different, ill-conceived instructional techniques and losing valuable time. Finally, a male colleague is sent to my house to beg me to come back to work. I make some sexually degrading comments towards him, and he rolls his eyes a bit, but he just refuses to give up on me. He knows that deep down inside, my heart is crying out in pain. They all know it. Finally, I agree to go back, but I twist it to make it seem like it's all on my terms. I sit down with the suffering student, say the rudest things I can think of to make him or her feel like shit, and then a random, over-heard snippet sparks an idea. Just like that, the solution comes to me in a flash of certainty. I know now how to solve this educational problem, and I do so, swiftly and skillfully, in the harrowing last ten minutes of the school day. The student tries to thank me, but I just gnash my teeth and criticize his or her body.

Wouldn't that be an awesome show? I'm going to start thinking about who should play my male colleague, the one who refuses to give up on my frozen heart.

Poor DFW

Ugh. So sad to hear about David Foster Wallace. I really liked his stuff (although I don't think I finished Infinite Jest, despite a friend urging me on). I still remember picking up Girl With Curious Hair, not really knowing anything about him. There was a story about an actor going on David Letterman that was hilarious and brilliant - at least, I remember it that way. He was also the guest editor of the 2007 Best American Essays, and at first I was not pleased with his choices. They seemed like too much work. I wanted easy, clever essays. These were on a different level, requiring my full attention. His introduction was, of course, extensively footnoted, and he questioned the whole point of choosing the "best" essays. In the end, I enjoyed most of his choices, and appreciated that he didn't just pick the most popular kids of the essay world, as I would surely have done. Now I'm remembering that I had been meaning to check out his collection Consider the Lobster, since I liked the title essay when it appeared in, I think, Gourmet. I guess I still can, right?

Just sad, though. Not like he didn't come across as the depressed type, but it is still shocking when someone who seems to have reached so many of his goals makes the choice to kill himself. Like I know what his goals were, or anything about him, or that it's even a choice! Ha. Silly. Anyway, I obviously put writers on some kind of pedestal, or at least I put The Writing Life on that pedestal. I imagine that if you are able to not only make your living that way, but also be widely lauded for your talent, that would be everything. It's like I missed the Literature 101 class about tortured, depressed, yet successful artists.

It rained all weekend. I stayed home and nursed my cold, except for the hours when I hunched over in the rain, bailing water that was about to stream into my parents' basement.

Autumnal Breakfast, plus My Little Conservative Charges

I went to bed really early last night (after watching a grainy post of the last Project Runway episode on Youtube), hoping to sleep off this cold that has suddenly sprung up on me. When I woke up today to rainy gloom, I had that fall feeling, even though it's supposed to be in the 70s today. I felt like eschewing my summer breakfast and making something more autumnal. So I made this polenta and tomato concoction. I just sliced some polenta off the tube, sprinkled some pepper and nutritional yeast on it, added a layer of tomato slices, then more pepper, parsley, and a little salt. I baked it for fifteen minutes and it was just exactly what I wanted it to be.

Some recent political comments from my classroom as we have been reading articles about both major candidates and the conventions:

"A Democrat is a person who want to raise taxes and make gas more expensive." (in answer to the question "What does the word "Democrat" mean?")

"John McCain is COOL!" (EEEEEEwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!)

"Sarah Palin is sooo pretty!" (Uuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!)

"Democrats are tiny little losers!" (from the same kid: "My sister's friend thinks that global warming is real. Isn't that hilarious?")

"Barack Obama kills babies" (OK, that was actually from the classroom next door. Still....I had to hear about it).

Sigh. Ugh. Ouch. Yuck. Gross.

All I can do is keep saying, "Well, that's an OPINION. Let's talk about facts."

The wilting flower of my no-so-secret disinterest in anything

It's true that, for teachers, August is one long Sunday night, and the first few weeks of September are somehow traumatic. Not that I wasn't in need of some routine and intellectual challenge (teaching actually is an intellectual activity, despite what many think. It is not just about picking out adorable theme outfits, making dittos, and thinking up new ways to torture children). Still, I feel like dropping out of everything. All the commitments I ambitiously made for the school year seem like too much. I want to put in a hard day of work, then lie on the floor all evening and listen to music. That's as far as my ambition stretches right now. I don't even feel like cooking, reading, or watching movies. But Instead of indulging this unmotivated mood, I have signed up for a bunch of classes at the gym to pile on top of my after-school activities. So I guess I'm in all the way now.

