Here's to seven years. Happy anniversary, tio. Ya tin bajo.

Merry Christmas.

I've noticed that many of the Santas at the malls this year are wearing pajamas. I want to know what happened to his fuzzy red suit. I miss it.

Why is it that when one emotional thing happens, the rest of all my emotional instabilities come bursting forth? It's a torrent. The dam has burst! Quick! Get out of the way!

12 days of Christmas

I know I already posted a clip of Kathleen Battle and Frederica von Stade singing at Carnegie Hall, but I couldn't resist this one. Just look at Kathleen's face. And the puffed sleeves (which seem to double as a barrier to keep Frederica at bay). And check out the conductor's glasses. Awesome.

things i've learned this semester

1. One rotten student can profoundly influence a classroom...for the worse.
2. In Russian, if you say "I want you..." it can mean only one thing, and one thing only.
3. My students prefer me to wear boots.
4. Some students will always cheat, even if they know the answers.
5. Some students will never understand students who cheat. It boggles their mind to even think about it.
6. Armenians are some of the most charming people I have ever met.
7. I'm a dang good reading teacher even though it's my least favorite class to teach.
8. Sometimes cultural differences really do make things unworkable, in and out of the classroom.
9. It's more enjoyable to hug people who are slightly squishy.
10. Koreans generally stiffen like a board when receiving a hug from an American.
11. I can be quite spiteful when it comes down to it.
12. Community education classes (made up of mostly Hispanic residents with full time jobs and families) have the best students.
    
13. Small classes just might be more fun than large ones.
14. I'm too emotionally invested in my job.
15. Some girls really do go to college solely to find a husband.
    
16. I regret to say that I am a pushover. Which isn't really a recent revelation.
17. Cliques are bad.
18. They always say don't grade emotionally...how do you not?
19. Korean Christmases are more like Valentine's day.
20. Wearing a Muslim headscarf can be a fashion statement, even if you're an inactive Muslim and only wear a scarf once a week.
21. Having one or two students who desperately want to learn make all the rest of the crud worth it.
22. I'm very happy to be done with this semester.

a missing t?

Well, it's not really new, just being used in a different way. A few weeks ago, I asked how you pronounce words that have a t in the middle. Words like mountain, center, cater, and rotten. I was hoping to get a wide variety of responses, but then I remembered that only my western friends look at my blog. I've kind of fallen out of contact with my east coast friends who might possibly have had something different to add.

But then again, maybe my east coast friends would have had similar results. You see, dear Utahns, a glottal stop (or the stopping of air in the back of your throat) replacing a t in the middle of a word might not be a true Utahism. Some linguists think that it's actually quite common throughout the country. A linguist from the U of U says that she has observed this pronunciation all around the country, but that it has received a negative reaction only in Utah and Vermont. (Utahns are always quick to be critical of the way other Utahns speak, especially when it's perceived to be "wrong" or "different." That definitely says something about Utah culture, doesn't it).

One of my former professors at BYU suggests that pronouncing mountain like "mow-un" is more common among females under 40 in the west (which happens to be the group of people most likely to initiate a language change...and also happens to be in harmony with your comments). He may be right (who am I do disagree with one of my thesis readers!), but I tend to agree with the U of U professor. I wouldn't be at all surprised to hear someone from Virginia or California or Iowa replacing their t with a glottal stop. I'm hoping the Uof U prof will do some research proving this is a nationwide phenomenon. Otherwise I might have to.

You can read/watch more about this here.

remodel #2

Spare room before:
I was almost fond of the blue sky-scape style wall paper. Almost. Ooo, and those lacy curtains!

Spare-room-turned-library after :

We have another shelf hidden off in the corner where you can't see it. Looking at these pictures makes me want more books. And more and more.

We still have a few things to do...like find a better place than the floor for our internet router. And finish painting the windows (one of us believes in avoiding the less pleasant tasks for as long as possible. The other wants to have them done yesterday. You decide which one of me and T-rav is which).

Christmas at Carnegie Hall

Today I discovered that when I'm singing in my house I can be heard in the middle of the street...and all the way to the neighbor's driveway (and there's an orchard separating us). This also means that I was "listening" (ie singing along with) Christmas at Carnegie Hall with Kathleen Battle and Frederica von Stade. Back when M and I used to live in the same state, we would spend hours singing along to this concert. Usually until we had both nearly lost our speaking voices.

This is usually the only time that I can ever sing several notes above high C. Or rather it's the only time I ever try to. (M- any guess as to how high that actually is? I don't have perfect pitch and neither does my piano). Sometimes my teeth rattle when I sing that high. Or my ears ring like they're going to burst. Though I've never accomplished what M did our Sophomore year: she actually sang loud and high enough to make a plate rattle. I'm waiting for the day she or I can make the plate break.

Anyway. For your listening enjoyment, here's one of our favorite pieces from the Carnegie Hall Christmas concert. The high notes on the First Noel and O Holy Night are especially great.

my christmas tree is up!

I'm always horrified when I hear about/see a Christmas tree in someone's home that looks like it belongs in a department store (I should qualify that by saying if it's the only tree in the house, I'm horrified. If it's your second tree, go to town). Yes, they look very nice and professional and interior decorators world wide clap their hands for joy to see it. My problem with them is that they have no personality. Where's the story behind each ornament? There isn't one. And part of the fun of decorating the Christmas tree is basking in the memories. Opening up my boxes upon boxes of Christmas decor is like reuniting with old friends (almost like unpacking books).

There's the box of Renaissance style bulbs with very Catholic-esque paintings of the Christmas story that I bought my first year away. There's the John Deere lunch box and the mini farm that reminds me of home. There's the gold ones in many shapes and sizes with my name and a year etched on them from my Grandma Joan...back when she used to actually be a grandma. There's the pickle that I hide somewhere in the branches for T-rav to find (imagine my shock when my German teacher told me about the German tradition of giving a reward for the one who finds the pickle. I always wondered why I had a glass pickle among my collection of ornaments until then). And then there's my favorite of all: a Pinocchio puppet from Italy whose legs fly up and down when you pull on a little string!

You just don't get that kind of reminiscing with a color-coordinated, "perfect" tree. At least I don't.

I feel like what I've written is something like a cheesy story I once heard in Relief Society...is there a story somewhere about ornaments?

remodel #1

Since we moved in to the little white house in Orem, our life has been filled with wallpaper, plaster, spackle, dust, (and more dust), popcorn ceilings and paint. We've basically been living in squalor. But the end is in sight! For now, at least.

