laughing at work and a stadium visit

So as I was walking in from my car this morning, my grand-boss passed me in his minivan. When he saw me, he started waving like a maniac, which made me laugh. He tends to do that (make me laugh, that is), and it's so refreshing to work with someone like that.

As soon as he got in, he stopped by my office and said, "I was trying to be one of those happy morning people, but I think I just managed to hurt my shoulder. No more of that." Kidding around, of course.

Have I mentioned I adore working with this guy?

As a side note, I finally managed to make it into our stadium, after five years of living here. A few weeks ago, our intern (a football fan--or at least, a Nittany Lion fan) said she wanted to do a story about the stadium, wanted to go inside and see the parts most people don't see. So we did. I went with to shoot photos.

It's actually a little spooky when it's completely empty. But we poked our noses into the locker room, done in carpet and wood, and, I thought at least, exceptionally beautifully done. We saw the media room, the different clubs (one for former players, one that could be bought into), and the president's suite, as well as the club boxes, which are amazing. They have windows down the front that can be rolled up so you're virtually outside (but under cover, too), movie theatre-style seating, couch, mini-kitchen, etc. Pretty amazing amenities. I'd never realized how much that whole end works like a hotel--they even have a concierge on each floor.

We even went out onto the field, an experience that was probably pretty well wasted on me. Post-season, the marks are taken off the field, so it's just an expanse of grass surrounded by empty seating. There were some potential recruits also on the field with us, down at the other end--juniors in high school--that held impromptu races across the field. When I started taking pictures of them, the one guy that wasn't going to participate decided he had to, once he realized I was taking shots. Amusing, but probably won't gain him much fame, since not only did I not get their names, but the shot probably won't even make it into the feature. It's a pretty good shot, with one in full stride, perfect form, but the others kind of ruin it--two are in-process on their forward step, and their arms are down, so it looks like they're jogging at best, and the third (the one who snuck in at the last second) had kicked off his non-running shoes, so he's in his stocking feet on the grass, which looks a little odd. And, of course, they're all in jeans, just mucking about.

They were also really small for football players, all of them, but of course I realize they're just in high school, that they've still got time to grow. But from the time I tutored one of our linebackers and saw his pencil disappear in his grasp, their size has always impressed me. And it's reflected in the locker room--all the showerheads are way, way, high--as are the controls for them. Inconveniently high for me (and I don't consider myself short), but probably perfect for them.

That feature will probably go up at the end of the month in the student life section of our website, but the intern that wrote it heavily self-edited, I think, and understandably so--very few of the people that read these will ever see the inside of these boxes.

In any case, I know I never will again. Football: not my thing.

more snow

I left home this morning to find my car covered in snow, and snow still falling. Isn't it March that's supposed to be in like a lion, out like a lamb?

The sun's shining beautifully, even though it's below freezing and still snowing. On the drive in, the ridge beyond Mount Nittany was completely obscured by the clouds and snow. Checking my window now, though, it seems to be slowly moving on.

This next week is going to be more than a little bonkers, since I leave in a week for New Orleans and have way too much to do before then. Speaking of which, I should get on a few of those things. Maybe I'll report in from down there, where I sure hope I won't find more snow.

office wildlife

(editor's note: I know the photos below break my layout. I don't care. They're too good to crop down, in my humble opinion.)

Yesterday, as I walked in to the office, I noticed a large raptor hanging out in a tree near the back door, where I usually enter. After some hesitation, and pointing him/her out to someone else entering the building, I grabbed my camera.

I suspect the raptor in question is a relative of the one that hung out on the overhang while I took pictures from inside last spring sometime, but I can't be sure. I want to say they're both red-tailed hawks, but I haven't looked into it far enough to be certain.

Here's last year's visitor:


Here's this year's visitor (unfortunately backlit, so you can't see his/her markings that well):




S/he eventually tired of my clicking away below him/her, and flew off, leading to my favorite shot of the morning:

weather confusion

On Monday, we hit a record high for the day, at 76 degrees. Then yesterday, we had snow flurries that didn't just fall--they blew sideways. I woke up this morning to find a decent few inches of fluffy snow that I had to dig my car out of.

Couldn't it just pick one?

ice day 2

Left this morning to find that the ice accumulation from yesterday is still around. Amazing. And still beautiful, in places layers thick, and in others, melting in the sun. I'm hoping I can use lunch today (nothing else on the docket: my usual Friday yoga is on "break" and I have no packages to send or errands that have to be run--a near-miracle) to go take some pictures, but I suspect the sun may have taken care of it all by then.

Much in sunlight on the drive in was gone or currently dripping. The shadows, though, were full of white glistening. Spindly bushes became crystalline fragility. I imagined walking through them might cause a sudden in-unison shattering, fragments bursting upwards, glittering balefully as they fell. Many of the powerlines were layered thick, frozen mid-drip all along their lengths.

A colleague, walking in with me, also commented on this morning's beauty. I noticed the magnolia (I think?) next to the back steps had thick buds, all of them coated. I commented to her that every year, I see that happen and say that can't be good for the tree, but every year, the tree somehow survives it, so it can't be that bad for it either.

