My open letter to Ann M Martin

Dear Ms Martin,
As a child, I loved being read to but really didn't get into reading. The books that my school offered were boring for the bright second grader that I was, and it seemed like I would never get hooked. That is, until I stayed late at Children's Courtyard and pulled out "The Ghost at Dawn's House."
I was so enthralled that at eight years old I stayed up until 11:30 reading My parents ended up making me go to sleep and not letting me finish the book because it scared me so much (I showed them, though, I read the last page!). But I had found the series and I was hooked.
Kristy's Great Idea, Claudia and the Bad Joke, The Truth about Stacy, I read all I could get ahold of. Babysitting became my main goal. My dad made a deal with me: since the babysitters' club sitters were 11-13, I could start sitting at 12. I read the tips for sitters two years before that, and I became fascinated with the way kids act.
Furthermore, I began reading. Not just reading, devouring books. I read all sorts of series and some junk books, but also read and fell in love with Greek Mythology, the Ramayana (at 10!), and The Chronicles of Narnia. I also decided I would be a famous...what? Poet? Novelist? Both? Either way, I started writing.

As a babysitter, I was exposed to all sorts of parenting styles (and some abusive parents) and became interested in parenting and child development. As I planned for college, some part of my goal to be a counselor was to help children like those in my care as a sitter.
I continued writing. I took college classes in high school (just like Janine!) and was second in my senior English class. By now I was reading Bronte, Austen, Robin Mckinley, Juliette Marillier, and in love with Tennyson.
In college, I majored in psychology. I wrote one of my final papers, my theory of psychology, stating that everything comes down to development. Throughout this time, I continued babysitting and nannying. I also began writing a novel.
After college, I took a year to figure out what exactly I wanted to do. I worked in child care and became a nanny for another family.
As I pursued my graduate career, I realized my heart still sided with children. I wanted so badly to make their environments safe and supportive. With this in mind, I focused on parent education.
In May, I received my Master's Degree in Family and Child Studies. I am currently working at a preschool that focuses on parent education. I hope to eventually work as a doula, childbirth and parenting educator, and general facilitator of family empowerment and problem-solving.
In addition, I have kept writing my novel. I also started writing short stories and re-tellings of my favorite folk tales. I tell stories whenever possible, and hope someday to have my work published to other young readers.
So, as strange as it seems, I owe a lot to you, Ms Martin. Maybe without your books I may have started reading and writing. Maybe without the stories of your seven sitters I would have become interested in child development on my own. Maybe, but I choose today to recognize the part you have held in my life. Maybe someday you will google search yourself and this blog will come up. Maybe you will never see it. Either way, thank you for your impact on my life and the lives of others.
Very sincerely yours,
Skatej

You know, I've been thinking about it, and you can't really call it "the one that got away" if you just looked over the edge of the boat and said "that's a nice looking fish."

Farm box again

Today, I got swiss chard again, some sort of greens (thai? I think?), sweet potatoes, some hot peppers, some sweet peppers, a very long cucumber, a very short zucchini (or is it the other way around?), a cantaloupe, about a billion roma tomatoes, and some APPLES! It's fall!
I see a lot of italian food in my future. What am I going to do with these greens?

I have a new blog!

I know, a bit excessive, right? It's not necessarily a new blog, but an additional one. Let me explain.
Today is my 25th birthday. Birthdays usually come and go uneventfully and a lot of people ask me if I feel any different and I say no.
This year, though, I feel different. I feel older, but in a good way. And I've decided this year is my year. Not only that, but I'm going to prove it.
Hop over to This is my year...and I'm going to prove it and journey through the year with me.

Never quite mermaid-like

This weekend, I was taken with the unshakable urge to do something different, something drastic with my hair.

I've long known that my very fine, very thin curly hair will never be quite mermaid-like. However, I've suddenly realized how much I like short curly cuts.
Looook at the wonderfulness:
I just love all of these. I think my curl patterns more closely fit the lower right hand picture. My dear friend Catia is smitten with the upper right hand cut, and I really appreciate the lower left.
I hope soon to get a proper chopping from a good stylist who understands curly hair and how to cut it (a rarity). This time, in particular, I plan to go in for consultations instead of just showing up somewhere for a cut. I'm so tired of that feeling of dismay as soon as I see the stylist (the "curl expert") pick up a fine-toothed comb and drag out my drenched curls into straight lines (the carnage!), saying something like "It'll be fun to see how much they shrink up!"
I'll be sure to keep all of you posted, because I'm sure you have nothing better to do than wonder about your bloggy friend's hair.

Oh well

So, I got my master's degree in May.

It was pretty spectacular.

I got to see some dear ones.

The only thing was, my cap was on backwards the entire time.

 

 

Photobomb courtesy Benjo

And no one told me.

Farm box take 2

this week, I got:
A butternut squash
A couple zucchini
limes
peaches
pears
corn
swiss chard
a bag of peppers
a bag of lima beans


I'm so excited about this week! I'm going to make a modified version of Mexican street corn, and I think I'm going to do something combining the limes, pears, and peaches (jam? bread?), and maybe something involving the peaches and the peppers. What do you do with swiss chard? What about butternut squash?

Farm Boxin' it up!

So, I recently joined (because I had a groupon) a service which provides fresh local produce to your door every other week. Today, my first-ever farm box arrived!
I was so very excited!
Within were:
A head of butter lettuce
a bag of lima beans
a bag of okra
three tomatoes
four pears
a canteloupe
two acorn squashes
two zucchinis
two yellow summer squashes
two cucumbers

Basically, I'm stoked. I quickly read up a few recipes. The lima beans will probably be my dinner for tonight and lunch tomorrow. For the rest, I have great plans! My friend Emma is visiting for dinner Friday so I am making acorn squash with chile-lime vinaigrette, canteloupe sorbet (that's actually in the works right now), vanilla roasted pears (I kind of don't want to wait until Emma gets here to make these...but then they would be gone before she came. Not so hospitable.) and cucumber melon salsa.

I'm super excited to see Emma as she's been away at camp all summer and I've not seen her since I first moved in around the week of July 4.
I was going to post some pictures but my internet connection is precarious. We'll try again with the finished products, which I'm sure will look much prettier.