On the up side, my lovely art teaching co-worker brought me kale and spinach today, sauteed. She brought me rice pasta with goat cheese and avocado and pesto. She considers me when she puts away her leftovers. To boot, she brought me big fancy gold earrings that dangle way down almost to my shoulders. Tomorrow I am taking her an Indian classical CD that I like for yoga. If I had a desire to cook, and the corresponding leftovers, I would totally take her some.

The last movie I watched from Netflix was an Almodovar one, while I was illin' with food poisoning. It was The Flower of My Secret. I really liked that the main character was, for one thing, an older woman, without it being a movie about "an older woman." I also liked that she couldn't get her boots off and had to pay a panhandler on the street to try to tug them off, unsuccessfully. That was fantastic.

I have decided that these Miz Mooz boots are the ones I would like to get stuck on my feet this fall.

A super grouchy version of "Vegan's 100"

I'm jumping on this internet food blog list craze, even though I'm not really sure what the point of noting foods I have eaten or would never eat really is, or why anyone should care. I also don't know what it is all supposed to say about me. It's pretty damn privileged to fetishize food in this way. I'm going to provide notes, which isn't in the instructions, because I guess then it becomes about prompting stories rather than just obsessing about food.

Yeah, I don't know what the point is, but I can never sleep and it's something to do.

Here are the instructions for the "Vegan's 100" challenge. It comes from the "Omnivore's 100," which is pointless for me to try. Also, the word "challenge" can't be right, can it? I must have made it up to make myself seem more Olympian in taking on the task, or something.

***
VEGAN'S 100

Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

1) Copy this list into your own blog, including these instructions. (google it to find a clean list w/o my dumb notes)
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating. (don't know how to cross out on this blog template so am putting a bold x next to those)
4) Post a comment here once you’ve finished and link your post back to this one.
5) Pass it on!

