Memorial Day

These names are for the last year only. You know-- since the war has ended. To be continued next Sunday, in the Doonesbury strip.

Hubris

(Picture taken August 2005, on the south flank of Mt. Hood, up in the huckleberry fields. It has nothing to do with the blog entry-- I just thought it was pretty.)

It’s been a weird and wonderful few days.

Wednesday I was sailing along, feeling about as fine as a grad student can feel. It was the day of the annual English Department Kellogg awards, and all of us were invited to a pre-reception with keynote speaker Barry Lopez. This was especially wonderful because two of my WR 121 students from winter term had won awards, too, using essays written in our Basic Comp class. They came to the reception and I was able to introduce them around. Lopez shook hands with one of the students, Joel, invited him to pull up a chair, and then sat knee-to-knee with him for half an hour, discussing Joel’s experiences as a soldier in Iraq one year ago.

After the pre-reception came the presentation itself—at which I was lucky to receive a sizable fellowship for non-fiction writing. I say ‘lucky’ with genuine feeling, as compared to saying it to fish for compliments. The non-fiction program is small—with only maybe two dozen students—and full of extremely gifted writers, any one of which could easily have received any of the awards given that evening. It felt like a luck-of-the-draw thing: I truly believe that they could have simply put all of our names into a hat and drawn out the winners, and it would have been fine. I felt very fortunate to have been honored. The whole thing was made even sweeter because most of the students in the non-fiction program attended and we all hooted and cheered each other. It was a wonderful feeling of community, and solidarity. Writing can be a lonely, hard business—being buoyed up by friends makes it sweeter.

The ceremony was followed by a lavishly catered reception at the Simon Benson House on PSU campus, at which time Barry Lopez not only signed two of my books but complimented my writing and then hugged me. HUGGED ME. What a rush! It was a great time—a chance to visit with everyone without the usual pressures of angst and time-panic that rule one’s days as a grad student in the writing program. I sort of floated home at about 10 pm.

And then came Thursday, and I crashed back to Earth. My Thursday evening class is “Forms of Non-Fiction,” taught by Debra Gwartney, an incredible writer and mentor and a very challenging teacher. It was my night to be workshopped—meaning I’d brought a story the week before, and everyone had taken it home to read and critique it. Now here they all were, ready to spend 45 minutes workshopping it aloud, while I, as per the rules, had to stay silent. It’s always a grueling process, but it’s a good kind of pain. The idea for the story had come to me late and I’d written it faster than I should have. As a result, the essay—about aging, and death—was rough, and my fellow students found and shredded every loose end and each wobbly word. It was, as it always is, a humbling experience, but a good one. Now I know what I need to do with the essay.

Here’s the thing: this combination of euphoria and despair, pride and self-flagellation, is what a writer’s life is like. Writing is hard, exhausting work, and it demands a constant level of self-criticism that can leave one both tired and fragile. I got home that evening and was in bed at 10:00. The next morning, I saw Bill off to work and went back to bed until 8:00, then, after having a bite of cereal, fell asleep on the couch for another two hours. Very unlike me, and very telling about how tired I’ve been, and what a strain grad school is taking.

As for the hubris, what a great taste of being a diva one night, and a downtrodden, struggling writer the next! The Greeks would be happy with this. Barry Lopez understands it, too. At the Kellogg Awards presentation, he said, “I congratulate each of you who won an award tonight. Enjoy the spotlight. Treasure the moment. But tomorrow morning, get up out of bed, pick up your pen, and start the work again.”

Steven Colbert's Bush appearance

This just in from a friend's blog (thanks, Estara!):

"If you missed the link to Stephen Colbert's in-your-face skewering of both Bush and the press in their presence at the White House Correspondents Dinner, it is my pleasure to inform you that you can buy it at iTunes and have it to enjoy forever for two bucks.

Have a nice day."

Rock Star photo....

It’s been a busy week, with several high points.

Last week I found out that I’m receiving the “Giving Back Fellowship,” a new award given by the Dept. of English/Writing to a first year graduate writing student. It means enough of a cash prize that I can give up my Vanguard job next fall. This is a good thing: although I’ve enjoyed writing for the paper, it takes up a lot of time, and cuts into my writing and studying.

I also found out that two of my WR 121 students from winter term are getting awards at the Kellogg ceremony. Woo hoo! I am so, so proud of them!

