knitting vs. dessert

I tried to comment in response to Franklin's comment on my last post, but you can't put images in comments. So go read Franklin's comment and then here's my response:

She was knitting on the chartreuse poncho-thing for Ang (she described it on her blog) and dessert was a fat-free ice-cream sandwich. So I guess you have a point. (no pun intended)(get it? needles, point? Okay fine, pun intended, but only after the fact).

swanky hi-fashion poncho-thing	.....versus.....	fat-free ice cream sandwich
You be the judge.

Speaking of knitting, did anyone else read that Interweave Knits piece (the last page of the summer 2005 issue) by the unfortunate woman who outed her husband to everyone in the universe except, apparently, her own dense self?

Let's see...he goes by "Michael," not Mike; he "couldn't be more accommodating" about housework and cooking (she throws in car repair but I think she's lying); and here is her description of his sweater preferences:

He wants a garment that he wouldn't be ashamed to wear on the streets of Milan or Paris. When I think sweater, I see a bulky, oversized swath of comfort knitting. When he thinks sweater, he sees a fine-gauge creation with fancy lapels and leather trim.

Leather trim??? "Oh you poor dear," I think to myself.

Because of his pickiness, the author is delighted when Michael-not-Mike decides to take up knitting his own fancy lapels. She escorts him to the yarn shop, where he dithers over "mohair, lopi, or merino?" before selecting "an elegant silk-cashmere."

Hmmmmm.

And what, dear readers, is this gentleman's first project?

Well, he thinks scarves are too boring, so he "decide[s] to adapt a wraparound poncho [the author] had once made, scaling it down for a more tailored fit around his shoulders."

In other words, Micahel's first project is a self-designed mini-poncho.

By the time I'm done with the rest of the article—which primarily consists of a description of how wild and adventurous he is and how tranditional and safe she is—I'm ready to send her five pounds of brownies and the number of my old therapist in New York.

But enough about knitting (and related topics). It's like we've all been abducted into some kind of bizarre knitting cult or something. As if blogging weren't bad enough.

Except, of course, that knitting results in delectable items of clothing for myself and my loved ones, so... who's complaining? Maybe Loopy wants an ice-cream sandwich, or a hot water bottle or something. I'll just run see about that...

never interrupt a knitter in the middle of counting stitches

me: "What do you want for dessert?"

Loopy: (mutter mutter clickety clickty)

me: "What!!!?? 'You're a whore'??"

Loopy: "Purl FOUR! shut UP!"

Wow. Since when does knitting take precedence over dessert? You think I should call the deprogrammers?

post-party dialogue

"Jeez, honey, what'd you have to drink?"

"Uh...two shots of slivovitz and a mug of vodka."

"A MUG?"

"She was out of glasses."

"Jesus christ. Just get in the car."

rapture

We're going to a party tonight where a drinking game will be played. Normally I don't drink much (though back in NYC I did have a phase of more frequent indulgence--I was working 60 to 80 hours a week, and like most New Yorkers in such circumstances, I had to find a way to avoid realizing how miserable this made me). Normally I don't play drinking games.

However, this game is fun even to read about. Apparently one watches a wacko-christian television show (possibly called "End of Days"?) and drinks as follows:

Drink once...
1. Whenever someone says "End of Days," "End Times" or "Apocalypse"
2. Whenever the word "Christ" is mentioned.
3. Whenever some academic or leftist's later slide into the firey pit is presaged by his/her enthusiatic espousal of Darwinism, the Big Bang, general principles of science, or the germ theory of disease.
4. Whenever Catholics are defamed
5. Whenever Euthanasia advocates, Pro-Choice activists, feminists, gays, Jews or Muslims are defamed.

Drink twice...
1. Whenever a biblical verse flashes up on screen
2. Whenever the face/image of Jesus/The Virgin manifests on an inanimate object
3. Whenever the word "Antichrist" is mentioned

Aaaand...In case of the Rapture, drain the whole bottle.

Prior to this we are having dinner with one of our favorite people, Marina (for those of you who don't know her, imagine Sylvia from college, except as a bitterly cynical yet extremely funny Communist Serb who fled war-torn Sarajevo at 14 after being shot in the stomach). She promises to bring a bottle of Slivovitz to the party. This promises to be very interesting. I promise to let you know how it turns out.

i love my mother, but she's definitely nuts

Exhibit A: A message to her personal tech support guy (how many people do you know with a personal tech support guy?)

I want to buy a laptop. The Sony & the Fujitsu looked good in Wall Street Journal, probably Sony best as it has the best battery although we will normally be plugged in to wall outlet. However YOUR OPINION most important. I also need to have the data base called "access" on this new laptop because I have a new job that requires that program plus a new employee who is trained in it. Better have Word (shorter learning curve for new guys) on the laptop rather than Linux if it can use my Comcast when the 2 computers are different basics. Damn.. that will need extra firewall etc. Oh well, what do you think is best? I can use both so chging from one to other no problem for me. It's the employees plus there are some programs & stuff that Linux only supports in a totally COUNTER-INTUITIVE WAY !!!!

I do love my Mom--more all the time, as we figure out how to manage this new phase of life where they are so old and I am taking care of them--but... I'm sorry, she's nuts.

I feel a slight twinge of guilt for mocking her so publicly, but when I remember that she used to xerox all the letters I sent from Japan when I was an exchange student, and send copies to about fifty different people (without my knowledge), so that it is still possible for me to meet new people for the first time and have them say, "It's great to meet you at last--your Mom sent us all your letters from Japan!" (this last happened with my Mom's dentist).... when I remember this I feel that I am well within my rights to post my mother's emails on my blog and laugh at them.

Of course, when you read her run-on sentence/paragraph, and then mine, in quick succession like that, it's not hard to see that insanity is definitely inherited.

definition

transmigration procrastination:
why put off till tomorrow what you can do after you die?

—Easton Waller
(on why he is a Buddhist
but doesn't bother meditating...
he'll never achieve enlightenment
in this lifetime anyway)

george lucas should be digested for a thousand years

a conversation with Sylvia, one of my favorite people...

Disclaimer: I can't remember the comment I made that prompted Sylvia's first remark. It was a case of my misusing the preposition "in" when I should have said "among," but I'm not sure what the verb or object of the preposition were.....it's not important; what follows is the funny part, so please excuse the oddly rendered first sentence.

Sylvia: I think you would be better off [verb]ing among the [object] rather than [same verb]ing in the [same object].

me (laughing): I think you're probably right about that.

Sylvia: Otherwise it would be like that disgusting scene in Star Wars.

me: Which one?

Sylvia: You know, where Luke Skywalker is nearly frozen to death, and Han Solo cuts open the beast and puts Luke inside it to keep him warm.

me: Oh, yes, right. Ugh. I thought maybe you meant the one where they were going to be fed to the Sarlacc and digested in its stomach for a thousand years. Though I always wonder, how would you live a thousand years to be digested that long?

Sylvia: Maybe there's some miraculous preservative function, so that your life is being prolonged even as it is being digested.

me: Ok, but then what would you eat, all that time? Other things that were being digested? and if so, wouldn't something bigger than you eat YOU?

Sylvia: It is these little mysteries that make life worth living.*

me: So are you gonna go see the new Star Wars movie when it comes out?

Sylvia: I have not seen any of the new movies.

me: Wow! Good choice, good choice.

Sylvia: Sometime I may rent all three of them and watch them back to back in an orgy of masochism.

me: Ugh. No, no, that would be too painful.

Sylvia: Perhaps I would feel as though I were being digested for a thousand years.

me (laughing): At least that long.

Sylvia: Yes.

me: I'm going to put that on my blog.

Sylvia: Is your blog nothing but other people's words?

me: Yes. Pretty much. Other people are funnier than me.

---

*This is not exactly what she said, but it would have been dry and ironic like this, except probably funnier.

precious stones

This play looks fascinating.

