Sallyacious

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September 29, 2008

So Many Things

There are so many things I feel like I ought to be writing about, and so many things I don't want to even think about, and so many things I want to write about but really can't because they're not just my story. So many things are touching my life right now that my head is just spinning with them. Which means that I'm not feeling coherent enough to write about any of them, really, so instead, I think I'll take you on a tour of my small corner of the blogosphere and introduce you to some people who touch my life regularly, whether they know it or not.

Rhinestone Armadillo
Laura over at Rhinestone Armadillo is becoming a good friend of mine. I first "met" her about a year ago, when I volunteered to shepherd a couple of newbies through their first NaNoWriMo. She's an artist who, near as I can tell, lives even closer to the Ends of the Earth than I do, and that's saying something. I would liken her blog to a jewel box, full of beautiful treasures and lovely surprises. Every time I visit, I find inspiration and learn something new.

Hollow Squirrel
Evil, snarky, quick-witted and sassy are the first adjectives that come to mind when I think of Stacy from Hollow Squirrel. Also adorable, if we're talking about her boys, Jojo and the Nugget. She's warm and friendly and really, really funny. I don't remember how or when I discovered MamaSquirrel, but I'm sure glad I did. She makes me laugh, more often than not, but she's also tremendously generous and kind.

YoAmes and Recipes of the Damned
Amy and I went to college together a hundred million years or so ago at the same lovely liberal arts university in Tacoma where we met our husbands (who we didn't marry for years and years). There's something to be said for those friends who knew you when. We don't talk much anymore, we're both too, too busy (her moreso than me, even), but we follow each other electronically, like little pixilated stalkers. Recipes of the Damned is an absolutely wonderful response to those corporate food booklets that have suggestions for desserts you can make with OscarMeyer weiners and other such delights. She doesn't get to update very often, but when she does, it's priceless.

The Bloggess
I only just discovered The Bloggess, and I feel like an awkward latecomer at a really swinging party. A very funny party. Her commenters are as hilarious as she is. Go. Read. Now.

Gathering Around the Table
Gathering Around The Table is the home of a fellow UI alumn and Palouse(ish) resident, Inland Empire Girl. She teaches (middle school, brave woman), she writes, she does photography. Her thoughtful takes on so many aspects of life always make me feel like I've taken a deep breath of clean air.

Wide Lawns and Narrow Minds
Wide Lawns writes anonymously from Florida. She's funny, direct and fascinating. She swears her stories are true, but some days it's impossible to believe that her family's lives are really that incredible. Right now, she's in the middle of the story of how she met her husband, and it's sweet and funny and wonderful, and she's slowly killing all of her readers by writing it in installments.

Gluten-Free Girl
Shauna is another alumn of that tiny Tacoma university. She and I used to laugh and play racquetball together. I put them in that order because we laughed more than we played, I think. Three years ago, she went completely off gluten, which seems to have saved her life, and then her entire world changed. Her story is heartwarming and her recipes are heavenly. I find beauty in her words and images both.

What Is My Life Going to Be
I prefer to call Heather by her URL: Plenty of Knowledge, Useless Degree. Well, I prefer to call her Heather, because that's her name, but I like my alternate title to her blog. Heather is a fellow redhead, a fellow actor, and a fellow UI alumn. I adore her. She's the person I contacted as soon as I knew I was visiting Chicago, because it would have been stupid to have visited Chicago and not seen Heather. A short story about Heather, to help you understand why I love her so much and what to expect when you visit her blog:

Our first show in graduate school opened with a number of people wailing onstage as one of our fellow passengers was whipped. An amazing spectacle. Heather and I were wrapped around each other on one edge of the stage. You need to know that Heather is a champion belcher. There is nothing ladylike about the long, loud, resonant 'BRAAAAAAAAAACK"s that come out of her mouth. So. Curtain. Lights come up on the wailing and the whipping and the screaming. Heather and I are cowering in each other's arms. And suddenly, I felt a burp travel through her body. She silenced it well, but that does not alter the fact that I experienced that belch along with her. It's why we're so close now.

She also goes by the name of Geyser. You should write about that, Heather.

Anyway, these are women whose stories add color to my days. Y'all don't know how much your posts help me hang on sometimes, when things are crazy here. I was one of those people who thought the internet would only isolate us, and yet, here I am in northern Idaho, avidly drinking in the lives of women in Seattle, Houston, New York City, Chicago, Florida, upstate New York, eastern Washington and rural Texas, beholden to the internet for providing my connection to them.

Thank you all for writing so well.

Posted by sally at 01:49 PM | Comments (4)

September 27, 2008

Paul Newman 1925-2008

A moment of silence, please. As we recognize the loss and the life of a very talented and very generous man.

Posted by sally at 08:08 AM

PhotoHunt: View

More Hawaii stuff. Because I haven't quite exhausted the possibilities yet. And because I could use a reminder of how easy that week was versus the way my life is working right now.

Last week, you saw part of the view from our hotel room. Here's a better idea of the view from our lanai:

They called it a "garden view" room, but as you can see, we could see the bay from the lanai. Especially if we leaned up next to the railing. I really miss that room. And that view. And the island.

I'm at the point now where I'm pretty sure the week was all a dream...

Posted by sally at 12:02 AM | Comments (20)

September 23, 2008

Yesterday? Kicked My Ass

I don't know why I feel like I was run over by a truck while I slept, but I most assuredly do. Even the ibuprofen I took about 45 minutes ago isn't helping.

The day started out easily enough. A couple of blog posts. I made a book (It's AWESOME, I'll post pictures later). I figured out how to potentially streamline the bookbinding process so I can make more than one a day. I may, provided I do this right, be able to make three or more a day. Which would be the preferable outcome.

Then I worked on lines for Tartuffe. For which it seems I have roughly half of the lines in the play. I know I don't really, but it sure feels like it right now. I was clearly not going to get any of that work done here at home, because I kept finding other stuff to do. And I knew that if I went to my office, I would either fall asleep on the couch or find other stuff to do there. So I went to Starbucks, got some iced tea and some water and a granola bar, and then drove to campus, where I worked on my lines in the car for 30 minutes before rehearsal. No one could bother me there, there were no alternative activities to distract me. It was ideal . In fact, I now understand why Danny Peterson used to learn his lines in the bathtub. What else are you going to do?

So then there was rehearsal 6-9:30 or so for me, and then the gym. Where I did an hour of cardio. Then I came home--around 10:45 or so--fed the cats, moved the veggies onto the porch because of the frost warning, killed a spider, FINALLY got to shower, FINALLY had a snack, and went to bed at 12:45. Where I couldn't sleep. Until after one.

Six hours later, I was up again, to prepare for my day. Which looks easy on paper, but I'm not convinced. I suspect that truck--the one that ran over me last night--is still lurking in the neighborhood.

Posted by sally at 08:48 AM | Comments (1)

September 22, 2008

Hawaii - The Unexpected

On Tuesday afternoon, I set out to visit the Hilton Waikoloa Village (warning: the site has music). I'd been told it was worth seeing. More on that in a minute. Because it was supposed to be a longish walk and I was walking via the beach, I opted to not take my 35mm camera. But because I wanted to be sure I didn't miss anything, I dropped my little, ancient HP point and shoot into one of the pockets of my cargo shorts, where it fit perfectly.

