Never ever ever!!

Never, and I mean NEVER, ever ever ever eat a whole bowl of brussel sprouts for dinner. Ever. The results are bad, and then you can't write your reaction paper you don't want to write anyway.

Awwwww.

Image: There just might be a reason or two not to live near lake effect snow areas

Oh, Buffalo.

Image: Harrison is FLYING!

Go to the WEE!

One cool thing about attending a research university

I'm sitting in my car on the laptop waiting for Tara to get out of class and I'm blogging.

HOW COOL IS THAT?

Things are nuts. If you love me you'll email me and tell me so because I'm drowning.

Race

Go, Deval, go!

A little math for you people

These are total numbers for Tara and me, unless otherwise specified.

Number of courses this semester: 7
Number of credit hours: 21 credit hours
Number of hours working per week: 63
Number of meal times per week that,
in this coming semester,
will not actually be shared by Tara and I: 1 (x 16) = 16
Number of meals per week we will share on campus: 16
Number of dollars one text from one of Tara's course will cost: $146
Number of pounds of said text: 3.55
Price per pound: $41.12
Today's price of gas, per gallon: $2.58
Average weight of one gallon of gasoline: 6.25 lbs
Cost of gasoline per pound: 41 cents
Ratio of cost of gas to cost of book, by weight: 1:100
Number of times I've blogged in the last 30 days: four
Excuses I have: 739
Apologies I will issue: 0
Number of papers/outlines/presentations due in Ocotber: 4
Number of business trips I am taking in October: 1
Number of miles in said business trip: 7000
Number of hours of help from therapists I will need by October 25: 17

Going to grad school while trying to balance life and work and everything else: priceless.

The Fire in the Dell

I was going to share a story about Drag Queen Bingo and winning a porn called "Ass Munching - Balls" but instead I'll share this conversation regarding the recent, um, trouble with Dell laptop batteries, and upon our discovery that we did not have a laptop model the qualified for the free exchange:

Tara said last night, "Damn! I wish we had one because we need a new battery!"

And I looked at her for a minute.

And then another minute.

Then she said, "But I guess I'm happy a faulty battery didn't burn our house down."

And I said, "I thought that's what you said."

life shit

Despite my recommittment to my blog I have been a major slacker. I don't care. There are many themes that would emerge if you gave my blog an index but no one category would be as popular as the sorry-I've-disappeared category.

I thought once the semester was over I'd have so much free time, but it turns out the summer has been absolutely filled to the brim. We've driven home to Western NY three times in less than three months, thrown a retirement party for my mom, been to Harrison's birthday party, gone to my grandmother's house to help clean it out, and thrown a going away party for friends moving to California. Those were the big things. Then there were the 1,000,000 small things, and now, suddenly, it's August. August includes a four day trip to DC and a seven day trip to the Adirondacks, and then two short weeks before school begins again. And by school I actually mean the unpleasant experiences that is, between Tara and I, no overlapping classes, six of them, and increased responsibility in my job, where I just received a promotion.

In short, I am overwhelmed. Excited, but overwhelmed.

So suck it, blog. I've just finished one of the toughest two weeks of my life, and you're just going to have to wait.

Reading and NOT enjoying

I am just so, so sad about this.

It's like finding out Oz is the old man behind the curtain.

Reading

I'm enjoying this:

"... a small, plastic Noah’s Ark with a slew of animals. Leta went through and named off every animal, and when she got to the miniature Noah she stopped short and looked at me to give her a clue. Before I could explain who he was she held him up and said, “Monkey!” Ah-Ha! A toy based on the Bible is teaching my daughter about evolution. That, Alanis Morissette, is sweet, sweet irony."

from www.dooce.com

Distracted

The past couple of weeks have been hard for me. I've been trying to sort out a lot of feelings I'm having, but the only product I see from these efforts reflects the vague, shiftless existential shit I felt as a late adolescent. Some psychologists argue adolescent development continues to take place throughout the twenties. I know this must be true because I've met some thirty year olds who didn't yet hear that they are out of time.

On one hand, I've been facing a lot of changes in our house. Tara has stopped working and is trying to be a full time student in the fall, and my work, which usually keeps me quite busy and preoccupied, has dropped off as it is want to do in the summer. This makes me incredibly uneasy. Tara's assistantship search is ongoing, not yet fruitful, and frustratingly managed on the resume-receiving end. Deadlines are not deadlines to UMass, so there has been a lot of unplanned waiting. Oh, and then after that? More waiting.

