I know that it is awfully tedious when people try to tell you about their dreams, but I had a particularly strange experience this week.
I've been sick for almost 2 weeks now. Not just kinda sick either. Really sick. In fact, I am just getting my voice back, and I've been almost voiceless for 4 days. (As you can imagine, this has been hard on me.)
Anyhoo, I've been getting up to teach in the morning and then coming home by noon or so to go back to sleep. On Wednesday I was napping and had a dream in which the following topics were seamlessly woven together: 1) Running 2) My grandparents making pre-arranged funeral plans for themselves 3) Chaselweiss and 4) Gypsies.
I can account for the Chase part of this dream, as it has just recently been his birthday and I was thinking about it. I think that the running part of the dream, which was very, very vivid, had to do with the fact that I haven't been able to go to the gym, or for a run, since President's Day, which is when this whole sick thing hit me.
But I can't account for the part about my grandparents, and I certainly can't explain gypsies, since they are not a part of my everyday life. Although, my mother is rather unnaturally facsinated with gypsies, so I suppose it is sort of always there.
But c'mon. That's weird, right?
27 February 2009
25 February 2009
HA! Pextrix
Qwanty is right--when one thinks about Peter, there are almost too many things to say. He's a strange, and complicated, guy. In that way (and probably in that way only) he is like my dad. To those of you who don't know (and who doesn't?), Peter is my favorite teacher I have ever had in my whole life. Ever. In my whole life. And I've had a lot of teachers and I've been really into a lot of them, but none come near to the almost mythical standing of Peter. (Not even Doc B)
Here are some interesting things about Peter:
1. He really likes the phrase "will-he-nil-he" which, for those of you who don't speak "peter", is willy-nilly. Even though he knows that people will be put off by this, he refuses to use the colloquial version of the saying, either in his writing or speaking. He's stubborn like that.
2. He referred me to his therapist. And I went. He also referred Qwanty to his wife's hairdresser. I don't think that she went. He believes that he can be that intrustive into certain student's lives. I guess maybe he can be.
3. Sometimes for Valentine's Day I make homemade fortune cookies and write out little haiku to stuff inside them. One year, I made one for Peter. The haiku was especially mushy. This should not surprise anyone. Several months later I was sitting in office (probably crying, because that is mostly what I did in his office), feeling uncomfortable because I realized that he had a weird naked woman fertility talisman statue on his desk. I kept trying not to stare at it, because it was such a weird thing to see there. At some point he mentioned the Valentine, and I sort of shrugged it off, but he reached FOR THE WEIRD NAKED WOMAN FERTILITY TALISMAN (at this point I wanted to run screaming from his office) and he showed me that it had a little box in the base and inside that box was the little slip of paper on which I'd written the hakiu. To this day I don't know if this is the sweetest memory I have of him, or the creepiest.
4. Peter, as of a few years ago, only considered me the 7th smartest student he'd ever had. Um. 7th? Talk about your faint praise.
5. I have seen Peter throw an eraser at a student. I also saw him throw chalk at the same student. I have also heard him ask another student, in complete seriousness, "who put you in charge of the obvious today?"
6. One of Peter's greatest friends in the world is a fairly well-known academic who writes like an angel. His prose is so conciliatory and has such a reasonable tone. Peter's writing is,well, cranky and scrappy. It is fun to read them back to back. One wonders what their friendship must be like.
7. Peter likes to eat. A lot. Let him take you out to lunch sometime. You only eat at nice resturants, and you can order whatever you like, and he forces wine on you. (And sometimes dessert as well.) He once told me that the only food he thinks that he doesn't like is cucumber. Cucumber?
I'm sure Qwanty has her own factoids about PC that she might like to share, but these are my favorites---
Here are some interesting things about Peter:
1. He really likes the phrase "will-he-nil-he" which, for those of you who don't speak "peter", is willy-nilly. Even though he knows that people will be put off by this, he refuses to use the colloquial version of the saying, either in his writing or speaking. He's stubborn like that.
2. He referred me to his therapist. And I went. He also referred Qwanty to his wife's hairdresser. I don't think that she went. He believes that he can be that intrustive into certain student's lives. I guess maybe he can be.