Would this be considered emotional constipation?

I feel like there is so much inside of me that I can't get out. I feel like I'm one of these:



Only with all the shapes inside. And I don't know what they look like. And I don't know what the holes look like. There are so many feelings I can't name swirling around. I have no idea how to release them. I don't even know if I could label them.
Dance was the closest thing to getting all that out I ever had. A physical, intellectual, and emotional release. I'm going to have to start using that outlet soon. I don't think the neighbors would take lightly to some primal scream therapy.

Wanted to talk about one other thing. This Sunday, I hadn't planned on checking out churches yet. But I woke up early and thought "Why not?" so I got dressed and took Penny out, and then it was time to leave for Sunday school and I just couldn't make it out the door. No problem, I thought, I can just go to service. But again, I just couldn't go. I've never been that crippled by social anxiety. That afraid that I wouldn't meet anyone. And I let that fear keep me from meeting anyone, nice, mean, judgmental or otherwise. Fail.

Only the Lonely...

So, I am loving the place where I work. On Monday, I officially start paid work wherever that may be, but these two weeks have been an awesome growth experience.

But my post right now is to sigh a little bit. Summers since grad school started are kind of lonely. My grad school best friend goes to a camp all summer long, and while I had a wonderful lunch with her and she helped me unload my first car load into the new apartment, I haven't seen her since and I miss her.
Furthermore, I am now having to make NEW friends. It's strange how hard that is. I mean, my personality can be very extroverted. I want to be with people. But my extroversion is complicated by the fact that I want to be around small groups of people who are like-minded and have strong relationships with them.
That's great because one of my favorite married couples lives in the city, but I haven't even seen them in awhile. I was supposed to see them tonight but I had a work thing.
I guess that cup is feeling empty right now. Loneliness is a particular goblet which for me can only be filled with quality time with close friends. I just don't have a lot of those here yet!
(PS, thinking of what word to use for a cup just now put this scene from The Court Jester in my head. Another movie on my wish list!)

Okay, so I moved into my apartment about ten days ago. It was insanity. Brother and Father did pretty much all of the heavy lifting and I basically stood in the room and told them where to put things. I felt like such a stereotypical girl.
I had met one guy already in the complex who awkwardly introduced himself (every time I see him it's like he pops out from behind something and startles me) as Alex.
Then while walking Penny I ran into another upstairs neighbor named Kenny. He was nice and mentioned he would definitely remember my dog's name because it rhymed with his.
So then the next day I was late for my first day of work, so I was running out the door when I saw Kenny sitting out by the pool juggling. Like with juggling balls. I had just enough time to think whaaaaaaat? and wave hi back before I ran off to my car. That night he saw me coming out of the apartment with Penny and waved me over. I met one of his friends and he invited me to go to dinner with them and another one of his friends. Sure, why not?
I found out that he is a circus arts enthusiast but a plumber by trade. Crazy!
At this point in the story while relating it to my friend Catia, she asked "Are you going to marry him?" No. No no no.
At dinner, he was talking about one of the other neighbors who is just insane, and I stopped him. "It's not Alex, is it??"
"How do you know Alex? Oh, Kate, please steer clear of him. He's crazy."
He went on to detail the insanity of Alex. This guy was arrested on the fourth of July because he had his friend tape a lead pipe on his back as a concealed weapon and then tore up a guy's car or something. It seems he has a drinking problem and he gets very violent. "If he ever knocks on your door after dark, don't open the door, just call me."
So then a few days later I heard loud loud loud music upstairs. It wasn't over my bedroom so I figured I could sleep anyway. Then I heard pounding on the door across from me. LOUD pounding. And Alex yelling something about "Pounding on the f***ing ceiling" and "open the door!"
Penny didn't like that one bit. (I'm so grateful for her intimidating big girl bark.)
That morning, I saw that he had left a note on my neighbor's door explaining that he was a very calm person and they could have been friends if she had come up and knocked on his door and politely asked him to turn the music down.
I related all of this to Kenny when I ran into him on the way to work the next morning and I guess all he heard was that Alex was playing loud music.
So then I saw Alex again and he apologized for playing music so loudly. I told him that was okay, it was the pounding on the neighbor's door that scared me. He didn't seem to hear that part. I think he was already drunk.
I ran into Kenny (he's always by the pool) and he said he had talked to Alex and told him it was unacceptable to play his music that loudly because now they had neighbors and he had to be considerate, so I would probably be hearing from him.
My mother is in town for a conference and is helping me get everything set up. I did a quick run into the apartment and Alex stopped me.
"Hey, can I ask you a question really quickly?"
ohnoohnoohno
"Sure, what's up?"
"Have you heard my music since that last time it was really loud?"
"No, and really what scared me that night was you pounding on the neighbor's door."
"I'm sorry about that. I have tried to talk to her about it but she won't open the door."
And just because I have a death wish or something
"Well, I think yelling obscenities through the door probably isn't the best way to get a girl to answer."
"Yeah, you're probably right. I'm sorry. I left a note on her door apologizing."
"Oh okay. I get the feeling she doesn't really want to make friends. I have to go, my mom is waiting for me."

Ah, neighbors...

Anyway, apartment is coming together. You will not see pictures until it is all set up. Work is going well and I'm having a great time with these little kids in my training period before I start for-real work on the first (A week from tomorrow!). I have a weird homework assignment from them and I'm going to have a bit of trouble with it because I don't know how to build lesson plans yet. I think it's pretty straightforward with toddlers, but still, I don't know how it is supposed to look.

On top of all of that, my sink or my dishwasher or both are leaking. The maintenance guy told me that it was leaking from the backsplash, but I don't believe it. Kenny is going to come fix it for me sometime today. Hooray for connections.

Quickly, quickly...

