2014, you're starting out a bit rough

I'm in the US right now. Surprised? Me too. Here's why:

My mom has breast cancer. Again. She caught it very early on, but she does have to have a double mastectomy, which will require several weeks of recovery. But since my dad will be in the midst of tax season (read: 70 hour weeks), and my sister Kate is working lots of hours for my dad's accounting firm, they won't be around much during the day to help momma. Luckily (and kind of unluckily at the same time), my part-time teaching job is very flexible, so I'm here to act as nurse and maid and driver and chef for a few weeks.

Also my dog is slowly trying to die and my favorite cat needs to have half of his (rotting) teeth pulled to avoid an infection that could kill him. At this point I feel like 2014 could be better. But then, it could definitely be worse. I can think of a lot of ways it could be worse, ways which I shan't put down in words lest the evil jinn get any ideas.

Meanwhile, Trav started a new term. He's been eating plenty of plain rice with raw bell peppers, scrambled eggs, and granola. He's been spending lots of time with Portuguese speaking missionaries (he could use a regular friend outing), and procrastinating his homework.

On a more positive note, I have a mountain of things to knit for my family and a momma who will buy lots of yarn, and I've learned how to do cables. As you can see, however, I need to work on my sizing a bit.

goodbye (kind of) DLS

Today is my very very last day at the company I've been working for the past year. Actually, it's my third "last" day since I was supposed to be done July 27, extended to August 2, extended to August 17 or whenever I happened to finish the Pashto grammar book we've been working on.

Having three last days is rather anti-climactic.

It's been a good year at DLS. There were times when I was bored out of my mind and times when I ranted at the laziness of some of my coworkers who didn't quite share my work ethic. I'm a teensy bit sad to leave, but knowing that I'm probably going to be back for some odds and ends on my textbooks (that I already know need further editing) makes it less sad. But for a little while at least, I'm done.

And what's next? Georgetown full time for the fall. Here's to a new semester of (hopefully) good students and good teaching.

moist

There are certain words that one should never say out loud. The kind of word that make your hair stand a little bit up on end or make you feel like you've just revealed something personal that you didn't mean to share with the group. Like moist, for example. The one good thing about it, however, is that when you're trying to take a family picture with several people who are typically not very photogenic (ahem. me), and your slightly, or maybe more than slightly, crass brother shouts the word "moist" at the top of his lungs, everyone doubles over into a belly laugh that cannot be contained, which actually doesn't result in the best pictures for some of us, but it's better than an uncomfortable grimace, right?

Other words on my "banned words" list include: panties, bulbous, gyrate, (which one of my professors managed to work into almost every lecture for a whole semester. Sometimes he even acted out the verb for us...) pimple, and several words that, while pure in and of themselves, connote various body parts or functions. I'll leave those to your imagination. 

While you think of words that make you squirm, please admire these pictures of my adorable nephew at his 1st birthday party. Please feel free to share any of your most hated words.

the kite festival and laryngitis

 I lost my voice yesterday somewhere between the kite festival and my third episode of Bones for the night. Or maybe it was during Much Ado About Nothing. Either way I've been whispering when I've found it absolutely necessary to speak, which is rather disconcerting since T-rav has been trained (by me) to respond when I squeak, shout, holler, or yelp, and a silent burst of air being expelled just doesn't have the same attention-getting qualities to it. Anyway, this has forced me to analyze the quality of what I'm thinking of saying before I actually say it. It goes something like this: Is this important? Is it going to engage me in a long conversation? How can I say this as concisely as possible? Is it worth heckling T-rav and possibly trying to goad him into an argument that I will have to whisper rather than rant? It's been interesting for a day at least. You might want to try it some time.

In other news, yesterday was the Kite Festival, part of the National Cherry Blossom Festival (no matter that the cherries are quite done). It highlighted handmade kites, had flight demonstrations and a showing of tricks, and culminated with a series of kite fights where the kite fliers try to cut the other kites out of the sky by strategically wrapping their string around the other strings and sawing until the other string breaks. It was very exciting. Although the weather wasn't quite as warm as I would have liked (especially since my nasty cold had moved from hot flashes to cold flashes), there were hundreds of people out flying their kites along with the pros. Us included. It only took us five, ok fine six tries to get our kite airborne (I don't remember it being so tricky to get a kite to stay up. I swear when I was a kid, I just ran and tossed it up and voila! Kite in the air).