Here's our dining room before:



And after:


Pictures of the study and living room are soon to come!

t

I have class in 27 minutes. I should be grading an unfortunately hefty pile of papers sitting in front of me...but I can't convince myself that it's a good idea. Instead I've been sitting here wondering about something linguistic (which is kind of related to grading papers, right? They're both language related...) and I have a question: how do you pronounce the word mountain? Do you pronounce the t in the middle as an actual /t/? Does it sound more like you catch the air in the back of your throat and ignore the /n/ (like mou (air stop) in). Does the t sound like something else? What about in these words: center, cater, rotten.

It would make my day if you could post a comment with your approximate pronunciation of those 4 words (mountain, center, cater, rotten), along with your age and where you have lived for the majority of your life. Thanks!

Oh. And in order to get a more "accurate" description of the word, trying saying these sentences.

1. The mountain is turning white with snow.
2. She lives on Center Street.
3. I'd love to cater your wedding.
4. Please toss the rotten salad.

What did you hear?

wanted: your fashion advice

I have a quandry. Cold weather is fast approaching, and I find myself without proper foot attire for school. I often just wear my converse, but the sole is falling out, they are stained from the last time I went to Holi at the Hare Krishna temple, and I feel kind of crusty teaching with them on (and I feel like a student). But. I have absolutely no idea what kind of shoes I should get. I have 1 pair of boots, but I can't wear them every day (and they become awfully tight when I try to stuff both my beefy calves AND a pair of jeans in them). I need something warm (ish), something nice (ish), and something that doesn't make me look like I've just come down from the mountains of Montana. Any suggestions?

My grandpa is very ill and we are flying to Denver in 4 hours to see him in the hospital.

Trav bought me the most beautiful yellow tulips that look extremely nice in our newly painted green dining room.

In a moment of irrational desire, I spent $20 in Harmon's (which is almost an acceptable substitute for Wegmans) yesterday on challa bread, goat cheese, and orange-fig jam. It was delicious.

I wish I didn't always feel irrational and unstable these days. Perhaps if I bought more bread and cheese my mood would even out...

cheater!

I have never had so many cheaters in a class as I do this semester. They cheat on their tests, on their workbooks, on their in-class and out-of-class assignments. And the worst part is, even though I know they're cheating, I rarely manage to catch them in the act (which is so dang frustrating). Here are a few samples of their cheating:

Yesterday, a girl I'll call Sun, was absent. During class, we did a listening activity where the students had to write down their answers and turn them in. Miraculously, Sun managed to turn in both her homework and her answers to the listening part, which were suspiciously similar in correctness to all of the Koreans' answers. Hmm.

Can 4 students really all manage to misspell rehearsal in the exact same way? Really?

It's interesting that all the Koreans in class have all the same answers on their quiz. Unluckily for them, their answers are all wrong. HA.

How can you take notes on a lecture that I'm pretty dang sure you didn't attend and that cannot be found on the internet?

Of course, there are a few assignments on which I can easily dock points for cheating. Like when they have to do a summary of what they heard on the news, and the grammar is 100% perfect and the vocabulary is college level...and they clearly didn't write it themselves. It's also really fun to ask them what certain words from their summaries mean and watch them sqiurm. Or like when they're in the process of asking (in their native language) another student the answer to question #12 on the test and I happen to hear/see them right at that point. Blushing, anyone?

I know students cheat. Even good students might occasionally get a few answers from a friend. But I think foreign students cheat way more often than Americans. And they're dumb about it. If you're going to cheat, do it well. At least re-word your answers so it's not quite so blatantly obivous. Or you could just not cheat. Then maybe your English would actually improve.

on the american classroom

As a student, I had plenty of classes where the professor droned on with little to no participation from students. I had classes where we had loads of group work and classes where we had none. And I had several professors I felt completely comfortable with, a few I didn't care for, and one I completely idolized (and was naturally seized with terror any time I had to speak to her). I came to expect that in most of my major classes, there would be class discussion (though I may or may not choose to participate), and that occasionally I would have to work with my classmates. Foreign students, on the other hand, arrive to the US with little idea what to expect out of the American classroom.*

For example, they are often shocked (and sometimes appalled) to discover that in many American classrooms (especially ESL), you are usually expected to participate. No longer can students sit in class, searching the internet on their iphones or facebooking on their laptops (although they sometimes still do), for they never know when they may be expected to answer a question or break into group discussions.

They are also surprised to find that they can actually talk to their teachers. Us American professors are typically happy to answer questions after class, explain the logic behind assignments, or even just chat with students. We acknowledge that we are neither omnipotent nor omniscient (at least some of us do...the ESL teachers do). Foreign students are also surprised to find out that if they have a problem with another student in the class, they can talk to their professor. Or if they hate an assignment, they can complain about it; the instructor may not do anything, but we'll at least listen.

And, of course, group work. American classrooms are often filled with group class work, presentations, or discussions. Foreign students are often loathe to participate in group work, instead spending their time finding reasons to complain about the project, their group members, or something else totally irrelevant (maybe something they don't like about American culture...or American food...or the way the teacher hands out papers...).Which is actually quite similar to the way many American students react, except the Americans are trained to complain and the foreigners pick up on it all too quickly.

I've decided that all incoming foreign students should be informed of these things before they're thrust into the thick of things. It would make their lives a lot easier. And it would definitely make my life a lot easier. Is there anything you would tell a foreign student about class in America?

*My disclaimer: I'm sure there are many of you who never had to work in groups in your college classes or never said a word during lectures. I know you're out there. As you read this, just imagine a major where you have to be vocal. Or think about your high school classes. Or maybe grade school...

Quick! I need one of these. Or maybe one of these. Or these. Or this or this or this.

Good thing there aren't any prices listed so I can't realistically lust after the entire store.

the longest day

I awoke this morning with a feeling of dread. The feeling you get when you wake up and know there's not the slightest possibility of accomplishing everything you have to do, no matter how you shuffle your schedule or efficiently manage your time.

So I ran around all day, maniacally trying to catch up from being half a step behind. Time just slipped through my fingers. Before I knew it, my evening class had arrived, dinner was inhaled in record time, and I finished writing a test literally 3 minutes before class. Then suddenly I was home with nothing to do but take care of a 2 year old who is spending his last night of 6 at my house.

This isn't to say that today was a bad day; quite to the contrary. I did manage to get almost everything done, although my students won't actually be able to take the test they think is scheduled in the testing center starting tomorrow because I turned it in late. Ooops. Thursday promises more chaos with the upcoming ESL Halloween party I'm so lucky to be in charge of.