Okay, friends!
I have a JOB now! I'll start working on the first, but am going to intern for the two weeks before that so they can determine the position they want for me. It's at a preschool as a toddler teacher (either lead or associate).
I'm writing this from my new apartment! A nice one bedroom in the southern part of town with good rent overlooking the pool. Pictures to come.
I am so sorry but I really don't feel like writing lately. I need to get back to unpacking!
Kate

In the works

I PROMISE I haven't forgotten about the blog. And actually, a lot is happening in my life right now. I just don't feel like writing about it. It's not bad, actually it's quite exciting. But it's all in the works right now, so there isn't a lot to tell.
I had an interview today, which went well.
I have an interview tomorrow, which should also go well.
I am HOPEFULLY going to begin searching for apartments this week and next week, and move ASAP (I must be out of this crazy house by July 15, but that's another blog entry [sidebar: always get everything in writing. Always.])
I went to a birth doula workshop last week and it was amazing and affirming and exciting and I am totally interested at some point in only being a doula. We shall see.
North Carolina was beautiful, but Blogger's picture uploading system bugs me so much that I can't be bothered to upload any. At some point I may try.
For now, though, there's not a lot to tell.

A compendium of nicknames

Thanks to certain creative friends of mine, I have many many nicknames. Through pursuit of purely my own enjoyment and with no thought to my reader (because really, how many of you could there be?), I present a list of these and their etymology, in no particular order.

1. Freakyknees: This was given to me in high school after the revelation that my knees turn purple when they are cold. This, apparently, was an unusual enough phenomenon to label it appropriately.
2. Sherlock Jones: I often stated the obvious, but I think this came from remembering where we parked the car after a Target run.
3. Kate Scissorhands: At the same trip, someone needed nail clippers, which I readily provided. They were not, however, attached to my hands.
4. No Fun Jones: I refused to sneak into the school building to play hide-and-seek on a Saturday, but instead went to my car (I was the ride) and waited for those hiding to realize they would not be sought. I thought it was rather hilarious, but the others decided I was no fun. This was my name whenever I decried something as dangerous or a bad idea in general. At times, it was shortened to a form of, "Awww, No-fun...!"
5. Katushka: After protesting that I was no china doll and not fragile at all, one friend said "NO! You're one of those Russian dolls with a bunch of little dolls inside of you! You are Katushka!" This was usually followed by someone grabbing me around the shoulders, then another grabbing my ankles, then trying to "pull me open" so that they could see all the "little kates." Usually this happened late at night after much soda and candy.
6. Pickle: My dear Catia was a fan of calling me random names. At one point she giggled and turned to me, asking "Can I call you Pickle?" and thus a name was born.
7. Muffles (pronounced "MOOOFuls"): See #6
8. Kate (Pronounced the Spanish way: "Kah-tay"): I took Spanish all through high school and had a total of 10 years of instruction. My dear friend Carrie and I loved it so much that we spoke Spanish to each other to the best of our abilities outside of class. Therefore, she became Carrita, and I became "Kahtay."
9. Kat (pronounced Kaht): This was a shortening of the above nickname and was usually only used by Catia (who was my room mate in college).
10. Jones: one of my friends, Julie, and I came up with a silly bit where we would greet each other "Julie!" "Jones!" "Julie and Jones!" "Jones and Julie!" "Going to ____!" It was hilarious to us, and a few people ended up calling me "Jones" exclusively.
11. The Cool Nerd: This lovely gem was given to me by my after school kids. They realized that yes, I was super nerdy. I taught them about natural science and read and did arts and crafts with them, but at the same time they realized they kind of liked all of that stuff, too.
12. Kato: Also "Kato Malato." My dad gave me this name. He said it was after Kato, the sidekick of the Green Hornet. I think he just added an "o" at the end of my name.
13. Lil Kate: I'm a very small person, and people in college found this quite a novelty. It was kind of strange though because suddenly, and for the first time in my life, my stature was used to explain my behavior. I disagreed with it and I wasn't very fond of the name because, for lack of a better word, it was a "diminutive," as I feel many pet names are.
14. Bette: This is probably the most embarrassing of the nicknames. In eighth grade, I decided I wanted to be the next Bette Midler. I succeeded in getting a few of my friends and the principal of my school to call me Bette. Ah, youth.
15. Kate the Bald: This joke is so inside it would break the bonds of a sacred sisterhood to explain.
16. Squire Lurdane, Bete Noire of the Deep and Mysterious: See #15

Well, that was entertaining! I think at some point I'll update you guys on my life, my trip, and my goings-on, but currently I'll leave you with that. What is the weirdest nickname you've ever had?

10 reasons to revisit a book

One of my most favorite blogs, The Book Spy, recently came up with a top ten list of reasons why books make us angry. It got me thinking about books that merit a revisit or re-read. Now, I'm not going to pretend I'm as well read as TBS, but there are a few times I've finally gone back and given a book a second chance. This is a RARE occurrence, because my memory is such that I sometimes get bored rereading old favorites. Here, though are ten reasons to give a book a second (or third or fourth or seventh) read.

1. It's your favorite. I love Spindle's End by Robin McKinley. The world she created, the characterization of the animals, the language, the story in general. I love it soo much.

2. You couldn't get through it years ago. I started reading Jane Eyre when I was about twelve and eventually gave up. When I was eighteen I tried again, loved it, and then ended up writing my senior paper about the aspects of Gothic Romance in the book. Describing the purple, bloated figure appearing in Jane's room was quite the crowd pleaser.

3. It made you feel deeply. Any emotion. I read and loved Daughter of the Forest by Juliette Marillier when I was seventeen. So much pain. So much sacrifice. So much beauty. The Six Swans remains one of my favorite folktales (if that says anything about me). Parts of it pretty much make me break down into a blubbering mass of sadness, but it's beautiful. Catia and I differ in our preferences in the trilogy. She likes the second book where the heroine does a lot of disobedience and making her own way, but I prefer the story of one woman's sacrifice for her brothers, at extreme expense to herself. Every now and then, I have the need to just feel those feelings again.

4. You know you liked it but can't remember any of the details. Some of the Chronicles of Narnia books are like this. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, for example, I can't remember anything about. A lot of the books in that series leave me hazy (Apart from The Horse and His Boy, because it is my favorite). It's a series I return to every few years.

5. Tradition. Every year at Christmas, I read Dickens' A Christmas Carol. I have it spaced out so that I finish one stave every five days, ending on Christmas Day with the final "God Bless us, every one." The cliche is true here, I get something new out of it every year. I love the way Dickens wrote this book.