I met with my advisor this week and found that I’m close to being done with my hard credit requirements for both MAs, which is a load off my mind, and means I can now concentrate on a few remaining classes and on preparing for graduation in a year.

I watched Capote, finally. WOW. An incredible film, and I fully support Phillip Seymore Hoffman's 'best actor' win. WOW.

Erin came for the weekend. We watched TV and hung out watched the Gilmore Girls finale and visited the gorge yesterday and had a lovely time. Here is the view from Crown Point:

Here's Erin (tiny pink person) on the top tier of Crown Point's Vista House:

Here we are below Multnomah Falls:

Erin, at the foot of Horsetail Falls:

The obligatory ice cream from Cascade Locks:

This morning, Erin, Bill, and I went to Farmer’s Market. After Erin and Amber headed home, Bill and I went to see the Artrain, a traveling Native American art show that is held within a set of train cars and is pulled from city to city. I'm not sure how Milwaukie pulled this off, because Artrain is a really big deal, and somehow we got it instead of Portland! In fact, it pulled up right behind the apartments where Katie once lived.

Here's Bill on the Artrain, which turns out to be a gallery inside temperature- and humidity-controlled train cars.

I'm strangely tired today, but it's been a good week.

Happy Mom’s Day!

Big shout outs to those people who qualify me as mother, daughter, niece, or granddaughter, starting with my Mom—seen here at the Chinese Garden….

My first-born, Katie (also seen in the top picture!)….

The middle kiddle, Scott (and Rebecca!)….

The babester, Gollum, er, Erin….

Guess it's only fair to include an... ahem... better picture of Erin...

The snarler, Ernie….

The one and only GG!

And my cousins and Auntie…. Even thought Auntie’s no longer here on Earth with us, she’s somewhere (!) and I think of her a lot. Below is a great picture taken in mid-1955. That’s Auntie Georgia, GG, and Mom standing in front of GG and Grandpa Fred’s home in The Dalles. The little girls are my cousins, Kris and Janni. And the baby? It’s me!

Happy Mother’s Day to all women, for all women are mothers, whether the decide to give birth or not.

Many blessings, and a bit of motherly magick to you all….

Some things are just never meant to be, no matter how much we wish they were....

The infrequency of my blog entries of late should tell you something about how busy I am. I had another of my near-panic days this past week, buried in schedules and homework and papers to grade and lack of sleep. It seems that “Week 6” just isn’t a good time for me.

But once again, the feeling has passed—thank Goddess. And today, a glorious day off. It’s supposed to be 85 today!

Big news: …. drum roll….

MY THESIS IS APPROVED!

Michael McGregor gave me the go-ahead on my proposal to write about the geology and folklore of the Cascade Range. Yes kids, mom finally got an official reason to play with science! I’ll be doing the research this summer and writing next fall and winter. Wahoo!

Spring term is whizzing by. I’m registered for summer classes (GAs get free tuition, which I can’t pass up), including a weekend at Haystack with Ellen Morris Bishop, writer of this book. The workshop’s focus is writing about landscape, and how it informs the stories we tell. It will give me a lot of information and help with my thesis.

My WR 121 class is going well—the students are both interested and interesting. I really do love teaching.

I received my GA assignments for next year. For the first term I’ll be the Assistant Director of Writing, a chance to work in an Admin position in the Dept. of English—a good resume item, for sure, and a chance to see how the department works from the inside-out. Winter term I’m scheduled to teach an intro to creative non-fiction writing class. That may change, though, as the class may not be offered that term. Spring term, I’ll be team teaching “Intro to Literature” with my friend and co-GA, Eric Wilson (above). We’re both thrilled with that assignment—Eric is the introspective theoretical philosopher type, while I bring lots of writing and modern culture and folklore into my classes, so with us together it ought to be pretty interesting.

The Grey School site is finally back—and mostly repaired—after almost two months of serious site/host problems.

Last but not least, Llewellyn—the flagship publisher for magickal/spiritual writing—is interested in a book proposal that I sent a couple of weeks ago. It looks as if I’ll be getting a pre-contract from them for a book that I’ll write next spring/summer. More details on that as they occur.

The Gargoyles book (left) is in process (and can be pre-ordered from Amazon!)—I need to do some work on lining up illustrations.

That’s the update, hope you liked it.

Now… on to Gilmore Girls!

MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!

Don’t read further if you don’t want to know too much….

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(I warned you!)