Have I sung the praises of my cargo shorts here yet? Oh. My. God. Best shorts I've ever owned. They're a cute cut, they're an awesome fabric, and they have about seventy bajillion pockets, so I can carry my cell phone, keys, camera, inhaler, money, ID and room key card without any issues at all. Not having to carry a bag with me everywhere I go is a dream for me. Love the cargo shorts. Wish I had more than two pair. (Wahoo! I just went to the Eddie Bauer website to find a link for them, and discovered that they are on clearance for $15 a pair. Yesssss.)

But back to my walk. I wanted to wear my Tevas. My sweet, overprotective Dave, who would wrap me in cotton if he could, I think, told me it was really rocky and that I might want other shoes. I hadn't packed other shoes, so I wore my Tevas. It was rocky. And occasionally rough, but I paid attention to where I put my feet and it wasn't that bad.

The walk took me right along the shoreline, and the colors, again, blew me away. The blue of the ocean, not Pacific Northwest grey, but blue, the blacks and reds of the lava and the white of the coral? It was stark and severe and gorgeous. Even from under some of the trees along the path, it looked daunting.

On the other side of the trail, I kept seeing these "keep out, do not disturb the ponds" signs, and I wondered what they were about. Fortunately, I found out when the trail ran through a preserved area.

Anchialine Ponds

So from what I recall from the signs, these ponds are brackish water that leached through the lava from the ocean. They're teeming with life, though I don't think I captured any in my photographs. Plant life, yes. Fish life? No.

I tried to figure out why the bottom was green, but couldn't find any information. I assume it's some kind of algae, but I would point out that it is definitely green on the bottom. There are, you notice, things under the water that are not green-tinted, so I know it isn't the water itself.

And just to be clear, I did not step off the trail to get these shots. I'm a big fan of respecting the places I visit, and they had really good reasons for staying on the path, so I did.

But aren't they cool and interesting and beautiful? I think these shots demonstrate the palette shift I've been talking about better than most others. It's one thing to see brightly colored birds and flowers. It's another thing entirely when even the background colors are different.

The Hilton

I have no photos of the Hilton, except the pics I took of sea turtles in their lagoon, so any shots here are from their website. Let me clarify. I saw (and photographed) sea turtles in the Hilton's large, man-made lagoon in which people were swimming. In which I saw a sea turtle take a dump. At that moment I realized why I had already decided I wouldn't have got into that water if I was staying at the Hilton. Because it's the saltwater equivalent of a duck pond, and there's no way in hell I'd swim in one of those. Eeew.

Anyway, it felt intrusive to snap pictures of all of the stuff at the Hilton. I mean, I wasn't even a guest there, so I was already kind of pushing it, I felt, to be wandering around gawking. And there really isn't any other word for what I was doing. Because the Hilton Waikoloa Village pretty much invites gawking. It's got the same vibe to it as the mega hotels in Las Vegas.

Let me explain.

I entered through the back, from the shoreline. There is a huge pool there with a waterfall and waterslides and a couple of bridges going across it, including a swinging bridge. From there, I went past a brass statue and the Nene goose enclosure. (Props to the Hilton for providing information on Hawaii's endangered state bird, it's a way to get tourists to think about conservation, but it's still strange to basically experience a zoo inside a hotel.)

Then I came to the train tracks. That's right, I said "train." The property is so big that there are both a train and (on the lower level) a boat to transport guests to the various wings. Ostentatious much? Not as ostentatious as the grand staircase leading down to the lagoon.

I walked along one side of the lagoon, taking pictures of the sea turtles, and then I realized that if I went in the other direction, I could go behind/under the lagoon waterfall. Seriously. The designers did not miss a trick at this resort. So I changed course, wandered through the waterfall cave and discovered Dolphin Quest. Again, mad props to the Hilton for this conservation program, but it still smacks of conspicuous consumption.

And that was my real issue with the whole place. It's too busy. It kind of vibrates with the activities, and it sort of spoke to me of everything that annoys me about our television culture. Too much mindless doing and not enough exploring and thinking. Entertainment for its own sake, and not much opportunity for brainwork. Which isn't really fair to the Hilton, because they do have some lovely open galleries with displays of native and South Pacific art and artifacts with helpful descriptions. Basically, I got way overstimulated at the hotel, and it made me grumpy. It also made me really appreciate how very different and laid back the Marriott was. If the Hilton was New Orleans jazz, with lots of brass and interweaving melodic lines, the Marriott was a steel drum band. A very small one. Which was what I needed on this vacation.

And then I ran into Kimberly

I was thirsty. I couldn't find bottled water in any of the gift shops. Then I spotted a small yogurt/coffee/sandwiches type kiosk at the end of the train tracks. I toddled over and got into line behind the woman at the counter. I wasn't really paying attention to the conversation she was having with the barrista. I'm not sure when I clicked to it. All I know is that I suddenly realized I knew the voice of the woman waiting for her order. I couldn't see her face, but I knew. Instantly, I was back in Portland, doing art and laughing uproariously over beers with this feisty little woman from Texas. I searched frantically through my head for her name, and it came to me. Just as she introduced herself to the barrista. We said it at the same time, actually. "Kimberly."

Kimberly and I met in January of 2001, at a class that used and amplified the contents of Julia Cameron's amazing book, The Artist's Way. A friend of mine was teaching it, and was pretty sure it was her last go-round. I'd wanted to take it and grabbed my chance. Kimberly was in the class, too. We spent twelve Mondays working and talking and laughing together in that class. And after the class ended, a few of us started meeting on Mondays at a pub near Portland State. Kimberly joined us sometimes. But she moved to Hawaii and I moved to Moscow, and things dwindled to sending each other the (very) occasional email and/or photograph. I (mistakenly) thought she was on Maui, so I didn't bother letting her know I'd be in Hawaii. What would be the point, when we'd be on separate islands?

We hugged, and then chatted briefly. It was tremendously good to see her, but she had to go back to work (at the Hilton, actually), and I needed to get back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. I thought about going back to visit her one day later that week, but on Wednesday, a bunch of us drove into Kona, and on Thursday, I was lazy by the pool, so it never did happen. If I ever get to go back to Hawaii, though, she's one of the first people I'll call.

And that brings me to

A Very Long Digression

It was sometime this summer when I realized that one of the reasons I was leaning towards Chicago as a possible place to live was the sense of community I felt there. There are people I love in Chicago. Several of them, and I would adore being closer to them. There are people I love in Tacoma as well. Which is why it's on the list. But after running into an old friend and colleague from Boise State in Tacoma--at the Tacoma Art Museum of all places--I realized that I have a lot more options for community than I originally thought. Seeing Kimberly in Hawaii underscored that knowledge.

Yes, the largest concentration of good friends is in Chicago. But I have friends all over the world now. Villy lives in Ukraine. Sayantani still lives here, but she'll be moving back to India soon. Ellen lives in India now. If I visit India, and I've always wanted to, I will know two people there already. So I won't have to go it completely alone (Dave has made it clear that a trip to India is not in his future). I even just found out that some friends of mine moved to the Carribean this summer.