6. The subtext went over your head when you first read it, but now you are older, wiser, and appreciate the message behind it. I loved A Wrinkle in Time as a child, but I know now that it's about so much more. After I'm finished with Sense and Sensibility (which I'm LOVING) I'll give it another peruse.

7. The library only had the abridged version. I read the abridged version of Les Miserables when I was in high school. Again, loved it. I remember reading it during English class while the rest of the students studied for the final from which I was exempt. The bell rang and my teacher came over and jokingly slammed the book closed. I looked up at her with the saddest eyes and said "But Eponine's dying!" Really it was excellent and the abridged version did give the gist of the story, but I want to try again. I'm also working through Don Quixote, so perhaps I'll just have to give it a glance when I get through it. Or juggle two humongous books at the same time. Yes, I think that's what will happen. This also applies to reading the children's version.

8. You read it, didn't like it, but LOVED everything else you read by that author. Emma falls under this category. I read Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, and am in the middle of Sense and Sensibility. Love them all. But Emma was a bit of a slog for me back when I was 17 (I read a LOT of books that year, which is funny because I was dancing six days a week, taking a dual credit course, taking an AP course, taking Chemistry, and involved in drama competitions. No wonder I never slept). I know Austen's goal in writing Emma was to create an unlikeable heroine, but I've liked the story (especially in the latest BBC version) and hopefully I'll appreciate it more now!

9. You miss the characters/world/story. Another reason why I re-read Spindle's End so often. I feel like they're my friends.

10. You didn't like it, but people whose taste you trust loved it. This has convinced me to consider giving certain books another try. Perhaps I was in a bad mood or distracted, and that's not the book's fault. They deserve a second chance. Never Bartleby the Scrivener, though. I prefer not to.

What do you think? What different reasons do you have for revisiting a book?

Bye bye, peekaboo buddy.

Yesterday was my last day at work. After a year and a half working with these amazing children, I cleaned out my office, distributed my goodbye letter, and bid farewell to the teachers, and hugged as many of the children as I could goodbye.
My peekaboo buddy gave me such a hug. He hugged me, then he put his knees on mine and before I knew it, he was wrapped around me and refused to let go. I got to do my favorite thing, hugging him and then bending over so his hair ALMOST touched the floor, then bringing him back up and spinning. Toddlers are precious. His mom hugged me (she's not a touchy feely person) and thanked me for everything I'd done for him. I was deeply sincere when I looked her in the eyes and said "It was my pleasure."
My toddlers (well, not MINE, but yes, mine) made a tote bag for me with their hand prints on it. And I got to spend a lot of time with them that day, with them coming up and tapping me on the shoulder, saying "Hi, Kate!" So proud of themselves, some of them, that they could say my name.

Two of the teachers offered to give me references. I got so many hugs. So many words of advice and encouragement. "You'll find your way." "You'll be so successful in whatever you do!" So much love and encouragement.

Goodbyes are the hardest things for me. I am great at moving in, adjusting, becoming happy with my "now," but goodbyes are the hardest. I spent the whole day going in and out of tears. One of the moms saw that as I was leaving and she said "Well, one chapter ends and another begins." I'm not sure if that helped at all...because I started crying again.

The new beginning had better start soon.

Open letter to choreographers

Please please please someone choreograph an artful routine to Songbird by Fleetwood Mac. And then put it on Youtube so I can watch it whenever I want. Little sixteen year olds showing off their technique does not count as art. Do the music justice. (This goes for all dances.)

oooommmmmggggggg

Pray HARD for this application going out if you are a praying person. This job is exactly what I want to do.

My life in pictures...in random order.

I realize it's been a while since I last posted. A lot of my life is documented on my iphone camera and then made so interesting and beautiful through the instagram application. I thought I'd share a few bits of my life over the past two months. I was invited to Lady G's home for their family Easter feast. I love that family so much and I was so honored to be there. Her children put together an Easter egg hunt for us in the living room. Perfection. I also got to go to my church's Easter egg hunt the Saturday before Easter. Like good Methodists, we had an amazing potluck spread. I say that if it's a holiday, it's not considered gluttony. So, I found out that my department gives awards to students. I found this out because I was selected to receive one! I find out what it's for on Thursday at the Italian Feast! I made one of the best parking jobs ever in my life, and had to commemorate it with a victory note. (No, I left before they returned, so if someone got keyed, it wasn't my car!) Sometimes I like to sit in the driveway and listen to the radio with the engine off just for a little bit. It's getting too hot to do that now. My church remembered I was graduating and put me in the prayer bulletin. I'd like it if they prayed for me to get a job, too...Relaxing in my room. I love this room. This is my graduation dress. You might remember it from my dye day I stole a rose (it smelled so wonderful) and the Beast let me pass. Penny officially tested heartworm-free! She likes to sit in the chair at the vet's office. One of my favorite things about Texas in the Spring: The Bluebonnets came! I had the most amazing lunch of my life followed by the most amazing dessert of my life. Penny and I went home for spring break and got to spend some quality laziness time. Brother, Father and I went to the zoo and I got to see my friends the otters. Using my key at home for the first time since JANUARY! I went to the Save Texas Schools rally at the capital. Also attended the Austin Kite Festival. By myself, but still good. Snuggled with my pup while writing the last big paper of my graduate career.

Would you believe it? This is my last real week of school stuff and then I graduate in less than 20 days. I feel like I just started this madness and now it's over! Yes, I'm looking for jobs, but no I have no real leads yet. Fingers crossed, friends!

Too much exposition...

Sometimes I imagine that I'm in a movie. I have the voiceover and background music in my head as I open my door, put the dishes away, and begin to make tuna salad. Great opening for a movie, right? It would probably have some peppy music in the background, like "Unwritten" by Natasha Beddingfield, or whatever the popular equivalent of the day happens to be. Of course I'd have to put in some random kicky dance moves to make myself appealing to the audience and let them know that this is a happy movie. Alternately, "Right as Rain" by Adele could play to show that this is an empowering movie and I'm a little less naive than I would be with the previous song. In fact, if this blog entry were the voiceover for the opening scene in my movie, I'd switch right there, and then probably switch back to show that yes, I'm strong, but mostly upbeat.