In addition, a student who planned to enter this June called us two days before she was supposed to arrive. She had found a lump in her throat and was being tested for thyroid cancer. She assumed that she would be able to begin the program, but wanted to give it a few days until something conclusive in the tests came back from the lab. Two days later we got a call from her, and it wasn't thyroid cancer. In fact, it was a terribly agressive form of lymphoma, and before she even left the office where she got the diagnosis, they began treatment. In three days, her life changed entirely. In the ensuing weeks the treatment she is undergoing is so severe that she has already lost all of her hair, is so weak she can't sit up, and has to be on a special ward in the hospital because she is drastically susceptable to infection. She is twenty six. Oh, and that lump in her throat? A lymphoma that had actually grown from her abdomen, through her chest cavity, and into her throat.

This hit me particularly hard, because at the same time we celebrated Tara's 26th birthday. It was a wonderful day, but I could not get the reality of the other situation out of my head. What if that was me? Or, oh my god, Tara? How do we live our lives today knowing that something could change so drastically in such a short period of time? Last year my coworker's godson was diagnosed with cancer. He has since been treated and given a clean bill of health, but the last year after diagnosis, and in the aftermath, the family is still recovering in a number of ways. He is seventeen.

I am so incredibly grateful for everything in my life. I am learning to express that everyday, so if something ever happens, I know that everyone knows that. This is the only way I know how to find peace.

Courage sister
you do not walk alone
I will walk with you
and sing your spirit home

27 times

Well, it's only been done 27 times in in 200+ years, so why not amend it to show that we hate gays?

Too bad -- they didn't win!

How did your senator vote? Check it out here.

Thanks, NY and MA, and all the other senators who voted nay for good reasons. Oh, and thanks to those who voted nay because you're conservative enough not to want to change the freakin' constitution of the United States. Bush is a crazy motherfucker.

Crazy, I tell you.

You're on my shit list: Alabama, Alaska, Georgia, Idaho, Kansas, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia and Wyoming. All of these states voted with a double YAY to pass the amendment. These states also have the dubious distinction of having 894 of the deaths of US soldiers in Iraq since the current war began. Of the total deaths this represents over 36% of those who have died so far. Senators, please, bring your state's children HOME.

And Wyoming, how you haven't learned your lesson. You might remember this story from the last time you forgot about your responsibility to protect people.

Renewal of vows

Dear four readers of my blog -

I have not abandoned you. I simply have been juggling minor personal, work-related, and academic crises. I have returned and now can resume more regular updates. I missed you, and I'm sure you sat around crying because you missed me so damn much. Here's a synopsis:

personal crisis: mostly resolved
work-related crisis: CASE CLOSED
academic crisis: semester is over and grades are in. I got an A-. And yes, the perfectionist in my is really annoyed by that little "-", especially considering no one in the class got feedback after the first two papers, as in, NONE. And there were six total. And I got an A on both of the ones I got back. But you know, whatever. He's the Chancellor, so I suppose I have to live with it.

In other news, I'm reading and seething about this.

Is this OK with you? If not, tell somebody!

Faithfully ruining families on your behalf,
Gay Larry

Translation

In recent negotiations with my mother, I've asked her to be more gentle when she wants to talk about things that might be sensitive to me. It has been a long, hard lesson to learn, but I think we're close to achieving it.

There are moments, though, that I know she's resisting saying something and can't negotiate the compulsion to do so. Knowing what she has to say might hurt my feelings or imply judgement, she finds a way around it. She has become incredibly adept at it, too, and sometimes I don't even notice. For example, this weekend at Harrison's birthday party, we were hanging out together on Sarah's front porch. We were chit-chatting about all kinds of things, taking a much need break from the whir of the six children inside the house.

My mom said, "So, when did you cut your hair?"

But what she meant was, "When did you cut off your hair that I liked so much?"

Peanut

I can't believe you're two.

I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I'm getting eager to see you since I haven't seen you in almost five months. That's too long when that's a quarter of your life thus far. Too, too long. Your mother and grandmother share all of their stories about you with me, so I feel like you are still part of my everyday life. I think about you constantly, especially about the first moments when you became a part of our lives, the ways in which you made it so complicated, and the ways in which you changed everything that would happen from that moment forward.

Recently I've been trying to think more about the music I listen to, and how it connects me to different people in many ways. The same way I rely on smells to bring me back to memories of my grandmother, there are certain songs I hear that make me think of you instantly. The first week your mother went back to work I stayed with you during the day. Whenever you were hungry and would cry, I'd try a bunch of different things to calm you down. Without fail, when I rocked you in the nursery, stroked your tiny cheek and sang Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide" you'd quiet instantly. I remember several times forgetting the words and going around in a loop, sometimes 20 minutes at a time. You didn't care about this repetition as you drifted off to sleep.

It will be a long time before you realize all of the special moments you've brought to so many people already, despite being pint-sized. I love you so much, and hope you have a wonderful birthday today.

I can't wait to see you.

Image: And let us not forget the cutest dog ever!

OMG!

Image: Happy 25th anniversary PRIDE, Northampton!

We had fun! See you next year!