Precious Stones: Interview with playwright Jamil Khoury

Apparently it's the story of a wealthy Palestinian woman and a working-class Jewish woman, who try to start a dialogue group in Chicago in 1989 and end up falling in love.

I wrote a lot more about it on MadTeach , because I think it sounds like a potentially fantastic teaching tool—though I find myself with the traitorous wish that it didn't have a queer theme, because then I'd have a much easier time using it in school!

the one with all the screaming

we are watching TV. we are watching "The Velvet Goldmine." The first thing on the screen (this is hilarious, Loopy is keeping me updated on the movie by screaming from the other room, "A SPACESHIP!.... DUBLIN 1865!.... A BABY ON THE DOORSTEP!...." this is hilarious, oh wait, I already said that)("EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER!" screams Loopy)(I better hurry up)

Ahem, as I was saying... the first thing on the screen is,

Although the following is a work of fiction,
it should nonetheless be played
at maximum volume

So I turn up the volume, commenting as I do so, "I am nothing if not obedient."

Loopy snorts. "Hah." She has a point. Do I ever do anything anyone asks me to do? Not really, or if so, only much later than they might have hoped.

"Or maybe I'm just nothing," I say, smiling in what I hope is a winsome and appealing manner.

Loopy snorts again, differently, perhaps with a hint of a smile. "Hmph." She continues to knit. (clickety clickety)

Suddenly she starts to laugh. "I'm sorry, but this is too funny, I have to tell you—the only thing that came to mind was, 'Oinker.'"

"AAAAAAGH!" I scream, jumping up. "I HATE YOU!!!!"

Loopy starts to laugh harder. "I'm nothing if not...Oinker!"

"I'M PUTTING THAT ON MY BLOG, RIGHT NOW!" I scream as I leap out of bed, "AND YOU'LL BE SORRY!!!!!!!!"

The sound of Loopy laughing trailed me in here.

"You're missing the whole movie," she says petulantly from the other room.

"I'm coming," I say.

But that was five minutes ago.

I am nothing if not obedient. So that would be, nothing then.

---

I must say, the reappearance of Dr. Faustus and Franklin seems to be making me funnier, although perhaps only to myself. Either that or the decrease in my Adderall, which I am thinking was a bad idea, is making me lightheaded as well as stupid....

as if!

While playing Scrabble tonight (we haven't done that in ages!) Loopy sent us into paroxysms of laughter by exhorting me to hurry up in these words:

"Play! Play! Play as if you've never played before!"

.

.

.

---

(In case the joke isn't clear, she meant to say "as you've never played before," meaning faster and harder than ever before—not "as if you've never played before"...although that could have its advantages for the opponent as well).

gyssb girls

Once again, since they don't allow comments, I'm forced to respond to the wild wimmin of "Get Yourself Some Boring" here, on my own blog (a.k.a. "Some Genuinely Boring; Perhaps This Is What They Are Coming To Get").

First, you must read this: Presbyterian Universalists. Really, you must, especially if you are Dr. Faustus, but also if you are Someone Else.

Second, Ang suspects it's weird to entertain fantasies when one is stressed out. Hello? If that's weird, I don't wanna know what she'd say about all the other things I do when I'm stressed out!

The thing that always strikes me about Ang is—I don't know who the unbelievably well-adjusted people are that she's spent the rest of her life with up to now, but—she always seems to think that stuff I think is normal is way-out weird, and stuff I think is just some Hollywood writer's rose-tinted fantasy (happy childhood? nice parents who always say the right thing?) is normal to her. It's like, she resets the normal curve all by herself. And I say this with great affection. You can't resent her for it—even if you try. She's just that wonderful.

Ang, for the record, it's not the slightest bit unusual to say to oneself (as she did in the above-referenced post), "You know, if I wanted to, I could hang up all of this shit and go dance on Broadway. I won't, but I could, you know."

What's unusual is to actually have the talent to be telling the truth there, but that's a whole 'nother issue.*

---

* And then there's Dr. Faustus, who dances at NYSC and hangs up all of his shit on Broadway, and who first taught me that "whole" in that sentence is an "infix"...)

Sounds like fun, wish I were there

I'm still mourning my decision not to go to Iran.

My decision seems easier to accept when I read about "bloody ethnic unrest" in Southwest Iran... it's far from anywhere we had been planning to go, but still.

I especially enjoyed reading about recent events in Iran on this ridiculously right-wing website (check out the Amazon links in the right-hand column: Natan Sharansky...Michael Novak...or—hey—DVD on Reagan's courageous War against Evil, anyone?)

ANYWAY, what struck me most about the reports posted here was how much the Bush administration apparently has in common with the government of Iran--I think Bush should really re-examine his priorities, because Iran could be a really great ally for him. Let's look at the facts:

1. Both have shut down Al-Jazeera stations which they claimed were stirring up Arab anger (well, to be more precise, Bush bombed the Al-Jazeera station in Kabul, but let's not split hairs).
   
2. Both have sent the army to fire on unarmed demonstrators.
   
3. Both accuse domestic troublemakers of being in league with foreign enemies.
   
4. Both create ecological problems for their neighbors.
   
5. Both threaten their enemies with nuclear power.
   
6. Both make a hobby of killing Iraqis, and seem to be none too fond of Arabs in general.
   
7. Both try to use control over oil to manipulate others.
   
8. Both believe they have a special relationship with God.
   

See? Natural allies. Someone should tell the president... I'm sure if he knew he would change his policy immediately.

That ridiculously right-wing site has a link to another ridiculously right-wing site, which alleges that 400 members of al-Qaeda are hiding out in Iran, supported by the government. Yeah. That's about as likely as them hiding out in the US supported by the government. By which I mean to say, that stranger things have happened...

...but it would definitely be pretty strange for Iran to support al-Qaeda. First, because al-Qaeda is a hard-core Sunni organization that considers Shi'ites (=Iran) to be deluded heretics; second, because Iranians were vocally angry about the persecution & slaughter of the Hazari—the Persian-speaking Shia group in Afghanistan, i.e., "cousins" of Iranians—by al-Qaeda's erstwhile ally, the Taliban.

Ooh, I could do this all night. But I promised myself I would finish one thing tonight. Gotta get back to work. (Besides, if I keep babbling on about politics I'll bore my 1.3 readers into abandoning me! Can't have that!)

aren't we all

Jen: "I am just the roadkill on the Dawson & Joey highway."

Franklin on Frank

You have to go read this post from Franklin about visiting Anne Frank's house during his trip to Amsterdam. No, really--it's true that Anne Frank's story lends itself to bathos in the hands of lesser writers, but Franklin is too good for that.

Go read it. I insist.

---

P.S. While you're at it, you may wish to read everything Franklin's written since he got back from Holland (and of course before, as well, but let's try to have SOME focus here), especially his amusing summary of his experiences "abroad" and his very depressing account of racial profiling on the way home. (For some reason the INS dude's last "yeah, right" pisses me off more than the whole rest of it. You?)

in defense of my haircut

it looked a lot better when she blew it dry at the salon.

when i wrote that original post i wasn't thinking about anybody seeing it (since i always assume nobody's reading, which clearly is a dangerous assumption), so i wasn't anticipating the moment when people would say to themselves, "THAT? that's the best haircut she ever had in her LIFE? where's she been getting it cut up to now, the dog groomers?"

of course, i have no proof that anybody said any such thing to themselves.

but that's what i'd say if I were you and you were me, with this haircut.

dawson's creek: bad, bad writing

Every morning we tape Dawson's Creek, and every night we watch it, or Loopy watches it and I putz around and come in sometime. I confess, I have a love-hate relationship with that show. It's some emotionally stunted man's imagination about his teenage years. It's annoying, the female characters are all projections of his emotionally stunted imagination, and the writing is so, so bad.

But somehow when you get into a story, you just want to know what will happen next—even if you know that that, too, will be so, so bad.