1. Loved the music! Loved the music! Loved the music! Although I wish I knew who each of those groups were. Erin is coming next weekend, and I’ll make her tell me. Supposedly Dan Palladino plays one of them, in a farewell cameo. What a hoot, though. The idea of troubadours overrunning the town was terrific.

2. Loved the Clarence Thomas reference.

3. Rory’s finally growing up a little. Finally. I loved the elevator scene with Huntsberger. What great tension, to have them realize that they maybe do have something in common, in terms of what they want for Logan (see beefcake, left)

4. As for Lorelei, I almost couldn’t take her sad, puffy, increasingly depressed and desperate face through the show. It’s what starts the episode, and it’s what ends it. Great bookend-ing. But naked in Christopher’s bed? And did you see the self-satisfied smirk on Christopher’s face? AUGH! Here we go again, I think to myself.

5. Luke: WISE UP! Is your hat too tight or something? Big dummy!

6. Can I rant about these garments called “shrugs”? If there’s ever been a garment that exemplifies dumb fashion, this has got to be it. Half a sweater? Half a jacket? Not even half, really. More like a third. So, do they ask you to only pay one-third of the price when you buy one? I’m betting not.

Now that I’m writing this, I’m betting that some of you—including my own daughters—probably wear these things. If so, no pain intended. But come on—let’s think about this a little, okay? What if people also started wearing a third of a sock, a third of each shoe, or a third of their pants? (The fact that some people actually do dress like that, notwithstanding.)

7. Anyone notice that Christopher's daughter's name acronym--GG--is also the acronym for "Gilmore Girls"? Coincidence? Oh, I think not.

8. Team Sherman-Palladino has ridden off into the sunset…. I worry about what the show will be like next year, in what will probably be its last season. Time will tell….

Famous poodles

Go to this page and check out "famous poodles." (Ernie, you should probably update your MySpace.)

Saturday ramblings

Happy Earth Day! Remember to say thank-you to your mother.... Earth, that is. I celebrated by bringing in a small armload of cut daffodils and lilacs-- their scent is filling the entire upstairs. Don't forget to take the Earth Day footprint quiz!

It's been another very busy week. Our non-fiction program at PSU is hiring a new tenure-track professor, and it’s now down to four incredibly qualified applicants—two men from Iowa (which is writing Mecca, for those of you who don’t know), one woman from U Montana, and one woman from U Oregon.

In an extraordinary move, our department head—Michael McGregor—decided to bring in a group of students from the NF program to help interview the instructors. Yours truly included. I tremendous experience—I mean, I’ve never even heard of students being brought in like this. And they’re considering our input to be an important aspect of the decision-making. It added ten extra hours to my workweek, but again, what an opportunity. The decision should be made in the next two weeks. I’m pulling for the U of O prof—and not just because she’s a local, but because she is extraordinary, both as writer and teacher (I’ve studied with her). I could live with Montana and one of the Iowas—the second Iowa was a total suit and I would be most unhappy with his selection. We’ll see what happens.

Speaking of that...at my “Forms of Non-Fiction” class last Thursday, our teacher—Debra Gwartney—brought in none other than Barry Lopez (left) for a three-plus hour, in-depth session on writing and publishing. For those who don’t know Lopez, he is a National Book Award winner (for Arctic Dreams) and Pulitzer nominee who writes about the natural world, particularly the northwest. I can’t even explain what this evening was like—superlatives fail. For me, as a writer-in-training, the chance to sit at a table with Lopez as a peer and to engage with him in a “how to” discussion of writing, well, it was incredible. Once-in-a-lifetime…. I got home and was so excited, I couldn’t settle down for hours.

Lots to do this weekend, as always. And Erin will be here overnight. She’s in town to play for the Zachlet’s trumpet competition. It’s sunny, too, so time to get out and do yard work. Ah, spring!

I am an INTJ (and you're probably not)

Back in the late 1980s (sheesh, does that sound like forever ago?), when I was working for Dr. Black and when our staff had grown huge and unwieldy, and developed lots of tensions, he brought in a psychologist to give all of us the “Meyers-Briggs” test.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, the M-B is a Jungian personality traits/typology test. You take it and it categorizes you as belonging to one of 16 temperament groupings. The theory is that whichever group you’re in has a lot to do with how you approach and interact with the world and how the world can best approach and interact with you.

It’s actually a well-documented process. It works! Back in our working group, knowing each other’s M-B types and doing some simple exercises in how that affected our approach to one another made a huge difference.