The highlight of the madness: I got to hear one of the greatest people ever speak at BYU, the author of Three Cups of Tea, Greg Mortenson (I was a mere 250 people away from him). And I drank a very large and overpriced Jamba Juice. And I kept my mouth primly closed when a particular rotten student was her normal rotten self. And I wore a lovely purple cardigan, which of course made the craziness much more bearable. Had I been wearing something else, I may have shuffled off into a dark corner with slumped shoulders and hid.

a trip to idaho

Last week we went to Moscow to see Trav's parents during my fall break. While there, we took a tour of central Washington (also known as the barren wasteland) where Trav spent his early years. It's actually not that bad; I'm just more accustomed to farmland being green with fields interspersed with hedge-rows of trees rather than dry brown sage brush. Then we spent 2 days in Leavenworth, WA, a small "Bavarian" village on the east side of the Cascades. Although very touristy and rather kitschy, it was still pretty fun. Here's a picture of the main street:

My favorite part were all the signs. In order to give things a more "German" feel, the locals added German words to most of their store names. However, they didn't always bother to check to see if the words were grammatically correct. Or even German. Two of my favorites:

We also stopped at a candy factory in Cashmere, WA where they make a very strange and sometimes tasty treat called aplets and cotlets. They're kind of like Turkish delight, except not as nasty. Millions of pounds of candies are made each year in a building smaller than most houses by a staff of about 20. All hand packaged, even. They're a Zirker family favorite for Christmas...and a bit of an acquired taste.

Trav did his best to eat as many free samples as he could. He said it was all in the name of settling the family dispute about which are better: aplets or cotlets. I vote cotlets.

ESL perspectives

Yesterday my listening speaking level 4 students had their midterm exam (or at least part of it. I've been cursed of recent with the MOST horrible unsolvable technological problems. And our department tech guy is out of town. As usual). Part of the their exam was an oral interview where they were asked their opinions on the following questions:

1. Do you like/dislike President Obama? Why?
2. What is the biggest issue Americans have to deal with today?
3. What can Americans do to improve their relationships with foreigners.

Most students liked Obama. One girl from Tajikistan said she liked him even though he was black. Even though? She was quite surprised that a black man could amass that much power and then end up elected and a good president. One Korean didn't like him because he is black. One Mexican liked him because he is black and his parents were immigrants, just like her. Because the Koreans usually have no idea who is president in their own country, they had even less of an idea about ours. Case in point: a few semesters ago we were discussing American government vs other forms of governments, and none of the 12 (South) Koreans in the class could tell me if they vote for a president or if the military is in control of their country or if they have a divinely chosen reincarnated king...

America's biggest issue is either dishonesty, laziness, or the economy. Ooo, and housing costs. Houses should be cheap for all! One girl thinks the recession is due to people watching too much cable tv instead of getting a job.

Americans can improve relationships with foreigners by "hanging out." Or by not giving the Koreans mean looks when the Koreans try to speak and you have no idea what gibberish just came out of their mouths. Or by being 100% blunt: if you think it, say it (Unsurprisingly, this came from an Armenian student..remember the wrinkle comment?). Being blunt would solve social, economic, and military problems. But, as this girl has noticed, it might not get her an American boyfriend.

I really love my students.

Tonight I feel flustered. I've been having some difficulties with a particular ESL student and just read an email from her that basically told me she hates my class, my class assignments don't improve her English, and that she thinks I do my best to make the Korean students crazy. I promptly directed a feisty reply telling her exactly what I thought of her bad attitude and rudeness (don't worry, it was direct, but still polite). I know everything I said was perfectly justified; she's the one with the problem, not me. And I know that not all of my students are going to love everything I do in my class. Or that they're not all going to love me. I know these things. But it's just so disheartening when I put my best ideas and best effort forth, and someone, or worse, several someones, hate them. In my mind it means they hate me. And I should be ok with that, but apparently my tough "rhino skin," as my mom always called it, hasn't really grown in yet. I'm too sensitive for my own good.

So after an episode like tonight, all of my ambitious and creative ideas are beat down into submission, and I think maybe it would be better to just stick to the books. Why try doing anything interesting if everyone is going to hate it (ie hate me). I now feel flustered and upset and anxious and generally in turmoil. And I hate that almost more than I hate when people hate me.

Feis #2

This weekend was my second feis, pronounced "fesh" (my first one was in June). I danced 5 different solo dances: 3 soft shoe and 2 hard shoe. The hornpipe (a hard shoe dance) was dreadful. I was so terribly nervous that I would start at the wrong moment that when I actually did start at the right time, I didn't trust myself and started dancing really fast to try to make up for it...throwing my rhythm for the rest of the dance. Blech. But I managed to pull off 2 firsts and a third in my soft shoe dances. Hurrah!

This is my dancing friend Jessica who has the most amazing calves you've ever seen. Her leaps are spectacular.
And these are my medals. They're much less impressive than the last feis. If any of you have small children who want a costume prop, let me know. Oh, and don't mind the nasty looking wall behind me. That's what happens to plaster when it's covered by 60 years of wallpaper.

Adjustments

It appears I've forgotten what it's like to live with a man. (I guess technically it hasn't been that long- 6 weeks most recently, but I don't really count the month I spent in Memphis with Trav as real life. It was more like vacation. So really it feels like about 5 months). Here's what I'm rediscovering:

• The toilet seat. For nearly seven years, I almost never ever said a word about putting down the toilet seat. T-rav naturally did so, and I was naturally pleased by it. And then he spent 6 weeks living with a bunch of single guys and suddenly he doesn't remember the toilet seat exists (which was quite shocking to my bottom at 3 am).
  
• I actually don't wash my cars as often as I should, even though my excuse of imminent rain storms seems perfectly valid to me.
• I actually can't (or shouldn't) go anywhere I please at any time I please. I should probably tell my husband if I'm flitting off to hang out with a friend or go to the grocery store or work out or whatever. Even if it's only to be courteous.
• Boys can't live off of cereal.
• Sharing a bed can be pleasant. But having a queen sized bed to yourself might be more pleasant.

a little help

I'm not sure why I'm putting this up here on my blog since I never post often enough to get people to actually read my blog...but it's important so I'm going to anyway.

There's an international student from UVU (well actually she graduated a few months ago, but we still claim her) who is slowly but surely dying of leukemia. Dying, unless she gets a bone marrow transplant asap. But, being Mongolian and a student, she doesn't really have the kind of insurance that is going to pay for something like that.

Read her story here. And then maybe you could spare a few dollars to contribute to the $350,000 she needs for her surgery.