And then there would be a lot of scenes with no music at all. These would be hilariously mundane, like when I was in the library and discovered I was too short for the books on the shelf. I found the little stool thing and kicked it in short bursts across the aisle until I could reach and get them.

Random scenes like that. Like at church were I'm sitting next to the new guy and trying not to look interested. Or when I come in to the toddler room and they all yell "KAAAAATE!!!" Penny would probably be in a lot of them, probably for comedic relief or to serve as an outside observer making commentary on my actions through her eye rolls.

These are all scenes that build appreciation and understanding of the main character. These are all scenes that take place before something big happens, before the plot line starts turning up. Before the main character is swept up on some adventure or meets that special/interesting/horrible person who makes life wonderful/a new experience/just awful, leading the character to live life differently.

I haven't exactly had that yet in my movie. My initial incident hasn't happened, there is no rising action or subplot. Just a lot of exposition right now.

Or is it all 'initial incidents'? Is it all rising actions, a series of climaxes and subplots and denouements. Will I only know the story of the movie of my life when it's all over, in like 65, 70 years? I'd like to know at least what genre it is.

Whoa...

So, I just applied for two jobs in Hawai'i. Yeah, THAT Hawai'i. I think that's the first out of state application I've filled out so far. I could definitely do Hawai'i.
The thing is, I'd apply for these jobs if they were anywhere, so I really would like to get one of them. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Also, I got 19 pageviews from Iran today. Feel free to make your presence known!

Delving into minutiae

Whenever I am faced with a big life change or lots of duties and decisions to be made, I tend to pick one tiny detail and devote an insane amount of attention to it. For graduation, it's the outfit, and in particular the shoes.
I did this exact same thing with my undergrad and high school graduations. The shoes are the only things visible other than the required regalia and I think that is an excellent opportunity for whimsy. For my undergrad, I chose some turquoise kitten heels because they could be seen pretty well from a distance and they were really just fun (unfortunately, they also rubbed blisters all over my feet and the paint peeled off them in several places, hence the new search).
This year, I want to pay homage to my alma mater by wearing purple shoes. Sadly, many purple shoes I have admired in the past are long since gone. It seems purple is a color relegated to the hookers and clubbers of the shoe world, with disgustingly high platforms and velvet and skinny, skinny heels, so my search is entertaining but in vain.
I have gone so far as to consider buying character shoes and dyeing the leather (which I read can be done), which might be a good choice anyway because who can tell the difference and they should be rather comfortable. (Plus, just imagine, "Hey! I LOVE your shoes!" "Thanks, I dyed them myself!")
Nevermind the fact that I still don't know where I'm going to work or live in just about five weeks' time, those shoes are the top priority! (insert eyeroll here) Maybe it's because I can definitely control this aspect of the insane changes my life is about to go through.

Every one.

I know I've said this before. I am so in love with the kids at work. They are all amazing and fun and hilarious. One of them, my peek-a-boo buddy, just melts my heart every time. One day this week I left work at the same time as he and his dad, and watching them laugh and run around made me smile. I walked off feeling nostalgic for something that hasn't happened yet (is there a word for that?).
Someday, I will walk hand-in-hand with my toddler. We will walk slowly and laugh and talk about what we see. And I will relish every step.

Dye another day... (see what I did there?)

So, last week was spring break for me, in fact it was my last one. It was glorious. I went home, had thai food with my friend Carrita, went to the zoo with my brother and dad, and also met up with my friend Catia on Thursday for what we called our "Dyeing Day" so we could experiment with various dyes! Here's what came out of the leftover tie dye I had in the garage: I'm really really proud of the dress! I love it soo much and I think it'll work out really well for a wedding coming up. The white one I couldn't bear to dye. I'm going to change the buttons and perhaps wear it for MY GRADUATION in May! The orange shirt is a special order for my brother. I think it was the most successful tie dye of the night! Then I decided to dye this beautiful alpaca lace yarn using natural dye methods. First I mordanted it in an alum/cream of tartar mixture, then I tried to dye it using wild onions and dandelions. That didn't work. So then I tried spinach and dandelions. With modest results. So I tried to use black tea to do a sun dye. With more modest results. Finally I decided to hang the natural aspect of the dye day and used food coloring: a proven method.
I mixed up some greens and blues and made some beautiful color. Then put it in the microwave in 30 second bursts until the water was clear. This is how it ended up. I decided to call it "Mermaid Hair." I loved it in the skein but it's not very pretty in the ball or knit up. I think all knit objects will get some more dye experience with some more blues and a little bit more green.
Center pull skein!

I'm not at all pleased with the lime-jello-ness of this guy. I think I've found the perfect project for it, but I'll have to wait because the pattern is $15. It will have to wait at least until pay day.

Anyone been doing craftiness lately?

It doesn't.

I've been thinking a bit about unrequited love lately.
Growing up, I looked at figures like Eponine, Quasimodo, and Cyrano de Bergerac and thought how romantic, how beautiful their loves were. How amazing it was they devoted themselves and sacrificed in their love for those who did not love in return. And then it happened to me.
All throughout college I was in love with a man who I believed I would marry.
We supported each other through trials, and talked often. He was my friend but I felt a bond much closer to him. And for the first time in my life I fell in love with someone. The kind of love where you cannot sleep because you are so happy thinking about him.
I was so sure that one day he would look at me and see me, really see me. I began praying for him nightly. I wanted so badly to stand with him as he faced his difficulties.
He supported me as well. When something was wrong, he could tell, and he gently sat with me and talked with me so that I would feel better, or at least comforted.
And then I realized we wanted different things in our lives. I decided we would not be together. But I still loved him. No matter how hard I tried not to, I loved him. And I hated him for that.
I hadn't seen him in quite some time my last year in college and invited him to my graduation party. He said he would try but he could not come.
Then we did not speak for ages.
He married a woman who is perfect for him, who wants the same things, and who is just the sweetest woman ever.
They have a beautiful daughter together.