So, here’s the interesting thing. Back then I was a solid ESTJ—pillar of society type and among the most common of the types. In a nutshell, ESTJ said that I was an extrovert, that I relied on common sense versus intuition, that I relied on thought and logic over feelings, and that I tended to favor judgment over perception.

The other day, the M-B came up in one of my classes. One of the revelations was that the M-B could change over time, as you and/or your life experiences changed. And this sent me scampering back to the Internet, wondering if I could find another M-B test to take there. (Ordinarily testing is a very expensive process.)

I found a test here. I retook it….and Lo and behold: I’m now an INTJ, also known as a “Mastermind Rational.” Supposedly I'm uncommon. One source said that INTJs make up only 1-2% of the general population. Here’s a short blurb about what it means:

Rational NTs...are proud of themselves in the degree they are competent in action, respect themselves in the degree they are autonomous, and feel confident of themselves in the degree they are strong willed. Ever in search of knowledge, this is the "Knowledge Seeking Personality" -- trusting in reason and hungering for achievement. They are usually pragmatic about the present, skeptical about the future, solipsistic about the past, and their preferred time and place are the interval and the intersection. Educationally they go for the sciences, avocationally for technology, and vocationally for systems work. Rationals tend to be individualizing as parents, mindmates as spouses, and learning oriented as children. Rationals are very infrequent, comprising as few as 5% and no more than 7% of the population.

Albert Einstein is the iconic example of a Rational.

Thomas Jefferson and General Ulysses S. Grant are examples of Rationals.

It’s also interesting that my once extroverted ‘E’ has changed to an introverted ‘I,’ which certainly goes with my increasing writerly life—much of which is an inner life of solitude.

And, my ‘S’ has turned to a more intuitive ‘N,’ which goes along with my growth in magickal intuition over the last decade.

So, I’d like all of you to now scamper to this site and take the test. Then, share your results!

P.S. And just for fun, go here. Couldn’t believe this when it came up a few days ago. I have an ISBN!

Just a Saturday morning

The trilliums are in bloom—I snapped the above picture of them peeking out from under the front porch. I love trilliums—they’re such a harbinger of spring in these parts.

It’s been a hectic week—I can’t believe that one-fifth of spring term is already gone. The days fly by so quickly that sometimes I have to really stop and think which day of the week it is, let alone making sure that I have clothes to wear, food to eat, etc. The other day I left the house wearing nice slacks and black shoes…only the shoes were two different black shoes, instead of being one pair. Luckily I noted this before I drove off.

My writing classes are going splendidly—Lizzie Grossman is absolutely terrific, and being back in class with Debra Gwartney is also wonderful. I always learn so much from her. Next week in her class, one of my all-time favorite writers—Barry Lopez—is coming to speak and workshop with us. What a great evening that will be!

I did my taxes yesterday. ARGH. I owe quite a bit of money this year, the fallout from receiving wages, severance, and unemployment for a few months simultaneously over last spring-summer. Never fear, though. Next year I will appear financially destitute, so all will even out.

I turned in two new book proposals to Llewellyn publishing. Getting a book published there would be HUGE in terms of my aspirations to write in the magickal-Pagan community. The book I’m doing for New Page is also a terrific thing, but in the magick world, Llewellyn holds court, and it would be a benefit to me, as a writer, to get “on” there. Or to get “into their stable,” as people put it. That metaphor kind of makes me shudder, for some reason.

Lots to do today—reading for all three classes, plus some writing, and student papers to grade. Plus housework, laundry, etc. It’s a cool rainy day, so the pressures of going outside to garden aren’t there. The rain gives me permission to curl up on the couch with my books and papers and just hang out.

I’ve actually been a little under the weather this week—achy, headachy, etc. Some small virus trying to get hold, I suppose. Trying to blow my head off. Never hear—my skull is much too strong, my reserve too firm. Damn taxes, damn schedules, damn them all! Here’s to trilliums, good writers, and soft spring rains.

A Feast for the Spirit

Yesterday Bill and I drove to Celilo Village, Oregon. It’s just east of The Dalles, on the bank of the Columbia, and it’s easy to miss. What was once a thriving hub of commerce is now a collection of small buildings, abandoned trailers, and a single, spectacular bulding rising far above the others—the Celilo longhouse. This is village is now the center of the ancestral Celilo fishing grounds, the ancient waterfalls drowned in 1957 by the impounded waters of The Dalles Dam.