Here's some proof that there actually is, for a few days at least, some semblance of fall in Utah. Granted, you'll miss it if you leave for the weekend, but here it is. And yes, family, it doesn't hold a candle to a New York fall. Don't rub it in. I'm having a hard enough time thinking about it on my own.

And look! A dog on wheels. I secretly snapped a shot of him at a park up the canyon.

Trav is finally coming home. Hurrah!!

survival of the (un)fittest

I almost died this weekend. Almost.

This past Friday, with the much appreciated help of Pete, Josh and Caroline, I lugged all our stuff out of our storage unit and into our new house. Saturday, Phin and I spent much of the afternoon cleaning (since the previous tenants didn't really get to it; don't worry- my rent was discounted for my trouble) and then making a mess of what we cleaned by ripping off layer #1 of wallpaper. We soon found ourselves starving and headed off to Subway for a late lunch.

About four hours later, I found myself pinned in the bathroom for sundry reasons we shan't discuss so openly on my blog. Suffice it to say the situation was ugly.

I spent most of Sunday in bed, trying not to think about food.

I spent most of Monday in bed, thinking about food, but being too weak to get up and find some.

Through many hours of pondering I decided that if there were ever a famine in the land, the kind that uses up all of the food storage in Utah County and beyond, the kind where people are dying left and right, I'd be the first to go.

This thought kind of depressed me. I used to think of myself as tough (although I'm pretty sure I could take most of my friends in a fist fight...not that I'd ever want to...or ever thought about it) I really don't think I'd survive very long without food. I'm definitely no Olan from The Good Earth (excellent book, by the way. I read it twice this year) who can go for a days surviving on only a bean while being pregnant with her 4th child. I would have died long before we got to the bean-a-day ration.

No, really. I would have. I had only gone a peasly 36 hours without anything of substance. Granted, I didn't really have anything at all left in my system, but still. Thirty six hours, and getting up to take a shower exhausted me to the point where I could barely lift my head to take a drink. I had to take a 1.5 hour nap before I felt ready to crawl over to the faucet and refill my water glass. Pathetic, isn't it?

I was also slightly alarmed to note my increased heart rate every time I moved, and shallow, rapid breathing. I could imagine my organs beginning their initial shut down due to lack of nourishment (e- how long would that actually take?). I really hoped zillah had taken good notes on my funeral requests (t-rav isn't to be trusted to remember Brahms requiem). I wondered how much longer I could live off water alone...

When finally I dramatically dragged myself out of my wallowing over to the freezer (pity no one was there to see) where I was delighted to find not 1, but 2 real strawberry popsicles.

Saved.

And that is how I didn't actually die this weekend.

*My remaining complaint: my left eye is strangely blood-shot today. I imagine that it hurts. Any ideas why?

Another cultural difference

This semester I volunteered to be the ESL student council advisor. Bear in mind that I've never been in student council, not in high school or college. I really have no idea what I'm doing. But luckily my students don't know any better. Most of them haven't the slightest clue what student council should be, so I can really do whatever I want (if you have any ideas, feel free to share them!).

My first order of business as student council advisor was to select the students to be involved. Most classes chose to have a mini election/debate to choose the student who would represent their level and section (giving me a total of 9 students). The immediate volunteers consisted of an Armenian (though not the one accusing me of wrinkles), Puerto Rican, Mexican, Haitian, Japanese, and a Congo-an (what do you call someone from the Congo??). I was quite pleased with these students; they all seem outgoing and involved. But you might notice there's a serious lack of Korean volunteers. Remember how UVU has dozens and dozens of Koreans in our ESL program? They're nearly half the student body! And not one single Korean wanted to be in student council. Not one!

At first I thought maybe it just wasn't they type of thing Koreans like to do, but then I decided it's more than that. I think Koreans are unlikely to volunteer for anything, unless there is either a clear academic benefit, or another Korean student volunteers. Having no Koreans to start with means no Koreans want to join. They don't like to operate something like this on an individual basis. At least it seems that way to me.

So I just thought this was interesting, that's all. I'm sure once I offer extra credit or something I'll persuade one or two to join. Or if I can get one to join, others will follow. I think Koreans respond better to peer pressure rather than American desire for individual attention (which is both true and not entirely true- yes, Americans, especially teens will give in to peer pressure in a heart beat. But they also love being an "individual." No matter that the "individuals"in society usually all end up being the same...)

liberal, progressive, conservative, fundamentalist....

When you see the word progressive what ideas come to mind? I think of being very up-to-date, modern, open minded. Someone who is among the first to adapt to new technology. Someone who thinks new thoughts and applies them to real life situations. People who think too highly of for themselves for being so "open minded."

Now how about the word conservative, without thinking politics (which might be hard because it's obvious where I'm going with this). I think of pioneers, fundamentalists, and overly protective fathers. Someone who is stuck several decades behind. Women who wear one of these (which for some reason I find much more ridiculous than these Muslim friendly suits) when they swim. Someone who values traditions.

Notice how I associate more negative things with the word conservative than with progressive. Why is that? And when I hear President Obama make a comment about ignoring political differences, whether you be progressive or conservative, should it irk me?

Well, it does. It really does. And I don't even consider myself conservative. What really bothers me is my perception of a negative view of the word conservative. As if the conservatives didn't already have enough political challenges to deal with to be represented by a loaded word. But who knows- maybe the word has pejorated because of some overall negative feeling people have toward the associated political views. Kind of like how the word liberal has decreased in use and progressive has suddenly appeared (though liberal doesn't really bother me...kind of like how feminist doesn't bother me either).

So what do you think of when you hear those words? Is there really a negative perception of conservative or am I just imagining it?

al-arabiya

A few days ago I was shocked and delighted to notice a flier on campus advertising a new Arabic language/culture class. My first thought was one of terror- it's been several years since I had anything to do with Arabic. And I have really really forgotten how to speak Arabic. It's quite shameful. But I decided this could be a good chance to refresh my memory. And I do love Arabs and Arabic and everything to do with the Middle East, so why not try it even if it turned out to be humiliating to my over prideful pride.

So today I plopped myself down in the classroom, became acquainted with my nearest neighbor, and waited for class to start. In proper Arab style, the teacher walked in a few minutes late. He had the most amazing long frizzy hair stylishly streaked with gray, pulled back in a ponytail. And he spoke next to no English. Not as in he chose not to speak English because it's a language class and you should be speaking the language you're learning. As in he speaks basic, basic English. If he were one of my ESL students, he'd probably be a level 2 (out of 4). Maybe. If the test is feeling kind. Most of the students in class giggled every time he started to talk and then asked questions quickly and were upset when he couldn't understand what they wanted.