The other day the writing was especially bad, so I took notes. The plot: Dawson's father has just died. The key thing to understand about all these little dialogue outtakes is that they are not supposed to be funny.

---
Undertaker: How's your mother doing?
Dawson: She cries a lot.
Undertaker: I understand.
---
Friend: How's Dawson doing?
Friend: He's not so good. His father's dead.
Friend: He blames himself, you know.
---
Friend: Hey man, how ya doin' today?
Dawson: He's still dead. It still sucks.
---
Relative: Tell me, are you dealing with your grief?
Dawson: Yeah, I guess so...
Relative: How are you dealing with it?
Dawson: Huh?
Relative: Where are you channeling all the feelings about your father's passing?
[Seconds later Dawson destroys the answering machine when his father's voice starts coming out of it. Guess that answers that question]
---
(Wise widowed grandmother to Dawson's mother, on surviving the loss of her husband)
Grandmother: ...and inevitably there comes a day that isn't as bad as the day before it...
Mother: (sniff sniff) And what do you do until then? (sniff sniff)
Grandmother: That's what prescription medication is for!
---
Friend (to Dawson): So this is what I'm going to do: I'm going to hug you. And I'm not going to let go for a really long time. And I'm going to tell you that I love you. Which is actually a pretty good deal.
---


I have some dialogue:
"Hey Loopy, how's Dawson's Creek today?"
"It's still on. It still sucks."

Oh no. While looking for a suitable illustration for this post I discovered a terrible, terrible thing on the Dawson's Creek Official Website: they have little snippets of dialogue ("your favorite lines") from EVERY SHOW!!! I could spend hours combing these pages for the absolute worst of the worst to paste on my blog. I will never go back there again, but here's what I found so far:

Jen to Shelly, who is hitting on Jen's boyfriend: "So should you choose to continue draping yourself on him like the slutty wench you are, you and me -- we’re gonna throw down."

Yeah. You an me's gonna go at it. Should you so desire.

monty python goes to Iraq

So apparently Terry Jones, of Monty Python fame, is also a political satirist. And a good one too... here's a link to a recent article of his in the Guardian (the link is actually to the InfoShop website as I know its archives remain in place & I don't know about the Guardian).

Let Them Eat Bombs
The doubling of child malnutrition in Iraq is baffling
Terry Jones, The Guardian
Tuesday April 12, 2005

A report to the UN human rights commission in Geneva has concluded that Iraqi
children were actually better off under Saddam Hussein than they are now.
This, of course, comes as a bitter blow for all those of us who, like George
Bush and Tony Blair, honestly believe that children thrive best when we drop
bombs on them from a great height, destroy their cities and blow up hospitals,
schools and power stations.

Read the rest of the article for more information on the many earnest attempts and sad failures of "The Department of Making Things Better for Children in the Middle East By Military Force."

It's rather grim humor, but it will make you laugh even as you wince.

HAH!

I finished some stuff!!!! Yay me!!!!

I bet some of you were doubting me. Go ahead, deny it--I know that secretly you thought I was going to remain immobile in front of my computer, obsessively blogging and emailing, until I fainted from hunger and exhaustion. Well, I thought that at times. But NO! I have emerged victorious! (Now on to the next on the seemingly infinite list of stuff to do)

See what a haircut can do???

you americans

overheard: person next to me, to a companion, in a voice that implies she's quoting someone else:

"you americans, why are you so depressed? what do you have to be depressed about? (mumble mumble inaudible) you don't even cook--what do you *do* all the time, anyway?"

what, indeed.

even more like a grown-up

Of one thing and one thing only, I am absolutely sure: I got the best haircut of my life on Friday.

It looks fantastic. Not "pretty," not "fashionable," but somewhat "cute;" however, more importantly for the job search, it makes me look like a tidy, competent, organized and professional.

It's the same haircut my seventh-grade English teacher (Ms. Work, beleive it or not) had. It helps me feel confident--I look in the mirror and think to myself--"I'm going to be a competent, organized professional, just like Ms Work."

Haircuts are weird like that, aren't they--what else can help revolutionize your self-image so quickly? Love, maybe--but for me, a good haircut has been harder to find.

wow, this is confusing

Now Mom wants to change the date of her surgery (it was going to be 5/18) and says we don't have to come for the neurologist appointment on 5/23. Frankly I think it would be better if she could be there for the neurologist appointment--that much is clear to me. She also noted that they were trying to do too much at once--chemo for a small cancer she had, change the financial arrangements, get her neck fixed, and figure out what's wrong with Dad. She noted she should be more rested and relaxed in order to heal properly from the neck surgery.

These are all good points. It sounds like a good plan, for them. But now I'm confused about what I should do.

I still have to go to Tucson on May 10, because we set up a financial thing for that day that should still happen. But then what?

It seems I never told her I wasn't going to Iran, and she is taking that trip into consideration. So now I could go. Maybe I will... My friend John who came with Loopy & me to Turkey said he might go with me, which would be very cool, because with a man in tow I could explore more independently, plus he likes all the same stuff (architecture etc) that I do. It would be *more* fun to go with Loopy, though--I think with just me & John, we might get sick of each other, but the three of us had such a great time in Turkey--it was a good balance. Hmmm. And all the trauma I had been anticipating for May, will be pushed back to later in the summer, so I wouldn't be shuffling around Cyrus the Great's tomb sniffling softly into the sleeve of my raincoat.

However, I also have to find a job, and Mom sounds like she wants me to stay with Dad for a couple weeks after her surgery. So if I'm doing that, and going to Iran too, that doesn't leave a whole lot of time for job-hunting. Plus it means I shoulda gone to that job fair yesterday. Although that's not a big deal. And I didn't have a suit to wear for it anyway (the damn cleaners "lost" it, but that's a whole other story--I'm not worried; I'll get it back. Like the rest of Wisconsin, the dry cleaners are unprepared to deal with an ex-New York resident, whom I'm sure I can still summon up when I think how much I paid for those suits).

And then Loopy & I were planning an east-coast trip for August. Which--regardless of the rest of the summer--I'm not sure is smart unless I don't have a job, because if I do have a job, I should be in my new classroom making it ready. *sigh* I don't know what to do. Did I mention that already?

the knitter's tale

I never knew knitting could be so intense...

Start here:
Faustus dumps E.S. & feels awful about it.

Continue on, to the sock dilemma, and its intensification.

Then here's the resolution of the sock problem, which, however, just makes the heartbreak more painful (at least to read about)...

However, you will feel better when you read this, and, of course, this.

on being a grown-up, maybe

Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am to be with Loopy?

I was babbling on about how I have to just grow up and realize that I can't want anything from my parents because they just are never going to be the parents I wish they were, and I have to get over it, because every time I think they are going to be the parents I wish they were, they let me down.

I don't remember the exact quote, but basically Loopy said that growing up isn't about not wanting anything from someone; it's about not wanting what you can't have. It's about wanting from someone exactly what they have to give.

Oh. I can do that.

the many moods of Mr. Snog

In a further attempt to lighten the somber (sombre?) tone the blog has taken lately, we present a little slideshow of Snog photos for your enjoyment:

The Siberian husky, wolf-dog of the frozen tundra. Alone, aloof, half-wild: the ultimate survivor amid vast and desolate arctic wastes.

The Siberian husky is also a big playful goofball...	...and is not ashamed to say "please please please Mommy pretty please!!!!!" when the occasion demands.

Snoggy trivia item #485: Snog's real name is "Usagi." It means "Rabbit" in Japanese, because when he was little, his ears were too big for his head, and he used to hop from two feet to two feet in the snow, like a rabbit.

Snoggy trivia item #486: Nicknames include "Snoggybunny," "Mr. Snog," "the Snogster," "Snoggerino," and "Bunnyboy."