The Dooce effect

In honor and solidarity with Dooce's latest venture, (Actually, I'm lazy about blogging and this sounded fun!) I decided to embark on my own iPod shuffle journey. My iPod, Pinky, has been a trusty soul since I got her and she has been to many different places, states, altitudes, airlines, and households. Batter up!

Song One: This Train Revised by the Indigo Girls
This is not a good start to my mock-project. ("Mockject" Doug?) No, starting with a song about the Holocaust could spell a disaster for the rest of this experiment.

Song Two: Into the West by Annie Lennox
I have always loved Annie Lennox, and when I was a teenager I used to fantasize about being her, especially in her video for "Why". My epitomized existential dilemmas of teenagerhood were attracted by the video that depicted the intricate performance of face and image. I felt protected watching her sheild herself with layers of make-up and costume. Hearing her now, almost fifteen years later, the song immediately evokes the memory of how I felt the moment the Lord of the Rings films were over -- sadness, loss, and resolution all at the same time. I was satisfied that it had been completed, but mourned losing my friends Froddo and Sam after my heart had been trained to follow their story. Wow. I'm starting to sound crazy like Annie during "Walking on Broken Glass" days.

Song Three: There is too much damn Indigo Girls on my iPod. (Closer to Fine)

Song Three(a): You Cause As Much Sorrow by Sinead O'Connor
I am transported immediately back to being 14 and pissed and ready to shave my head as a big FUCK YOU to all who'd listen. But I didn't, so I just listened to a whole lot of Sinead. The best angst-ridden lyric from that song: "You've done nothing so far but destroy my life. You cause as much sorrow dead as you did when you were alive."

Song Four: Black Tornado by Dan Bern
I found Dan Bern three years ago and have been obsessed with his Bob Dylan-like charm, except that you can actually understand him. Despite the upbeat nature of this song, the ending makes me tear up every time. He croons, "And everything is changing faster than I can describe. And all I really know to do is grab the wheel and drive and look for love, and some adventure. And I try not to let my own breathing scare me off the road. There is a tombstone of my father I visit sometimes. There is a tombstone of my father I visit sometimes." Within a year of buying this CD my nephew was born, and it wasn't until he became a part of my life that I understood the magnitude of everything. They day he was born my uncle in Vietnam died, and in the two years since Harrison's birth my grandmother's health has slowly declined. I've changed in ways I couldn't anticipate, and in dimensions that surprise me sometimes. There is a lot of freedom in how I feel now, and a lot of simultaneous joy and pain when I think about all there is to come, both life and death.

Song Five: Like seriously, WAY too much Indigo Girls! (Pushing the Needle Too Far)

Song Five (a): This is absurd and I'm embarassed and really freaking GAY, apparently! (Get out the Map)

Song Five (b): It's Only Love that Gets You Through by Sade
I can't say I've ever heard this song before. If we were in the car and the iPod was connected to both an iTrip and Tara's hand, this would get a quick *click*! I love you, Tara, and the painful, painful iPod iTrip dance you do!

Song Six: February by Dar Williams
If Dar Williams were a fictional character she'd be Mother Nature mixed with Betty Friedan. I think the most powerful songs evoke feelings and memories based on every sense, not just by creating a mood through music. I am fond of this song because it makes me think of my birthday, of course, and the long, tiring New England winter -- one that is intolerably long and hard to let go of at the same time. I love the renewal of spring, but the comfort of wood fires and fleece, too.

Song Seven: John, I love you by Sinead O'Connor
"I let tears fall like rain, apple-sized they were! Oh, the pain! And through all of those times, when you could have died, this is what you find -- there's life outside your mother's garden. There's life beyond your wildest dreams....kick off those dancing shoes, kick off those wedding blues!" Apparently all of the music I listen to is about coming of age. So, yeah.

Song Eight: Damn, these Indigo Girls are PRO-FUCKING-LIFIC! (Touch Me Fall)

Song Eight (a): Low by Kelly Clarkson
Everyone has to have some token pop. Shout out to KC and my dealer, Tara, for hooking me up with this sing-along-able candy!

Song Nine: Under African Skies by Paul Simon
Thanks to my sister, Simon and Garfunkel was the first music I ever heard that wasn't Johnny Mathis or some ESL singsongy crap. (Big trees, tall trees, big tall trees...) The imagery and melody of this song are powerful, and the african singing and drumming in the background make this song as ethereal as I imagine it is actually to lie under african skies. You know, african skies not in Uganda or the Sundan.

Song Ten (oh please be a good one!): Turn Off the Light by Nelly Furtado
Nelly Furtado makes my ears hurt not because she doesn't have musical talent, but because I never know what to expect from her music. Her second album was more interesting than the first, but I'm still loyal to this catchy favorite. Rumor has it she's putting out a new album this year. Hopefully it will contain as much complexity as this song and the rest of her albums.