Around this time, I noticed that everyone was furiously staring at their notes...surprise! It was the first test of the semester! And could I remember the word for apple? For flower? Of course not. Did I remember words like united nations or soldier that weren't on the quiz? Naturally. (Luckily I knew the word for camel- thanks Layla!) I spent the next 20 minutes berating myself for having forgotten even the most basic things like how to pronounce simple words. And having forgotten how to say house! (I could have sworn it was "beyt") But then I realized that my bushy-haired instructor was not Sudanese or Egyptian or even Jordanian like I was accustomed to, but Iraqi, and hence why I couldn't understand his weird pronunciation or vocabulary. It's almost like learning Spanish, forgetting Spanish, and then wondering why you can't understand Catalan. Or maybe Italian.

It turns out I'm not as incompotent as I thought. What a relief. Maybe one day I'll study a language long enough (and maybe in country) that I'll actually be able claim fluency. Here's hoping...

to add to my wallowing...

Conversation between me and Armenian ESL student:

student: How long have you been married?
me: almost 7 years!
student: NO WAY! How old are you?
me: 27.
student: (gasps) I never would have guessed! I thought maybe 20!
me: I know, most of my students don't think I'm old enough to be their teacher.
student: (peering at me strangely) Well, actually, I think that from far away you look really young. But if I look closer I can see all your wrinkles.

There are no words. Really?

I think I've been kind of neglectful of my blog lately, or at least not writing about any of the things I have swirling about in my brain. Or maybe I've been neglecting just about everything but those things that are required for survival: eat, sleep, breathe. Though the eating and sleeping part haven't been going too well either...Basically, I'm a wreck, treading water with my head just barely above the surface. I'm indecisive to the point of being ridiculous, and when I finally do make a decision, I spend the entire time questioning the logic of my decision; I have to figure things out in the most inconvenient way possible for all parties involved; I try all the bad options before deciding on the "good" one (which I naturally question once it has been decided); I say I'll do one thing and then change my mind and do the opposite. I'm sure I'm driving poor T-rav crazy. I'm driving myself crazy.

I need a dog.

New Orleans

Last weekend Trav and I went on a journey. We began with a stop to my favorite childhood road-trip restaurant: Shoney's. They only exist in the south, and I had been dying to go since I first arrived in Memphis. They offer a great greasy, southern, sugar-filled breakfast buffet. I would definitely recommend the french toast sticks, but would encourage you to stay far far away from their dinner menu. We tried it once many years ago on the way to/from somewhere southern and it was terrifying.

Our destination was New Orleans, a mere 6 hours from Memphis. Knowing that we don't often have reason to head south, we couldn't resist. We had also heard that since Katrina, the tourism industry has been seriously hurting, causing the price of lodging to drop significantly. It was true- we booked a good (as in not the Ritz, but clean and simple) and very cute bed and breakfast right in the French Quarter for less than $60/night (on the weekend during the second busiest season).

If you're looking for an "exotic" feeling vacation, but don't have the money, time, or adventurous spirit to venture outside of the US, New Orleans is a great option. The architecture makes you feel as though you're walking down a street in Italy...or maybe France. The food is unlike any you'll find in other parts of the US (including the biegnets- I think I ate 6 or so in 1 day. Call me a glutton, it's true). There are plenty of historical things to see if you're in to that sort of thing- you can take a walking tour of the city during the day or a haunted tour of the spookier parts during the evening. You're also very close to plantations and swamps, which both offer guided tours for a price. Being the cheapos that we are, we opted out of any official paying tour (however we swiped an itinerary for one of the walking tours and did it on our own). But had we stayed longer and had a bit more money to spend, we probably would have indulged in something touristy.

New Orleans felt so festive. There was a ton of live music playing in restaurants or on the streets (we even heard a homeless woman busting out some impressive opera for spare change). You can find all kinds of souvenirs, from street art to voodoo dolls to overly offensive t-shirts (watch out for those) and spices.

And, of course, there's Bourbon Street. If you're a drinker, Bourbon Street = heaven. Even being non-drinkers, we still had plenty of fun peering into the bars, laughing at the drunk people stumbling about, and watching the men-folk taunt the girls with beads (a few boys desperately shook their beads at me in hopes of seeing some...skin. They were disappointed).

We also drove around the 9th Ward, which is the area that suffered the most damage from Katrina. It was interesting and depressing at the same time. On one hand, we were in awe of the destruction. In an area where houses used to be packed in so tightly you could shake hands through the windows, there are now chest high weeds and broken sidewalks. The houses still standing are either recently repaired or newly built. The city removed most of the houses that were past hope, but a few still remain (notice the slant on the house below).


Other lots are meticulously maintained-the owners obviously intend to return and rebuild one day.

I found this both sad and hopeful. Katrina happened four years ago and people are still displaced, still hoping to go back to their "homes" and start over. Four years! How much longer will they have to wait before they either give up or finally have enough saved to return? Maybe they never will. Maybe they shouldn't. Maybe it would be better to give up and start a new life somewhere else, somewhere they can have a fresh start with none of the bitter memories that life in the 9th Ward might dredge up. But the fact that these people still care enough about their homes to mow and edge their vacant lot means they're trying. Maybe these are the people who will actually succeed in life, the ones who will go back to New Orleans and make it a better city than it used to be.

Either way, New Orleans was great fun. You should go visit.

Chinglish

I heart when people misuse English. It never ceases to make me laugh. See the latest Chinglish in real life from the BBC.

update

I'm back in Utah, where we will be staying for (hopefully!) only 1 more year while Trav goes back to school for a degree in political science which will (hopefully) help him find a job doing something he actually likes. Imagine that. So no Deutschland for us, which leaves me with mixed feelings. Coming from someone who agonizes about things as insignificant as what to eat for breakfast or wear to school, I'm bound to question any decision I make. That's why I usually avoid making them.

change

I've always thought of myself as a person who liked change. I easily become restless and look forward to the next big event in my life. I make big plans and get excited about following through with them.

But I was wrong, oh so very wrong.

The truth is I don't like change. Not one bit. Change is scary. Unexpected. Difficult. Unreliable. People only say change is good because they're trying to look on the bright side of something very terrible. I only like change when I can control it. I want to be able to see the exact outcome of the change before I get excited about it. If I don't know know how it's going to end, I don't want anything to change. How do I stop change from encroaching its sneaky self upon my life?

Maybe I can't control it. But I don't have to like it.

european standard time

Sometime around last March, I sent my resume to a university in Germany. They had a fantastic looking position available in their English department and since I apply to everything whether I'm really qualified or not, I applied. As usual, I didn't expect a response, but a tiny part of me waited for one just the same. And as usual when dealing with foreigners and job applications, I didn't hear anything for months. I gave up hope.