She laughed with me, then mentioned that I seemed to have my name back. Within the last week or so, I sent an office-wide email signed "Anne, the writer formerly known as Anna" as a bit of a joke. People I don't know very well in the office have been gently ribbing me about it ever since. But I figured, since the one I was most concerned about confusion with (since we had the same job description, team, many of the same meetings, and offices right next to each other) had just left, I might as well take it back. Not that the original switch had bothered me in any way, though at least one person has since confessed that it made him uncomfortable. But: so be it. That little stint/phase/whatever seems to be over anyway, though my boss continues to call me Anna, which somewhat puzzles me, though he did ask if that was okay first. The plaque on my desk still reads Anna, but that's the only remnant left. To folks outside the office that ask, I usually explain the old potential confusion, or just shrug and call them interchangeable to me. The Danish pronunciation of my name is closer to Anna than Anne anyway, so I had gotten used to it that way, at one time. So "interchangeable" is somewhat accurate, if not the whole story.

I listened to my newest mix on the way in, and I'm pretty satisfied. A few transitions need tightening up, but I'm much happier with it now that I've discovered why the original draft was giving me such deja vu: I had included a total of four songs from previous mixes, unknowingly--three from one disc alone. I guess that proves that I like those songs, but since the last mix suffered from being played-out in my mind, hopefully replacing those songs will help this disc avoid personal obsolescence.

Hopefully.

ice day

Today was one of those covered-in-ice days where being in your car is surreal. You glide past a hushed and ghostly world, fully encased in refractive, solid water.

These days fascinate me. I love seeing how things look in ice. The bowing of the trees under their weight. The dripping as things start to melt. As long as I can walk without worrying about slipping (and drive without worrying about sliding), I adore them.

I wish I'd gotten a chance to go out today during lunch with my camera, but unfortunately, my lunch was eaten by two publications coming back from the printer and needing to be proofread, and then phone duty thereafter, and then a meeting after that, and then a few things that needed to be fixed post haste on the website, and then it was too dark to bother.

Many of my days end up like that. But very few are so dangerously pretty to start with.

quick-like:

My boss has taken to calling me "Anna-banana." It's kind of disturbing to hear that out of your superior, when to you, that name is something your relatives called you when you were quite young.

Also: the avocado tree I've been growing in my office is now taller than me. Taller than me in my clogs. Probably taller than any of my friends, if I were to hazard a guess. And it finally decided to branch out: it's got three branches, and is still going up.

A colleague that rarely visits my office finally noticed it. Her immediate reaction: "Why do you have a tree in your office?" (said with no malice, just amazement). I mentally scrolled through: "because I have a tree in my office" (poking good-natured fun), "because I like it," and "because I can," before I arrived at "I grew it from a seed. I think it's neat to see how tall it'll get. I've got one at home, too, which isn't nearly as tall. I think they like the light better here." Much more politic, no less honest, but for some reason it made me feel like I was talking down to her. I hope it didn't sound that way, because I certainly didn't mean it like that.

birds, running around, and music

The birds are back. They were chirping for all they were worth outside my office window this morning--and more than just the usual crows, thankfully. While I'm used to their calls, they're not all that pleasant to listen to after awhile. I even saw a blue jay during my usual lunchtime running around.

It's been clear, sunny and cold for awhile now. Beautiful sunshine, but the wind is killer. It's snowed during the night the past couple of days, and some last week. Our neighbor even stopped by on Friday to thank us for shoveling her walk, which prompted me to do it again this morning, even pausing to knock most of the snow off of her vehicle's windows for the sun to melt the ice underneath. She keeps inviting me over to watch a movie or something after her daughter's asleep, but I've never really had the opportunity to take her up on it--my schedule's been pretty packed.

Did my usual running around at lunch today. In this particular instance, that constituted running home to add things to a couple packages for online friends, writing a quick check to my ring-supplier who I'm going to visit after work so I can get supplies to make more bracelets after being away from it for awhile (I noted today that supplies are getting expensive--I should think about selling a few online rather than gifting them so often), a quick bite since I know I'll be at the office a bit late tonight and I can't depend entirely upon the clementines and granola bars I have at my desk, then to the post office to send the packages off. Managed to cram that into an hour without a hitch.

I also have a second mix CD at work today--that is, my second in a week or so, which is notable since I haven't made a mix CD before this since--October? November? I can't remember. And it's funny how this got prompted by needing more space on my computer for pictures from Saturday's little shoot. I managed some of that space by cleaning out the files I was using to remind myself of what songs I wanted to put on the CD, once I'd finished both. When I started looking at them, having had the concept in my head for a few months and gathering material for that long, I realized I had more than enough for two discs, which is probably why they got spat out in quick succession. This second is just a draft, though, and I haven't even gotten to listening to it yet.

If you'd told me I'd be making mix CDs like the first in this little series a few years ago, I'd have told you that you were nuts, that I don't like stuff from the 80s. And that generally holds true. But I think Sunday nights have inured me to some of it. I can at least tolerate it in remixes, which is what that disc is chock-full of: remixes of a bunch of different 80s pop tunes, plus Gloria Gaynor, Elvis, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones and other random picks. Some are redone enough to be unrecognizable. But really, I still don't like some of it, or have gotten sick of certain songs after hearing them week after week. So that disc was mostly a bust for me. I only hope other friends I've passed it along to enjoy it more.

work changes

The other writer/editor in our office has taken a new job, leaving me to do the job of two, for the moment. I learned today that she will be replaced, which was up in the air for awhile. I'm hoping this will be a positive change, that the higher-ups will take this opportunity to further massage the difference in the two posts, but I fear that might not happen--I fear that far too much will depend on the applicant pool. And I desperately want someone who I'll enjoy working with in the position, which will make this an even more difficult search to be involved with.