3. Sometimes for Valentine's Day I make homemade fortune cookies and write out little haiku to stuff inside them. One year, I made one for Peter. The haiku was especially mushy. This should not surprise anyone. Several months later I was sitting in office (probably crying, because that is mostly what I did in his office), feeling uncomfortable because I realized that he had a weird naked woman fertility talisman statue on his desk. I kept trying not to stare at it, because it was such a weird thing to see there. At some point he mentioned the Valentine, and I sort of shrugged it off, but he reached FOR THE WEIRD NAKED WOMAN FERTILITY TALISMAN (at this point I wanted to run screaming from his office) and he showed me that it had a little box in the base and inside that box was the little slip of paper on which I'd written the hakiu. To this day I don't know if this is the sweetest memory I have of him, or the creepiest.
4. Peter, as of a few years ago, only considered me the 7th smartest student he'd ever had. Um. 7th? Talk about your faint praise.
5. I have seen Peter throw an eraser at a student. I also saw him throw chalk at the same student. I have also heard him ask another student, in complete seriousness, "who put you in charge of the obvious today?"
6. One of Peter's greatest friends in the world is a fairly well-known academic who writes like an angel. His prose is so conciliatory and has such a reasonable tone. Peter's writing is,well, cranky and scrappy. It is fun to read them back to back. One wonders what their friendship must be like.
7. Peter likes to eat. A lot. Let him take you out to lunch sometime. You only eat at nice resturants, and you can order whatever you like, and he forces wine on you. (And sometimes dessert as well.) He once told me that the only food he thinks that he doesn't like is cucumber. Cucumber?
I'm sure Qwanty has her own factoids about PC that she might like to share, but these are my favorites---
23 February 2009
Quickies
Here are a few things that I am thinking about today:
Smart Kids: It seems like I am surrounded by pretty friggin' smart kids. My niece and nephew are hella smart. My cousin's kids are all smart. Qwanty's kids are smart. My best buddy in Tejas, Gus, (big shout out to you, by the way, sport!) is super smart too. Amazingly, they are all also beautiful. Anyhoo. I've always enjoyed being around all these smart whippersnappers, but maybe that is changing. I got an email from my cousin's youngest, Mitch. HE IS ONLY IN FIRST GRADE, and this is what he wrote to me: I noticed a mistake, on your email to me!When you said I love you to, the 2 (too, two, to) was really the too kind of 2 (to, too or two).Too as in very or also. And then his sister said, "Kristin, doesn't this really embarrass you, considering that you teach college and everything." Great. I officially declare Mitch and Michaela "too smart."
(In my defense, I had a fever of 102 when I wrote the email and I think that it was just that the ring finger on my right hand was just toooooo weak to hit the "o" that second time.)
Why you gotta do me like that, Eddie Vedder? So I don't normally notice things like this, but apparently Pearl Jam has a new song called "Brother." Um. Seriously? Does this mean that if the band stays together for long enough we have "Great-niece" and "Gramps" and "Stepsister" to look forward to? (Actually, now that I ask, doesn't "Sexy Stepsister" sound like a DLRoth-era Van Halen tune?) But seriously. Maybe it is time to hang up the mechanic's jacket, Eddie. Are we also going to be subjected to an outpouring of songs named after color? (By the way, if you ever meet my youngest brother, try to get him to do his impression of Pearl Jam's drummer trying to play "Daughter". This is one of my favorite of his bits. He also does a really funny Charlie Watts impression, but he has to be in the right mood for it.)
If you can't beat them: Felisa, inspired by your comment on the last post, I made myself a birthday manicure appointment. I figure I can have pretty nails and whip some cream like I mean it.
Good feelin': Hey, you know what makes you feel good? When you hear from someone you haven't heard from in a long time, and they tell you that a conversation that you had with them has stuck with them in some way. Case in point, yesterday I got a message from Chung (those of you in Tejas will know of whom I speak, those of you who don't, he's a guy from the program there). He was at my going away party in July, and I had recommended Bill Buford's sensational book Heat to him. I had forgotten that we'd even talked about it. Anyway, he let me know that he'd read it and really enjoyed it. What a nice thing to do for someone else. I need to remember to be more thoughtful like that. Good on ya, Chung.