May rolled around and I had forgotten all about the German job. But then they sent me an email and asked me to please update my resume before the job closed in June. Thinking it was quite nice of them to inform me of a closing date (after I had just spent 2 months pining for the job), I sent another copy of my resume. And I waited.

July approached. Remembering how inefficient everyone in Europe seems to be when dealing with jobs, I hadn't given up hope. But I also didn't expect an interview, which was offered to me around the middle of the month. I scheduled and did my phone interview, felt like it was disastrous (or at least not enough to tempt them into offering the job), despaired over my incompetent interviewing skills, and waited to hear the bad news from them.

And waited.

And waited.

Three weeks past and I heard nothing. The start date of the job rapidly approached (Oct 1), as did my semester of teaching at UVU. Although my pride was slightly wounded, I decided it was better for them not to have offered me the position; it made deciding what to do with our lives much easier.

And then today I looked in my inbox to find an email from dear Wolfgang, head of the English department- he urgently needs a copy of my MA diploma to continue with the application process!

I am at my wits end. Apparently they didn't decide that I'm hopeless; I still have a chance. UVU starts in 1 week and I'm scheduled to teach 3 classes. We decided that Trav is going back to school. I mentally prepared myself to go back Utah...again.

This jerking back and forth of possibilities is bad for my delicate nerves. What if they offer me a job? Do they think I'm going to take it? Should I take it if they really offer it to me? What about school for Trav? What happens to poor UVU if I ditch out on them?

Just think- none of this would have happened if the university were run by Americans.

home at last

Three weeks ago I left Memphis (and T-rav) to embark on a trip around the east/mid west. I flew 760 miles, drove a total of 1510 miles (205 from Richmond to the Outer Banks; 697 from the Outer Banks to Palmyra; 610 from Palmyra to South Bend, IN), and after realizing I somehow needed to get myself back to Memphis, took the train 549 miles from Chicago.

Total miles traveled: 2819

Aside from the guilt I felt for ditching my husband hard at work while I went to play, it was a great trip. I was able to relax at the beach, spend some time with my family, buy lots of books, and visit my dear friend Zillah.

And I took a train! I really, really heart trains. And train stations. And train platforms (which should always be called platforms, not "tracks" like they apparently call them in the Amtrak system). And the tracks. And really everything about them. But I had never ridden a train in the US before. I went expecting all sorts of unsavory folks, kind of like the ones you find on the Greyhound bus. But I stand corrected; there was a lovely assortment of people aboard Amtrak, most of them very run-of-the-mill.

Anyway. It's good to be home, although Memphis will only be home for 1 more week. Then I'm back to Utah by way of New Orleans.

Oriental Institute, Chicago, IL

pride or prejudice or hypersensitivity

For some reason I was thinking about Pride and Prejudice the other day (maybe it was seeing a guy with a copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies which I'm really dying to read). Anyone who has read the book or seen any of the movie versions can recall that Elizabeth's sisters constantly made fools of themselves, her mother was terrible, her father could be rude and tactless, and her cousin mooned and fawned over those with high status and money. Elizabeth and Jane remained the only Bennetts who retained some sense of propriety and dignity in social settings. So we can agree that the Bennet family was socially awkward and behaved inappropriately on a fairly regular basis, but would it have bothered a more confident or laid back person? Was Elizabeth's embarassment due to being overly sensitive? Was she just plain uptight?

Granted, during Elizabeth's time there was quite a few more rules of social etiquette one needed to follow in order to be a respected member of society. So maybe Elizabeth really did have reason for humiliation. But let's think about this during today's time. If Pride and Prejudice were set during modern times, would Elizabeth be justified in her feelings or would you tell her to lighten up?

reminiscing

I spent a large portion of today going through the ridiculously jam packed closet in my brother's old bedroom. I found treasures and trash, in equal portions: my little sister's doll stuff and ancient but sassy nail polish; my brother's trash (literally), clothes, and backpacks; pictures/paintings that used to be up on the walls but have been replaced by something more modern and chic; and a mountain of my papers and other stuff from high school. I also discovered a questionnaire about myself that I answered when I was 15. I learned all sorts of things that I didn't remember:

• I loved the movie Titanic. Who knew! I don't remember loving it. I hate it now.
• Even then I was obsessed with Italy.
• I wanted to become a spy.
• I also wanted to become an author. Maybe I should write books about spies. This explains my love for the show ALIAS.
• Regardless of my reasonable career aspirations, it seemed like a good idea to me to study genetics. I don't think there are words to describe how completely that does not suit me.
• I considered myself athletic. Ha! I was totally and completely uncoordinated.
• I was a pretty dang good essay writer. My essays were leaps and bounds better than most of those my ESL students write, even the ones who have been to college (regardless of the language barrier).
• I was sassy and feisty and proud of it.

I don't have too many regrets from my teenage years. I do wish I would have put aside my lust for money and worked less so I could be more involved with school activities. I wish I would have not been so stubborn and proud and refused to sing in the "select" choir because I hated the director. But the real question is would my 15 year old self be pleased with how my life has unraveled thus far? Maybe. I think she'd be disappointed I never served a mission and shocked that I had the nerve to get married before 25. She would ask me where my book was...and I would stare at her blankly. She would find linguistics to be totally perfect for us. She would scold me for still never having been to Ireland, but rejoice that I managed to get to Italy, if only for a month. She wouldn't believe me when I told her I'm not really a spy (as if I'd tell her if I really were!). Would she be more or less adventurous than me? Would she tell me to quit my very enjoyable and perfectly sensible job to go vagabonding around Europe for a semester? Would she approve of the decisions I've made along the way? And would I be proud of how we turned out?

I think so.

Would you?

Outer Banks

This morning I awoke to a cloudy, rainy, humid New York summer day- quite a shock when the past week was spent basking in the sun on the beaches of the Outer Banks. Aside from a few days of winds rivaling a sand storm in the Sahara desert, the weather was perfect. We shared our house with my aunt and her family and my grandparents, ate lots of fresh seafood, played cutthroat family on family games of Catch Phrase and Buzz Word, and basically had loads of fun.

This picture is a very proud one for my grandma because she's never actually been in the ocean. Ever. Although she has come to the beach with us almost every year we've gone, she never really learned to swim and has always been uncomfortable in the water. Unfortunately you can't entirely tell from this picture, but we're actually standing on a sand bar a few yards into the ocean. With my grandpa and uncle's assistance (she doesn't trust my grandpa to not push her in), she waded onto the sand bar and cheerily splashed around. Way to go, Beverly!