Snoggy trivia item #487: In England, "to Snog" means "to make out." I like to stretch this a bit to mean "to cuddle," in which case it's the perfect name for him, because he's extremely cuddly.

Snoggy trivia item #488: Mr. Snog used to own a sushi shop in Manhattan, but he had to sell it. He never talks about this business failure, but we suspect he just couldn't keep from eating up the profit margin. As far as I know, "Usagi Sushi" is still going strong, but under new, less hungry management.

Snoggy trivia item #489: Snoggy wants to eat a cat, or really, all cats; also, he thinks goats look quite tasty. So far he has had to content himself with a lot of voles, a chipmunk, and a possum (well, we didn't let him eat the possum). He is however not at all dangerous to small children, although he did once eat a bagel right out of the hand of a child in the park. The only time he ever met a cow he barked at it, a lot.

Snoggy trivia item #490: Once Snoggy got hit by a car. It didn't bother him at all.

life

Went out to get Snoggy (he never wants to come in at night...I'm not sure if he's deaf, blind, senile, or what) and I heard it again--the earthworms tilling the soil, or the plants growing, or whatever it is that I described previously. All around me, some kind of subtle spring magic...constant, quiet, inexorable movement.... "I've lived here for five years and I never heard this before," I thought, "why do I hear it now?"

Maybe because I am less anxious, less continuously panicky, there are fewer worried thoughts churning in my head, so more space for hearing these kinds of things.... I walked slowly out toward Snoggy, and thought, "This is life... you get older, your parents die, but now you can hear earthworms..." Hmmm.

Snoggy rolled over when I came up to him, and absently I squatted down and rubbed his tummy, listening to the sound of life churning among the dry leaves... Then it occurred to me that maybe Snoggy doesn't come when he's called at night because he's hoping I'll rub his tummy, which I always used to do at bedtime, until I realized I was training him not to come when he was called but to wait for a tummy rub. Even though it's been years since I changed this habit in hopes of convincing him to come in quicker, he still just rolls over and looks up at me forlornly when I call him for bedtime.... It never occurred to me that that habit could last so long (retraining old habits is supposed to take relatively little time is you're consistent...) Poor old Snog, I guess he can have a tummy rub at bedtime, life's so short and at ten years old, Snog's remaining life is particularly short. After I rubbed his tummy he came right in with me. Silly boy. Silly me. Habits are harder to change when you have a lot of feelings wrapped up in them.

Life's funny isn't it.

I feel the need for something more cheerful...

After the previous post (see below) I wanted to lighten the mood around here... so here's an adorable picture of Faustus's dog.


Sasha

Meanwhile, if you're finding these posts a bit heavy, and you're longing for a hit of that ol' birdfarm charm (or if you're Dr. Faustus and you're starting to think this blog is a big dud) go back and read early July 2004. I particularly recommend these (they're all in a row--must have been a good week for blogging):

• Viggo Mortensen's ding-blasted tooth
  
• sueños animales
  
• i don't like my name
  
• things about loopy that are just so darn cute
  
• berry berry (definitely follow the link in this one)
  
• procrastinatory pocky meditations

Now I'm going to go have lunch. If lunch doesn't cheer me up, nothing will.

when you want something you can't have...

Here is an email message I sent to my dear friend A from college. I thought I'd put it up here too in case anyone else happened to stop by and read it, which is nice because it saves me the trouble of repeating myself a lot. Although I probably will anyway, since that's just how I am.

At 10:49 AM 4/14/2005, [birdfarm] wrote:

...
I might not go [to Iran]. ...My parents really could use my help right now. I guess I'm not going. *sigh*
...

At 10:50 AM 4/14/2005, [A] wrote:

Are you going to have to go back to Arizona? Or just want to stay in the country in case you do? I'm really about that whole situation with them -- really sounds sucky all around. :(

At 11:30 AM 4/14/2005, [birdfarm] wrote:

Yes, my mom's having some major neck surgery on May 18th, and we have to take my Dad to a neurologist on May 23rd while she's still in the hospital.

We're trying to pretend that the surgery isn't a big deal but I kinda think it is--it's one of those things where it will probably be fine, but it's a delicate operation and if something goes wrong she'd end up quadriplegic.

Anyway Dad's very worried about it and we've noticed a pattern of him having strokes when family members have medical problems like this, so I thought having [Loopy] and me there would help make him more comfortable. Also it's gotten to the point where he really shouldn't be alone--half the time he can't remember how to work the phone, so if he had an emergency (even something mundane) he wouldn't be able to get help.

Also, prior to Mom's surgery, we have to make new arrangements so Dad won't be responsible for their finances anymore on a day-to-day basis. This has taken some convincing, but Dad finally seems to be recognizing and accepting that he just can't handle it anymore.

Still I think it will be very emotional to deal with this. It's a big part of his self-image to be "the man" who takes care of the family, and especially, the one who handles finances--that was his career you'll remember, he worked in a bank for years, later was a bookkeeper/accountant for various organizations.

After the surgery, Mom's going to be in rehab and then in a giant neck brace for six or eight weeks. For Dad's neurologist appointment on the 23rd, the doctor needs info from family members, so we need to go to that since Mom won't be available. We may have to have the neurologist declare him legally incompetent (ick!) so that would require moral support all around.

If I were going to Iran I'd basically have to take a cab from the neurologist to the airport, then travel for 36 hours straight. That would be dumb. On top of not taking care of other people who could use my help, I would not be taking care of myself, when I could really use their support. Instead I would be shuffling around in the heat and dust, wearing a raincoat and scarf, and looking at the tomb of Cyrus the great, which, let's be honest, just looks like a big squarish rock.

My parents just don't have any experience in giving and receiving genuine friendship, caring, and support--between themselves or from other friends. It's very sad. So they don't know what to ask for, even, or what to expect that they will need, or what a "normal" person would assume would be needed at a time like this.

I started off with this inherited handicap, but I'm learning, have been learning, from people like [Rie]'s family in high school, your family, and now [Loopy] & her sister & other friends--about how to anticipate what people will need, including myself, and how to be genuinely helpful (I hope).

I'm just so lucky to have [Loopy]. It's times like this that you know why marriage was invented. The day-to-day being together is wonderful but I literally don't know how I'd cope without her right now. I mean, I suppose I would, but the prospect is so bleak I can't even imagine it.

Anyway, I think I'm going to post this to my blog. It was only while writing this out that I really kinda let it all sink in. I feel sorta weepy. *sigh*

The woman who takes care of my folks and helps out around the house wrote that "I feel [your dad] has a long life ahead. It is just a matter of him having to make changes." Yes, he's physically very healthy, and maybe it will all be better after this for a while, maybe they will just relax and enjoy life--that's what they keep saying they're going to do, watch more movies, read, go for walks, watch the clouds, etc.--but still it is a big change.

Thanks for your support. It's also times like these that I know why friendship was invented. Just knowing I have people around like you & others who care about me, really means a lot.

ok, I admit it

I'm tired just reading about all that. (The Iran itinerary--see below). Part of me thinks it would be nicer just to curl up with a book at home, if I can actually manage to finish everything I'm supposed to finish by May 1.

*sigh* It looks hot and dusty. And tiring. I feel like I've seen it before, or something "close enough," even though of course I haven't, and just a few days ago I was so excited for the opportunity to compare Iran to the places I *have* seen, in Northern India and Turkey, that have a cultural, historic, and aesthetic overlap with Iran....

Suleymaniye, Istanbul (ca. 1551-1558)	Royal Mosque, Isfahan (ca. 1590-1630)	Taj Mahal, Agra (ca. 1630-1653)

I know there's always a point in the process of planning for a trip when it all just seems like too much trouble. There's another point, though, sometime when everything is planned and you're on your way, or the first dinner or the first morning when you step out the door.... there's a point when it's so incredibly exciting, because you know that you'll have all these amazing new experiences that you can't even begin to imagine from your current viewpoint--and that in just a few days, at the end of the trip, your whole perspective on the world, your life, everything will have changed. You can't predict beforehand what that change will be.