Sadly, my cruddy camera does not capture the massive number of kites being flown. It almost looked like a plague of locusts buzzing around the Washington Monument (did I ever mention that the earthquake was nearly 9 months ago and construction on the small cracks that appeared at the top won't even start until this summer?! And then who knows how long it will take. Bah to bureaucracy!). Almost equally as sad is the picture of me and T-rav at the festival that is most definitely not pictured here. We're pale and sickly-looking and my hair is blowing everywhere and we're both squinting weirdly even though it wasn't really sunny. I do have standards, you know. Just enjoy the whale floating in the background and imagine yourself there with us. Visitors are always welcome!

Team Molly

 March 18th marked the 1 year anniversary of my cousin Molly's passing. Molly being a crazy runner and all, running a race in her honor seemed like the right thing to do, so  last weekend T-rav and I trekked down to Virginia Beach with my dad and sister Kate, and Aunt, her family, and my cousins' boyfriends and family. Together we made up Team Molly.

T-rav and I ran the 8K (we had wanted to do the half marathon, but sadly registered after it was already full. I just need to make that clear because I felt like a big wimp only doing 5 miles). Aunt, uncle, boyfriends + family, and cousin Jane ran the half, cousin Sarah ran the marathon, and my dad and Kate cheered us on. We were kind of a ragtag bunch: I was still feeling rather ill and hadn't eaten in 3 days, uncle got a stomach bug the day before the race, Sarah had a seriously pained knee, and Jane's boyfriend had a torn ACL. And he ran anyway (with dr's permission). Now THAT is dedication.

Team Molly was a great success. Our t-shirts were quite a hit--Molly loved tie-dye and bright blue--and you could hear fellow runners (mostly teenage ones) whispering about our awesome shirts as we walked/ran around town. There was an exciting energy in the race that I haven't really felt since 9th grade track meets. And although the weather wasn't fantastic (I actually think it was warmer in Palmyra for once), being at the beach and enjoying what sun we had was exactly what Molly would have wanted. She was born with one toe in the sand and the other already running.

We love you, Molly!

saltines are my salvation

I have spent the past 48 hours in various states of stomach distress. I was bloated to the point that I looked pregnant (Yes, really. T-rav noticed while I was changing but was too polite to mention it until I did). I couldn't take a deep breath and for a while I thought my appendix might be rupturing. That was what finally inspired me to go to the doctor for some unpleasant poking, prodding, and x-rays. The results of which revealed insides that showed a belly full of too much food and bubbles and acid, getting in the way of my lungs and causing significant pain in my stomach and intestines. Apparently I ate too many raw vegetables and fibrous products at once? Weird. I was sent home with instructions for liquids only for 12 hours, and then a soft and bland food diet for 3 days (which may make running my 8K on Saturday at a respectable pace a little difficult). Of course the lack of any food in my stomach or sugar in my bloodstream was almost as upsetting as all of that undigested food, so I spent today in the fetal position on the couch watching reruns of Law & Order while trying to shove  jello and plain white rice in my mouth. Things were a little sketchy until T-rav came home on his lunch break armed with crackers and apple juice. It was at that point that I started to feel significantly better. Thank heavens for Saltines.

And Zillah, if this was a fraction of how you felt the majority of the time before your surgery, I have a new level of PROFOUND respect for you.

jobs jobs jobs

In a few months, the project I have been working on at the company that hired me when I moved to DC will be over and I'll either have the option to stay and start a new project or quit.

I'm not sure what to do.

I don't love my job. It's rather boring, sometimes mindless, and keeps me cooped up in an office all day long. I'd rather be teaching, and having this job prevents me from taking more classes and really getting my foot in the door at Gtown.

On the other hand, it gives me a salary, and I really like getting paid. I have decent benefits, excellent co-workers, and the most diverse, flexible work environment one could want. One might say I'm crazy for even considering leaving something relatively stable to be an adjunct at some university where the pay is always minimal and respect hard to come by. In reality, this decision will mostly be based on what kind of job T-rav gets (ie how much money he makes) after he finishes up his temp job next month. I only have the option of quitting if Trav's job, whatever it ends up being, is enough to pay the bills.

But it's made me think lately about what's more important: doing something you love (or at least really like) or doing something that makes a lot of money (relatively speaking, of course. I AM in the language field after all). What do you think?