1. Natto Determined to like it back in the day; mostly succeeded. Pictured above.
2. Green Smoothie frozen mango, frozen pineapple, water, and spinach is how I like it
3. Tofu Scramble Like it best when others prepare it for me
4. Haggis X I'm flummoxed about why this is on the vegan list.
5. Mangosteen
6. Creme brulee not a big dessert person but I like the way the burned sugar makes the crust for your spoon to break through
7. Fondue childhood New Year's Eve food (family tradition)
8. Marmite/Vegemite Tried during a student's Australia presentation
9. Borscht I love beets but I'm underwhelmed/grossed out by borscht.
10. Baba ghanoush A fine use of eggplant
11. Nachos Loved to eat them with giant margaritas at the Del Rio in Ann Arbor. Del Rio is gone, as is my desire for nachos.
12. Authentic soba noodles Taught how to make them from scratch by a sweatband-wearing grandpa in Toyota City
13. PB&J sandwich Who hasn't?
14. Aloo gobi When is the last time I ate Indian food, anyway?
15. Taco from a street cart
16. Boba Tea I had to google it to find out that it's bubble tea. I've tried it but didn't quite get what the big thing was.
17. Black truffle This may or may not be what Carrie's neighbor handed over the fence to us after a lucrative mushroom gathering day.
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes Cherry wine and plum wine. They are way too sweet, but some version of me once liked them.
19. Gyoza I like the frozen vegetable gyoza from Trader Joe's.
20. Vanilla ice cream Suffered teasing over my preference for it above all other exotic flavors
21. Heirloom tomatoes accidentally spent a crazy amount of money on them last summer (learned valuable lesson about noticing prices)
22. Fresh wild berries Wistful about berry patches of my youth.
23. Ceviche X
24. Rice and beans I was a Vegetarian College Student
25. Knish
26. Raw scotch bonnet pepper X
27. Dulce de leche Went through a weird phase in Japan where I would buy tiny one- or two-serving containers of dulce de leche or rum raisin ice cream, two flavors that I had never wanted before and haven't since.
28. Caviar Awkward "fancy restaurant after treating me to VIP sumo tournament experience" situation with student and her mom
29. Baklava A bad choice for the cavity-prone (me)
30. Pate X
31. Wasabi peas I like them, but can't eat them now that I'm gluten free. Yeah, I've recently become that much more annoying to feed. My stomach isn't killing me all the time, though.
32. Chowder in a sourdough bowl X
33. Mango lassiMango tastes like sunshine and rainbows. I'll take it in any form.
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float Sometimes we blended it to make a cooler.
36. Mulled ciderThe cider mill I pass on my way to and from school just opened for the season, which is sort of tragic, summer-wise. I get excited about mulled cider, but usually end up drinking my cider cold, instead.
37. Scones with buttery spread and jam The Swan tea room, London
38. Vodka jelly
39. Gumbo Howe's Bayou has vegetarian gumbo now
40. Fast food french fries I'm sure I ate enough fries in my 0-16 years to even out the last twenty, in which I haven't eaten any.
41. Raw Brownies
42. Fresh Garbanzo Beans Or maybe I haven't. What is a "fresh" garbanzo bean? I will say that I have never met a garbanzo bean I didn't like, so if I had the chance to eat a fresh one, I definitely did.
43. Dahl I used to cook this a lot.
44. Homemade Soymilk
45. Wine from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Stroopwafle
47. Samosas Saturdays, street vendor in flea market district of Nagoya
48. Vegetable Sushi My top takeout (clarification: My only takeout)
49. Glazed doughnut Possibly never actually enjoyed it.
50. Seaweed Love to eat nori by the crispy sheet.
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi Near-daily lunch in Japan consisted of a seaweed-wrapped rice triangle (onigiri) with umeboshi at the center, from convenience store. Wish our 7-11 sold that.
53. Tofurkey Expensive, depressing, gross.
54. Sheese
55. Cotton candy Carnival, Warren, OH
56. Gnocchi My free-association brain says, "mommy."
57. Piña colada X
58. Birch beer
59. Scrapple X
60. Carob chips I was a Hippie Day Care Employee
61. S’mores Preferably slightly charred.
62. Soy curls
63. Chickpea cutlets
64. Curry Indian style, Japanese style
65. Durian Just dried, not fresh.
66. Homemade Sausages Why is this on the vegan list??? Or...I guess there is a recipe in Vegan with a Vengeance that I would try for white bean and tempeh sausage
67. Churros, elephant ears, or funnel cake My sister was the real elephant ear aficionado.
68. Smoked tofui used to eat this kind of thing a lot. what do i eat now? this list is full of things i used to eat.
69. Fried plantain
70. Mochi Every year in Japan, several old and young people choke on it and die while celebrating the arrival of a new year.
71. Gazpacho I only made it once this summer, which seems incredibly sad right now
72. Warm chocolate chip cookies The Saturn dealership never had the fresh, warm cc cookies the ad campaigns promised. They were boxed and heated, I believe.
73. Absinthe
74. Corn on the cob Weird to think some people haven't tried it. I'm all midwestern America-centric like that.
75. Whipped cream, straight from the can
76. Pomegranate Tastes good but dries out my teeth.
77. Fauxstess Cupcake X
78. Mashed potatoes with gravy Like the potatoes, hate everything about gravy
79. Jerky X
80. Croissants I'm not sure I have every had one that is the correct consistency/flakiness. It's usually a plastic-wrapped feature of some begrudging, last-ditch attempt to feed myself when there is nothing else for the vegetarian/sugarphobe at the breakfast meeting.
81. French onion soup I made a labor-intensive vegetarian version for a date once. Something happened - a culinary disaster of some type. I have blocked it out, but it reverberates in my inability to date and my disinterest in french onion soup.
82. Savory crepes Eaten in Paris, at a creperie near our hotel on our "spoiled suburban high school student art history trip" (thanks, mom and dad)
83. Tings
84. A meal at Candle 79
85. Moussaka A way to ruin eggplant
86. Sprouted grains or seeds I've eaten many a health food restaurant salad in my day.
87. Macaroni and “cheese”
88. Flowers I once put them on top of a stir-fry, back before I was bitter and hopeless.
89. Matzoh ball soup
90. White chocolate Easter basket bunnies. Always gave them to my mom (coincidence?)
91. Seitan I can't eat it without thinking of the Mol Triffid song, "Satin Rules," about people trying to be all bad-ass and spelling Satan wrong in their grafitti.
92. Kimchi Question: Why don't I ever go out for Korean food anymore?
93. Butterscotch chips Was thinking about butterscotch today, possibly because of my fake caged classroom pet by the same name.
94. Yellow watermelon
95. Chili with chocolate After disliking chocolate my whole life, I have come to understand that I like very, very dark chocolate with something spicy in it.
96. Bagel and Tofutti
97. Potato milk
98. Polenta Mollie can prepare it best.
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Raw cookie dough annual stomachache after xmas cookie making

****

There. Fascinating, I'm sure. I killed an hour. I took my mind off some stuff. My eyes are a little tired. I hope a will sleep. Of all these foods, I would like to dream about butterscotch, which seems like a warm, safe, childhood kind of food. Please, no dreams about potato milk. That seems upsetting even to me. I imagine the potatoes hooked up to a milking machine, producing super starchy milk. Ugh.