But right now, there's the part of my brain that says, "Oh, I think I know exactly what it will be like, and please, can't I just stay home?"

It's partly that I'm getting older and creakier... and a big part of it is that I'm really happy with my life now, overall (although unhappy with my compulsive procrastination). I love my beautiful wife, I love my dogs, I love my house... it's a good life. I love reading about teaching and planning for that future. I can sit at my dining room table and watch the birds and animals in the woods, and feel that sense of being so lucky, that sense of wonder, that I used to have to halfway round the world to find. It's comfortable, and it's wonderful too. Traveling is rarely comfortable, even when it's wonderful.

In searching for the Turkey and India photos above, I realized something else that I can compare with those two trips. Hot & dusty isn't the problem, I'm gonna be lonely. I don't want to go without Loopy. Do you think she'd ever, ever, in a million years, agree to come to Iran with me? If not, I might as well go now, with a nice safe tour, before any more earthquakes or wars destroy what I want to see. But if so, then I want to wait.

It's always better with Loopy.

Iran itinerary!!!!

Very exciting. My comments in blue. Click on any picture for a larger view--pix will open in new window (yes, I did all this myself... truly, this blog entry may be considered a monument or temple to the goddess of procrastination...but if I don't get to work I won't be able to go at all. Now that's a sobering thought).

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Date	Program
Day 01 Tuesday, May 24 (3 Khordad*)	Late evening arrive Tehran Transfer to hotel - Check in Overnight: Ferdowsi Hotel - TEHRAN Here's a page about Tehran with pictures
Day 02 Wednesday, May 25 (4 Khordad)	Orientation session Carpet Museum (I'm a carpet junkie so this has me salivating) Manteau shopping (what the hell is this, I wondered at first--but I figured it out--a "manteau" is the coat-like garment commonly worn by women in Iran, i.e., this is when we buy something to wear, so we can get out of the tablecloths, shower curtains, or whatever we have wrapped ourselves in to be allowed off the plane)(yes, this is creeping me out, too, but see below**). Overnight - TEHRAN
Day 03 Thursday, May 26 (5 Khordad)	National Museum Meeting with Center for Sustainable Development & Environment (CENESTA***)(seems like there are a lot of meetings with NGO people...could be fascinating or tedious...I'll let you know) Return to Hotel Meeting with Women's Society Against Environmental Pollution (think I can go back to the museum instead?) Overnight: Ferdowsi Hotel - TEHRAN
Day 04 Friday, May 27 (6 Khordad)	Flight to Shiraz Walking tour of Old Shiraz including Narenjestan Nasir al-Molk Mosque (This place looks spectacular! Check out this whole page of photos). Visit with an English school - meet with students (this could be really interesting; maybe I'll be able to arrange for future pen-pal interactions with my future classes!) Nomads Bazaar Pars Museum Bazaar of Shiraz Hafez tomb Overnight: Parsian Hotel - SHIRAZ (ya think they maybe mean "Persian"?) (this sounds like a very long day!--a plane flight, a walking tour, a mosque, a school, two bazaars, a museum and a tomb... whew! Maybe Shiraz is a very, very small town...... )
Day 05 Saturday, May 28 (7 Khordad)	Drive to Persepolis (55 km, roughly 1 hour) Persepolis (Guided tour + free time) Lunch near Persepolis Naqsh-e Rostam (6 km from Persepolis) Return to Shiraz Overnight: Parsian Hotel - SHIRAZ
Day 06 Sunday, May 29 (8 Khordad)	Drive to Pasargad; the tomb of Cyrus the Great and the remains of his palaces Drive to Eqlid for a visit with Kuhi Sub-tribe of the Qasdhqai in their summering pastures (sounds like a highlight! frighteningly enough, here is the most extensive information source I found about this group)(Oh thank goodness, here's a better one--very interesting! Do you think I should write to the person who runs it? He requests correspondance, but that's a very odd hat he's wearing, but after all he's from the other side of the world...) Overnight nearby (Eqlid?) - Hotel TBD
Day 07 Monday, May 30 (9 Khordad)	Drive to Yazd (info here and here) Visit Fire Temple of Yazd – learn about Zoroastrian customs and beliefs (another highlight!)(Those are Zoroastrians on the left having a festival, and that's the God Ahura Mazda on the right) Stop at Mir Chakhmaq Complex Overnight: Yazd Tourist Inn - YAZD
Day 08 Tuesday, May 31 (10 Khordad)	Visit Jame‚ Mosque of Yazd Walk in the Old Quarter of Yazd Visit Zur Khane (traditional male exercise involving poetry, music and song) (this could be anything... suspense!) Overnight: Yazd Tourist Inn - YAZD
Day 09 Wednesday, June 1 (11 Khordad)	Dowlat Abad Gardens Apparently Yazd is "famed for its myriad wind towers that provide natural air conditioning for the inhabitants." Above is one, in the gardens. Towers of Silence (Zoroastrian place for remains of the deceased) (like the Tibetans they have crows eat the dead; it's not as gory as it sounds....say, are there Zoroastrians still around? I didn't know that!) Drive to Esfahan Overnight: Ali Qapu Hotel - ESFAHAN (aka Isfahan)
Day 10 Thursday, June 2 (12 Khordad)	Drive to Esfahan (this sounds like a typo; aren't we there already?) Lunch Check in at hotel Walk down Charbagh Ave. to Si-o Seh Bridge Meeting with Shahrzad at her home to discuss "Women and Islam in Iran" (If we get to meet Scheherazade, I'd rather hear her tell stories from "Arabian Nights"...that's probably an offensive comment, but I can't help finding the name romantic) Overnight: Ali Qapu Hotel - ESFAHAN

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Day 11 Friday, June 3 (13 Khordad)	Naqsh-e Jahan Square including Royal Mosque... ...Lotfollah Mosque... ... and Ali Qapu Palace (not shown) Freetime in Bazaar of Esfahan Meeting with Ayatollah Emami (intriguing) Overnight: Ali Qapu Hotel - ESFAHAN
Day 12 Saturday, June 4 (14 Khordad)	Chehelsotoun Palace Vank Armenian Cathedral (wow, can't wait to see this) Lunch in Armenian Quarter (will it be like Glendale, CA?) Si-o Seh Bridge Jame' Mosque of Isfahan Khaju Bridge Tea Break at the traditional teahouse under Jubi Bridge Overnight: Ali Qapu Hotel - ESFAHAN
Day 13 Sunday, June 5 (15 Khordad)	Drive to Tehran via Kashan Abyaneh village Tabataba'i House Continue to Tehran Overnight: Ferdowsi Hotel - TEHRAN
Day 14 Monday, June 6 (16 Khordad)	Reza Abbasi Museum Meet with group of musicians and hear live performance Glassware and Ceramics Museum Dinner at a local restaurant in Darband Overnight: Ferdowsi Hotel - TEHRAN
Day 15 Tuesday, June 7 (17 Khordad)	Drive from Tehran to the Caspian (we get to see the Caspian Sea??? It won't just be a blob on a map anymore...here's an interesting page listing everything you ever wanted to know about the Caspian Sea) via the outskirt of Mt Damavand and a visit to the spectacular field of red poppies in bloom Arrive in Sari in afternoon Free time to walk around the town Evening: Traditional Mazandarani concert Overnight Sari - Hotel TBD
Day 16 Wednesday, June 8 (18 Khordad)	Meet with Ms Tavakoli and her NGO "Mozandaran Crane Society" (apparently this is where Siberian cranes come in the winter... but it won't be winter so we see the Crane Lady instead of the cranes...did you know cranes can live to be 83?) Lunch Drive Kandeloos Evening Free Overnight Kandeloos - Hotel TBD
Day 17 Thursday, June 9 (19 Khordad)	Visit the museum of local traditional antiques and handicrafts Visit a factory of medicinal plants (what do you suppose this is?) Lunch at the factory restaurant (will we eat medicinal plants?) Drive to Tehran (our third arrival in Tehran, so it will seem like old hat by then--can you imagine? On June 9, less than 2 months from now, Teheran will seem like old hat?) Overnight Kandeloos - Hotel TBD (maybe a typo, since we just drove to Teheran?)
Day 18 Friday, June 10 (20 Khordad)	Free time for packing or last minute shopping (now is when you buy a carpet, and the people who bought one on the first day cry because they paid triple)(Actually I hope to check out the archeological museum...) Overnight: Ferdowsi Hotel - TEHRAN
Day 19 Saturday, June 11 (21 Khordad)	Departure (waaaaah!)