Celilo Falls may have been permanently silenced, but the life of the Columbia plateau indigenous people endures. Every year, the Columbia River Intertribal Fish Commission hosts the First Salmon feast. For these aboriginal people, salmon isn’t just a food—it’s a way of life, a locus of creation, and the center of their spiritual practices.

The First Salmon feast takes place in the Celilo longhouse (right), with day-long ritual and a ceremonial meal. The meal features the four sacred foods: salmon, deer/elk, roots, and huckleberries. The feast begins and ends with water. Men enter the longhouse and sit along the north side, women along the south.

This is definitely one of those, “you had to be there” moments, as far as description. The songs and drumming made me tingle. The Indian people wore their finest clothing—Elizabeth Woody had told me this on Friday. “Everyone wears their best,” she’d said. And so there were women and girls in beautifully colored dresses and men and boys in ribbon shirts, everyone bedecked in silver and feathers and beads.

The food was amazing. It was a true feast—I had serious doubts about whether my paper plate could hold up to what was piled on it.

The ceremonial foods are eaten in order. You begin with salmon, which was cooked outdoors, both on barbecue grills and spit-roasted in front of open flames.

Next was venison. There were two kinds: a pot roast of venison and wild onions and a piece of really incredible dried elk. I’ve never had it, and it was delicious.

Third came the roots—both camas and Wapato. They were tasty—with a slight, astringent bitterness that hinted at the vitamins within.

Finally there were berries—huckleberries gathered last season and frozen for the ceremony, as they don’t ripen until mid- to late summer.

On top of that: potatoes, carrots, potato salad, fruit salad, and biscuits.

Bill and I found a quiet bench to sit on and to enjoy our food, and as we ate, a big dog came and watched us. It was a gorgeous dog—reddish gold with startlingly golden-orange eyes (right). I’ve never seen anything like it. Bill said that is was a relative of the “yellow dogs,” which are said to be a breed unique to American Indian tribes. It was a sweet dog, and happily gobbled up the tidbits we offered.

After we finished, we wandered down to the river’s edge to spend some time with Celilo Falls. Below is what the site looks like now. I was filled with a tremendous sadness as I looked out over the silent water and thought of what it had been like, long ago, but there was still the joy of being there, of eating and honoring the salmon, and of knowing that life continues, always in its great and magnificent cycle.

Amidst these thoughts, I dipped my hands in the river water, touched the water to my forehead and heart, and murmured my thanks for having this feeling of simply being there, and of being home.

Salmon times….

Last evening, Bill and I went to the Native American cultural center to hear American Indian elders and one writer/poet talk about the salmon.

To any non-northwesterners reading this, wild salmon are a big deal out here. To the indigenous people, they’re life itself.

The presentations were splendid. I was thrilled to get a chance to hear and talk to a favorite author, Elizabeth Woody (right, with petroglyph known as Tsagaglallal, or She-Who-Watches), who read from her new and old work. She is an incredible poet and essayist, and often writes about the salmon and about Celilo Falls, which—as you all know—is dear to my heart.

So, we had a wonderful evening.

I said I’d write more about my two writing classes, so here you go:

On Wednesday evenings I’ll be involved in a non-fiction master class. There are 12 students in the class, and we have four different teachers. First, the class is overseen by Michael McGregor, who directs the non-fiction writing program at PSU. Three weeks of the class will be taught by Karen Karbo, a writer-humorist. Three weeks will be taught by Lizzie Grossman, a nature and environmental writer. And three weeks will be taught by Brian Doyle, an essayist. It’s going to be really cool.

On Thursday evenings, I have “Forms of Non-Fiction” class, taught by Debra Gwartney. She is on the faculty at U of Oregon but comes to Portland once a week by train to teach here. She is an incredible writer and teacher and this will be a terrific class, albeit a lot of work—she books no slackage.

Thanks to these two classes, I’ll be reading a handful of books and writing several thousand words of new material. Whew. But it’s a good kind of pain.

Erin is here for the weekend—playing for Zach’s trumpet recital. Yay!

Back to School!

Yep, we’re back to school. It felt good to be back in the fray the last two days, although I got home early today and took a long nap!