The parts of the world that contain someone I care about are increasing rapidly. Even if I don't know anybody in a place, chances are I know somebody who knows somebody who lives there. And furthermore, given the right location, I can make my own community. Here isn't so good for that because of the factionalized nature of this odd little town. But in a larger place, I can find like-minded people, as I did when I took Kate's class and met Kimberly and Katherine and Diana and Sheila. Or when I took the book arts workshop and met all of the lovely people in that class.

A larger population center means there are most likely more people who share my interests. Here, I'm neither fish nor fowl, really, and that's very very hard. And because of geography and the nature of the academic year, I can't pursue as many other opportunities as I would like to. But soon. Soon I will be part of a larger place. Already, I can feel my horizons expanding.

Posted by sally at 12:00 PM | Comments (3)

Autumn with a Vengeance

Aaaand suddenly, it's fall.

What the hell happened? We had 80° days and crisp nights. It was lovely. Then it was cloudy on Saturday, rained all day yesterday and today, it's not even 70. It's supposed to get down to 30 tonight, which means that I need to get Dave to help me move the eggplants and tomatoes onto the porch.

I repeat. What the hell happened? I liked my fall the way it was. I was enjoying the not completely cold but cooling aspects of it. If we are about to get nailed with another long, grey, snowy winter, I want a fall that gives me some nice weather first. I need the pleasantness to carry around with me under all of my layers, in my winter-frozen heart.

Good think my teaching partner and I are working on putting together a week-long dream/arts/imagination workshop in Mexico sometime early in the spring semester. I will be needing that to see me through.

Posted by sally at 09:55 AM

September 21, 2008

Unconscious Mutterings Week 295

She says _______, and I think _______.

So this week's responses are apparently based on my visual spoonerisms and Freudian slips. I kept misreading things and making some of the oddest connections in my head. Strange. Very, very strange. And that's me saying that, mind you. About, well, me...

1. Heist :: Bank, Diane (Weist)


2. Hack :: Job, bad haircut, computer


3. Dane :: Grey (I don’t know. Zane and Jane got all mixed up in my head and we went there. Even before Great and Hamlet.)


4. Stings :: Music. Because I read “strings.” Clearly, it’s been one of those days around here.


5. Monkey :: Business


6. Junkie :: Horse. Methadone


7. Pumped :: Up. Hans & Franz


8. Brass :: Balls. Welldigger’s butt, which, as you know, is traditionally extremely cold. As are the balls of a brass monkey. These are things a nice girl like me probably oughtn’t know.


9. Fight! :: Fight! Fight! Club. What happens at... you know the rest.


10. Vouch :: Word of honor, stand up for. The exact meaning popped into my head straight off, but I can’t find the right words for it.

Posted by sally at 12:05 AM

September 20, 2008

Perfect Timing

Laura over at Rhinestone Armadillo* had such a wonderful post up about food that I was compelled to do this one. Especially when it all dished out so prettily for dinner.

Yesterday, I made soup. Two kinds.

When I first started growing eggplant this summer, I looked up a bunch of recipes. I needed to figure out what to do with these big purple fruits I was going to have. I've been wanting to make this stew ever since.

I'm happy to post the recipe if anybody's interested, but it's basically fresh eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, sweet onion and oregano with garbanzo beans and artichoke hearts. One option was with sweet Italian sausage. I picked that one. And I added a cup of red wine to the mix. I just browned the sausage and chopped everything up and dropped it into the crockpot for eight hours on low. The veggies all came from either my garden or the Co-op, so everything was organic, and most of it was local.

I had the first (two) bowl(s) for dinner last night with locally made ciabatta bread and locally made sharp cheddar cheese. And, now that I think of it, a glass of locally made cabernet sauvignon. It was so good that I have repeated the meal exactly this evening, and now that it's truly fall (cold, wet, dark, rainy), it's the perfect meal.

The other soup is exactly the same except that I used more tomatoes, left out the sausage and used white wine instead of red (a local pinot grigio) and added just a bit of garlic powder and dry mustard (also organic, by the way). The meat stew cooked in the crockpot all day, finishing up just in time for dinner, so I cleaned everything up after dinner, put the remainder of that into mason jars, which went first into the fridge and then into the freezer, and then started over with the veggies in a clean crockpot just before midnight. So at 8:30am, I was tipping veggie stew into mason jars to be frozen. I haven't tasted that stew yet, but I imagine it will be just as good as this one.

*Don't you just love that as a blog name?

Posted by sally at 07:13 PM | Comments (1)

Hawaii - The Volcanoes

Since Dave and I flew into Kona on Sunday, and Shawn, Dionna and the rest of the crew weren't arriving until Monday afternoon, I decided to grab the chance to take a field trip. I didn't know whether anybody else would want to go, and I thought taking an entire day on my own once they arrived would be selfish, so I headed off to Kilauea and Hawaii Volcanoes National Park on Monday morning in the embarrassing car that steered like a cow.

It was a three hour drive to the park from our resort, and I cruised through such a variety of landscapes. There were bits where every time I turned a corner, everything I could see changed. From lush rainforest to lava to what looked like eucalyptus groves. Then coffee plantations, then more lava, then flat, open, green landscape stretching to the sea.

Thanks to the National Park Service for the map, though I added the arrows.

Shortly after I entered the park, I realized that what I'd been taking for clouds was actually steam. A BIGASS volcanic steaming, with a reddish undertone to it that appeared to be reflected light. Sadly, that was as close as I got to seeing magma.

I started out in the interpretive center. There was a short-ish trail I wanted to take, and I figured they'd have maps. That was where I learned about the eruptions that blocked off much of Crater Rim Drive. (Most of that stuff had to be on the park's website, but I didn't notice it for some reason when I was looking for information.) They also had big warnings: IF YOU HAVE ASTHMA OR OTHER RESPIRATORY ISSUES, DO NOT TAKE THE FOLLOWING DRIVES/HIKES, YOU WILL DIE. Okay, maybe they weren't quite that alarmist, but that was the underlying sentiment. Enough so that I spent the first third or so of my hike sniffing cautiously for sulphur every few breaths. In case the wind suddenly shifted the plume 180 degrees.

And now for the pictures.

What can I say? Except that I was about 100 yards along the trail when I realized I'd forgotten my camera. I went back to the car, which is where I discovered that I'd forgotten both cameras. Both the 35mm and the digital point and shoot. As in, I left them in the hotel room three hours away. I headed back to the interpretive center. They did not sell disposable cameras, but the gift shop at Volcano House across the way did. I wandered over there. They did not have the standard disposables available anymore (late delivery or something), but I could get the zoom disposable or the underwater disposable. I took their last zoom disposable camera, figuring that I was probably not going to be spending any time under water that particular afternoon. (I was right.)