List: I am trying to make a list of some of the nicknames that I (or others in my life) have had for boys/men that I have either had relationships with, or crushes on. I am quite sure that I am leaving lots off the list, but this is what I have so far (it is more or less chronological). Slashes indicate a guy with multiple nicknames:
Little Jason Brown (5th grade boyfriend--he was pretty little)
Turtle
Beaner (in my defense, I didn't give this one--he gave it to himself)
"All the colors of the rainbow"
Ohio
Fon Jarrell
The Weasel
Homer
Axel
Prof. Detroit
Butt Karl and Smoking Karl (I had crushes on two guys named Karl in college, at the same time. I actually had hand motions that I used when referring to them, but they don't translate to blog)
Nature Man/Dr. Frankenstein
Coffee Boy
Bus-y Boy
Slim Shady
Hot & Bald
Byronatron/Byronasauraus Rex/Byrone/"The Old Man" (By the way, he would not be happy to know that he has such a long list of nicknames, ALL of them given to him by people other than myself)
Dunket
Firken (I mistakenly thought that this was a guy's last name. It was not, in fact)
Chaselweiss/Monster (there are many more too, but I didn't come up with them, and I don't want them getting back to him)
F.J.
Qwanty? I'm sure I'm leaving some important ones out.
In case you're counting: Rome had on his 8th Rex in a row today.
Smart Kids: It seems like I am surrounded by pretty friggin' smart kids. My niece and nephew are hella smart. My cousin's kids are all smart. Qwanty's kids are smart. My best buddy in Tejas, Gus, (big shout out to you, by the way, sport!) is super smart too. Amazingly, they are all also beautiful. Anyhoo. I've always enjoyed being around all these smart whippersnappers, but maybe that is changing. I got an email from my cousin's youngest, Mitch. HE IS ONLY IN FIRST GRADE, and this is what he wrote to me: I noticed a mistake, on your email to me!When you said I love you to, the 2 (too, two, to) was really the too kind of 2 (to, too or two).Too as in very or also. And then his sister said, "Kristin, doesn't this really embarrass you, considering that you teach college and everything." Great. I officially declare Mitch and Michaela "too smart."
(In my defense, I had a fever of 102 when I wrote the email and I think that it was just that the ring finger on my right hand was just toooooo weak to hit the "o" that second time.)
Why you gotta do me like that, Eddie Vedder? So I don't normally notice things like this, but apparently Pearl Jam has a new song called "Brother." Um. Seriously? Does this mean that if the band stays together for long enough we have "Great-niece" and "Gramps" and "Stepsister" to look forward to? (Actually, now that I ask, doesn't "Sexy Stepsister" sound like a DLRoth-era Van Halen tune?) But seriously. Maybe it is time to hang up the mechanic's jacket, Eddie. Are we also going to be subjected to an outpouring of songs named after color? (By the way, if you ever meet my youngest brother, try to get him to do his impression of Pearl Jam's drummer trying to play "Daughter". This is one of my favorite of his bits. He also does a really funny Charlie Watts impression, but he has to be in the right mood for it.)
If you can't beat them: Felisa, inspired by your comment on the last post, I made myself a birthday manicure appointment. I figure I can have pretty nails and whip some cream like I mean it.
Good feelin': Hey, you know what makes you feel good? When you hear from someone you haven't heard from in a long time, and they tell you that a conversation that you had with them has stuck with them in some way. Case in point, yesterday I got a message from Chung (those of you in Tejas will know of whom I speak, those of you who don't, he's a guy from the program there). He was at my going away party in July, and I had recommended Bill Buford's sensational book Heat to him. I had forgotten that we'd even talked about it. Anyway, he let me know that he'd read it and really enjoyed it. What a nice thing to do for someone else. I need to remember to be more thoughtful like that. Good on ya, Chung.
List: I am trying to make a list of some of the nicknames that I (or others in my life) have had for boys/men that I have either had relationships with, or crushes on. I am quite sure that I am leaving lots off the list, but this is what I have so far (it is more or less chronological). Slashes indicate a guy with multiple nicknames:
Little Jason Brown (5th grade boyfriend--he was pretty little)
Turtle
Beaner (in my defense, I didn't give this one--he gave it to himself)
"All the colors of the rainbow"
Ohio
Fon Jarrell
The Weasel
Homer
Axel
Prof. Detroit
Butt Karl and Smoking Karl (I had crushes on two guys named Karl in college, at the same time. I actually had hand motions that I used when referring to them, but they don't translate to blog)
Nature Man/Dr. Frankenstein
Coffee Boy
Bus-y Boy
Slim Shady
Hot & Bald
Byronatron/Byronasauraus Rex/Byrone/"The Old Man" (By the way, he would not be happy to know that he has such a long list of nicknames, ALL of them given to him by people other than myself)
Dunket
Firken (I mistakenly thought that this was a guy's last name. It was not, in fact)
Chaselweiss/Monster (there are many more too, but I didn't come up with them, and I don't want them getting back to him)
F.J.