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* Khordad is a month in the Persian calendar, introduced in 1925 and apparently used in Iran and Afghanistan today. More info here.
**Here's a site that tells you what to wear, and here's an interesting passage from "The Ends of the Earth":

Women in Tehran stare you in the face. their eyes meet you dead-on.
Cairo has little of this, and Istanbul much less than Tehran...A male
journalist could go, for example, to Saudi Arabia, to Iraq, even to
Pakistan, and be lectured at length about "the increasing role of women in
public affairs"...and yet, when I entered a restaurant in these countries,
I would encounter only men eating their grilled meat. Women were rarely in
sight, and usually confined to the 'family' section behind a screened
partition. In Iran, women could always be seen in restaurants, and were
always approachable. In Iran, a traveller communicated with both sexes,
not just his own. In Iran, you could point a camera at a woman and she
would smile. If you did that in Pakistan, the woman would run away and a
man might throw a rock at you. In Iranian homes, even lower-middle-class
homes, where women remained in chador, women still talked to you,
questioned you, and did not retreat.

Ok, granted, "better than Pakistan" is still not great, in terms of women's status....but that's interesting anyway.

*** CENESTA actually sounds like a really interesting organization. Here's an excerpt from their website, which coincides with what I've read from history (i.e. it's not just post-revolutionary frothing at the mouth):

CENESTA is the first non-governmental Organization born in Iran just after the Iranian Revolution in 1979. Before the Revolution, it was next to impossible to register a not-for-profit Organization in Iran even though the law gave the citizens the right to do so. Any one who dared think of something not-for-profit was suspect. A group of citizens getting together dedicated to a social aim? That was considered outright dangerous! CENESTA was thus born out of the concern of a group of activist scientists and citizens who were concerned that development in Iran as well as other parts of the Third World needed its own patterns and models that should not be based on imitation of the West. Indeed this would have been anathema to the state founded by the Shah's father, who built the very edifice of his dictatorial government on the fundamental precept that development was Westernization itself, and had it has to be forced down the throats of people...

For those of you who are worried (apparently, all of you) here are various account of tourists' good experiences in Iran:
Iran's Solar Eclipse and Much More
Some Brit's blog - lots of photos & description; a bit pompous, but recent & thorough; helps me know what to expect. Sample:

...a small tea house has been built over an octagonal pool in which a cloud of grey fish (carp?) swim in the crystal blue current. We have ice cream laced with lime and cherry juice, listening to dervish meditative music and watch people feeding Cheesy Wotsits to the fish.

That sounds like a nice way to spend an afternoon. Better than compulsive blogging all friggin' day.

For entertainment, check this out... an online poll (unscientific of course) of Iranians, with 2477 votes about the future of Iran's government (you can also find other polls, addressing such questions as "Can Islam and democracy mix?" and "Who is all time Iranian Diva?" (more than 7000 votes on that one). It's on a site called "Iranian.ws," described as an "All-Iranian" news service for "Iran's Progressive Community." Very interesting....

Ok, Ok, I'm getting to work.

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conclusion:

I can only get work done if I am nowhere near a computer.

Since most things that are considered "work" in my silly life involve typing, this is a problem.

Maybe I need a manual typewriter. With a USB port so I could download my work when I was done.

Maybe I need a slap upside the head!

how to be an arrogant snob

You could read this British blog for pointers—it includes tips on how to get good service in France, a picture captioned "the view up to the chateau in the village where we spent a couple of weeks," a post whose entire content reads, "Just been to Venice for Christmas. See the account here (photos to follow)," and an admiringly lengthy quote from some travel writer whose main point seems to be that "if I had some more detective stories instead of Thucydides and some bottles of claret instead of tepid whisky, I might settle here for good." I feel a choking sensation. It's my dreadful past, trying to overtake me, but I will not let it catch up with me. Isn't there some way to end one of these sentences with a preposition?

If you get too sucked into the horror of this blog, you might even end up putting something hideous like this on your own blog*:

Countries I have visited


create your own visited countries map

It's completely silly, since having been in Leningrad once for four days and Montreal once for three days allows me to fill in half the northern hemisphere; a very brief visit to three cities in China gives me most of the rest. Countries are very deceptive entities to anyone trying to think about geography or history (this is actually a serious point that I ponder often, but I fear it's lost in the silliness of this post).

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*Yes, believe it or not, you too may feel compelled to follow the link, take the test, and then, worst of all, put the result somewhere. You too may feel the creeping shame that causes you to reduce the size of the image, belittle it afterward, point out how much *more* arrogant some Brit's blog is, and even mess with the time stamp so the post doesn't appear at the top of the page. You too may realize that none of these transparent little ruses hide the fact that you still had the ostentatious gall put it on your damn blog.

Or, you may already be clicking "post a comment" to remind me that most people would not share any of these little dilemmas, because most people are lucky to go to their family reunion in the next zip code, so shut up already, birdfarm.

so THAT'S what I've been doing wrong, all these years...

When Faustus's sweetie--after a hilarious little interaction which you'll have to read for yourself--asked him, "are you going to be like this forever?" Faustus answered "Yes."

All this time I've been promising Loopy I was going to be a better person soon. Now I see that I've just set myself up for a lifetime of not living up to my promises.

Loopy, from now on, I promise to get worse & worse.

See, now if I even stay the same it'll seem like a big relief.

.

.

Is it working yet?

another generous fishbait!*

Yes, another friend from college has surfaced, dearest Dr. Faustus, and he too has a gay, witty, urbane blog which can be found here. Maybe even if my blog is dull it can be useful as a gateway to the fabulous blogs of my friends from my checkered past.

Faustus (who prefers not to be named in the blogosphere, so if you want to know if this is who you think it is, email me and I'll confirm it; if you don't know my email address, you don't deserve to know Faustus's identity either) also wrote a book!!! It's called Gay Haiku. Here's the review:

Impossible to resist, this hilariously sassy and sweet collection of haiku turns the perilous sport of gay dating into pure poetry.

For hundreds of years, the Japanese haiku has been equated with peaceful contemplation and spiritual enlightenment. A delicate balance of rhythm and line, the haiku has provided countless readers with an appreciation of the changing of the seasons and the miracles of nature. Now, in Gay Haiku, readers can finally appreciate more important things—like the changing of boyfriends and the miracles of shopping.

Irresistible and irreverent, this collection of one hundred and ten witty and wicked short poems captures the many dating disasters of first-time author [Dr. Faustus]. In a wonderfully fresh and original voice, [Faustus] shamelessly mines his personal life to send up such broad-ranging topics as gay pop culture, politics, family, sex, and, of course, home decorating.

Gay, straight, or undecided, readers will delight in [Faustus]’s dry sense of humor and unmistakable charm as he tackles the big questions of life.

And according to Colin (who doesn't have a blog, even though he is gay, witty, and urbane--what's the deal, Colin, c'mon, get with the program), Faustus is "the next Steven Sondheim" on New York theater scene. I'm just glad I got in touch with him before he was too famous to write me back (which is what happened when I tried to write to my old friend Noah F.—whose books can be found here and here—I got a form letter from his publicist and a schedule of his appearances on TV). Faustus also sent adorable pix of him and his sweetie, and his (?) dog, all of which are cuuuuuute!!! especially the dog. I'll post them soon but I have to work now.