Death Bed

Rock solid logic from a food poisoning-compromised brain: I will set my alarm for two hours from now so that I can find out if I have died in my sleep or not. I will set the backup alarm for two hours after that, so I can keep checking my status throughout the night.

That was me last night. In all, I had two days in bed, illin' like crazy. I don't know if I have ever been so sick, or so illogical. I couldn't drink water, let alone eat. I dropped four pounds. Waking up with a palpitating heart and the dizzies (nod to Liza Minelli in Arrested Development) set me into full-blown panic that I was in a dehydrated state and about to slip into a coma or die. Google will do that to you. So I came up with the alarm clock plan. I'm pleased to report that I wasn't dead either time my alarm went off.



Photo is of my food poisoning culprit: my beloved carrot juice. I blame myself, not the juice. I exercised poor judgement and carelessness. I hope the day will come when I can stand the thought of carrot juice again. According to everything I saw online, botulism is the food borne illness most associated with carrot juice. That would have been worse (paralysis...). My carrot juice went easy on me, relatively speaking.

third post of the day and sexing things up

i know, what's wrong with me? this is what happens when i don't leave the house all day, i reckon. i had actually meant to write about something else, not gram parsons. that just slipped out. what i meant to say was that i found this apartment that i'm going to look at tomorrow. actually, it's a house. anyway, it sounds really ideal (price, location, and amenities-wise), but there weren't any pictures. i'm nervous because the landlady told me to drive by it first, then as a second step to look in the windows, then if i was STILL interested, call her and she'll come show it to me. it sort of seemed like she doesn't expect anyone to really get beyond step one and two. So then she said that there is something falling apart on the porch, and don't worry, she is going to fix it and replace the door now that the other tenant is out. also, something about the tenant having left a bed in the backyard? i don't know... it's raining like hell right now all over that bed.

It's all a bit sketchy, no? But just perfect enough price/place/amenities-wise that i will have to embark on at least step 1 tomorrow.

The other thing was that i got in trouble at my painting class for not following directions very well. true, i was supposed to paint the kitchen sink. also true, i totally cheated and painted my pretty rainbow-edged colander filled with blueberries, with the stainless steel sink surface below it. the teacherchastised me for taking this mundane subject, which apparently was mundane for a purpose, and sexing it up. what can i say? everything i touch gets sexed all up. GET USED TO IT.

Movies, music, and doom

Brendan Benson has not yet been bested by Yo La Tengo, but there is still almost an hour and a half left in the day. That sentence will only make sense if you read the last post, by the way. Actually, I took a break from my Stockholm Syndrome pity party and watched the Gram Parsons documentary, Fallen Angel. It was pretty good, considering there are no interviews with him, except two short audio snippets where he talks about working with Emmylou Harris. Anyway, I knew about his tragic end, or thought I did, but it's quite a bit more tragic than I realized. I only have one Gram Parsons song on ITunes and I have listened to it, let's see...twenty times less than Stockholm Syndrome and 66 times less than Metarie (why so many listens for that one? I like it, but it's not like it's my favorite song ever written. Weird). I like GP's music in theory, but I have never really dug into it; it all kind of sounds alike on the surface. He was pretty mesmerizing to look at, till he got bloated and old at 26...

Last week I watched the Townes Van Zandt doc Be Here to Love Me, which I had partly seen on PBS. Loved it. Didn't I mention that the theme of the summer is Doomed Geniuses of American Music? Hopefully I am not somehow accidentally dooming Brendan Benson or Georgia, Ira, and James of YLT in the process!

I haven't really been managing my netflix list, just getting whatever is next on the queue without much fiddling around. The other one I just watched was Lars and the Real Girl, which was too quirky and folksy for me. I am only willing to suspend my disbelief so far...

Oops, there is less than an hour left in the day now. There is no possible way I can listen to that song 46 times, even if it is only two minutes, fifty-one seconds long.

Carpal Tunnel and Heartbreak/ache

When I decided to cave and pay for wireless internet in my home, I expected convenience and new excitement. I didn't expect carpal tunnel and heartbreak.

But that is what I got. Also, heartache.

Stockholm Syndrome by Yo La Tengo is still my favorite song for that fucked-up heartbreak/ache mood. I predict that by the end of the day it will surpass my current most-played song on ITunes (Metarie, by Brendan Benson).