Qwanty? I'm sure I'm leaving some important ones out.
In case you're counting: Rome had on his 8th Rex in a row today.
Piece of Cake
Tonight, while I was making cupcakes to take to class tomorrow morning (for my birthday), I started thinking about something that has been bothering me for a long time, but which I have not spoken about to anyone. See, I watch a lot of Food Network programing. I like watching people cook a lot. I'm not sure why I find it entertaining, but I do. And, for the most part, I find almost anyone entertaining to watch. But there are two groups of people I don't enjoying watching:
1. Emeril. I guess that he is not really a "group" of chefs. But I don't like the guy.
2. (And this is what I really wanted to discuss in this post.) The dilettante cooks. This group includes Ellie Krieger (from Healthy Appetites), Sandra Lee (Semi-Homemade), Ina Garten (The Barefoot Contessa) and--the absolute worst--Giada deLarentiis. There are multiple reasons to dislike all of these women, but the thing that really bothers me, and what all of them have in common, is the super delicate way that they all handle food. All four of them have well-manicured nails (one of the ways you can tell that they are dilettantes) and everything that they do with food, whether it is chopping (which, by definition, is a sort of violent act, right?) to zesting, to stirring, is really gentle and ladylike. Who cooks like that? Seriously? A lot of cooking is sort of vigorous. If you are all concerned about not chipping a nail how can you appropriately mix, grate, mince, knead? Often you need to get in there and work your food. These women don't do that, and that makes all their food suspect. Lesser complaints about these women include: Ellie Kreiger puts lo-fat cheese into everything. That is gross and unnecessary. Sandra Lee 1) uses cans and mixes all the time and 2) ends every show with a themed "tablescape"--which is a word that no one should ever use. My biggest beef with Ina Garten (besides the fact that she is too dainty when she stirs things) is that she has somehow managed to marry a man rich enough to keep her in a nice house and to not have to work so that she can just cook food for all her fabulous gay friends. I am sort of jealous. I want a gay gardener friend, a gay foodie friend, a gay shopping friend, a gay florist friend, just to throw fabulous luncheons for. (I mean, I've got Dr. Awesome, but he doesn't have a whole lot of time for me now that he is busy saving children from disease.) But Giada. Don't even get me started. Who can't boil pasta and make 4-ingredient sauces and salads? There's no talent needed for that. It's ridiculous. I agree with Jeffrey Steingarten that the only reason that she has a cooking show is that she is sort of pretty.
That's it. I feel better now that this is off my chest. But don't take my word for it. See for yourself. It just seems wrong.
(By the way--I made devil's food cupcakes with orange cream cheese frosting, and polenta cupcakes with lime cream cheese frosting. I do not use boxed cake mixes. That's another rant all together.)
1. Emeril. I guess that he is not really a "group" of chefs. But I don't like the guy.
2. (And this is what I really wanted to discuss in this post.) The dilettante cooks. This group includes Ellie Krieger (from Healthy Appetites), Sandra Lee (Semi-Homemade), Ina Garten (The Barefoot Contessa) and--the absolute worst--Giada deLarentiis. There are multiple reasons to dislike all of these women, but the thing that really bothers me, and what all of them have in common, is the super delicate way that they all handle food. All four of them have well-manicured nails (one of the ways you can tell that they are dilettantes) and everything that they do with food, whether it is chopping (which, by definition, is a sort of violent act, right?) to zesting, to stirring, is really gentle and ladylike. Who cooks like that? Seriously? A lot of cooking is sort of vigorous. If you are all concerned about not chipping a nail how can you appropriately mix, grate, mince, knead? Often you need to get in there and work your food. These women don't do that, and that makes all their food suspect. Lesser complaints about these women include: Ellie Kreiger puts lo-fat cheese into everything. That is gross and unnecessary. Sandra Lee 1) uses cans and mixes all the time and 2) ends every show with a themed "tablescape"--which is a word that no one should ever use. My biggest beef with Ina Garten (besides the fact that she is too dainty when she stirs things) is that she has somehow managed to marry a man rich enough to keep her in a nice house and to not have to work so that she can just cook food for all her fabulous gay friends. I am sort of jealous. I want a gay gardener friend, a gay foodie friend, a gay shopping friend, a gay florist friend, just to throw fabulous luncheons for. (I mean, I've got Dr. Awesome, but he doesn't have a whole lot of time for me now that he is busy saving children from disease.) But Giada. Don't even get me started. Who can't boil pasta and make 4-ingredient sauces and salads? There's no talent needed for that. It's ridiculous. I agree with Jeffrey Steingarten that the only reason that she has a cooking show is that she is sort of pretty.