Two beloved Faustus memories: Once in Little Italy, Faustus, Loopy and I got kicked out of a souvenir shop because Faustus was telling Jesus jokes (I'm not sure, but his then-habits of wearing a kippa (yarmulke) and flaming prodigiously might have contributed to our ejection). And once Faustus came to see me on my lunch break at my old job (a peon job at a hotshot financial institution), and we had lunch on a little terrace, which no longer exists because it got blown away on 9-11.

OK, last thing: on Faustus's blog, there's a link to another blog, which has an introduction and a link to another blog...which is the blog of an incredibly adorable rabbit named Oolong who has a talent for "head performance" (balancing things on his head--the blog author is Japanese). It is so wonderful and adorable. You should really go check it out. Except that in January, Oolong the rabbit came peacefully to the end of his long and happy life—so if that will make you cry (Loopy?) then don't even follow the link because it's the cutest rabbit ever. Also be warned that these pix will make you want to eat Japanese snacks.

Yay for Faustus, the long-lost friend!

---

*synonyms for "prodigal chum" -- see the post on recent prodigal chum Franklin.

oops...

Sorry, Ang, it was me that nicked your "Ray of Light" CD. You can have it back. I already have one, but some of the tracks were scratched so I couldn't copy it to my iPod. I'll just do that and then bring it to you.

After y'all went to render yourselves semi-conscious in the hot tub (and hey, who left their wet bathing suits draped all over the furniture and towel racks? news flash: lotsa water comes out of wet suits! news flash #2: large puddles of water on tile and wood will eventually cause damage! news flash #3: there's this thing called a bathtub, completely impervious to water--yes, it's amazing, isn't it?--where wet suits are often stored!!!!!!!).

As I was saying--(and I know Ang wasn't one of the culprits with the wet suits, but that last was a small outtake from a post I scrapped as too mean-spirited, which was going to be on the subject of "how to tell when your house has recently hosted a lot of twenty-somethings."--don't get me wrong, I really had a great time--one of the best soc-related events I've ever attended--ditto to everything Loopy said--but some of the stuff was just too funny--but I decided that the people involved wouldn't think it was funny, so anyway, the above is the only portion that remains......)

OK, as I was saying--after y'all went out to the hot tub, the trading and dice-rolling died down, and there was still a lot of stuff left, so we all agreed to just take stuff (it wasn't just Dorotha, so don't blame her). (Kinda the same anarchic spirit that had us making up the rules to Pictionary as we went along.) I guess your stuff must have been in a pile that I didn't realize wasn't public. If I took more than the one CD, or if that happened to anyone else, let me know & we'll sort it out.

I snagged a bunch of books and yet another deck of anti-Bush cards, a paper star that you put over a lightbulb to make a lamp, and a "Ray of Light" CD (think of that!). I compared the cards to the other 2 decks I have and confirmed that they're all 3 different, & each has a slightly different perspective. Interesting. To me anyway.

the sound of springing

tonight after everybody went home we got in the hot tub. after we got out and closed it up, I was standing on the steps looking at the sky and Loopy was smoking on the porch. I heard this quiet noise, leaves rubbing together very gently--I thought, it must be some small animal--frogs already? I went & got the flashlight.

"What are you doing?" said Loopy drowsily. "I want to see who's rustling in the leaves on the patio," I answered. She didn't respond--she's used to me after 12 years.

I went back down to the patio and listened--still rustling, the dry oak leaves quietly moving against each other--so I turned the light on suddenly, trying to catch the unknown animal(s).... nothing.... just heaps and drifts of leaves... and that soft rustling. I looked and looked, shone the light here and there... the rustling wasn't in any one place, it was all around, in every direction; it didn't cease when I walked closer; there was no sudden silence or scurrying to indicate that an animal had detected my approach... there was no wind at all--the trees were motionless overhead, and I couldn't see any leaves moving (usually even in a light breeze, one leaf will flap a bit to explain that the sound is a breeze not an animal). Could it be...? It seemed impossible to think that I was hearing plants growing. But after some investigation, I concluded that there was no other explanation for this sound, all around me. And it didn't seem impossible; the sharp shoots of bulbs will grow right through fallen leaves, puncturing them neatly--there must be some moment when the hole is made, and it must make some sound. On an infinitely tinier scale, it must be like tiny earthquakes--two surfaces press against each other until there's a sudden movement, except instead of one tectonic plate sliding under the other, it's a shoot sliding against a leaf, slowly but inexorably, unstoppably....it was really quite extraordinary.

Then a few days ago I was lucky enough to watch the ice melting on Lake Mendota. The wind was pushing it up onto shore and it was piling up on itself, creaking and breaking in a fascinating tangle. (In case you didn't know, I grew up in Arizona and all this is completely new to me...)

Happy spring--and may you, too, have some moments of wonder and awe, amid all the mud and midterms.

Iran may contain nuts

From a list of customs rules & regulations (I was looking for information on what I have to wear, but they meant the other kind of customs):

Nuts
Ana passenger leaving Iran is allowed to take nuts with himself/ herself. The maximum permitted amount of pistachio is 10 kilograms of Saffron by any one who holds a valid.

Huh?

Is it just really late at night or is that funny?

another dead white man

Some things about the dead pope. Don't read this if you're a big fan.

I received two interesting but very long emails, which I then posted on the InfoShop website, so I wouldn't have to quote them in their entireity. I really recommend these--check them out:
(Two emails about the) Death of Karol Wojtyla, aka John Paul II

Note that they quote a little snippet of the article at the top, which is a bit confusing if you're not accustomed to it. Start from the second paragraph.


Also on the infoshop site, here is Pope John Paul II: A Political Obituary

And now, a few local stories (some from another post, no you're not imagining it):

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This may be a big shock to some of you (not), but I was a Big Geek in college, especially as a freshman, when I used to go every week to "Friday Fellowship," where I sat around with fellow Big Catholic Geeks (90% men, now that I think about it--two of whom turned out to be queer) and discussed/argued finer points of Catholic theology and philosophy (including such topics as, "Is it sinful for CEOs to get paid as much as they do?")(Answer: yes).

Anyway, one week, someone brought in the latest issue of the never-funny Harvard Lampoon, which contained a satirical Catholic mail-order catalog. I believe we argued about whether it was funny or offensive.

The only items I remember are the "Pope on a Rope" (soap) and the "Pope Pius IV Dildo," mostly because that is where I learned the term "dildo."

---

Last night while I was blogging, Loopy was in the other room watching TV and "ripping Jessica's neck out" (don't worry, it has something to do with knitting). I vaguely heard the pompous tones of newscasters and so on. Then I heard Loopy say, with a big yawn as the news cuts to commercial, "It's all pope all the time". I thought this was hilarious.

---

The other day we were in The Sow's Ear, a great knitting store in Verona, and I overheard the following between two girls working behind the counter:

Girl A: "Oh, wow, the pope's dead."

Girl B: (Laughing)(pause)"Well, it's just how you said it."

Girl A: (slightly defensive) "Um, actually, I'm kinda bummed about it."

Girl B: (pause) "Oh."

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And that is the end..... of the pope.

p.s. Gracie is still barking. And I'm still not working. What an annoying day.

what I want MOST

(i hope this will help)

On the first day of school, in August or September of 2005, I walk into my classroom and prepare to welcome MY VERY OWN CLASS. Everything is ready. My curriculum is outlined for the year; it's ready in detail through the end of October. My curriculum is not complicated, but it is challenging.

1) I start from square one in terms of skills. A student without much English, a student without much academic preparation, a student without much experience of the physical world, a student with disabilities--all students find it accessible because it begins by assuming they are learners and have learned a lot, without assuming anything about what they have learned up to now.