I very much value the tech end of my job, but my boss seems to want to pull me away from that--and that's understandable, given the current circumstances. We have far too many more pure writing/editing projects for even the two of us to manage together.

This is all rather tangential. To get down to it, I'm finding work very stressful these days, even though not much has changed, practically speaking. I've taken on a few more things, sure, but it's manageable, I think. I got a quick speech from my boss today that basically comes down to him saying that I should be more flexible about working outside of our normal 8 to 5 hours, which frankly makes me balk. That's part of why I took a job like this. That's part of why I stopped teaching. I didn't want to have to take anything home with me anymore. It's not like I leave right at the dot of ending time, either: I was there until 6 tonight, for example. But I'm probably getting peeved over a rather minor point.

Tangential again. Not that I have a point, per se, other than updating folks on how things are over here at the moment. So I'm going to change the subject.

Have I ever mentioned that I generally hate television? Perhaps that's an overstatement. I don't hate television: I hate commercials. Loathe them. I understand they're part of the pop culture zeitgeist these days, but I really can't stand them. Even with the Replay TV here (it's like a Tivo, for those unfamiliar), having to skip them irritates me. If it were up to me, the only television I'd watch would be on DVD--thus, ad-free. Unfortunately, J. often leaves it on as background noise--and worse, doesn't always skip or mute the commercials. Not a fun time, in my book. Guess this means I can never be a full-fledged marketing goober, even though I'm tending that way in bits of my professional life.

Or at least, here's hoping.

rate this.

In brief: this article brings up Ratemyprofessor.com and Rateyourstudents.blogspot.com, which is essentially a backlash blog.

I've hated the idea of Ratemyprofessor since I heard about it when I was teaching. I understand its use, but I also understands its abuse. Luckily, I've never made the site, but some of my former colleagues have. Surfing through those reviews, I found them to be relatively accurate--even a few that were insightful.

I have stumbled upon one review of my teaching elsewhere, and found it flattering. Chris, an old student of mine, was in another English class in which he had to write and post a wiki. That wiki has since been taken down, but he had this to say to elucidate his attitude towards his current class by referencing mine (parenthetical initials/names are my replacements, for minor identity protection purposes):

I consider the 'u' arrangement to be a case of coping with inadequacy. The type of class that we seem to be attempting towards is a discussion, rather than lecture-based learning environment. In the past I've had some amazing classes, and this class certainly has the potential to be one of them. Those amazing classes were both conducted in the discussion style, and always in-the-round (thanks to copious and daily rearrangement of available seating, similar to what we deal with now. In particular they were engl 202b (go figure, I was dreading taking it) and cmlit 401, and actually rlst 83 now that I think way back. The instructors maintained a presence and directed the functioning of the classroom, but were otherwise on the same level and same position as the rest of us. In fact in cmlit, (S. U.) made a point of changing where he sat every day. In engl (A.) only gave input or prompted us when necessary, or she had something particularly worth mentioning. Otherwise the students enlightened and inspired each other very nicely without any help. It's amazing what you can learn from MANY peers, questioning, illuminating, and conversing WITH you, rather than someONE lecturing AT you. My point (or something like it): when I come to our class, I see a roomful of very bright, contemplative, and engaging people, who all have something worth sharing (whether or not they share it). Our particular classroom will unfortunately not allow for such versatility, but in my personal experience, the learning CIRCLE can be infinitely beneficial to all participants, and conducive to the atmosphere I'm trying to describe. When everyone can look into each other's eyes, without strain or even intent, there is a sort of forced involvement that no other seating possibility can duplicate. We feel obliged to participate. Aside from the three mentioned above, I've had other discussion courses conducted in the not-so-round. They were fine, but nothing close to their potential. The 'u' could be worse, however we are still, by precisely 2 right angles, only coping with inadequacy...

While I'm flattered by what he had to say about me, the review of the class he was currently in made me somewhat uncomfortable. Inadequacy? Why didn't he clarify, to explain his position?

This mini-review wasn't really my original point, though. My point was that faculty and instructors are generally worked hard, with far too many sections for the amount of other work they have to do (or just far too many sections in the first place). It's difficult to see yourself rated this way, name in full view, and commentary attached, when you probably believe that you did the best job that you possibly could have. While Ratemyprofessor.com may have encouraged at least one instructor to change their teaching style, my suspicion is that it discouraged far more of them. And a disheartened and uninspired instructor is far worse than one that is earnest, if misguided.

how to make a blog post, part 1

There's a rather complicated set of circumstances that has to occur before one of these posts gets made. I have to have:

1. A subject, and a reason to post about that subject.
2. Composing time, mental.
3. Composing time, physical (actually typing it up).
4. A lack of other, more pressing matters.

Subject's easy enough. Even mental composing time's not too much of a problem. I compose in my head constantly, whether in the form of blog posts or otherwise. But there's an amazing percentage of subjects--even mentally composed pieces--that never make it to any solid form. Usually that's due to number four. I have a ton of obligations, most of which I went into voluntarily, and sometimes they become a bit much.

And I know many of the voluntary obligations could be put aside momentarily, but usually not without disappointing someone. And I hate disappointing people.

So I go short on some of them, some of the time. Or I short my friends. But the pinch occurs somewhere. And I don't like that either. But I also don't want to let go of any of what I'm involved in.