Did you ever stop to think about how digital cameras have changed photography? Let me give you a little taste of exactly what's different now. In my 35mm, I have a two Gigabyte card to store photos. It holds hundreds of 4-5MB images. A disposable zoom camera, on the other hand, has a total of--wait for it--24 exposures (I got 26 out of mine). I hadn't realized just exactly how reliant I'd become on being able to just shoot and shoot and shoot until I got the picture I wanted with NO consequences. On this trip, there were consequences. The greatest of them being that I didn't get shots of what were arguably the two most beautiful features of the hike. Because I took something like ten shots of steam vents before I realized what I was doing.

And then of course there is parallax. Also limited focus lenses. Not to mention getting the camera through airports without having your film destroyed by x-rays. And after that, the whole getting film developed hassle. And the interesting streaks that show up on film images. Fortunately, Kodak developers can put your shots on a cd for you for a nominal fee, so I didn't have to also worry about how to get them onto my laptop. All of these issues and more are represented in the following images.

I will, by the way, be more or less following the order of my walk along the Sandalwood trail.

This, though you can't read the signs, which pretty much spoils the joke, was a hilarious moment. Both signs indicate the trail I wanted to take. Yet they point in opposite directions and give differing distances. I opted to go to the right, which was marvelous, as it saved the best of the hike for last.

Remember when I was bitching about parallax a minute ago? Yeah.

This sign, you should be able to read. I appreciated the heads up, though it didn't keep me from leaning precauriously over rails to take pictures of steam coming out of holes in the ground. Because it's so cool! In person, it turns out. Not so much on film. Well, see for yourself.

Steam! Coming out of holes in the ground! Yawn. But then things started to get interesting.

And to justify the extra cost of the camera, the same view,* only utilizing the amazing ZOOM! function.

I have to admit, it was a pretty amazing sight, all that steam just pouring out of the new crater. Especially when combined with the knowledge that the steam contained Certain Death. Every time I got another view of the eruption, vast itself in the greater vastness of Kilauea's caldera, I marveled at how easy it would be to believe gods lived there. And how terrifying it would be to take sacrifices out there to toss them in.

Just in case you doubted I was actually there. (See earlier complaints about disposable cameras.)

As you can see, the scenery got more and more lush the further I rambled.

Eventually, the views of the caldera disappeared altogether in the greenery and I took pictures of pretty things, many of which did not turn out. But the path was enchanting, so I kept following it.

That was one of the last pictures I took on the hike. The actual last photo was of a gorgeous purple flower growing out of a rock. It was out of focus. I didn't think it could get any prettier than what I'd already seen, so I was in for quite a surprise when I turned a corner a moment later. Ahead of me, the trail twisted between two mud walls, a little tiny canyon, with pockets of ferns and flowers and vines hanging down. It was enchanting, like some magical place. And when I emerged from the other end, I knew I was in Paradise. Hanging flowers, tall trees, enchanting scents and birdcalls I'd never heard before. There was a bench there, for people to just sit and enjoy the aura of the place. Truly one of the loveliest spaces I've ever been in.

I didn't stop, though. Kicking myself a bit about that now. But I needed to eat lunch, visit the Volcano Art Center and then drive back to the hotel. It was getting late and I didn't want to miss out on Shawn and Dionna's arrival.

I wrote some of this down a little later, while sitting in the dining room, eating a buffet lunch and being soothed by the sounds of other tourists chatting to each other in Japanese. There's something very restful, I think, about being surrounded by people who are speaking a language I don't understand.

Things to remember:
• My first sight of the steam vent, realizing it wasn't just another cloud.
• That amazing little gorge near the end of the hike. About eight to ten feet deep. Twisting and turning and walking through. I came around the corner and saw it just after snapping the last shot on the roll. Figures. But it was like the climax to a piece of music. It, and the flower filled, rock walled, hanging garden-like space it opened into. I'm so glad I chose to head the way I did at the trailhead. Because that was definitely saving the best for last.

After lunch, and a visit to the Volcano Art Center, where I found the gorgeous photograph called "Pele's Braids" that now hangs in my office at school, I drove back to the hotel. Only, since I was already halfway around the island, more or less, I decided to go ahead and circumnavigate the whole thing. I'm glad I did that too. I got to see a lot more lovely scenery that way. A lot more.

I want to go back. I want to be able to spend more time visiting more of the island. I want to fully experience things I only got little tastes of this time around. I want to stay at the Volcano House. I want to go out to the ocean and see the magma running off into the sea. I want to to visit the coffee plantations and galleries and restaurants and bookstores I had to just drive past. I want to spend some time exploring Hilo. I want to learn how to make a lei. I want to spend some time working there, with paints and brushes and paper, so I can let the new palette sink more deeply into my bloodstream. I really want to go back to Hawaii.

*Only from the other side of that tree on the right of the photo, so it's not really the same view at all, is it?

Posted by sally at 03:50 PM

PhotoHunt: Road

From our trip to Hawaii:

I took these from the lanai off our hotel room. Dave is walking on the King's Trail, which is kind of hard to see, being lava on lava, but once you get a sense of it, you can spot it pretty easily. I knew he was planning to walk it that morning, and when I realized I could see the trail from the lanai, I opted to hang out there and do some writing and drawing while waiting for him to show up. When he finally did, I snapped a couple of photos.

How did I know it was him? I recognized the bag. And his shirt. Besides, very few other people would consider a walk of several miles across lava an enjoyable vacation jaunt. At least, not the kind of people who are on vacation at Hawaiian beach resorts. In the entire time we were there, he is the only person I saw walking on the trail.

He's a bit hard to spot in this one, so I helped you out:

In both of the above photos, you can also see the highway. It's the main highway that circumnavigates the island, though for some reason, it's Highway 19 on one side and Highway 11 on the other side. You can also see Highway 19 in this image (which I did not take, I couldn't get that far off the ground). The highway is the yellow line. The purple line is Dave's walk that day, according to the GPS tracker he took with him. The long straight bit? That's his hike on the King's Trail.

If you follow the purple squiggly bits of his walk west, you see a large, white-roofed building. That's our hotel. Our room was on the longest, straightest bit, angled just so I could see the trail past the edge of the stubby wing that is SE of the longish bit. I tell you what, I could happily go back and spend another week or six there.

Posted by sally at 08:57 AM | Comments (11)

September 19, 2008

Whoda' Thunk It?

I have been feeling like a cow lately. A manatee to the mermaids who traipse around campus here and grace my classrooms. I was doing really well with my workouts early in the summer, at least an hour of cardio five days a week, plus yoga on three of those days as well. And lots of walking on the other two days. For all of June and a good chunk of July.

Then I started traveling, and the schedule I kept and the places I went pretty much ruled out regular gym workouts. When I got back from my trip to Tacoma, the Rec Center where I have my membership was closed for remodeling for a week, and when they re-opened, I was in Hawaii. Where, though I took lots of long walks, I also drank a lot of high calorie fruity drinks and ate like a pig.

Since I got home, I've spent four weeks readjusting to school, made harder by the fact that I wasn't really ready for my summer to be over. In those four weeks, I think I went to the gym three times. I've done some walking, but not as much as I was expecting to (part of that readjustment thing), and my caloric intake has skyrocketed, largely due to all of the wine I've been drinking and the cheese I've been eating. Plus two birthday cakes in the last week. Though I have shared those. It's not like I ate two birthday cakes all by myself. And now I'm retaining water because, well, I am.