So, the experiment is done. It was as much fun as I thought. I'll have another go at it next week! But if for some reason I don't blog for a while it's because I'm busy erasing the Indigo Girls off of my iPod and downloading some MAN music! (I'll have you know Song Eleven is Girl on the Wing by The Shins!)

Grammar police log entry no. 32942345

I'm not even sure what to say nor do I have any fancy way of deconstructing the following, except to say that IT MAKES MY SKIN CRAWL.

Sent to me in an IM earlier today:

"...to bad...her lose"

OMG.

Tara's no good, awful, terrible no luck day

In my coversations with the world travelers I know, I am often dumbfounded at their sense of surperiority when talking about jet-lag. Recently, Tara and I have learned that 30,000 or 3,000 miles doesn't make much of a difference. Add that we visited three states, two state parks, and five national parks/monuments in six days to the recent daylight savings change, and the 4:30 am departure to the airport, and that two of the three states we visited observe daylight savings and the other doesn't (and is in a different time zone) and finally, add that we waited nearly 45 minutes for our baggage and didn't get home until 1 am on Tuesday night, and you have two very tired gals. The only thing that could make this worse is if we had a 2 year old.

Well, we don't have a two year old, but it got to the point this week that we were telling time based on when we woke up, when we ate and when we were naturally hungry. This meant sometimes that we ate dinner at 11 pm or 1 am or whenever. Needless to say, when we returned home, we were exhausted. Ask me later about the phenomenal varieties of the southwest-lack-of humidity-induced snoring. When we finally went to bed on Tuesday night (2 am), our body clocks were thoroughly confused. It only got worse when Tara had to get up at 7:30 to go to work. After she plowed through 135 emails, she had to leave for class, which went until after six when I picked her up at UMass.

We had grand plans to vegitate in front of the TV and do laundry. As I cooked dinner, Tara took care of some stuff around the house. Once dinner was on, I sorted and started the laundry, which, you should know, is something we try to do at least twice a week because of the size of our dryer. We have a stackable 3/4 size washer/dryer in our apartment. This means the loads are smaller, and it takes longer to do laundry. Well, by last night at 7 when we started laundry, we had at least ten loads. Ten Loads. Ten full loads. In fact, we had so many loads that each color got its own load. Purple. Reds and Pinks. White. Green. Blues and aquas. For some reason we have a lot of aqua colored clothes. Tara's bathingsuit is aqua. My favorite shirt is aqua. A shirt we bought new for vacation that was worn once is is aqua. Wait -- make that two shirts we bought for vacation.

After we finished dinner, cleaned up, and watched some TiVo, I went to take the fourth load out of the dryer, and put the fifth load into the dryer and the sixth load into the washer. It should be known that I hate doing laundry, though I love having clean clothes. Hate it. I find it tedious and annoying, and it never ends. It certainly never ends when you have 10 loads plus sheets and towels, and you've already had a really long day. As I opened the dryer door on the aqua/blue load, I see something strange in the back of the dryer. In fact, the strange thing I see is actually a collection of things, and then, to my horror, THE THING in the back. I load up my arms full of clothes silently gasping at their appearance, grab The Thing out of the dryer and say, "Um, honey?" Still blissfully ignorant Tara says, "Yes, honey?" and I walk into the living room and hand it to her. It. Her lovely, $9.99 ball point Dr. Grip pen, which has now exploded in the dryer, spraying ink all over the clothes, and staining the enamel on the inside of the drying unit. I drop the clothes in front of her and set to work at getting any of the ink off I can while the ink is still wet. I'm scrubbing and scrubbing, but the inside drum of the dryer looks like the outside of a dalmation, and the ink is not budging. I hear Tara say, "FUCK!" a few times, then the familiar sound of the stain remover spray bottle. The clothes are only half dry, so Tara was still holding out hope.

And so there we were, scrubbing then spraying. Spraying and scrubbing. After ten minutes, I had gotten most if not all of the wet ink off of the dryer when I heard the spray bottle stop, and a deep sigh from the living room. When I pulled my head out of the dryer, Tara was standing there, and when I looked at her she wailed, "I'M SOOOOORRRRRRRYYYYY!" and started to cry. I hugged her, then we went into the living room to assess the damage. It wasn't good. Not only did the dryer look a dalmation, we now had seven or eight blue skinned dalmations lying on the living room floor.

We spent the next hour or so spraying, rubbing, scrubbing, and finally, looking on the internet to find some miracle solution. Let it be known here and now: ink does not come out. Dry or wet, it does not come out. Tonight we're going to try rubbing alcohol, and they also suggest pure acetone. PURE ACETONE. And then what, put it in the dryer?! Blue skinned dalmations is one thing. Exploding blue skinned dalmations is something entirely different.

If I'm feeling particularly cruel or humorous, I'll post a picture of the carnage later.