Here’s my class load so far:

ENG 596—Forms of Research. This is a required class for MAs in lit; it involves learning the detailed ins and outs of library research, and using this to create an extensive bibliography of a subject of choice. End product is a portfolio with the bibliography, including a minimum of 25 annotated sources. For those of you out of the lit loop (and sometimes I think you’re very lucky people), this means reading a scholarly piece and then annotating/summarizing it in something between 3 lines and 2 paragraphs. So, over the term I will read a minimum of 25 papers. Minimum. Whew. We also have a book of lit theory to read as part of the class.

ENG 518—Teaching College Comp. This is my GA class, and is really relaxed and low pressure. This term we have a book on composition theory and will be doing in-class discussions and presentations on different aspects of teaching writing. End-of-term output is a paper about our philosophy/style of teaching writing.

I also have two writing classes—they start tomorrow, so look for an update on them in a couple of days.

In addition to classes, I have two teaching responsibilities this term. First, I’m teaching another section of WR 121—College Composition. That started today. I had a full room of enthusiastic students, so it looks as if it’ll be a bang-up term.

Second, I am team-teaching a split undergrad/grad class on “American Women Writers.” I sort of fell into this via a beloved professor who needed a helper. That class started yesterday—we have about 30 students and they seem really interested in the topic, so this should also be fun. The writers are those I love: Orne-Jewett, Cather, Chopin, Morrison, Esquivel, and Abu-Jaber. Luckily I've read all the books but the last one, which will help!

And, I’m still writing one story a week for the Vanguard (and still threatening to give it up), as well as working 6 hours/week in the Writing Center. Both pay a little bit, which helps.

Ernie is back to long days of napping in a quiet house, so he’s glad that spring break is over.

Oh: the personal essay I wrote last fall for Oregon Humanities has finally been posted in an e-version. Go here to read it, and let me know what you think.

Official spring break report for Sunday, April 2

Sleep: Oh, yes.... There’s really nothing like sleeping in on a cool, dark morning. I got up to take Ernie out at 7:00, then he got up on bed and the whole family went back to sleep until 10:30! Whoa!

Weather: Rain, 55-ish.

Fun: We’d talked about going to the beach—we’d like to go and see Ft. Clatsop (our newest national park, and recently rebuilt after burning down a year and a few months ago)—but nixed the idea when thinking about returning-from-spring-break traffic. Plus, we’d gotten up too late to really do anything major. We ended up going out to breakfast, then to New Renaissance books and finally shopping.

Also: Brokeback Mountain continues to break new ground!

For the first time, Hollywood is making its latest movies available for download the same day DVDs arrive.

The first movie to receive simultaneous DVD and download treatment will be Brokeback Mountain, available Tuesday at Movielink (www.movielink.com). Now playing on the service, launched today, are recent releases King Kong, Memoirs of a Geisha, Pride & Prejudice, Rent and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

"For the first time, consumers have the ability to not just rent a (downloadable) major motion picture from the major Hollywood studios but to own them," Movielink CEO Jim Ramo says. Consumers will pay for the convenience. New films such as Brokeback, King Kong and Memoirs of a Geisha will cost $20 to $30; older films such as Jaws, Easy Rider, To Kill a Mockingbird and The Sting will cost $10 to $16. By comparison, new DVD releases often are discounted as low as $14.

(From http://www.usatoday.com/life/movies/news/2006-04-02-downloads_x.htm)

Grumble, grumble.... Movielink doesn't support Mac or Linux systems. ARGH. But, at least this news is a cool start, and we can only hope they begin supporting REAL computer systems soon.

Food Events: Breakfast at Sully’s in downtown Milwaukie. Me, the Eggs Benedict, Bill the fresh Dungenous crab omelet.

Dog: Well-rested.

And this brings the spring break blogging experiment to an end. On Monday it’s back to school for spring term, so don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for three months!

Official spring break report for Saturday, April 1

Test for Northern Exposure fans: What's happening in the above pictures?

Sleep: Still very good, lots, nice, deep, dreams, lovely.

Weather: Drizzly.

Stupid Stories: None that can top Friday.

Fun: the weird thing is that (as my kids will vouch for) I am all about April Fool’s Day. But this year I did NOTHING. NADA.

So, today’s fun leaves us stuck with this:

You Are a Chocolate Chip Cookie

Traditional and conservative, most people find you comforting. You're friendly and easy to get to know. This makes you very popular - without even trying!

What Kind of Cookie Are You?

(Great: now I'm apple pie, mashed potatoes, vanilla ice cream, and chocolate chip cookies. I am certifiably boring.)