I think I thrive when I'm busy. At least, I can say that I've been pretty happy for awhile now, and I've been pretty insanely busy for most of that time. So it basically comes down to being a balance between doing stuff and not going nuts trying to accomplish all of the stuff I'm committed to. Finding a way to define and/or manage that is rough, though. But so is letting people down. But there's got to be a way. And there is, I suppose, since I don't think I'm doing too badly thus far.

holiday review

I have Dresden Dolls' "Coin-Operated Boy" stuck in my head this morning. Which is really not such a bad thing. It's been warm around here for what seems like ages--steady 40s, though it's supposed to reach 58 on Friday. Ridiculous for mid-January, but again, I'm not complaining.

T. and I walked in this morning beneath a murder of crows, though T. was "almost afraid to walk under them, with my luck." A woman from another office who we walked in with mentioned that it was like being on an old movie set, and she and I said The Birds in unison. Strange. They've flown on, though--otherwise I'd be hearing them outside my window even now.

Since I last posted, I went on a bit of a whirlwind holiday tour to Wisconsin and Dad’s house. A quiet Christmas Eve with traditional Danish fliskesteg (coincidentally, before I arrived, I was just thinking about how we used to have that each Christmas Eve, before my aunt passed away--it was nice to return to at least one tradition like that) dinner in front of White Christmas, which B. wanted to finish watching. Gifts after dinner (some received either then or later quite lovely ones--thank you both), semi-rushed because B. wanted to go to Christmas Eve services. Dad declined since he’d fallen on some ice the day before, and was getting twinges from it still that made him gasp if he moved the wrong way. He said he didn’t want to sound like he had Tourette’s during a prayer. Which was just fine with me, frankly. I don't know if it was the time change or what--I mean, one hour should not be a big deal--but I was tired pretty early each evening there.

Then a manic Christmas day with B’s family. Six of the seven siblings and all their respective partners and children, plus one extended family member (B’s sister’s partner’s niece) and the resident dog all hung out in the basement to open presents and then moved to the living room, set with an extremely long table, for Christmas dinner, which our hosts had chosen to be an Italian-style dinner. A proper antipasto course with beautiful cheeses, followed by a minestrone soup, then the main course of lasagne and spudini, followed by dessert of tiramisu, cookies, hazelnut-cream centered chocolates, and the Swedish desserts that I love that my Dad picked up for us. Somehow I managed to out-food E. (one of our hosts) by appreciating the garlic cloves (by themselves) that came in the middle of the olives, and the green rum-filled desserts that Dad brought. Evidently the rum and the garlic were a bit much for him (though they weren’t in combination, of course).

The next day started with a tour of the area with my Dad, who showed me everything that had changed in town while I’d been gone—they’re doing some impressive conservancy work, as well as new development, of course. One of the springs that runs into the lake has gotten weeded of all its invasive species and more native species introduced—a ridiculous number in the thousands of different varieties that Dad had told me but I’ve since forgotten. I also managed to finagle a tour of the waste treatment plant there--something I've been mildly curious about, strangely enough. Curiosity now (mostly) satisfied.

This blog came up in conversation more than once, which I found a rather strange experience--as is this sort of meta-blogging. That is, talking about the blog on the blog. But B. and Dad emphasized that they read me here, which I appreciate, and that they read the comments--no pressure, other J. Though B. does have one of your comments printed out and in her purse. Really, no pressure to be articulate there. Just teasing, of course.

Speaking of writing about the blog on the blog, I changed some links on the side here, adding Google Maps, which is extra-useful--try looking up your own area there, then zoom in some and click "satellite" on the right. The satellite might not give you too much detail, but it's kind of neat anyway. I'm still amused at how much golf courses show up from space. And I added Salon, where I pick up news occasionally (but mostly opinion). As for the "other blogs" section: Bérubé is a professor in our English department here, and I find him pretty interesting. Marty and Will are old college friends, added mostly because I didn't think they'd mind being linked (and it makes it easier for me to find them, too). If anybody else reading this wants a link, just say the word--and then I'll think about it.

Kidding.

Also debating putting an email listserv on this thing--basically, you'd get an email from me letting you know when I put something up here. A couple other gals I've known forever online do or used to do this, and it does seem logical. It also seems the nice thing to do since I post so intermittently. I'll keep you posted on that tip.

holiday rush

Ah, the holiday rush season. When there aren't enough hours in the day. When the weather turns just nasty enough for you to not want to go out and brave the slush or ice and wind chill.

Thankfully, I'm pretty close to done.

It was 1 degree when I pulled into the office parking lot this morning. 1. No wind chill, just 1. I had left my office window a crack overnight, and it froze a few branches of my kalanchoe solid. Solid. I couldn't even bend the stem or the leaves. I clipped it and tossed the affected sections--this had happened before, to another branch, but it had thawed by the time I reached the office, and left a bedraggled, very sad-looking limp branch behind. Not this time. Thankfully, my kalanchoe is quite healthy--not overgrown, by any stretch, but could stand to lose a few branches around the outside.

I leave a window cracked because I've got a very long, narrow office. I've got three windows rather than the usual two, and a very long bank of heater right below the windows. So in such a long, narrow office, I've got tons of heat source and nowhere for it to go. It builds up in my office and gets really, really warm. Thus, I usually have a window open in the winter.

I realized this morning that I multitask to an absurd degree. I realized this while I was watering my plants, blowdrying my hair, and brushing my teeth at the same time. I think that sums it up right there.