That's it. I feel better now that this is off my chest. But don't take my word for it. See for yourself. It just seems wrong.
(By the way--I made devil's food cupcakes with orange cream cheese frosting, and polenta cupcakes with lime cream cheese frosting. I do not use boxed cake mixes. That's another rant all together.)
20 February 2009
Weird Sad
So, this morning I drove into work very early (left the house a few minutes to 6) and caught the very beginning of the last Adam Corolla Show broadcast, and then I caught the last 20 minutes as well.
And what I have to say about it is that I am weirdly, weirdly sad. I was sad when Corolla left Loveline to take this job in the first place. In my 20s I often would find a reason to drive across town after 10, just to listen to the show in the car. Then, this fall when I came back to Portland and began working very early in the morning (or, at least, very early in the morning for a girl like myself), I started listening to Ace every morning. On Fridays, recently, when I hang out with Mikey J, part of our hang out time has been devoted to talking about what happened on the show during the week. When the announcement came yesterday that the show was definitely ending today, Mike sent me an email expressing his regret for it.
I guess I hadn't realized how much this show has contributed to my well-being over the past few months. You may think it is trite, but it is a lot easier to get up and face a half hour commute (in the dark, and often on frosty roads) when you know that there is entertainment a push-button away. Not only that, but it's entertainment coming from a guy (and, heck, a whole crew of guys/gals) who is just kinda a good guy. A guy who deserves the success that he's had. A thoughtful and committed guy. It's going to feel like a real loss.
Sure, I still have Rome to get me home after work, but I'm going to miss my radio ice cream sandwich. (Corolla/sweet and creamy teaching/Rome) Hopefully it won't be long before he finds another media home.
And what I have to say about it is that I am weirdly, weirdly sad. I was sad when Corolla left Loveline to take this job in the first place. In my 20s I often would find a reason to drive across town after 10, just to listen to the show in the car. Then, this fall when I came back to Portland and began working very early in the morning (or, at least, very early in the morning for a girl like myself), I started listening to Ace every morning. On Fridays, recently, when I hang out with Mikey J, part of our hang out time has been devoted to talking about what happened on the show during the week. When the announcement came yesterday that the show was definitely ending today, Mike sent me an email expressing his regret for it.
I guess I hadn't realized how much this show has contributed to my well-being over the past few months. You may think it is trite, but it is a lot easier to get up and face a half hour commute (in the dark, and often on frosty roads) when you know that there is entertainment a push-button away. Not only that, but it's entertainment coming from a guy (and, heck, a whole crew of guys/gals) who is just kinda a good guy. A guy who deserves the success that he's had. A thoughtful and committed guy. It's going to feel like a real loss.
Sure, I still have Rome to get me home after work, but I'm going to miss my radio ice cream sandwich. (Corolla/sweet and creamy teaching/Rome) Hopefully it won't be long before he finds another media home.
18 February 2009
In honor of--
If you have been listening to Jim Rome for the past week, you know that he has become TOTALLY obsessed with guys by the name of Rex. For each of the last 5 broadcast days, he has had on someone named Rex. Today it wasn't even someone related to sports. It was Rex Lee, the actor from Entourage. In keeping with Rome's Rex week, I am reposting the following blog post from the old MySpace blog. I wrote it a couple of Valentine's Days ago. I am also considering resurrecting the "Bad Crushes and the Horrible Reasons I Had Them" series on The Make-Ready. God knows that I have about 300 crushes left from which to draw. Anyhoo. Enjoy this jog down memory lane.
In Honor of Valentine's Day's Approach
In Honor of Valentine's Day's Approach
Bad Crush #2
Ok, I feel a little guilty calling this a "bad crush" because it was actually a fairly good one. But . . . well, it does have an element of the ridiculous to it. Wait. For. It.