Christmas 2011 in pictures

Clockwise from top left: Grandma and great grandson Connor ◊ Connor eating a lemon (yes, he really does like them) ◊ Me and T-rav at a park ◊ Kate and I stuffing our faces with crepes ◊ Kristi and Rapha ◊ Kristi expressing her feelings about having a pregnant belly ◊ Trav and Grandma's Christmas present (from 2 years ago) that he finally put together for her ◊ Sleeping Christmas afternoon ◊ Connor and my dear friend Jay's kiddo ◊ Adam, Lauren and Connor ◊ Four Generations


I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas!

random

Today is 11/11/11. It seems significant somehow. You decide.

Editing page after page after page of textbook makes me want to stab my eyes out. Unfortunately for me, editing is all I've been doing lately. Which is why I've been checking facebook incessantly, reading loads of blogs/websites/news articles, and posting a bit more often than usual. Anything to distract...

When I was a freshman in college, I was never cold. I walked around campus in the middle of winter late at night in jeans, a sweater, hat, and gloves, and was almost never cold. I'm now freezing 95% of the time no matter what I wear. Maybe it's because I'm getting old.

T-rav and I have been eagerly engaged in a month-long Prison Break marathon. We finished the last episode last night. I feel as though it has left a small hole in my heart.

Thanksgiving is less than 2 weeks away. It can't come soon enough.

impulse buy

Yesterday our sturdy hp laptop of 6 years finally went kaput. Because it kindly alerted us to its imminent demise by randomly freezing up, shutting down, and beeping sorrowfully during the previous week, there was no meltdown from me like there could have been without proper mental preparation. Just acceptance and a tinge of sadness. It has been with me for a long time through master's thesis, resumes, lesson plans, UVU presentations, and a second bachelor's for T-rav.

But this tinge of sadness wasn't enough to keep me from buying a new one right away. As in less than 1 hour after we played a requiem for our old one, we were on our new laptop, checking email and reading the news as if we'd had it for years. And the best part: it cost us less that $400 thanks to some killer deals at Staples. Impulse buy? Maybe. But you can't really go wrong with a laptop that is twice the computer you had before at a fraction of the price.

On saucing

Applesauce is among the five or so foods I could live on continuously if they didn't kill me first (bread, cheese, gelato, nutella, apple-related anything). But not just any applesauce. My grandma's applesauce. Because, you see, it's better than any I've ever had before. Yes, ever ever. Because my Grandma is The. Best. Cook. And even though she has Alzheimer's and needs to be occasionally reminded of what to do next, she's still the best. 

First you take Cortland apples and core and slice them, a step which we were able to skip because we're friends with an apple-product-factory owner. Then you throw them in a pot with a teensy bit of water and bring them to a nice sturdy simmer, cooking until they turn to mush. You must stir and watch very carefully not to burn them. It helps to have a very lovely grandma watching over things to inspect the progress.

Only stop for a picture when you're ready to take the apples off the heat. Otherwise Grandma will scold you. Nicely, of course. Next pour the mushed apples into a press that spits out the peels and other unsavory bits on one side and sploosoms out the sauce on the other. 

Dump the sauce in a bowl with a bit of sugar and stir. Then divide it into jars, wipe down the mouth of the jar, and boil the heck out of them until sealed. And I almost forgot the most important part: reserve a jar to eat right away, slightly warm is best.

G-town

I belong on a campus. High school, community college, university. It doesn't matter. When I set foot into the academic world, my heart does a little pitter patter reserved only for the scent of autumn, the sight of awkward freshmen schlepping their bags behind them while peering furtively at their course schedule, the secluded corner benches where one can read or people watch, depending on how interesting your textbooks are.

I thought that this year would be the first since...well, since the age of 3 (I started kindergarten at 4), that I wouldn't be starting school with the rest of academia. What would life be like not on a school schedule? How would I count my days, if not by semesters, midterms and school holidays? To be quite honest, I was dreading it.

And then I got an email that made everything ok. The lovely ladies at the EFL program at Georgetown actually did have a desperate need for a teacher in the fall, and I happened to be desperate for a class. Voila! Problem solved.

So now I'm working more than I really wanted (my slightly dull full time job + 1 class), but happily get to dally with fellow lecturers, professors, and, of course students.

School starts in a little less than 3 weeks. I'm a little excited.