In other news, my office avocado tree is almost as tall as me. It comes up to eye level on me, and its pot isn't even very high. The one at home, on the other hand, has decided to grow out instead of up. It's got two branches that are threatening my walking space from bed to bathroom. I wonder how the one I gave Dax (last year at this time? the year before?) is doing: I haven't seen it since he brought it inside for the winter. And if I haven't told you my coleus story yet, I should really do so. But enough plant-y ramblings for today.

Oh! I also brought the fountain that B. gave me in college to the office, finally (no readily available space for it at home). I've run into some technical problems, though, so although I've got it set up and water in it, it's not running as of yet. We'll see if I have time to take a look at what's wrong before the holidays really hit.

blustery

Little hiccups are getting in my way this morning. I left the house without my lunch (leftover yams from Saturday's Orphan's Thanksgiving) and the CD I wanted to listen to. I have the little fountain I dug out of storage (nowhere in the apartment for it) to take to my office (the white noise might help distract me from the other noises that comes through the thin walls), but no distilled water for it (our hard water would gunk it up but good). Though my sickly symptoms have receded, I'm still getting moments of losing my voice, and the lymph node swelling hasn't gone away entirely. Even my writing style this morning seems a bit hiccup-y (though I blame that on the parenthetical remarks). All in all, kind of a growl-worthy start. Nothing major--just enough to irk me.

Nevertheless, it's a strangely pleasant morning out there. I walked out and thought it was spring already. When I passed the Bryce Jordan Center, the marquee read 62 degrees. But it's windy--really windy. Push-your-car-off-course windy. Grey, overcast, and wet from yesterday's rain, it doesn't look like a pleasant morning, but somehow it manages.

verge of sick

I've been sitting on the verge of sick for most of this week. I say "the verge of," because if I'm actually sick, it isn't that bad.

On Monday I noticed one of my lymph nodes was getting sore. Just one. Then I remembered that I'd woken up with a little bit of a sore throat the day before. After work, I decided to take a nap. I went to bed at five and had no trouble sleeping until seven a.m. the next day, when I had to get up for work. Fourteen hours in all.

Since then, I've been sleeping pretty normal, around-the-eight-hour-mark nights. The one sore lymph node migrated into the other. The good news is that the original isn't swollen too much anymore. The bad news is that the other has taken its place.

Other than those symptoms, I'm not noticing much amiss. My energy's fine, concentration's intact, I don't feel woozy or sluggish. The thing that irks me most is that I let this get in the way of my usual exercise regimen, such as it is. I figured my body needs the energy to fight off this whatever-it-is. Now I'm wondering how long this will last, and if I'll be able to pick up my regimen again without a problem.

J. suggested I might have the flu. I don't remember ever having the flu before this except possibly once in my sophomore year of college--but in that case, it was either the stomach flu or a minor case of food poisoning. Nothing like this. So I have nothing to compare to. If I do have the flu, the good news is that it's minor, and I'll get over it eventually (at least I'm crossing my fingers that I will), and that then I'll be immune to this strain. The bad news is that it feels like it's taking forever to run through my system, though I know it's only been a few days.

I also worry about spreading it around the office. Sure, I wash my hands as much as humanly possible, try to avoid touching my nose and mouth, never touch doors with my hands, all that nonsense. But the attitude around the office toward being sick is nothing short of bipolar. My direct boss takes pride in working even if he's really ill. As long as he can make it to the car, he comes in. My grandboss seems to be much more of the school of "if you think you can pass it around, don't." And one of the other folks on my boss's level on our team has the same theory, and has in the past urged me not to come in when I'm feeling at all ill. I found this out after I'd gotten really knocked-out sick just after I started this job (and came in anyway). Amazingly sick. I hadn't been that sick in years (and at the time, I didn't even keep a can of chicken noodle soup around the house--silly me). At the time, I blamed it on the students returning for spring semester, having brought all their ailments from all the different corners of the globe. This time, I've got no such excuse.

I have no patience for this kind of sick. When I'm really sick, I have no problem with staying in bed or on the couch, eating chicken noodle soup and drinking therapeutic hot teas. I get some reading or DVD watching done. I surf the Web. Oh, the horror. With this kind of sick, I feel like I barely have an excuse to take care of myself, because I mean, come on, it's not like I'm really sick. All I can do is stay home (which itself kind of feels like a punishment), bundle up in flannel pj's, a sweater, my trusty sheepskin slippers and then wrap myself in a down blanket and take it easy. But then I feel like I'm slacking. Have I mentioned that I feel the need to multitask constantly? A discussion for another time, perhaps.

But really, at this point, I'm split between just get sick already and get over it. Let's hope the latter wins out.

the beginning of winter

So, on Monday, when it was beautiful and warm enough to wander around without a coat on, C. (a co-worker) warned me that winter was about to start.

On Thursday (today). I thought he was kidding.

He wasn't kidding.

When I walked out to my car, it was snowing. When I walked into my office, it was snowing. Walking around campus during the day, the air was cold enough to make my lungs hurt. When I walked back to my car after work, it was exactly 32 degrees Fahrenheit, without taking into account the wind.

Winter has arrived, kids.