I just listed six cute pairs of shoes on eBay. I hope people will buy them so that I can get the shoes I really want for school. Comfortable, sensible shoes. Is the frivolous, uncomfortable-but-cute shoes phase of my life over? Oh my god. Cue Stockholm fucking Syndrome.

name-dropping and pitchers

Don't let the back-to-school hype fool you; summer is not over! Proof: sangria.

There are many ways to make sangria, but this was a no-nonsense and simple way: fruity Hungarian Merlot, cut up apples, pears, grapes, plums, slices of orange... just left to soak together in the pitcher. The recipe called for agave nectar and/or maple syrup, but I left them out and it was plenty sweet.

Mostly I just want to show off my pretty Iittala pitcher, which i barely ever use.

Asterisk Plate

There are lots of things I just don't need more of, like black shirts and plates. But how can one resist an asterisk plate? Alice and I found it at an antiques shop Friday night. It was cheap and an ASTERISK, which is a great punctuation mark (although an ellipsis would have been the real score, since that is the punctuation mark I abuse). There was a larger plate with an exclamation point. "Chips and salsa," Alice suggested, and she was right. But the exclamation point seemed kind of gaudy. The asterisk was just right.



It will look great filled with candy or nuts or something, right? For the time in the future when I have people over. I wanted to try filling it, but of course I have nothing interesting to test it out with. I finally settled on dried kidney beans, just to get an idea.



I like it quite a lot.

Three more things:
1. Yesterday at the bookstore, I saw a magazine called "Natural Dog." Natural dog? Are there other options for dog-hood? Maybe it's all about resisting the urge to buy your dog clothes or to feed it conventionally produced dog food. I don't know...

2. Also, in another magazine I looked at, there was an article by my train romance, whom I once wrote about here. It's all about his family's crazy adventures roughing it. I'm glad it didn't work out, because I don't really like to rough it. It's hard when you wear contacts.

3. Today I made a potato salad that contained potatoes, chives, capers, and a mustard/vinegar/caper juice/olive oil dressing. No mayo, of course. I don't normally cook potatoes, but I like this, and it was for my dad's birthday dinner. Although it is not his real birthday. On his real birthday (65th), he got into a car accident, broke his nose, cut his eye, which swelled to the size of a small egg, bled profusely all over his clothes, and had the new car he was just driving home from the dealership smashed. So for him, I make potatoes.

Owls and Rivers

I realized last night that I'm somewhat scared of owls. Not of physical owls; we don't really cross paths. But I'm scared of liking owls and owl motifs too much.

Take this woodblock print:


It is by Kawano, an artist who I love. I would love to own a Kawano print, and I like this one (although there are others I like more). Last night on eBay, it was at $9.99, but that will not stay. It will go quite high, and so I am not bothering right now, as it's belt-tightening time, not art-buying time. I like to fantasize once in awhile is all.

Anyway, the owls. I don't know why my mind is stuck in junior high lately, but there was this teacher there who was head-to-toe owl lady. Not Ms. G-W, but Miss H. Miss H. struck me even then as a tragic, tragic owl-adorned figure. She was probably close to retirement and could not relate to the students at all. She was grumpy and mean. Consequently, the students were not kind (I was among them). And the owls. Good lord, the owls dangling around her neck, from her ears, perched on her desk, etc. Big, ornate owls.

So I don't want to be like her, you know? Liking owls can lead to bad things.

Also, rivers. I love rivers as a motif, and I think that's OK; I never had a tragic teacher who wore voluminous river jewelry. But I've been wanting to move, and thinking about the concept of place, and this print made me think:

It is a lovely one, by Koitsu. See the lovely summer night on the river? I look at this and could cry at how much I want to be in that scene, on a river in Kyoto, fitting in and drinking at one of those glowing inns or in that little boat, looking at all the lights and stars. The thing is, I basically live on a river right now. I'm steps from being riverside. Across the street is a hotel with a restaurant that looks over the river. There are several restaurants, in fact, along the river. But it's not the right river, and they're not the right restaurants, and there sure as hell is no little pleasure boat like that.

See, some people are disappointed because they expect reality to be like the movies. It's woodblock prints that get to me.

But really, is it so wrong to want to do a bit of sophisticated merrymaking in a little lantern-strung pleasure boat on a romantic river under a clear, unpolluted night sky? It seems like it should be do-able.

Art inspiration

I meant to add another heroine to the previous post: the author of this cooking site from Spain. She is a phenomenal artist. Many of the recipes involve meat, so I don't go there for the recipes, necessarily, although I always find them interesting. Really, I go for the paintings, because they are so lovely.

I have an assignment to paint my kitchen sink before next Tuesday's watercolor class. I hope I can channel lobstersquad...