SO, my parent's moved into their last home the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. It was a weird move, because they did it while I was at camp (busy being a CIT, or counselor-in-training for those of you who are not initiated into mysteries of summer camp). I left, and we were in the house I grew up in, and I came back, and we were in this new house. I HATED it. I won't get into all the reasons why, but one of them had to do with the fact that it was the middle of summer (bad to begin with) and the house didn't have any window coverings, and was A LOT brighter than the house I grew up in. All the light was making me cranky, and I missed MY house. On top of all of that, my best friend had moved to Norway about six months prior, and I missed her awfully, and she was miserable as well, which I knew because of the 2-3 letters PER DAY I received all that summer.
The move had one silver lining though, which I found out about a few days after I got back from camp. Our builder had hired a college-aged handyman, and he was over at our house several hours a day, working on finish work (a deck in the back, landscaping, adjusting doors. He was very handy.) On top of being handy he was HOT, and in his early twenties. And I was a bored sixteen-year-old. I was in heaven. He did a lot of working outside with his shirt off (and, I don't need to tell you, dear reader, that he had a great chest, and a great tan, and bleached out hair) and I did a lot of taking him glasses of lemonade. It was all very 90210 (you know, when Kelly had a thing with Jake, before they spun him off onto Melrose?!).
If all this was not enough to send me into hormonal overload, he did the cutest thing ever, and it sealed the crush deal. See, we had moved into a new housing development, and we were in one of the first houses finished and occupied. So the area around us was leveled, but not really developed. A stray dog showed up one day. My mom got worried about it and started making sure that he had food and water. He was a mutt, but very sweet. My parents, of course, were not going to take it in (we have a family aversion to pets), but my mom was somewhat worried about what was going to happen to him. The handyman was VERY sweet to the dog, and it began to follow him around all day. In the afternoons, the handyman would take a break for lunch, and the dog would curl up next to him. Before long it became pretty obvious that he was going to have to take the dog. OK, so I'll admit that I'm not a huge animal lover, but I did think that it was adorable that the handyman felt responsible and nurturing toward this dog. I remember the day that he finally decided to take it home with him. I have this image of the handyman's truck driving away, the dog happily riding in the bed. He looked like he couldn't believe his luck.
The handyman finished the work on my house, which was sad. Then summer ended, and he finished working for our builder, and that was sadder. (Yes, I did just say "sadder"--get off my back, grammar police!) He went back to college, I went back to finish my senior year of high school.
Sigh.
So I know what you are thinking. Nothing THAT ridiculous about the story. But I have been keeping for you, reader, the detail that does make this crush silly and embarrassing in retrospect. The handyman's name?
Rex.
I kid you not.
Ok, I feel a little guilty calling this a "bad crush" because it was actually a fairly good one. But . . . well, it does have an element of the ridiculous to it. Wait. For. It.
SO, my parent's moved into their last home the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. It was a weird move, because they did it while I was at camp (busy being a CIT, or counselor-in-training for those of you who are not initiated into mysteries of summer camp). I left, and we were in the house I grew up in, and I came back, and we were in this new house. I HATED it. I won't get into all the reasons why, but one of them had to do with the fact that it was the middle of summer (bad to begin with) and the house didn't have any window coverings, and was A LOT brighter than the house I grew up in. All the light was making me cranky, and I missed MY house. On top of all of that, my best friend had moved to Norway about six months prior, and I missed her awfully, and she was miserable as well, which I knew because of the 2-3 letters PER DAY I received all that summer.
The move had one silver lining though, which I found out about a few days after I got back from camp. Our builder had hired a college-aged handyman, and he was over at our house several hours a day, working on finish work (a deck in the back, landscaping, adjusting doors. He was very handy.) On top of being handy he was HOT, and in his early twenties. And I was a bored sixteen-year-old. I was in heaven. He did a lot of working outside with his shirt off (and, I don't need to tell you, dear reader, that he had a great chest, and a great tan, and bleached out hair) and I did a lot of taking him glasses of lemonade. It was all very 90210 (you know, when Kelly had a thing with Jake, before they spun him off onto Melrose?!).
If all this was not enough to send me into hormonal overload, he did the cutest thing ever, and it sealed the crush deal. See, we had moved into a new housing development, and we were in one of the first houses finished and occupied. So the area around us was leveled, but not really developed. A stray dog showed up one day. My mom got worried about it and started making sure that he had food and water. He was a mutt, but very sweet. My parents, of course, were not going to take it in (we have a family aversion to pets), but my mom was somewhat worried about what was going to happen to him. The handyman was VERY sweet to the dog, and it began to follow him around all day. In the afternoons, the handyman would take a break for lunch, and the dog would curl up next to him. Before long it became pretty obvious that he was going to have to take the dog. OK, so I'll admit that I'm not a huge animal lover, but I did think that it was adorable that the handyman felt responsible and nurturing toward this dog. I remember the day that he finally decided to take it home with him. I have this image of the handyman's truck driving away, the dog happily riding in the bed. He looked like he couldn't believe his luck.