Our yearly beach picture (not on the beach due to sand blasting winds. My skin may need exfoliating, but not that badly!), lacking my brother and T-rav, but including our sister-in-law-to-be, Lauren.

And finally, I was exceedingly excited to finally go to Ocracoke Island, one of the more remote islands on the Outer Banks. The only way to get there is to take a 40 minute ride on one of 3 free ferries. The island is a whopping 9 square miles with a population of about 770. And it has a tiny but still functioning lighthouse on Silver Lake (it's really a bay). More importantly (to me at least), it also happens to be the home of the Ocrakoe Brogue, giving us charming little words like mommuck (to harass) and quamish (nauseated). I was hoping and praying to find someone who actually still speaks the brogue, but alas, we didn't encounter anyone actually from Ocracoke or under the age of about 30, and old people tend to be the only ones who hold on to their dialect these days. However, my disappointment subsided a bit when I found a charming little inn I intended to return to the next time I'm in the area. But since I wasn't able to bring back a real life sample of the brogue, here's a little taste of what we're all missing. Until next year...

Kristi's Sealing

Finally, some proof that my sister actually did have a sealing/reception back in April. Isn't she pretty?

I'm going to the beach tomorrow. Food. Sun. Books. Sand. Family. Waves. More books.

=

The Perfect Week.

Chess Titans

Lately T-rav and I have been trying to find things to do that don't include spending a lot of money, driving really far, or watching movies. Normally we would just read, but since I already finished or read all the books we (or the neighbors) brought with us, spent too many dollars at the local "Books-a-Million" store, can't get a library card for lack of proof of residence (I should have had someone write me a letter weeks ago), and am waiting for a large amazon.com purchase to arrive, we've been forced to think of other ways to entertain ourselves. And so we discovered chess.

Now neither of us have ever really played chess before, though I do vaguely remember playing with my dad's very strange friend named Tom when I was about 6. We don't have a chess board, so we've been using our computer chess game (called "Chess Titans"--it also has "Mahjong Titans," but surprisingly no Solitaire Titans. Solitaire is just called Solitaire.) For the first few days, we just played each other. Since we're both about the same degree of dreadfullness, there was no pressure on either side. But then we decided to try our luck against the computer, and promptly lost. And we lost again. And again...on level ONE. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like on level ten. I'm not really sure what we're doing wrong. I just know that I'm instantly furious when the computer's dirty rotten rook sneaks up from behind and kills my queen! (thank heaven for ctrl-z) Do any of you chess pros have any tips for me? Or rather, are any of you chess pros?

Along the same lines as my previous post....

Here's an article about one of the major Islamist groups that preys on impressionable youth looking for an identity. And somehow they're managing to sneak their way into American cities. I'm so flustered I can barely type. Read the article. Or check out the link to the right: Combating Extremist Islamism and see what some Muslims are doing to try to save their religion from fundamentalist freaks.

does multiculturalism fail?

The other day, T-rav found a goldmine of a book: The Islamist by Ed Husain. He said the caption was what caught his eye: "Why I became an Islamic Fundamentalist, What I saw inside, and Why I left." I just finished it and reading that makes me want to read it again! This was a great book, the kind that I think everyone should read because it's well written and interesting and a fascinating insight into someone's life and culture.

Husain became involved with Islamic Fundamentalism when he was a young teenager, something he partially blames on the lack of cultural identity he felt in Britain. Was he Bangladeshi? Muslim? British? British-Muslim? British-Bangladeshi? And if the latter two, what did that entail? He says that during his childhood (and still today) most immigrants developed confused identities because they grew up in a multicultural society where they were not forced to integrate with the dominant culture develop confused identities, making them an easy target for extremist groups.

I think this part deserves quoting: "In its attempt to support and recognize all cultures as equal, multiculturalism fails to empower minorities. How can the children of immigrants secure jobs in the workplace and advance economically and socially when they aren't even expected to learn English...A nation bonds through its language and shared culture; separate these two things and you have the vital precursors to self-destruction."

Is this happening in America? Are we, like Britain, in trying to be nice to all our minority groups, by embracing our liberal, open-minded multiculturalism, actually damaging our culture, creating a division among people instead of bridging cultural gaps? Maybe. Our government is ever eager to appease the social and cultural (and linguistic) demands of all minorities (be it women, Hispanics, Lesbians, Native Americans, etc). But do we go too far in accepting everything? Would it be better for immigrants to simply adopt American culture and start speaking only English? Does that mean they should also abandon their own culture and langauge?

In the final pages of The Islamist, Husain implores the reader to prevent future fundamentalists (or any kind of cultural extremism) by helping our immigrants find a place in society. I thought of it like an "adopt an immigrant" plan...find the nearest non-native English speaking person on your street and become their friend, let them see American culture, help them learn how to vote and have a voice in society. In this way, an immigrant's acculturation becomes our responsibility: if we want to keep America safe and peaceful, it is our job, as American citizens, to ensure that those living in our country don't find the wrong people in their search for an identity.

things to see in the south

What I've been up to lately...

This sign should have said "No bicycles allowed on trail because the mosquitos are large enough to put dents in your nice metal frame." After 20 minutes on the trail we decided to turn around because, if we dared stop walking, we were literally swarmed by huge vicious bugs. Maybe that's why there wasn't anyone else on the trail.

Now what would a slide show of the south be without a bit of road kill? Here's a smashed armadillo, one which Lindsey and I had to step over everyday on our way to Walgreens (I wonder if it's still there...).*

And this is where they keep the animals that they want to prevent from becoming road kill (that's an owl):

And this is how I usually look these days...not angry. Just wet. Either it's raining or I'm fresh out of the pool or...very sweaty.


*I'm sure you'll all be pleased to know that the armadillo remains have been removed from the side of the road. It now smells considerably better when we pass that bit of ground.

Dear Mr. President and dubiously efficient Congress/Senate:

Don't you think 1 TRILLION dollars might be a good time to stop the spending spree?!

Regards,
a citizen who spends less than she makes (what a concept)

The end of books?

A few months ago, M, her husband and I were discussing the future of the book. M's husband, being quite involved with the graphic design world, has a slightly bleak idea of the future of print books. He has already seen the decline of cd cases due to dowloadable music; people just aren't buying as many cds as they used to. He seemed to think that books are going to head in the same direction.

By the end of our conversation, my doomsday nature envisioned the end of all printed books. I could see my future children walking into my personal library and being amazed to see so many real books on the shelves "grandma, what are these?" Kind of how we might feel when someone has hundreds of vinyl records. I swore to myself that I would never be a traitor to books, I would never own a Kindle or any other wretched print-book-killing-device!