Random thought-gatherings (fair warning: involves wine)

1. The lovely meal Jen S-G and I ate: Chopped-up things meant to be wrapped into Thai fresh rolls, but which became a salad due to tearing fresh roll wrappers. Such a good, good thing to eat...



2. Why am I getting mad about the scoring for the Olympic gymnastics competition right now? Why am I even watching it? Why haven't I gone to bed? Why this foolishness? (that came from a high school English teacher I know who wanted to write "WTF???" on some of her students' papers, and tried to come up with an acceptable reason, like "Why this foolishness?" My thought was "Where's the focus," which only highlights my squareness).

3. Added to my cadre of heroines, along with Lynda Barry, the "Picture Lady" who presents at my school, and others, is Vivian Vasquez. You might not be interested if you are not an educator. But if you are an educator? Seek her out right now! She has a blog and a podcast and uses technology in classrooms in a good way (i.e., the kids actually use it).

4. Today I went to school to start setting stuff up. The desks looked really, really small. I feel far from the reality which is about to descend upon me.

A thicker skin (plus a new coat)

I had my painting class last night. God. I enjoy the physical act of it, but it is hard on my ego. Last week, we worked on color values, and to practice we had to paint a selection of black-spectrum buttons on black paper, and then a selection of white-spectrum buttons on white paper. I sucked at it. I have never been good at faithfully copying stuff anyway, and the colors were hard for me to replicate. I also misunderstood the homework and felt embarrassed, although as a teacher, this is information that can be put to use in the future. File under, "empathy when someone misunderstands her or his homework."

Last night, we did a variety of things, but I just felt like the teacher kept going to the other new students and saying, "Wow!" "Good!" "You've really got it!" etc., and just kind of looking at mine without comment. I keep meaning to grow a thicker skin, and then forgetting to do so. Instead I just keep buying new jackets, which is not the same at all.

Anyway, it reminds me of the time in junior high school when my teacher, Ms. G-W., gave everyone in the class an adorable nickname, usually consisting of some form of their real name with "-ski" tacked onto the end. For example, Brad became Bradski. Jennifer became Jenny-ski. These names were said lightly, with a shared fondness or secret implied. My name, however, stayed exactly the same. No -ski was added, and the voice returned to normal seriousness when it was said, placing me firmly outside her whimsical circle. In retrospect, this is a fantastic thing. I might have gone down an entirely different path if I had been wrapped into this little sorority training group. At the time, though, I took it as further proof that I didn't fit in and had deserved to be left by my one good friend for the cheerleaders. I know. I'm like the only person you have ever heard about having a hard time in junior high. All I can say is, good thing for the Cure and the Smiths, who were there through thick skin and thin (mostly thin). See how Robert Smith stuck by me even when I was alone in my room, all sullen, with a shower cap and panty hose on my head?
Take that, Ms. G-W! What a shitty teacher. I'm sure she thought she was a great one.

Anyway, I didn't really mean to go down that path, because my painting teacher is not shitty. She is good, and she is honest. I'm kind of lazy and ridiculously crave validation. I'm starting a skin-thickening program right now. Please hurl insults at me when we meet so that I can use it to better myself. Is that Am I Hot or Not? website still around? I am so posting a picture of myself in a bathing suit right now.

OK, maybe not. I am in one of my semi-annual Unsuccessfully Attempting to Date phases. That may be a good enough skin thickening exercise in itself.

I did get a new coat for fall. The welcome-back letter came from the superintendent. One must cope somehow.

Eggplant picture

Finally, the much anticipated eggplant picture! See how Michigan-esque? Sure, the thumb area is a bit exaggerated, but still. I can't use it to show you where I live, however, because it's already been cut up and marinated with tomatoes and basil. Yum! Here's the recipe I used (loosely):

Marinated Tomatoes and Eggplant

1. Turn on broiler.
2. Mix together 3 T. balsamic vinegar, 2 T. olive oil and 2 cloves of garlic, crushed.
3. Cut up 2 small eggplants (mitten-shaped optional), toss with half the dressing, and broil for 3-4 minutes. Toss/turn pieces over, and broil for a few more minutes.
4. Cut up 2 or 3 tomatoes (any shape OK)
5. Combine tomatoes, eggplant, remaining dressing, and 2 T. or so chopped basil.
6. Let marinate for at least an hour, up to overnight. Serve chilled.

Michigan-Shaped Eggplant

Today this eggplant-loving Michigan girl scored big at the farmer's market:

A Michigan-shaped eggplant.

(where is the USB cord for my camera???)