I feel, as I said above, like a cow. That sense of myself is supported by my pants not fitting right now, in case you were all wondering why I've been running around in shorts and skirts. That's partly due to the temperatures, yes, I had to turn the air conditioning on yesterday and today, but also because I'm currently too fat for my jeans. (And they are not jeans for a tiny person in the first place.)

So you can imagine how I've been dragging my heels over going into the costume shop to get measured for costumes for Tartuffe. Because I really, really don't want to know how enormous I am. I really don't.

But get this. They only had to measure the bits that were most likely to change. I mean, it's not like my inseam has altered, and the had my measurements from February (Woods of Weaver) to work from:

Bust: same as last spring
Waist: 1" smaller
Hips: 1/2" smaller

What? Really? Amazing. Suddenly, the clouds are lifting and I'm thinking about hitting the gym.

Posted by sally at 03:13 PM | Comments (2)

September 18, 2008

Magical

This is a magnolia blossom. In my front yard. On a tree I planted 14 months ago.

I took this photograph today. This tree shouldn't have bloomed for another couple of years, according to all of the literature I've read about planting magnolias. How lucky am I to have it decide to buck the system?

It smells like heaven. I just wanted to dive in and revel like the five or six honeybees who were bobbing tipsily about it.

Posted by sally at 09:44 PM | Comments (1)

I Have a Bad Feeling about This

I made this really awesome eggplant spread today. I've made it before, with a teeny eggplant, but this time I had a nice-sized one. It uses onions, garlic, oregano, parsley, olive oil and lemon juice besides the eggplant. Sooo tasty.

Everything I used was fresh and organic, right down to the lemon juice, and therein may lay my downfall. You see, I went shopping for all of the ingredients last night, except the eggplant and the parsley, which I grew myself. I was in a bit of a rush. But I grabbed a big, yellow lemon off the pile marked lemons in the local Co-op as I whizzed to the checkout, trying to beat the closing time bell.

Tonight, I cooked the eggplant, chopped the ingredients, got everything ready in the food processor and then dumped in the olive oil. Then I rolled the lemon on the counter to soften it up a bit for squeezing. It split right open, which surprised me, and the pulp was a bit orange-y, which also surprised me, but it smelled fine, so I squoze a running over tablespoonful of it into the food processor and turned the sucker on.

The onion was a bit strong (my eyes were watering as I scooped the spread out of the processor), and that was my biggest worry until I was cleaning up. Having no more need for the lemon, I chopped it up to toss down the garbage disposal and marveled again at the orange pulp. A horrible suspicion stole over me. I sniffed it again. And then I looked at the tag I had peeled off the lemon. Organic, it read. 93108. And there, at the bottom of the tag, in tiny red letters that were almost invisible against the purple ground, Valencia.

I'm afraid to taste it.

It will either be a triumph of cooking or absolutely disgusting, and I know which outcome I'm leaning toward.

Posted by sally at 08:07 PM | Comments (2)

September 12, 2008

♫ And I'm-a Leavin' in a Volvo ♪ ♬

Hey. Don't snicker. It scans.

Off for a four day weekend with the 'rents, the sibs and THE NEPHEW. (Let's face it, everybody knows he's the reason I've made more trips to Boise in the past two years than I did in the previous ten. I'm through being ashamed.)

Have a lovely weekend and I'll see you on Tuesday. (Which is also, coincidentally, my birthday. Just so you know. In case you want to send cake or something.)

Posted by sally at 09:36 AM

September 11, 2008

A Wild Hair's Got Nothin' on Me

At some point this afternoon, I had an idea. A sweet, wonderful, brilliant idea that translated itself into a book. Which means that I rushed home, sat down and wrote three pages' worth of notes, and then spent most of the evening painting various sheets of paper in preparation. Despite having at least two hours of grading left and needing to pack and maybe straighten up the house a bit and work on my lines for Tartuffe. Instead, I painted. A bunch of different things. If it works the way I think it will, the book should end up being pretty cool. Though I have some questions to answer for myself about how certain bits will work.

It's nice, because I haven't really felt like making anything. At least not felt enough like it to pull art supplies out of the closet and spread paper over the dining room table or the back porch. Not enough to clean out a bunch of brushes and paint trays afterward. But today, I did. I got a fair amount done, too, given the time frame. And my helpful feline assistants.

I certainly used a lot of brushes and paint trays. Some of them more than once.

I've begun taking advantage of a helpful trick I learned in the July/August issue of Cloth, Paper, Scissors (which I picked up on a whim while in line at our local "art" superstore). They had an interview with an artist/mom who had limited opportunities to do big chunks of work. Long stretches of time just don't come her way very often. So when she finds the time, she'll paint the backgrounds on several canvases and then use the remaining paint on art journal pages and maybe some ATC bases so that she's got backgrounds ready for those when she needs to do a quick project. The thing that appealed to me about it was her use of the leftover paint. She uses it instead of just washing it down the drain.

So today, I not only used leftover paint on a canvas I've been messing about with, I used it on some watercolor paper and also on a picture mat. I even poured the watered-down paints from some washes onto another piece of paper which is now drying on the back porch. I have no idea what I'll use it for, but it's got lots of interesting drips and splotches. It's such a great idea. I don't feel guilty about wasting paint now, and I've got new stuff to play with later, when I need it.

Anyway, I did LOTS of painting today. And a load of laundry and part of the packing for my trip south to see the nephew this weekend. I even managed to read all of my lines in Tartuffe aloud once through. I'm hoping to be able to find the time for that daily, since I have to memorize roughly half the play, it seems, and I'd like to be off book by the time we start rehearsals a week from Sunday. Given my schedule, that may not happen, but a girl can dream. I even wrote up a new assignment our students will need to do in a couple of weeks and emailed it to my teaching partner to put up on her website.

So I got lots of stuff done this afternoon and evening, after teaching all morning. The one thing I didn't get done was any more grading. I'm about a quarter of the way through the latest set of assignments, and I want to give them back on Tuesday. Only, I'm leaving town in the morning and not coming back until Monday night. Which means I have to take the assignments with me and find time to grade them while I'm at my parents' house. And I can't do two things at once, I can't talk and grade, I need to focus my attention on the assignments, so I'll be not much company while I'm working on those. Yay. Maybe I'll try to do the grading at night after everybody's gone to bed. I think it's the only way it's going to happen.

Okay. Next task: to put the clothes I pulled out of the dresser into the suitcase Dave brought upstairs for me. Then a shower. Then bed, I think. Since it's almost midnight now.

Posted by sally at 11:16 PM | Comments (1)

September 10, 2008

Four (Possibly Five)

Last night as I was at the local coffee shop having Mud Pie for dinner (What? I spent 2/3 of my day working on job application materials and I missed going to the gym. I needed a treat.), I noticed the teltale blue and red flashing that indicates a traffic stop. Policeman was talking to driver, then got back into his car and the driver carefully pulled around the corner and into the parking lot. I had, if not a front-row seat, at least a decent vantage point for the proceedings.