The handyman finished the work on my house, which was sad. Then summer ended, and he finished working for our builder, and that was sadder. (Yes, I did just say "sadder"--get off my back, grammar police!) He went back to college, I went back to finish my senior year of high school.
Sigh.
So I know what you are thinking. Nothing THAT ridiculous about the story. But I have been keeping for you, reader, the detail that does make this crush silly and embarrassing in retrospect. The handyman's name?
Rex.
I kid you not.
Stuff I Dig
Everything is very doomy and gloomy recently, ain't it? Strangely, I've been in a remarkably upbeat mood. This might be because times like this are sort of good for contrarians like myself. Today I feel like spreading the love. Here are five things that I really like a lot.
One: Craft root beer. I am not a big soda drinker. And I grew up on diet sodas (literally--my mom drank Tab when I was very little, Pepsi Lite when I was in elementary school and the weirdly addicting Diet Coke since). So I just generally do not drink regular sugared sodas. HOWEVER. I make a special occasion exception for craft root beer. Henry's, on tap, is my favorite (although I know it is a little too sweet and too smooth--if in fact root beer can be too smooth!--for some). But I also like Mt. Angel. Those monks make some very tasty root beer. I do not, however, love craft root beer as much as this dude.
Two: Pilot G-2 Extra Fine Gel Pens. It isn't so much that these are my favorite pens ever (far from it), but they are ideal for grading. They come in a variety of colors beyond black, blue and red (none of which I like to use to grade with). I particularly like the purple and burgundy ones because I find them easy to read against the black and white. They are nice and fine, but don't clump. I think I went through about 5 of them last term alone. (And if any of you feel like bitchin' about how little I blog, think about all the writing I'm doing on student papers.)
Three: North. Since I have now been there the last 4 weekends (or so) in a row, I think I can call this "my new bar." North is unpretentious and small and neighborhood-y. You can put music on the jukebox for free, and they have Kenny Rogers. There is also a lot of Bruce Springsteen. The clientele is somewhat eclectic. Mikey J. likes to sit at the bar. This is ok by me. The one drawback is this older guy we've seen a couple of times who drinks wine and tries to listen in on our conversations and smirks at everything I say. I could do without that dude. However, last week I told Mike that I was ready to rumble with the guy if he gives me any more attitude. Mike said, "You are not prepared to rumble with that old guy." I said "seriously, I'm ready to take him down." Then Mike told me that this might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever said.
Four: Iced Lattes from Peet's. Here's the thing: I know that Peet's is a chain and all, but I had just given up ordering lattes anywhere. Everywhere I went it seemed like I was getting coffee-flavored milk. When actually what I wanted was coffee with a lot of milk in it. (See the important distinction?) Peet's lattes taste like milky coffee. That is delicious, and just what I want sometimes (when I'm not in the mood for an Americano or cafe au lait, which are much more my "everyday" coffee drinks). Peet's used to really be marvy because they kept soy milk (for my Americanos) out with the cream, but they have ceased to do that, so I'm back to having to ask for it at the bar. I don't like that as much. It makes me feel high maintenance to have to ask.
Note: I do realize that 3 of the 5 things so far have to do with beverages. I like beverages. I think--and do not freak out about this--that I would rather stop eating solid food than stop drinking fluids.
Five: Chelsea Handler. OK. I realize that she is actually a person that I like, and not so much a thing. I resisted for a long time. But I think she's really funny. I can't help it. And--this is weird--she and I are exactly the same age. Check this out: Drew Barrymore was born on February 22nd, 1975. I was born the next day. Chelsea Handler was born on the 25th. I find this totally bizarre. CH clearly seems older than me. They dress her real old and adult-like on that show, and she dates the president of E!, who is sort of old. Drew Barrymore--I don't know. I guess she seems older too. But it is hard to say when you are talking about someone who is crazy and went through rehab at 13. I was just barely getting through Drama I my freshman year of high school. (Ask Qwanty. She will confirm that I spent a lot of time in the "little theatre" staring off into space and crying.) My point is this, don't compare yourself to famous people who were born the same week you were. It starts to make you feel sort of weird and bad, but also glad that you are NOT famous and so, thus, no one cares if you wear your kitty jama bottoms and beat up Chucks to the grocery store at night.