Michigan is in a terrible way, economy-wise. People are losing their jobs, their homes... The auto industry is going belly-up. It's hard to feel great about anything.

Our mitten shape, however, is a constant, economy-proof source of joy. This eggplant celebrates what's right about Michigan, minus the upper peninsula.

(If only you could see it! Where is that cord?)

warm beer in a cold mug

I am, indeed, drinking warm beer in a cold (frosted) mug in recognition/celebration of the following facts:

1. Despite waving her frightening fingernails centimeters from my face during dozens of expansive gestures at our training today, my principal somehow did not put out my eye.

2. I have polished off a few more of the walnut-stuffed pickled baby eggplants that Chris and I bought in Skokie. I am always fearful of them, as is she, because they may or may not be properly sealed, and the labels are usually translucent from oil - but from the jar, or another source? It's kind of sketchy, but we like them anyway.

3. There was actually a frosty mug in the freezer when I wanted one!

opening the conversation

Do you know about the durian fruit?

The durian is known for its powerfully rank smell. Its smell is considered so bad that is in fact banned from many public places in Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia. I have tasted the durian only in dried form. It tasted fine, but with a weird aftertaste that I think relates to its infamous smell.

Do you know about the peanut?

The peanut is known to cause allergic reactions in a growing number of people. Unlike most other food allergies, a peanut allergy can be airborne. The slightest trace of peanut dust can be like anthrax if it hits the right set of nostrils. Consequently, "peanut-free zones" are set up in schools and some other public places.

Do you know about tuna?

Tuna has an incredibly strong smell. To people who like the taste of it, this strong smell apparently is a good one. To people who do not like the taste, the smell is nightmarish. Take me, for example. One whiff is all it takes for a major gagging reaction to unfurl. One whiff. I bring this up because of recently being in a close-quarters tuna situation, in which the person next to me in a closed-up, airless conference room LINGERED over a tuna sandwich over the course of several hours. Lingered, I tell you. For hours I breathed through my mouth, waiting for her to please, god, finish the sandwich and throw the remains far, far away. In the meantime, I couldn't focus on the conversation or add to it, so I'm sure I came off looking like a mouth-breathing imbecile. All of my resources were engaged in not becoming sick from the smell - the overwhelming, gut-wrenching smell!

This has also happened to me in an airplane. An airplane must be a tuna sandwich-free zone! I'd totally support the airlines in searching carry-on luggage for tuna sandwiches before boarding.

Please, tuna eaters of the world, do not enjoy your sandwiches and salads in closed-in places. I'm gagging right now just thinking about it - even the memory of the tuna smell is that strong!

And don't even get me started on the time I bought what I thought was a plain roll at a bakery in Japan only to bite in and discover that it was FILLED WITH TUNA. I can't go back to that dark place to tell you what happened next, but I will say that it was the impetus for me to get serious about learning to read more Japanese...

limoncello

That is the limoncello my mom and I made. We soaked the peels of about 5 lemons in vodka for four days, then today we combined 1% milk and sugar and cooked it up, combined it with the infused vodka, and bottled it to take on our annual "up north" trip with the fam. It's good. I had never had a creamy limoncello, and generally I don't go for creamy things, but my mom found the recipe and really wanted to try it, and it is lovely.

Mollie says that when she texts my name it comes out as 'Messhut." I think that might be my new name for my apartment.

The days lately are weird. I guess I did injure my back, and it's causing my legs to hurt, too. I am trying to rest a lot, but as a result, I can't sleep at night from the inactivity. I am going out and doing things, but not exercising except for stretching. It also seems like I keep wearing the same shirt. That is an unrelated issue, though.

I'm taking a painting class and it feels great. I can't wait until I get to try out my new skillz on F.I.A.T.

So, I finally made peace with the fact of getting an occasional pedicure, and now this. That is completely horrific. Jen says that it is also horrific to people who aren't terrified of fish as I am. Is it true?

I am so tired. Partly because my sleep was marred by a bad feeling in my back and legs. I have had this before and I think it is a spinning-related injury. I got up at around 3 to google "Spinning lower back" and got quite far through one article before I realized it referred to using a spinning wheel, not pedaling on a bike going nowhere at a gym. Apparently the spinning wheel can also aggravate the lower back. The tip-off, finally, was when the author suggested switching to a kitchen chair. It just didn't seem as effective as a bike.

Beware the 'Zilla!

Having reliable internet access at home has made a huge difference in my life. Yes, I caved and stopped relying on unreliable others. Now I can do all the important stuff I need to do, like finally confirm that, yes, the woman in my one Pilates DVD is indeed the actress who played Kathy, Buffy's evil roommate! Critical stuff like that...