Oh, and my Northern Exposure season 4 arrived, so there’s that. They’ve also let it be know that they’re going to release season 5!

Chores: Laundry, house stuff, the basics.

The World: Jessica Simpson is thinking of adopting a baby. OH MY GODDESS.

Dog: Feeling much better, thanks.

Official spring break report for Friday, March 31

Sleep: Lots and lots! (Ah, but this will soon end….)

Weather: Blue sky one moment, black clouds and marble-sized rain drops the next. We call this ‘spring’ here in Ory-Gun.

Stupid Stories: Okay, so Bill and I decide to go to The Farm for dinner. No, that's not competely true-- but what happened was so stupid that I did some editing, James Frey-like. ACK! Here's the real story. We were invited to a party at a fellow GA's house, and I was really looking forward to it. Bill doesn't know everyone, but he's good at get-togethers, and he was going to go along to make me happy-- I figured we probably wouldn't make a late evening of it.

Anyway, I'm dressed and waiting for him when he calls and tells me that he’s at a downtown bank and has locked his keys in the Jeep. he asked me to come rescue him from this coffee shop a couple of blocks from the bank, where he’ll going to be waiting for me. Okay so far?

I jump into Xena (Warrior Car) and as I’m driving to get him, it occurs to me that I should have checked to make sure the spare Jeep key was in my purse (it always is, but recently he’d had to use it—yes, when he locked his keys in his car—and now I’m wondering whether he gave it back to me…. You can already see where this is going, can’t you?). Anyway, I get to the coffee shop--through rush-hour traffic--and we drive to the bank to see the Jeep (otherwise known as DV—derelict vehicle—1) alone in the parking lot. I open my purse and open the zipper pocket where I keep the spare key, and it isn’t there. (You knew it wouldn’t be, didn’t you?)

Now, we have to drive all the way back home, again through traffic (it's now 7:30-ish, and 'm wondering why everyone is driving home so late). After tearing the house apart we finally find the key on top of the secretary where he’d left it (instead of giving it back to me last time he needed it), and where it had promptly gotten covered with books and mail and other house detritus. (I was somehow supposed to just intuitively know that it was there. Are you sensing that there's a little tension here?)

We then drove back downtown to his car, now through Friday-night traffic. By then it was getting late, and we were both starved, and he was really tired (this is where our age difference starts to show up), having had a really tough week-- lots of foundry visits and a lot of actual physical labor with huge patterns, etc. Anyway, I didn't have the heart to drag him to the party and really didn't want to leave him home alone. So, we decided to just go to dinner, and went to The Farm. The dinner was lovely, although I was sad about missing the party. Whew. And that’s the stupid story.

Fun: The Dixie Chicks’ next album, Taking the Long Way, hits the stores on May 23. Here’s an interesting bit from Wednesday’s Seattle Post Intelligencer:

People in the News: Chicks are still mad as wet hens

It's been three years since the war in Iraq began and the war declared by country music stations and mainstream America on the Dixie Chicks for criticizing President Bush. But they're "still mad as hell" about it, reported the AP. In a new single, "Not Ready To Make Nice," lead singer Natalie Maines lets people know how the Chicks felt about the barrage of death threats and boycotts that pelted them after she told a London concert audience she was "ashamed" that Bush was from their home state of Texas.

The chorus: "I'm not ready to make nice. I'm not ready to back down. I'm still mad as hell, and I don't have time to go round and round and round."

Their new video debuted yesterday on aol’s website. See yesterday’s blog for the link! And note the top photo of their infamous EW cover.

Chores: More paperwork, and got caught up on correspondence that was—literally—months old.

Food Events: Dinner at The Farm…. This is a place that makes you wax poetic about food. For anyone who hasn’t been there, it’s primarily a vegetarian place that also serves seafood. The food is all local, fresh, and organic. And incredibly delicious! We started with an old favorite—their baked brie, topped with a simple sugar glaze, sliced pears, and chopped walnuts, then baked into a melting ooze and served with sliced baguette. For dinner, Bill had blackened salmon—cooked perfectly—with grits cakes and a delicious spinach sauté. I had crab and risotto cakes, parsnip fries (baked, not fried), and a wonderful raw cabbage and carrot slaw, dressed lightly with rice vinegar and dusted with crushed hazelnuts. Major, major YUM, and at least some small recompense for missing the party.

Dog: Pretty much back to normal, although not eating much. But he played heartily yesterday—a rousing game of pink pig.