It was kind of like someone was doing magic.

First, there was the one cop car and the little battered Honda. Shortly after, a second police car arrived, and the driver of said Honda was ushered out of the car and onto the curb. Aha! I thought, a DUI bust. (Mosly I was interested because I thought the officer was someone I knew, but I think he was too short.)

I went back to my plate of disgusting but oh so tasty sugar and dairy death pie.

The next time I looked up, there were two late teens/early twenties guys sitting on the curb. And a third police car. When I looked up again, there were two men on the curb and one talking to the police officer. And then one of the other officers brought 'round a fourth fellow to sit with his chums on the curb.

I swear, it was like a clown car. It really wasn't big enough for four guys, and yet, there they were on the curb. Except for the one getting the sobriety test. I eventually saw the officers handcuff him and lead him away.

At this point, I began to wonder whether it actually was a DUI stop, because it seemed like an awful lot of police activity for one guy with a DUI. I mean, he was the only driver. Unless one of the others was sitting on his lap, but surely I'd have seen that when the officer opened that door. Right?

I finished up my diabetic coma on a plate and paid. Then I walked out into the parking lot, taking the (slightly) longer route to my car to get a better eyeful of the action. Which is when I counted at least four police cars, and possibly a fifth. Really. For one DUI? That seems like overkill to me. Which means that something else must have been going on. At least I hope so. Or not. As I really don't want to think about what would bring five patrol cars to cluster around one rusty Honda.

Posted by sally at 12:17 PM | Comments (2)

Hawaii - The Fauna

I could not believe my eyes when I saw the subject of the above photo. And I was so very glad I'd finally got the camera thing right on a trip. I took both to Hawaii, and carried the little one everywhere in the pocket of my cargo shorts. So when I took the 30 minute stroll to the Hilton Waikoloa, I was equipped. And when this lovely swam up to the shoreline in their "natural" pool, or whatever it is they call it, I had a camera. It was a perfect moment.

As was this:

Taken on the sunset catamaran cruise we went on with our friends Shawn and Dionna. Funny (and telling) story about that particular boat ride. somehow, as we all boarded, Shawn and I got shooed to one side of the boat, while Dave and Dionna ended up along the opposite rail. The crew asked us to stay where we were until the sail was underway. So we did, occasionally waving at each other and chatting with the other person's spouse. We planned to get together when we could.

Only, the water was choppy. You want to go over to Dave and Dionna? asked Shawn. Um, no, I replied. I'm happy right where I am. That place being the rail, where I had a death grip. Seeing his look, I added, I'm not letting go of this rail. They'll have to come to us.

This is the funny part: Dave and Dionna were having almost the exact same conversation on their side of the cat. Only, HE was the person who didn't want to let go of the rail. Eventually, we did get together. I took two quick steps to a thing I could sit down on and they wandered across to us and I held onto a piece of the boat with one hand--just in case--for the entire rest of the trip.

Oh. Except when they announced there was cheesecake. At which point I got up, toddled down into the galley and got some, then rolled back up onto the deck and back into my place. Where I grabbed that piece of the boat again. Anyway, all of the breezy ocean evening shots in this entry are from that sail. It really was beautiful. Romantic in all of the best ways. Except for the woman who kept announcing she was going to barf because she was on a boat and had just had a mai tai. Um, hello? You're a grownup. Either swallow it down or go away and vomit in private.

So, anyway, this is Dave. On the boat. The picture above, obviously, not the one below. The photo below was taken in the open air lobby of our hotel. I'm smirking not because I think I'm superior for being where I was at the moment, but because I suspected I had chocolate in my teeth. That's me, sexy all the way...

But notice how tan I am.

And this is Dave in the rental car. I wanted to prove we actually went on this trip together. Also, I was fascinated by the "graffiti" along the road. It took a little while to figure out what it was. It's coral. Which stands out nicely against the blackish lava. Clever people, to think that up. About halfway to the hotel, as we were still pondering the lava, two things occurred to us: 1) there were wild goats grazing along the highway, and 2) it's the highway they do the Ironman bike leg on. That was an oddly cool discovery, given that neither of us are triathletes.

A word about the rental car. It was a Mercury Grand Marquis. In champagne. It looked (and drove) like my grandparents' car. Like most Gen X people's grandparents' car, I suspect. I do not have the necessary dignity or self-importance to drive a car like that. And it reminds me of a line from--I believe--Restaurant at the End of the Universe. "What a ship. Looks like a fish. Moves like a fish. Steers like a cow." Frankly, it was embarrassing. Which is why we had to point it out to everybody we knew, the friends who were there with us, Dave's brother (who had some choice words about the vehicle). Humiliation just isn't the same if you can't share it with the people you love. We may have been driving a car like that, but they were hanging out--by choice--with people who drove a car like that.

See? Coral graffiti.

Landscape with Heron

Really. Look closer.

Landscape with Heron. Closer.

See it?

Just in case you still can't, Heron with Landscape:

And more turtle pictures because I think they are some of the coolest animals on earth. It's possible that the turtles I got photos of on this trip were some I helped out on my trip to Cabo in 2002 when I worked on a sea turtle recovery project. How cool would that be?

Dave and Dionna aaaaaalllllllll the way across the deck. Probably talking about how comfortable it was against the rail.

Despite my weenieness, it was a great cruise. They're awesome people to travel with.

And here the fauna gets a little closer to "home." The gekko was on the edge of the ceiling of our lanai. That's the little balcony/patio off our hotel room. Dionna actually suggested we get upper floor rooms because she'd heard the gekkos were an issue for the ground floor rooms. Our room? Was on the 6th floor. I guess gekkos don't read travel review sites.

The next two shots were taken with my camera by a nice Russian man who offered to shoot them when he saw me trying to do the one-armed self-portrait with turtles thing. He not only suggested a better angle to catch me with the turtles, he yelled at his girlfriend (the one in the bikini) to get out of the shot.

And this is one of my favorite photographs of the trip. She woke up to look at me, so I felt kind of bad, but at least this way it's clearly not a shot of a dead turtle, only a napping one.

Posted by sally at 09:30 AM | Comments (1)

September 07, 2008

Unconscious Mutterings Week 293

Wow. Where to begin about how messed up this week's responses are... I guess I'll just let you see for yourself.

She says _____, and I think _____

1. House :: Hugh Laurie. Yum.
2. Think :: Pink, ink, sink, link, clink, spink, fink, stink
3. Clot :: Cloten, Cymbeline, blood
4. Believe me :: It’s no joke
5. Fumigation :: Rats (Ratatouille, which Dave & I just watched this evening!)
6. Bore :: me to tears
7. Luck :: is being ready when the right thing comes along
8. Patient :: Doctor
9. Tremors :: Kevin Bacon (Wasn’t he in that movie?)
10. Pickles :: This guy my mom told me about from her childhood. I believe he was a town policeman. Pickles was his nickname.

No, I don't know where any of these came from. They are what they are. And I am what I am, which is apparently a Popeye quoting freak.