You might be interested to know that the monster that lives in Lake Merritt in Oakland has been named Merrittzilla . I find it kind of cool.

One benefit of the aforementioned New Bed is that in moving the dreaded Old Bed (which I gave away on freecycle) I found the ring I have been missing for many months now. The one that a student noticed was missing from my finger, which made me feel like my students watch me a little too closely, perhaps. But anyway, it is back on the middle finger of my left hand, like it had never been gone. Yea. I feel that my good luck begins now.
It's weird because I'm restless, kind of, but I don't feel like going anywhere. Usually when I feel this way I just want to go somewhere, anywhere. But I don't. I want to stay home, but in a new kind of way. What would be a fresh, interesting new way to stay home? Probably I will just read my Amy Hempel book. I actually haven't just stayed in and read in awhile.
I put up some of my pictures from NM on the post a few below.

I have a new bed, and it's lovely. It's all about newness - new bed, new mattress, new sheets, new quilt. Newnewnew. I went with a quilt because no matter what preventive steps I take (tying the corners, mild sedatives, etc.), my duvet always slips out of its cover and I get all tangled up in it. It is a really gross feeling somehow and I'm DONE. Anyway, I love my new Bed plus Accessories, even though I keep bumping my knee on the corner of the frame. That's just my bed's way of reminding me not to take it for granted. Really, it's more than a bed. It's a receptacle for my hopes and dreams. I can tell my bed anything and it won't judge me. I am trying to stay on its good side by not filling it with magazines like I did my old bed. I got up and put my magazine in the living room last night when I was ready to turn off the light. I want to be a good steward of this bed, you know? I made it today and even tucked the quilt into the sides because then it looks very modern and streamlined. I propped the first set of pillows against the slanted headboard and then I propped the other pillows, the ones with the shams, over those. It was very responsible of me.

Did I mention that the quilt is reversible? The other side is orange!!! This is why I picked out sheets with red, orange, and pink stripes. The quilt was $48, marked down from $200. Because it's reversible, I consider each side to have cost only $24. The real savings will be in better sleep from not having to wrestle with it all night like I did that stupid duvet.

So, that's what's new with me.

Caring about deer

Today, when I pulled into my parking lot, a deer was meandering about between the cars.

I see them all the time on my way to and fro school, often in various states of decomposition along the side of the road. Never in my parking lot, though. I felt bad for it. It so does not belong in this parking lot. I just kept looking at it, trying to convey to it that if it wanted to follow me, I would lead it to safety. But I don't think it got my drift. I tried English, French, Japanese, hand movements, interpretive dance, etc., but still it just stood there frozen, as though in proverbial headlights, too dense to get the message.

I also have been thinking that I would like to build some bridges across the roads specifically for deer to use for crossing. But I'm worried that, again, I wouldn't be able to communicate this news to the deer population, and the bridges would go unused. You know?

Big Brother figure wanted

Blogger is taking an agonizingly long time to add photos today, so I can't be bothered with it for the last post right now. Maybe I'll put them on my flickr page one of these days soon.

The last post is really, really long. I don't expect anyone to actually read it. I think that was more for myself.

I have committed to writing 20 minutes a day. It reminds me of a post from last summer, when I was writing every day and, basically, laughing at Hemingway. He had what seemed to me to be ridiculously easy writing goals for himself. But here I am, unsure whether I can actually manage 20 minutes a day (or a cumulative total of 100 minutes a week). I sure as hell have the time. I have vast acres and long swaths of time. But I also have a bad case of ennui. Ennui cripples me. How do I shake it?

My favorite bar in Detroit is Cliff Bell's. It's so fancy and beautiful. I had been there before, but never to see music. Jen and Deborah and I went to see ladies play music Sunday night. There are little tables with chairs to sit in while the music is playing, which seemed exotic. It also seems like a natural/inevitable progression in my life. I may suddenly be too old to go to bars where I have to stand up to watch the music. My pins enjoy a break now and then.

Last night I watched the Wilco documentary, I am Trying to Break Your Heart. It added melancholy to my ennui, although I'm not sure why. So now I have melennui.

I think it has to do with the creative process, and people living their real creative potential. I feel like I flee from my creative potential, or that it inhabits my home in the form of dust bunnies. At the retreat, the vast, epic chunks of time were motivating, not frightening. I think, sadly, that I feel like I'm not quite real if I'm alone too much. I need to know I'm being watched or something...