I saw him in January for the first time in over a year at a wedding of mutual friends. And all those old feelings were still there. And I couldn't do anything about it. And of course he didn't know, so he talked to me like the old friend I was and asked me about school. I asked about his family. And then he followed me to the reception. As soon as my friends got there, I stuck with them, though we both could see each other clearly from across the room. I told one of my friends and she checked on me the whole night, even stood next to me when he said goodbye.

And it just hurt. And I was angry. I had no need of these feelings for him; in fact they only caused me pain. Throughout the rest of the month and into February I could not stop thinking about him and then being angry at myself for thinking of him.

I am alright now. I don't think I should see him again.

And now I see that unrequited love is not beautiful. It isn't romantic. It's sad. And painful. And it doesn't stop.

les prometo!

Another new favorite:

I'm often surprised at the artists who sing songs I really love. This is Private Conversation by Lyle Lovett. I typically don't like country music, but I'll make an exception...this time.

Tomorrow begins my spring break, which up until last Christmas I thought would be spent in North Carolina doing pottery. I am, however, more than content to go home and see my family for the first time all semester. I am ready to rest. I am SO excited to see the new Jane Eyre movie with Catia and experiment with natural plant dyes (photos to come, les prometo!), and have a game night with her and Carrita, and I am beyond excited about going to the zoo with my dad.

Dad taught me how to use my first SLR camera at the zoo, and it was always our go-to. I remember the magical years we got the season passes and would go after school for a little bit on a whim. Now we'll both be going in with one camera and I'll bring along my sketchpad to continue with my creativity assignments. I'm so glad I didn't try to do one every week because this semester has been insane. No time or energy for anything!

I'm also applying for jobs right now, which scares the heck out of me. It's so funny that I'm afraid to apply but also afraid that I won't get a job. Kind of paints me into a corner, eh?

I've found this amazing web site called livemocha.com. It's for language learners to connect and help each other learn. I am using it to work on my Spanish skills but you can use it for just about any language in the world. Plus, you get to help people who are trying to learn your language. Amazing.

Alright. Off to bed. I have one day in my practicum for spring break (why did I do that??) and then I get to go home! It's an amazing feeling knowing I don't have to worry about any assignments due this week!

big dresses, big music

Today I took my comprehensive exams. I think I totally rocked them. First was child development, and they asked to pick an area of development and explain the interaction of nature and nurture on this area. I picked language development and wrote about 3-4 pages in less than an hour. Go me!
Second was program administration. This one was about the problem solving process which I had just reviewed with others out in the hall. Done and done.
I was SO scared about comps and the feeling of relief I had when I left was amazing. I had that level of wonderful feeling that is so big you feel like exploding or turning yourself inside out because there is just too much happy and relief inside you.
After running over to work to tell my boss how things went, I went to the park with my current reading obsession, Sense and Sensibility. I grew tired of the Nesbit novel (unhappily. I really wanted to love it).
I sat there watching the river, reading, watching people play fetch with their dog, reading some more, and then an old Hispanic man walked up and greeted me. We talked about how beautiful the park was, and he told me about how he goes there early in the morning when the mist is rising off the water and no one is there. He really seemed to love it when there aren't many people there.
He asked me if I was going to school at the university and I told him that I was graduating with my Master's degree in the spring. He did a double take because he thought I was a freshman, and did another when I told him I'm 24.
Then he asked if he could sit on the bench with me.

Now, let me just preface this with my intense level of discomfort. I don't talk to strangers. As a former cop's daughter, I'm on constant alert. So, I kept an exit strategy in mind the whole time and quickly assessed him to see if I could maybe disarm him in a fight.

I told him of course he could sit on the bench with me. He started asking me various questions which led to him telling long stories about his life.
"Do you dance?"
"Not really now, but I used to dance ballet."
"OH! Ballet! I used to dance folklorico [ballet folklorico is a native dance in Mexico. I loooove watching it]."
He pulled from his wallet pictures of himself as a child dressed in the traditional mariachi style clothing, quite young. I am still trying to figure out why he had pictures of himself as a child in his wallet.
He also used to teach various forms of ballroom dancing:
"The WALTZ! I love the waltz!" he put his hands out and swayed as if he was waltzing sitting there with me on the bench. "The music is so BIG with the big dresses and the movement...laa da dah laaa da dah..."
He said he will go to the bars in San Antonio (because they start dancing at noon) and dance from bar to bar "BAR HOPPING! I love to go BAR HOPPING! I dance eight hours and then go home by 9! And do you know why I can dance so much?"
"Why?"
"Because I don't DRINK!"
This caught my interest. I thought this whole time I was listening to a randy old barfly with a bit of character. No, this guy went to the bars just for the dancing.
Then he told me he used to be an alcoholic. He used to weigh 250 pounds (he was probably about 5'6" if I was generous), would drink a bottle of liquor every night, and took medicine for just about everything that could go wrong with someone. One night he landed in the hospital dying. He said the people in the hospital "pumped all the stuff out of him" and he lost 150 pounds in five days (I'm guessing liposuction but I don't know). The doctor told him that he thought all his problems came from the liquor, so he said not to take any of his medicine but also not to drink any alcohol. The man felt completely brand new after this.
"You know what? That stuff is expensive!" he started saving the money he would have spent on the nightly bottle of liquor and bought a truck. Then he saved more and bought a mustang. He drove back and forth between Austin and San Antonio dancing.
"When I go dancing with a beautiful young woman in my arms holding her close, I am just cursing myself! 'You used to be sloppy laid out on your front porch drunk and you could have been dancing with beautiful women your whole life! All that time -- wasted!'"
I was truly amazed. I don't know how much of his story was true, but I did love every bit of it. We departed, saying maybe we would see each other in the park again someday.
I think talking to a stranger alone in the park counts as being daring! Hooray for resolutions!

Spread the Word!

There is a word that, from its inception, has been used as an insult for an entire group of people.
It is a hurtful, derogatory, and discriminatory word.
And kindergarten children use it.
In fact, adults use it. I have heard people of every age and creed use it.
The word is "retarded."
I can hear you now:
"When I say it I don't mean actually retarded people!"
"I'm not insulting anyone! Do you see any retarded people here?"

The issue is, it's a matter of respect. Respect for a people group which has been discriminated against since the dawn of time. It's a matter of realizing that saying the r-word as an insult makes intellectually disabled people feel that they are worthless and stupid. It's a slap in the face to friends and family of these people.