It's days like these when I wonder why I haven't moved to warmer climes.

of apples and bypasses

I'm munching on a Corland apple for lunch today. This weekend at the grocery store, I noticed my beloved Nittany apples weren't in their usual spot, and suddenly feared losing them altogether, so figured I should probably branch out now, while I have the chance. I'm finding the Corlands to be a bit too soft for my tastes. But sweet, which is good. I thought the Nittanys were local, which is why I first picked them up--I prefer to buy local if it's convenient, which is why I love the concept of Stone Soup. Unfortunately, Stone Soup's not always convenient for grocery shopping, nor do they always have the produce I commonly eat. Upon a quick Google search, though, I find out that the Nittany apple is actually grown in New York, usually, and is a hybrid combining Golden Delicious and York. Whatever they are, Nittanys make excellent apples: crisp, clean, and sweet.

I ran to Lemont again a few minutes ago to mail off another little package: a small gift based on the spoon theory, which I'll go into in more detail here later (if I remember). It occurred to me then how well I know the area and how many methods I know to get to wherever I'm going around here. I love getting to that point when living somewhere long enough. Here, though, I can mark it in periods: pre-bypass and post-bypass, and pre-Blue Course Drive extension and post-.

When I got here, Atherton (Route 322) was the main drag through town. Moreover, it was the only drag all the way through town. There was literally no option if you wanted to go from the north part of town to the south part of town, or vice versa (despite 322 running east/west). During this time, I learned all the little back-alley ways to cheat that (Corl Street, for example--which has since been closed, I believe, for the part that actually connects it all the way through the south stretch, though it had always been closed in winter, since it wasn't maintained for snow). I learned to cut through Lemont to get to the mall or Bellefonte, which is also how I discovered the post office out there, which nowadays is much more convenient for me to hit up during my lunch hour, since the State College post office usually has huge lines and is downtown, so traffic can be a bit irritating.

I have my friends to thank for these tricks, and I'm thankful I made them so quickly, and that they were native, having lived here a long time (as opposed to the transient student population). I'm also thankful (though wasn't, necessarily, at the time) that one of those early-made friends lived outside State College, so I got to see more than just the immediate area.

Then the 322 bypass was finished, and sure is helpful. You can now get from the north side to downtown much more quickly, and getting to I-80 to go anywhere outside the state is also much more simple now. Then the Blue Course Drive extension was completed, giving folks a route around the other side, going north/south. Also extremely helpful. Both of these relieved some of the Atherton congestion.

I have to say, though, that I'm thankful I lived here previous to both projects. I would've never discovered so much around the area otherwise.

Nor could I get places as fast as I do now.

deer

This morning on my usual drive, the car in front of me slowed almost to a stop right after having passed through Toftrees, but before passing the mansion. There's forest (or at least part of one) on either side of the road right there, but at first I thought the person was slowing down because of the speed limit. True, that section's a downgrade, and it's easy to speed accidentally, but that kind of slowing was ridiculous, I thought.

Then I saw the deer bounding into the forest in front of the car. Nice catch, I thought, and proceeded forward slowly after it did.

The one place I've hit a deer wasn't too far away, both distance-wise and time-of-the-year-wise. If my next turn had been left toward the airport instead of right toward campus, I would've been headed in the right direction on the same curvy backwoods highway it first happened on.

It was Halloween a few years ago, if I remember correctly. L. was in the car with me, dressed up as a Flemish nobleman. I don't remember if I'd gotten dressed up yet or not. We were on our way to pick up J. from the airport, after some conference of his. I was cruising fast around a corner, and saw it standing stock still in the headlights. I slowed fast, but still bumped it head-on going around 30-35, if I were to guess.

It was a young one, and I'd thankfully bumped it off the road. I stopped, put my flashers on, made sure L. and I were both all right, got out, looked at it--still moving, though barely--looked at my car, couldn't see any dents in the dark, and tried to figure out what to do--all while adrenaline was coursing through my system like mad. In the meantime, an older car cruised to a stop a few yards in front of me. A man got out, and came back to talk to us, to make sure we were all right. Once he ascertained the reason we were stopped, his questions turned toward the "are you going to call anyone?" and "are you going to report this to your insurance?" variety. I couldn't figure out why he was asking these things until he asked if we minded if he took the deer.

The guy wanted the meat. After some bantering, including debate about whether or not it was dead and him providing me with his phone number in case I wanted a cut, he picked up the young deer (I was struck with the fact that there was no blood, just dead deer) and slung it on top of his trunk (as if he'd done this sort of thing before), then drove away slowly. L. and I looked at each other. For me, it took a few beats before I grasped the absurdity of the situation. I still shake my head about it.

So I'm left with a minor divot in my hood that most people don't notice unless they're really looking (which is why I couldn't see it in the dark), and a story, though a relatively short and not especially exciting one, at that.

another day, another drive

Another gorgeous drive this morning. Dark clouds dominated the landscape, except for one break that hit the rise of mountains I was heading towards (and then traveling next to) this morning. The mansion I pass on the drive had sunlight slanting into it, hard. Mount Nittany was in shadow, though, as it's on the opposite side of the valley--the sun usually peeks over a mountain right next to it in the morning. I should really learn the name of the range on the opposite side. I've lived here, what? Four and a half years, and I still don't know the names in local geography as well as I should. Though few people, other than hikers, really know those names, I don't think. Nor do they come up often in conversation.

I listened to 90s punk on the way in today. Better than five cups of coffee in the morning. Though I haven't tried it, I wonder if some Thelonious Monk might work as well--but differently, of course. Then again, that may just cause me to be a little off-rhythm all day.