Posted by sally at 12:08 AM

September 06, 2008

Hawaii - The Flora

So I've finally accomplished enough (read: prepped for classes, among other things) that I can post about the trip without feeling guilty. And to ease myself into it, I'm going to post pretty flower pictures, because that's one of my favorite photographic themes.

This trip affected me profoundly. On a deep and fundamental level. And I'm not sure why. I mean, aside from my drive around the island (with a stop at Kilauea) and the vow renewal ceremony, it was your average resort vacation. I slept well, I got a hot stone massage, I played in the water and flopped about on lounge chairs by the pool, reading brain candy and drinking mai tais and mudslides. I took long walks by (and in) the ocean. I took a lot of photographs. I ate some amazing food. I went shopping.*

And yet, something is different in me. I wish I could put it into words. Or pictures.

I do know this, Hawaii is unlike any other place I have ever been. From the open air lobbies in the hotels, to the birds and plants and landscapes, I've never encountered anything like that island.

Did you know that the sound of wind in palm fronds is very similar to running water? That's new knowledge. For me, anyway. Or that places exist in the world where the primary color palette is based on red, green, blue, black and white, rather than the brown-based world I know?

Did you know that the Hawaiian islands are one of the most isolated places on earth? And yet I heard several different languages spoken at the resort where we stayed.

Did you know that there are only 13 climate zones in the world? And that the island of Hawaii has 11 of them? At least, that's what this guy from Minnesotal told me on a sunset catamaran sail. He was pretty blown away by that information. After he told me, so was I. Though considering that I went from sea level to over 4000 feet on my drive to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised. Especially given the abrupt changes in landscapes I encountered on the trip there, and on my continuation around the island afterward. From beach to desert to mountain top to rain forest to rolling grasslands (moist and not-so), I saw so many different climates.

Did you know that scientists estimate that one new species arrived on the island every 30,000 years to develop the flora and fauna we know as "native" there today? That there is only one indigenous mammal (a bat)? That mosquitoes were unknown on the islands until they stowed away in bilgewater that was released into a bay somewhere? That the introduction of pigs, while a nice addition to the diet, is directly responsible for the declining native songbird populations on the island? That the arrival of one sunflower spawned twelve new species over time? Very diverse and distinct species. You'd hardly know they're related.

Did you know that rocks hold spiritual power? Not hard to believe in a place that was formed by boiling rock bubbling out of the earth. Where that sort of thing still happens. Where a new island is forming to the southwest as the chain drifts along an open hotspot in the earth's crust.

I've taken to purchasing original art as reminders of places I've been. And though I didn't get to see any actual magma (thanks, eruptions of March 13 and 19 and the ensuing sulphur dioxide emissions that have closed off half of Crater Rim Drive), I came away with an appreciation for Pele and a gorgeous photograph of Pa'hoehoe lava called Pele's Braids that I found in a gallery next to the Volcanoes National Park interpretive center.

One indicator of how foreign this place was to my previous paradigm (because there is no doubt, I've experienced a paradigmatic shift) is a comment I made to Dave on the way to visit his brother Don and niece Shannon on our first night on the island (Rosilyn, Don's wife, was working, so we unfortunately didn't get to see her too). I remarked on all of the names for places and streets--Hualalai Rd., Keauhou Shopping Center, Kaiminani Drive--how affected it was to use Hawaiian names for-- and then I stopped myself. It's not remotely affected to give things Hawaiian names there, in Hawaii, where they have meaning and tradition and roots. Those words and names belong there. They don't belong in Arizona or Idaho as the titles for housing developments. Places where using a language born of lava and ocean and Pacific breezes is pretentious and out of place. I hadn't quite yet realized where I was. I was still operating on a mainland mindset. But I wasn't on the mainland anymore.

I never did adjust to the time zone. I woke up at five or six every morning and crashed before ten pm every night except one, when Dionna and I spent two hours in one of the hot tubs, drinking our exotic drinks and catching up on each other's lives. I stumbled into our room after midnight that night, more through exhaustion than drunkeness. I only had the one mudslide. But I was still up at 6am the next morning because my body clock told me I'd slept in.

My first indicator that I wasn't in Kansas anymore was actually from overhead. As we prepared to land on Maui at Kahului Airport. I looked out of the window and saw red earth. And a yellow-green I'd not ever seen in vegetation before. It was an entirely new palette for me. Since our return, my own palette has shifted**. I find myself wanting to use tropical colors, more bright pinks and oranges, aquas and stark whites and blacks, to represent the things I'm feeling. I'm not sure how much of it is me trying to keep the vacation spirit alive and how much is related to that soul shift I mentioned earlier.

I found such freedom, running around in whatever outfit I threw on over my bikini. And, surprisingly, running around in my bikini itself. I know part of it must be vacation-related, nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to please but myself, but I also know it was more than that. Sea turtles in the wild, mongeese, a landscape that changed abruptly with the turning of a corner, the color of the water that I have never, ever seen off the beaches of the continental U.S.. The fact that everybody, everybody said mahalo, including as part of the announcements at the airports. I don't run into that kind of politeness here.

In some ways, it was a Shirley Valentine holiday. (Though I assure you, I didn't "make fuck" on anybody's brother's boat.) I started to rediscover myself. And to like myself very much. I felt more an artist there than I do here. Oddly, given that I didn't exactly have many supplies with me. But my creative spirit definitely woke up and looked around. Started taking notes. Dictated purchases. Placed some orders for future adventures. Because just like Shirley, I've come to realize that perhaps the time for adventures isn't over after all. It may only be beginning.

Dave has been warned. I believe I've started a love affair with Pacific islands. Thank goodness there are so many of them to visit. Looks like I've got a lifetime of adventures ahead of me...

*I realized only later that trips to previously unvisited places on the Pacific Ocean bookended what has been one of the best summers of my adult life. Both of them showed me new landscapes, both inside and out. And they extended my summer. I left for Long Beach, WA the day after my last final, and I got back from Hawaii the morning they held auditions for the fall semester. I squoze every bit of use I could out of this summer. Nothing left but the seeds and the rinds, now.

**This is not an isolated event. The same thing happened after my first trip to Mexico. I came back with the courage to use color and six months later, painted our bedroom coral.

Posted by sally at 07:02 PM

PhotoHunt: String(s)

One of those images I knew I wanted as soon as I saw the theme. One of David's classical guitars.

Posted by sally at 10:04 AM | Comments (4)

September 04, 2008

This Strange Occupation

Conversation I had with a Flea cast member last night:

     Wound?

     Wound.

     Wound?

     Wound.

     Wound.

     Wound.

Posted by sally at 10:16 PM

September 03, 2008

Long-Ass Day

I intended to post last night, but decided I'd rather spend time with Dave, as we don't see each other much anymore, and, well, I like hanging out with him. Sorry, but I prefer my husband's company to yours.

I am so glad I have a schedule this semester that gives me four day weekends, because the three days I am scheduled to be on campus knock me on my ass. Yesterday, for example, I was only planning to be on campus from nine to one or so. Just long enough to get ready to teach, teach two classes and drop my stuff at my office again. Because I can do all of my grading during my four hours of office hours today. After dumping my stuff, I was going to hit the gym and then come home and do some art or work on my lines for Tartuffe. Then I would go to rehearsal at six, be done at nine or nine-thirty and come home to post some of my Hawaii pictures here.