As a reasonable person, how can you not justify being respectful of other fellow human beings?

March 2, 2011, is national Spread the Word to End the Word day. Please consider taking the pledge to eliminate the derogatory use of this word from your vocabulary and asking others to as well. I am respectfully asking you to Spread the Word to End the Word.
Spread the Word

I cannot wait.

I cannot wait until I can give Penny full reign and let her just run to her heart's content. I want to see her go crazy and chase room mate #1's dog all around the house. I want to take her back to the river and "swim" with her. I want her to almost pull me off the dam because she found children she wants to greet. I want to take her back to Petsmart and let them dote on her (they all knew us pretty well over there). I want her to be a normal level of excited about food (to the point where maybe she doesn't wake me up a full hour early because she's so hungry). I want to walk her the two mile trip to our mail box and back. I want to take her to the dog park and have adventures with her again.
I am so ready to have my dog back to normal.
That being said, I'm really grateful for the treatment saving her life.
And I'm down to her getting me up only once during the night, and usually it's only the hour before we wake up because she's hungry.
We've gone through so much. And I am so proud of her. Wherever we are, I know we'll have an awesome summer.

When it rains...

So, the very DAY I was to switch to giving Penny her steroids every other night and get some sleep, I realized I was super exhausted and had little functioning abilities. I emailed my professor and let her know I was missing class (and was very honest about why) and then I commenced to coughing. And feeling worse. And feeling worse. And wouldn't you know it? By that night, I had a fever. The next morning I went to the doctor and turns out I have an upper respiratory infection that's going around a la black death. She had already treated two people for the exact same thing that morning and had seen only that condition on Monday. Loverly.
So I commenced coughing, sneezing, and feeling congested, and having the stomach problems Z-packs normally induce, all while still waking up at least twice in the night to let Penny out (I really do love my dog). My fever reached 101.7 at its highest, I believe, which is about four degrees higher than my normal body temp. Delicious.
I have run through all my tissues, a roll of toilet paper used as tissues, and another roll that was going to be used as tissues but Penny decided to eat instead (I really do love my dog).
Thankfully, the doctor was right; she said I'd probably turn the corner on Saturday and I have, but I'm still super weak. Tomorrow is my final day of antibiotic and I can focus on writing the paper that's due Tuesday (five pages on a policy that affects adult education...and her format is REALLY confusing) that I've had the whole semester to write (except no I haven't because I really haven't slept since the beginning of February) so no need to ask for an extension...especially for a matter of five pages. That's silly.

I'm left with a lingering cough that feels like I'm trying to...I don't know, cleanse my entire soul, not just my lungs, clean out every impurity down to my toes, and my chest HURTS from the effort.
Buuut then yesterday room mate #1 mentioned she was feeling poorly. She thought maybe I had gotten her sick. I told her I hoped not but if I did then she should brace herself. Well, she went to the doctor today and she has the flu and pneumonia. Wow. Room mate #3 has been gone all week it seems but last I heard she was feeling poorly as well. Room mate #2 seems to be the only healthy one of us, though she did go to class drunk on Friday so perhaps that's a relative term.
I almost think we need to quarantine the house!

So, I figure it's about time I write about this. I wanted to wait and make sure that my puppy was alright and I was over the hysteria.

Penny was diagnosed with a mild case of heartworms about three weeks ago. After researching the treatment options and keeping in mind her age and health, I decided to go with the Immiticide treatment, which is an arsenic injection in the lumbar muscles. I dropped her off on Wednesday the 2nd, and got her back on Friday the 4th. Those two nights without her were nerve wracking to say the least. The rolling blackouts had me worried there would be no heat in the kennels, the snow made me worry there would be no one to take care of her, and of course above all I was scared there would be a mistake or she would be one of the less than 1% of dogs who died as an immediate result of the injection.
She wasn't.
Now she is home, and I have to keep her quiet so that she does not have an elevated heart rate. If she does, she runs the risk of a pulmonary thromboembolism, which basically means the dead worms would get lodged in a blood vessel in her lungs (I think?) and then cause her to stop breathing and die. So there's that. I'm managing that by keeping her on a leash when she is around the other dog in the house or in stimulating situations like company.
In addition, she is on a steroid and an antibiotic for a month.
The steroid makes her thirsty, hungry, and restless. So Penny has been waking me up every two hours all night for the past week and a half. I am so very tired and wish I had someone to help me with it, but at the same time it's alright. This will pass. Penny is fine for now and I am so thankful for that.
Life is life. And life is okay.

Your mission this week.

I've decided to set weekly missions. This is purely for my own enjoyment.
Your mission this week takes place in a restaurant containing a bar or just a bar.
Send a random object to a stranger sitting at the bar by way of waitstaff. Tell the waitstaff the person will know what it's about.

The first person to complete this mission and verify it by some sort of media (photo, video would be best) will receive a polymer clay animal made by me. (So you'll have to be comfortable sending me your address.)
Leave your response with links to proof in the comments.

Can we skip the 14th?

I don't know what it is about this year (I'm lying, I know exactly what it is) but I really don't want to deal with anymore pink or red or chocolate or gooshiness. I think we should skip Valentine's day. Who's with me?
Nevermind the fact that the only valentine I'm getting this year is from Disney Movie Rewards. I'm doing this for all of us. I say we go straight from the 13th to the 15th and make the former 28th the 29th. It'll be like the tacky decorations and the pointlessness of a lovey dovey day in the worst month of the year (Minus the second day of it, because we love Miss Willow) based on, among other things, slapping young women with bloody goat hide never happened.
It may just be the overuse of decorations and emails offering recipes for 'romantic dinners for two' but I'm just done with it. And February. Let's get to March and 80 degree weather. The end.

the exception

Yesterday at work we were talking about being sick and still having to run errands. I mentioned that I don't have anyone to take care of me when I'm sick (room mates? HA!) so many times I just have to suck it up, drive to the store myself and hang onto the cart while I struggle through the store.
Then, JOKINGLY again, I said "See, this is why I need a husband! So he can take care of me when I'm sick!"
And then something really disheartening happened. They all started talking about how, no, he can have a cold and it's the end of the world but if you get sick you are still expected to cook, clean, and go to the grocery store. And how he will not take one ounce of care of you if you are sick because he probably won't notice.
And that made me really sad for them.
Because that's not the kind of man my father is. My dad was so anxious to take care of us when we were sick that he would wake me up to see if I needed anything. He would do his best to make sure we ate if mom was sick. Yes, sometimes it was pizza or cereal, but we were fed. And he would protect Mom from our craziness when we she was sick.
And he would go buy feminine products for us if we were out. And he would get the right kind. He would volunteer to do it, too.