I think I'm going a little too fast for my co-workers at this hour. Hopefully, after their coffee, they'll catch up to me. Though I rarely have trouble getting up to speed in the morning, and I don't drink coffee. I don't even drink tea regularly, though I have tons of it in my office. Well, tons probably isn't the right word. I've got a selection of at least six off the top of my head, though. I'd say I should get back to drinking it, but I've never really liked having caffeine in my system--nor do I like seeing the effects of not having it once you're dependent on it (headaches for no good reason other than not having had caffeine are not pretty). Nor do I usually have any trouble getting up and moving in the morning, thankfully. It's sustaining it through the normal afternoon dip that's a challenge. I'm optimistic about today, though. I feel like I've gotten enough sleep, for once.

scent memory

This morning, while walking from my car to my building, I caught a whiff of Denmark.

I'm not kidding.

While I lived there, for part of the time I lived near a gelatin factory out in the country. The smells that came out of that place were fascinating: rotting fish and orange peel (which I found not as unpleasant as it sounds), and this tinge that doesn't smell quite like anything else, but other things sometimes smell just a little bit like it--enough to bring it to mind. That happened not half an hour ago.

My aunt (who was born in Denmark, as was my Dad) asked me after I got back if I missed the smell. She said the smell there is different than here, and she was right. I imagine it has something to do with the land being surrounded by water so closely (we all lived on Sjælland, one of Denmark's many islands, during our separate times there). I'm sure, though, that the Denmark she had in her scent memory is different than the one I have in mine--the time we spent there was separated by about fifty years, and even though Denmark is quite environmentally conscious, I'm certain development had an effect on air quality. At the same time, I'm reassured by that connection to her: that I recognized something in her land of birth that she remembered, and missed.

Shortly after she passed away, I moved here. In the early days here, I kept smelling her perfume, with no discernable reason for it to be in the area. She wore Pheremone, I believe, exclusively. I kept catching whiffs of it in hallways and stairwells across campus, once very powerfully in the stairwell of the building my office was in. I made an entry about it at the time, and someone commented that it seemed like I was being haunted by her. But I know now that wasn't the case--she would never do that, not in the way that most people think of haunting, anyway. Yes, she was in my mind a lot (still is), and yes, there were things left unresolved that make me sad even now, but she wouldn't deliberately haunt me. Though if anyone could, I'd believe she could. She was that sort--spiritual, connected, but ultimately practical. I'd believe that she'd hover, observe, sometimes take a gentle step to help (which sometimes I believe she has), but not haunt, not like all that's come to mean.

I miss her.

Outside this morning, trying to pin down the scent that evoked the memory, I drew in deeply, and though it still niggled at my mind, couldn't find it again. It had left as quickly as it had arrived, escaping me entirely. But I'm still dwelling on it, and all it had brought to mind.

There's so much I miss, but I'm also so glad for all I have. (Yes, I mean you, Dad, among many other things and people. I wish I could give you a hug right now. Much love. -A.)

not sneezing, snowing

The sneezing I mentioned yesterday turned to snow, proper. It snowed most of the day, though it had calmed down by the time I left work at six o'clock last night. Evidently, Hurricane Wilma (yes, that's Wilma, with a W. We've already had a Tropical Storm Alpha--that means they ran through almost the entire alphabet [they leave out the difficult naming letters, otherwise every hurricane when we went that far would be named Xavier] and came all the way back to the front) decided to join forces and give us some remarkably unseasonable weather, dubbed "SuperStorm 2005" by AccuWeather, though it wasn't so Super. From the forecast I linked above, I assumed today would be just as bad, if not worse, so I bundled up before heading out this morning. Sweater, trusty toggle/duffle coat, etc--expecting that I'd have to brush off my car and all. I walked out into a bright, surprisingly warm morning, the sun coming up at an angle under low, dark clouds.

The snow had almost entirely melted around my place, except for little bits near curbs and the edges of our lawn. Driving in, there was still snow atop The Village at Penn State (more info), but anyplace the sun had touched was bare. Most of the drive, I was entertained by watching the waving of a little yellow leaf stuck in the remnants of the snow under my windshield wipers.

On campus, the sun (just peeking over Mount Nittany) reflected off the all-glass newest expansion to Beaver Stadium. I tried to get a quick shot of it while I was in line at the three-way stop, but my camera battery died at an inopportune moment.

The field hockey/lacrosse field that I can see from my office window is still pretty well covered in snow, though it's melting rapidly. Work's getting steadily accomplished in between typing sentences in this thing, though some of it's on hold due to me having to babysit my phone for the next few hours (phone duty, you know). Today's another pumpkin-scented day, though I'm feeling more parenthetical today than yesterday (I think).

sneezing

It's sneezing out there. No, seriously. It's not sleet, it's not snow. It's not quite freezing, either. It's sneeze.

It's snow (sort of) until it hits the windshield and melts, or until it hits the ground and turns into rainpuddle.

J. wants me to take a picture of Mount Nittany in fog. I've seen so many variations of that lately, but none that are photo-worthy. It's always been raining (doesn't make for a clear shot), or I've been late to work and didn't have time to go to a good spot to shoot it from.

Nor have I really found the right vista from which to take it, although the new Outreach Building out at Innovation Park has a fantastic view from the third floor conference room, I found out on Friday. We were kind of doing a preliminary meeting (hour and a half long, and we didn't even finish what all we could have covered) to see if we might be able to share info/knowledge about how to/what we're doing online. I found it useful, but I'm not sure the rest of the team did.