But then some time passed...and I listened to other friends discuss the merits/demerits of the Kindle...and amazon had that rotten Kindle advertisement on their main page for so long...and I finally got around to actually reading about it...and I've been converted! I desperately want one! Let me show you why:

• It holds over 1500 books and gives you free book samples- you can download a chapter of a book and read it to decide if you actual want it.
• Books are so cheap! Most are less than $10.
• It has wireless built into it so you can download books anytime, anywhere, even if there isn't a wireless network in the area.
  
• It can read to you.
• You can adjust the size of the text and the shade of the screen. And there's no glare on the screen if you read outside.
  
• Wireless access to wikipedia (T-rav was really happy about that one).
• There's a search feature where you can type in a word or phrase and it will search through all of your books until it finds a match.
  
• This is what finally convinced me that I want one: it has a built in New Oxford American Dictionary! If you don't know what a word is, you simply move the cursor over the word and voila- you get a definition.
  

Aside from all of these wonderful features, the a Kindle is also very small. And lightweight. Which I would really benefit from when traveling (did I mention that I intended to bring about 8 books with me to Memphis, but had to remove them because their total weight was about 20 pounds). The only downside to a Kindle is that they're kind of expensive- $299 (yes, that is a reduction from the $369 or so that they were a few weeks ago). But the benefits are so many!

And let me also mention that if I were lucky enough to own a Kindle, it would not mean that I would stop buying or reading print books. I would just add a Kindle to my library.

What do you think? Would you buy a kindle? Do you think it will be The End of the printed book?

vices

Sometimes I find myself doing things that I know are rotten, things that I hate about myself. And yet I do them anyway. I know that once I say/do whatever it is, I'll instantly feel like a brute. Yet regardless of the consequences, I often find myself spewing forth things that I don't really want to be saying.

For example, at some point in high school I decided that to be cool, I had to despise everything and everyone around me. My friends were the one exception. But I kind of became a hater. I was always negative and critical. I would find myself saying things I didn't really mean just to be critical. And then one day, my dear friend Jay, after listening to me spout off for a while, turned and said "You know, being negative doesn't make you cool. It's actually really annoying. You should stop." I was so shocked that I don't think I even had time to be offended. No one had ever said anything like that to me (well, I'm sure my parents did, but none of my peers had) and I knew she was right- it was totally and completely irritating.

Since then I've tried to be less negative and critical. I think I've done well with the negative part of things...and not so well with the criticizing. My excuse: I think it's in my blood to be critical. No really, it's imbedded in my genes. We Hills have a need to be critical (not just you Faut, it's the whole fam). But that's not really a legitimate reason. I think deep down (ok, maybe not so deep) I kind of like criticizing. It kind of makes me feel good. For a little while, at least. Oh, I always feel bad later, but by then (I hope) people have forgotten what I've said about such and such a celebrity or political idea or popular book.

I think everyone has their own "pet" vices, things they know they should stop doing, maybe even things they want to stop doing, but for whatever reason, they don't or can't. I suppose this is one of mine. My other favorite sin I find less offensive than this, but that's a story for another day. What's yours?

A misplaced Yankee

I've always been quite proud of the fact that I'm from New York (state, not city!). Overly proud, perhaps. But although I may be partial to life in the east, I feel like I've either traveled to or lived in enough places to make me fairly well rounded. This is, however, my very first time spending more than 1 week at a time in The South. Sure, I've been to Florida and driven through Georgia, South Carolina, and Virginia, and even spent several weeks of my life at the beach in North Carolina. But there's just something different about living in the "dirty south." And Memphis, Tennessee is definitely a prime example of dirty south.

For example, I've never seen so much road kill. And it's interesting road kill. Like armadillos and 'possums (pictures of these are soon to come! I'm sure you can't wait). I've seen more than 1 person throw used bottles out of their car windows onto the street. And then there are the McDonald's bags resting on the curbs. Pardon me for being rude, but I've never seen so many fat people in one place in my life. And not just round people, we're talking very, very large people (Mississippi was just named the fattest state in the nation for the 3rd year in a row). And to no one's surprise, they're often hanging around Popeye's Chicken. That's another thing- I didn't realize that southern people really do eat so much fried chicken. You can smell it everywhere. I don't think I've ever seen so many people who smoke. And New York is no stranger to cigarettes. And the people aren't afraid to light up and blow smoke right in your face.

Now this sounds like I hate the south and the people in it. Quite to the contrary- I'm really enjoying living in a new and completely different part of the country, even if I do sometimes feel like I'm in a foreign land. Or at least very obviously a Yankee, because here people still refer to northerners as Yanks. But I love listening to the charming southern drawl (which definitely deserves its own post). They have the tastiest smoked/barbecued meats. The women wear hats! We have a spunky 78 year old woman in our ward who wore a flaming blue hat to church last week. When I complimented it, she gave me tips on how to choose and wear a hat myself. The countryside here is beautiful and there are fantastic thunderstorms. Sometimes the power even goes out. And most importantly, the people are friendly and polite.

So as long as we don't get robbed while driving through the ghetto or get lung cancer from the secondhand smoke, I'm sure life in the south will be lovely.

Happy Independence Day

Want to win a free cookbook? And it's not just any cookbook. It's The Essential Baker, my current favorite dessert cookbook (wedding treats from my sister's reception, peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies, macaroons, shortbread, and other delectables. And they're not hard. I promise). Go here to find out how! Spread the word!

A Feis!

Last Friday was my Irish dance competition (called a feis). I wasn't going to blog about it here because I already called my family and told them all about it, posted about it on T-rav's family's blog, and commented about it on facebook. But my sister has demanded pictures, and so although they are few and of ill quality (phin had to sneak them since filming and fotography is strictly forbidden), I will acquiesce to her request.

Here we are waiting in line on "stage" in a row. I danced in 6 dances: 3 solo dances and 2 figure (or group) dances, but I danced one of the figure dances twice (we needed an extra person). My hair is exceptionally curly because Irish dancers traditionally either wear a super curly wig or put their hair in ringlets. You will notice, however, that some of the adults don't bother to conform to this tradition.

Two people danced at a time in front of 1 judge. When the two dancers on stage reached the last step of their dance, the assistant (the girl leaning forward with her hands clasped together) would send the next two dancers to prep and then start the second the first two finished. Does that make senese?


In the end, my shin splints and pulled ligament in my ankle were rewarded with 2 first places (1 medal and 1 trohpy), 1 second place, and 1 third place. Hurrah!