This is what happened instead.

I got to my office just before nine (found a nearby parking space and everything). My teaching partner needed something that only existed on my laptop, so I had to turn it on, which took, I swear, the better part of the week. (Microsoft, if you are listening, IM is not my priority when I first boot up the laptop. Chances are I'm not powering it on just so I can chat with my husband. I can do that faster by phone. So make that damn program give priority to the things I fucking select myself.) Anyway, we got to class just before it started.

Usually, we're both pretty together and on the ball, but yesterday morning, it was kind of like watching Laurel and Hardy teach class. We were both walking chaos. In the end, we covered everything we needed to and the students left with some useful information and possibly with new ideas floating about in their heads (What kind of a person picks wisdom and passion over eternal youth or eternal salvation? How's that for making a freshman consider the world from a new angle? Thank you Neil Gaiman and your brilliant short story Chivalry.)

So we bumbled about for two 75 minute classes (less bumbling in the second go-round) and then I wandered back to my office with a new student who needed an intro to the class website. I hadn't eaten and was feeling pretty sugar low (normally, I snack between classes, but I didn't have anything with me), so I have no idea whether I made any sense at all. She seemed to understand my ramblings, but who knows?

Then I wandered to the bookstore for some supplies and stopped at the SUB for a bagel on my way back to my office. I had an important email to send (Hello, students in section1. We forgot to tell you about the important assignment that's due Thursday. It's simple, but you need to know about it because we'll be using it in class. Oops.), and then I decided to update the attendance spreadsheet and while I was at it enter grades for the thing that was due yesterday that we checked off in class. And then I created a little auto-tally spreadsheet so we wouldn't have to do some math ourselves. And it was suddenly three-thirty. Right, I thought to myself. I'll go to the gym after rehearsal. I want to take Chuck's spinning class anyway.

So I was packing up to leave and remembered I needed to record some dialect stuff on CD for the actors in Flea. I finally got out of the office at four thirty and once again forgot to pick up the fucking dry cleaning on the way home. I got home in time to change into some casual clothes, eat a quick dinner and check my email again. Then I left for rehearsal.

I went back to the house to grab Dave's jacket, which I had promised to bring with me. Left for rehearsal a second time, and discovered when I got to campus that the two nearest parking lots were full and I had to park a good five minutes away. Which would have been fine except that as I got out of the car it was exactly 6pm (I could hear the bells on the Admin Building clock striking) and I still had to get to rehearsal where I had, besides the cast, fifteen freshmen from my class waiting for me. Because they need to watch a rehearsal of the play before seeing it in production, and I had impressed upon them the importance of timeliness. Excellent.

Things calmed down at rehearsal, and once my freshmen were all released, I sped to the gym in time for Chuck's spinning class . (Chuck is my yoga instructor, he's my favorite instructor at the gym and I've been wanting to take spinning from him for a while now.) I rushed up the stairs only to find the room dark. The other room was lit, and that's when I realized that yesterday was Tuesday. Which is when Chuck teaches yoga at eight-thirty. That's his Tuesday/Thursday class. Spinning is on Mondays and Wednesdays. So I schlumped back down the stairs and got on one of the stationary bikes there and watched (but didn't listen to because I didn't have headphones) a ridiculous game show called Wipeout, CSI and House. Amazing that the plots of those two dramas are so basic I could tell what was going on without having to hear them, even though they're supposed to be working through mysteries.

I got home around ten-thirty, cleaned up, checked my email and hung out with Dave for a while before passing out. Today, I get to more or less do it all over again, only without the teaching part. Which is why I am glad I have scheduled myself off Friday through Monday. Because if each of the other three days is thirteen hours of go-go-go, I need a chance to recover.

And, of course, now I'm running late again.

Posted by sally at 09:03 AM | Comments (2)

September 01, 2008

What She Said

So I was reading the comments on the Bloggess' latest post because they are almost as funny as she is. Almost. Damn, that woman makes me laugh out loud with every entry. I don't know how she manages, but she is consistently hilarious.

Anyway, commenters with blogs of their own get their most recent post title showcased at the bottom of their comment--Linkluv I think it's called, something like that--and this title leaped out at me with such force (especially when combined with the comment) that I had to check it out. I'm so glad I did.

I don't care if she's an alumna of my most recent alma mater. I am horrified to think that Sarah Palin is the best John McCain could do when he was looking for a running mate. Though I suppose I should be thankful he didn't choose Ann Coulter or Dr. Laura. It certainly reinforces my "He doesn't really think women are his equals, does he?" sense of the situation. And the post on Needs New Batteries says everything I'd like to say about why the choice disturbs me, annoys me, and ultimately doesn't alter my vote* in the slightest.

* I am not, by the way, a Hilary Clinton fan. I think she's done some really good things, but I also don't trust her. Never have. Why? Her brothers. She seems close to both of them, and both of them have really sketchy ideas about how to play with other people's money and whether laws apply to them. They all learned their values in the same place, so the idea of her as POTUS always made me squeeby. I have been for Obama since the beginning, and in his camp I will stubbornly stay.

Posted by sally at 09:28 PM

Bibs and Bobs

"Remember the cast of Flea is coming over to watch Dr. Who tomorrow for the dialects," I said to Dave at dinner last night. "Will you help me clean the house?" By which I meant, pick up some things, maybe vacuum a little.

I woke up at 8 or so this morning to the sound of David going through papers and catalogues and making other clean-uppy noises. Once he was done with that (which included the sorting and removal of the three 18 inch tall piles of books and magazines on his side of the bed), he re-organized our closet. And vacuumed it. Along with the rest of the house. Including the living room couch. And under our bed. And the basement stairs. After that, I all I had to do was dust and clean up my stuff and clean the sinks & toilet.

What a great husband I have.

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After the cleaning & laundry forays of the early part of the day, I took a shower. I used a new sugar cane body polish. Now I smell like dessert.

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I'm finally working on a project I need to have finished for tomorrow. Well, I don't need to, but it's a project that's due tomorrow for our students, and I want to do the assignments with them this year, so I really should get it done by then. Unfortunately, one rather important bit has been drying for the last three hours and shows no signs of actually getting any less damp. I'm not sure what I'll do if I can't use it. That bit as it stands is my best effort at a difficult solution to a tricky problem.

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I gave myself a pedicure today as a reward for getting all of the cleaning done. (So really, I should have given Dave a pedicure.) Also because the nail polish I put on for Hawaii was beginning to look battered. That was a deep, deep blue. This is a really awesome red with a coat of scarlet & blue glitter over it. Unfortunately, it looks like a five year-old painted my toes. I couldn't stay within the border of a single nail. Sigh. I guess I'll spend the Dr. Who watching picking it off of my cuticles.

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While my toenails were drying, and in-between coats, I finished editing the Hawaii pics. So I'll be posting those over the next few days. But not right now because I need to run to the store for snacks before they get here. (Though Dave doesn't think anybody will come.)

Posted by sally at 02:12 PM | Comments (2)

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