Oh wait. Except that was not my point. My point was, Chelsea Handler is funny.
And my larger point is this: you may not have a job past March 18th, and you may have a condo in Austin that just refuses to sell, and you may be turning the UNGODLY age of 34 in less than a week, and the American economy may be a disaster, but you can still take pleasure in the small stuff.
One: Craft root beer. I am not a big soda drinker. And I grew up on diet sodas (literally--my mom drank Tab when I was very little, Pepsi Lite when I was in elementary school and the weirdly addicting Diet Coke since). So I just generally do not drink regular sugared sodas. HOWEVER. I make a special occasion exception for craft root beer. Henry's, on tap, is my favorite (although I know it is a little too sweet and too smooth--if in fact root beer can be too smooth!--for some). But I also like Mt. Angel. Those monks make some very tasty root beer. I do not, however, love craft root beer as much as this dude.
Two: Pilot G-2 Extra Fine Gel Pens. It isn't so much that these are my favorite pens ever (far from it), but they are ideal for grading. They come in a variety of colors beyond black, blue and red (none of which I like to use to grade with). I particularly like the purple and burgundy ones because I find them easy to read against the black and white. They are nice and fine, but don't clump. I think I went through about 5 of them last term alone. (And if any of you feel like bitchin' about how little I blog, think about all the writing I'm doing on student papers.)
Three: North. Since I have now been there the last 4 weekends (or so) in a row, I think I can call this "my new bar." North is unpretentious and small and neighborhood-y. You can put music on the jukebox for free, and they have Kenny Rogers. There is also a lot of Bruce Springsteen. The clientele is somewhat eclectic. Mikey J. likes to sit at the bar. This is ok by me. The one drawback is this older guy we've seen a couple of times who drinks wine and tries to listen in on our conversations and smirks at everything I say. I could do without that dude. However, last week I told Mike that I was ready to rumble with the guy if he gives me any more attitude. Mike said, "You are not prepared to rumble with that old guy." I said "seriously, I'm ready to take him down." Then Mike told me that this might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever said.
Four: Iced Lattes from Peet's. Here's the thing: I know that Peet's is a chain and all, but I had just given up ordering lattes anywhere. Everywhere I went it seemed like I was getting coffee-flavored milk. When actually what I wanted was coffee with a lot of milk in it. (See the important distinction?) Peet's lattes taste like milky coffee. That is delicious, and just what I want sometimes (when I'm not in the mood for an Americano or cafe au lait, which are much more my "everyday" coffee drinks). Peet's used to really be marvy because they kept soy milk (for my Americanos) out with the cream, but they have ceased to do that, so I'm back to having to ask for it at the bar. I don't like that as much. It makes me feel high maintenance to have to ask.
Note: I do realize that 3 of the 5 things so far have to do with beverages. I like beverages. I think--and do not freak out about this--that I would rather stop eating solid food than stop drinking fluids.
Five: Chelsea Handler. OK. I realize that she is actually a person that I like, and not so much a thing. I resisted for a long time. But I think she's really funny. I can't help it. And--this is weird--she and I are exactly the same age. Check this out: Drew Barrymore was born on February 22nd, 1975. I was born the next day. Chelsea Handler was born on the 25th. I find this totally bizarre. CH clearly seems older than me. They dress her real old and adult-like on that show, and she dates the president of E!, who is sort of old. Drew Barrymore--I don't know. I guess she seems older too. But it is hard to say when you are talking about someone who is crazy and went through rehab at 13. I was just barely getting through Drama I my freshman year of high school. (Ask Qwanty. She will confirm that I spent a lot of time in the "little theatre" staring off into space and crying.) My point is this, don't compare yourself to famous people who were born the same week you were. It starts to make you feel sort of weird and bad, but also glad that you are NOT famous and so, thus, no one cares if you wear your kitty jama bottoms and beat up Chucks to the grocery store at night.
Oh wait. Except that was not my point. My point was, Chelsea Handler is funny.
And my larger point is this: you may not have a job past March 18th, and you may have a condo in Austin that just refuses to sell, and you may be turning the UNGODLY age of 34 in less than a week, and the American economy may be a disaster, but you can still take pleasure in the small stuff.
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