On my way home, I called him and thanked him for being the exception. Because when my co-workers entreat me not to settle, I know I won't. I have wonderful measuring stick. Not a perfect one, but a really good one. And better than many.

"And we are oookaaaaaay."

So, I don't know if anyone else has been feeling a bit chilly lately, but here in central Texas it's the coldest it's been in about 20 years. And in my neck of the woods, it's just cold. No snow. And lots of wind.
Texas has used up SO much energy on heat that today it had to resort to a series of rolling blackouts so we didn't result in mass electricity loss. Or at least that's how I understand it.
SO, cut to this morning. I called in to work to make sure everything was okay, and one of the teachers answered the phone. The power was out, and had been out since 7:30 that morning. We had to delay drop-off until it went back on around 9. Yeah.
So everyone was off schedule and we were all trying to just get through the day.
Then, just before lunch, the power went out again.
We had 3 emergency lanterns. No elevator. And about 60-70 kids. And because of the way licensing operates, we were required to feed all of them lunch. So, the front desk worker and I grabbed a lantern and walked up and down the stairs several times, talking about how cool it was to eat in the dark, how we were going to be safe walking up and down the stairs by being careful and holding the rail (especially after the emergency light in the stairs went out).
And only two of the children cried.
And only one of the crying fits was about the dark.
When the lights first went out, my favorite class, the toddlers, were already in the cafeteria. I came in to check on them and they were all eating quietly. I sat down and said "Oh wow, everyone's having a good time eating in the dark!"
The teacher looked at me and said, in her talking-to-the-kids voice "Yep, and we are oooookaaaay."
And we were.
Isn't the power of suggestion amazing?

Savannah, Georgia.

I. Want. To. Live. Here.

Travel advice?

Wow. So I'm going to Savannah for a conference. Anything I really need to see while there?

off to china in a packing crate...

So, judging by the overwhelming response to my resolutions post, I'm sure you're wondering how I'm doing so far!
Well, I'll tell you.
I've eased into my resolutions, keeping them in mind and looking for opportunities. I walked Penny to the mailbox a few times (which is a 2 mile round trip because this housing development is...well, evil), and this is only made more interesting by my dog's crippling fear of storm drains.
I've looked into the rock gyms, but it's really expensive ($15 per visit plus $10 for equipment OR a $60/month membership plus equipment...eep), and the one on campus MIGHT be a good option, but just for bouldering. I really don't trust the safety regulations they have for belay climbing (belayers aren't anchored to the floor, no safety stops on the ropes, and while the floors are padded, they're hardly the two feet of shredded tires I'm used to), however my lack of climbing partner makes bouldering (climbing below an eight foot level without a rope and with mats beneath to focus on flexibility and holds) perfect for me (plus I'm kind of good at it...or I was when I climbed regularly).
I was beginning to despair when on a whim I decided to record a few shows from FitTV. Let me say now and forever more: I. LOVE. Namaste Yoga. It's a show. And it's awesome. I've only taken one session of yoga before and the room was hot, filled with old people (who were BETTER at it than me), and the instructor's breathing instructions made me lightheaded. This made so much sense, was only 30 minutes long (and had commercial breaks!), and was pretty fun to do! Plus, it was an added challenge trying to do yoga with this little lady getting in my face:

(Yes, old picture. But I likes it!)

Yoga. Yes. I love it. I used to be very very limber and I'm thinking it will come back quickly if I make an effort to work out with that program regularly. I also recorded a Zumba and Bollywood show. Let's see if I can get room mates in on it!

Speaking of the lovely puppy, Penny and I celebrated our one year anniversary about four days ago. Yes, I have had this girl for a whole year, and she has changed so much! I plan on doing a little video about her story once we get our Canine Good Citizen certificate. To go from a crazy dog on her way to death (that people refused to believe could be a good dog), who would growl and snap if you got near her, to a snugglepuppy who lets me hug her, puts her head on top of my legs when we sleep, and LISTENS to me (most of the time) when I give her a command is an awesome thing. I am beyond proud of her and beyond grateful to the folks at Petsmart for their amazing training system. Seriously, I will point anyone and everyone there.

As far as creativity goes, I've done the first exercise in my book: draw 30 cats while lying in bed. Since my scanner is old and has no driver software compatible with Windows 7 and I DON'T feel like trying to take a picture of a drawing again (project 365: you were awwwfuulllll), you'll have to trust that I did it. I actually really liked a few of them! The object was to just let yourself go and focus on expressive lines.
This week's exercise: blind contour drawings of giraffes. Yup. Isn't this fun??? Don't you want to go get one and do one along with me??

And then the reading: I've been working on Sailing Around the Room by Billy Collins (poet extraordinaire) and also Five Children and It by E. Nesbit. I know, I know, Nesbit=children's author, but look her up sometime. She lead a scandalous life and even adopted and raised both of her husband's children with his mistress while letting the mistress live in the house as their maid. Crazy crazy crazy. If my husband was a philanderer and had children with some floozy I would send her off to china in a packing crate (on a cargo barge if I was feeling REALLY charitable) and then I'd get him a house arrest anklet. Maybe not. What's even worse, Nesbit was really good friends with this mistress. She also at one point, in order to seek revenge, had a brief affair with George Bernard Shaw (philanderer as well...he wrote well but he was not exactly a boy scout). She was a feminist before it was popular (the FIRST time) and she used her pen to support her WHOLE family because her husband was almost perpetually out of work. Plus, her prose is full of little jabs at society that would go over the little one's heads.

Anyway, that's what's been going on. How are you guys going?