2) Each lesson builds on the next one, gradually developing students' academic *and* group-work skills, and gradually deepening their understanding of the material, as well as their understanding of how to study history and society.

3) The lessons are all cooperative, with an individual final product. They all follow a model of scaffolding: more support, gradually decreasing support, to finally, individual accomplishment.

4) The lessons involve students doing the work. I will not be rushing around doing the work, and students will not be waiting for me to help them. They will be able to help themselves and each other. The lesson's goal will be clear at the outset and will require a minimum of explanation to get started. The end point is clear but the process is something they have to work out together. First with more support, later with less.

A voice in my head sneers at all of this, says I can't do it, I won't do it. But I know that's wrong. I CAN do this kind of lesson. I have done it. Now I just have to do it some more, and every day. If I plan ahead, I can do it.

In this vision in my mind, I know what I'm doing because I have planned carefully. I have everything I need. I have rehearsed my first day alone and with an audience. I know what I will say. Everything that I will say and do for this first day is so thoroughly prepared that I can focus my main attention on the students--I can observe them, interact with them, relax with them. Being unprepared in any way will mean less observation, less interaction, less relaxation.

When they come in, I welcome them at the door with enthusiasm. They know they are in the right room, they have an assigned seat and an assignment to begin working on right away. Everything is ready.

The atmosphere is serious but not pressured. It is an atmosphere of hard work, but also of calm.

They will learn skills and content. They will learn to work together. They will learn to trust themselves and believe in their own point of view. They will learn first that they will never be humiliated in my class; later they will learn not to fear humiliation or anything that can happen to them in school. They will become resilient, self-reliant, confident, calm. They will learn to cope with difficult emotions in a mature manner.

Because I am prepared, that first day and afterward, I will be calm. Not everything will go as I've planned, and that's to be expected. I will be flexible and relaxed. I will have my priorities in the right order: (1) safety: the children will feel safe in my class, safe from any disrespect or cruelty coming from me, or from each other. (2) learning: the children will learn a lot in my class. They will learn because they will do the work.

I will not over-react to things that are not a priority. Students who do things I didn't plan for them to do, will not upset or alarm me, because I know what the priorities are. And, I will be confident in my understanding of what is happening--I will listen to my instincts. If they are safe and learning, then I will not react to what they are doing. If they need to be redirected to safety and learning, I can do that too. That's all that is required of me, since I have done all the really hard work in advance. The learning is all planned out, and the learning is all the students' work. All I need to do is help them stay focused and clarify any questions. It's really not that hard at all.

I will be very patient and calm, although I will also secretly be elated, that first day. This is my class. At last. After so many years and so much work. This is my class.

May it be so!

cycles

I think I kinda go through cycles with this inertia/anxiety stuff. I work hard on overcoming my old habits, and it's hard work, and they are just habits, nothing more, and hard work is the only way to get past them. I make some progress, I get some work done... and then for whatever reason (I get overloaded, I get tired) I find myself back in the middle of the old habits, which generally involves giving myself a lot of stern little speeches about how I am just being lazy and ridiculous.

I hope sooner or later I'll really start to get it that these speeches don't help, that I just get stuck in a circle of self-flagellation which makes me rebel against working which makes me self-flagellate some more--getting nowhere.

All the things I'm using to try to change my habits--my anxiety book, therapy, Buddhism, etc.--tell me that it takes practice, that you just keep at it, that "we just go inch by inch," and sometimes you feel that things are changing and sometimes you feel so stuck.

What struck me yesterday is that I need a new model of what it means to "work." My old model involves high anxiety, high speed, last-minute panic, self-flagellation, and sloppy results. As I lower my anxiety level, and learn to be nicer to myself, I just don't have the motivation to work this way anymore--nothing external that I once used to whip myself into a frenzy, seems that important anymore. I need to learn to connect my work with my goals, learn to work steadily, persistently, need to learn a whole different way of doing things. Basically I have always done work due to external motivations (get an A, impress the teacher, etc.) which is what our school system teaches us to do. I have lots of internal motivation, I just haven't been able to figure out how to connect it to work. It's like that connection has been completely severed and I need to figure out how it works, which is so unnatural, and another example of what's wrong with #$*@(#$ schooling.

OK, Gracie has been barking this weird little bark, about every six seconds, just "yip.........yip...........yip............" then silence then "yip yip woof woof..." then back to the intermittant barking... after barking all over the yard and the house for a solid hour and a half. I'm going to go stark staring mad. I have to go shoot her with a tranquilizer dart; I'll be right back.

hey, I forgot to tell you guys!!!

I got a new car!!!!!!! (Well, some of you have seen it, but anyway)



The other day, the customer service people called.

Guy: "I was just calling to see how you like your new Subaru Forester, and if you have any questions."

Me: "I love it, I totally love it, I want to keep it forever, I never want another car ever again."

Guy: (slight chuckle, sigh) "Yeah.... that's our only problem with this car."

Me: "What?"

Guy: "No repeat customers."

I know, it sounds like a commercial, but anyway, I love my new car.

*happy happy joy joy*

the prodigal* chum**

Ame was recently in Chicago & found a dear old friend from college, whom we long ago nicknamed Franklin (this incidentally seems to be the name he's using on his blog, which made me happy for some reason)(and a highly entertaining blog it is--go take a peek, even if you don't know him, you'll enjoy it!). Anyway, I am ecstatic to be back in touch, but just when I finally get around to emailing him, it turns out he's just this morning sailed off on a boat for Amsterdam. Typical! I'll just have to wait til he gets back... in the meantime, check out what a hottie he is these days!

As opposed to the rest of us, or really I'll just speak for myself, who has gotten all saggy and wrinkly (but not less zitty—how is that even fair?). Hey, did you all realize we're almost forty???? Wow...... I mean, Loopy is already forty, but that didn't surprise me; it was easy to calculate at what point this would occur. The idea of myself being forty is much more surprising (though of course I could have calculated that as well...)

Anyway!!! I am digressing all over the place, but the whole point of this post is that I am just pleased as punch that Franklin has turned up, alive and cute and as hilariously funny as ever, in that same ol' uniquely dry way, though of course a bit more mellow and mature, which is also wonderful, and I can't wait to see him, whenever he gets back from Amsterdam.... as I said to him in my email, I have to get down to Chicago soon anyway, as I'm out of conditioner (at right) ....

---

*ever since I found out that "prodigal" doesn't mean "long-lost," officially, I've found it a bit confusing, but now that I am politically against linguistic snobbery, I'm happy to use it the way it's almost always been used in my hearing.
**and hey, doesn't "chum" also mean "dolphin food" or something? Hmmmm.... why yes, yes it does.

So perhaps I'm also calling Franklin "the extravagant fish bait".......
.......but it's unintentional; you know what I mean!

suffering is not a virtue

I hate to quote my therapist--it's so Woody Allen--but she did have an interesting point today. She suggested that I'm stuck in a belief system that says that you have to suffer to attain anything worthwhile.

I pondered that for a moment and then realized that it could be that I'm actually stuck in between TWO belief systems:

1. my old belief system, which is that you have to suffer, that suffering is a virtue (and when you suffer you can reward yourself with ice cream and self-pity, so really, it's quite a good scam)...
   
   ...and....
   
   
2. a newer belief system, that I've trained myself into (see also rabbit brain), which says, "once you start suffering, you should just give up right away, because otherwise you're just going to suffer more and more until you want to die, and then you'll have to give up anyway, so just give up now and save yourself the time and misery."

Wow, between "I must suffer" and "as soon as I suffer I must quit," and "I really want to do this, I don't want to quit," well, no wonder I've painted myself into a corner.

I went for a walk today saying to myself, "suffering is not a virtue," and "suffering doesn't help anyone." I was surprised at how hard that was to believe. Oh, come on, are you SURE about that? Positive? Because I think I deserve some ice cream right about now....