In any case. I'm at work, getting stuff done (well, not right now, but soon), I smell like pumpkin (thanks to Bath and Body Works' Pumpkin Body Butter and one of the Pumpkin Patches from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab), and all is right with the world. Other than the major sneezing going on outside.

prelude to winter

Today belonged in the middle of winter somewhere. I'm sure its spirit was there, somehow. All day, a low, grey blanket of clouds covered the area, barely letting a wan half-light through.

I woke to little light outside. I drove back in similar dimness. My usual corner of campus was quiet.

I blame the weather.

changes in the Valley

On the way out to see Serenity, the clouds were hanging so low that Mount Nittany was mostly obscured. That sounds impressive until you note that our mountains aren't really all that high--it's just that the clouds were really that low.

The leaves are starting to turn. Most of the valley has at least brushes of yellow and orange, though the color hasn't started climbing the mountains yet.

There was one car in the parking lot when I arrived at about ten to noon. Just call it a quiet morning in Happy Valley. Quiet because most are probably sleeping in after last night's important win against Ohio State.

Most of the time State College's football habit is just a source of background noise to me. This year, due to excited co-workers (and a much better record than we've had in years), the noise is much more clear. And I have to admit it's kind of cool. An old student of mine made the partially game-winning last sack, cited by ESPN as the "It was over when . . ." of the game. For example.

But on the way back home last night, around midnight, I saw the glow of the stadium against the low-lying clouds and all I could think was "light pollution." So I suppose that football fever hasn't really caught me, quite.

On the way back from the movie today, the clouds had lifted some. The top of Mount Nittany was visible again, and things still seemed quiet. Happy Valley's sleeping extra late.

Lucky

I'm tired, and should be in bed by now. But I know I haven't written here in awhile, and I have a few things I wanted to note.

Preparing to, and then actually visiting A. in New York City, as well as trying to catch up on all I've missed while I was away, has been a bit taxing. I think I've finally managed it, though.

Right now, I feel very lucky. I'm in a good space, but so much not-as-good to downright bad is going on around me that I don't feel like I deserve it.

Frankly, Hurricane Katrina kicked this off. I've got a friend (who started off as an Internet acquaintance, but we did meet once in person, and I do consider him a friend by now) who had just moved to New Orleans. Luckily (though he might argue this one), he was out of town at the time, and, for that matter, had moved into an area that escaped relatively unscathed.

Then it got even more personal. My cousin's oldest daughter--a mere 13-year-old, by memory--started getting migraines. They eventually took her in and did an MRI, which found something (undefined, of course). They decided to do a biopsy, which happened recently. During that procedure, they figured out that her optical nerve and her pituitary gland were both twice the size that they should be. She has since gone blind in one eye. The decision of what to do and the results of the biopsy should be in this week, I'd expect. If you have spare good vibes to send, she could use them.

Tonight, I learned that a gaming bud's house burned down about a week ago, taking his car with it. You can actually see his car burning in the background of the picture here. He was on the first floor, and got out relatively easily, luckily.

Then the earthquake in Pakistan caught my attention. I know these things happen all the time--from the fire effecting only a few people to the gigantic tragedies--but it hits me no less, sometimes. I'm very glad to be happy, warm, safe, and sound. Just a bit ago, I emailed a friend from college back and explained a bit about my job. I may repost that here, just to give folks a bit of a reference point. Right now, though, I'm going to sleep, so that I can hopefully catch up with some local friends for a noon showing of Serenity.

It's the small things.

school counselors and professionalism

Having just taken a call, I have to just drop a quick note here to say that in general, I love dealing with high school counselors. They're direct, they know what they want, and can quickly get to whatever it is. They understand the situation: generally, admissions counselors don't make the rules--someone higher on the chain does. It's also nice to be able to speak plainly, without having to worry about disappointing the person on the phone. It's also helpful that most of the time, I've got nothing for them but additional encouragement. It may not be what the student really wants to hear, but it's nice to be able to counsel many options, rather than just "no," and nice to do so in a professional fashion, rather than deal with the emotional that many students and parents get (understandably, given the enormity of a college decision, of course).

Also, in campus news today, a black bear was found in the heart of campus around 2 a.m.

I almost left the house with my slippers still on this morning.

I caught myself stepping out the door with them, shook my head at myself, and stepped back in to switch over to my Børn dress shoes (which I need to polish up some), which my Dad bought for me. My summery dress Børn, mind, not this pair of Børn (also bought for me by my Dad, by the by--among the reasons I love him is that he keeps me in Danish shoes).

I took a bath right before I went to bed last night, and I feel much better for it--yesterday was a long day with a late meeting. I didn't get home until almost seven, although I stopped on the way home at Target and Wegman's. That bath, though, resulted in a feeling of extreme softness this morning--so extreme that it makes me feel vulnerable. But good, and that's the important part, I guess. More balanced, at the very least. More ready for what the day has in store.

That bath also meant I could read more of The Emperor of Scent, and follow Luca Turin's footsteps further. I've caught up with him in real time, so to speak: I've found and also been following his blog. The way the author of the book (not the blog, although Turin has a similar artistry with words) describes complex science and theory using metaphor really makes me think that I would've learned much more in the realm of science if I'd only had teachers that could use that sort of method. The usual mode just never grabbed me like this does. I'd hesitate to call it a page-turner, because it's not that sort of book, but it's certainly interesting enough to stick with (and having started and abandoned lots of books in the last few years, that's saying something).

So I drove to work, wrapped in my long black sweater because it was really nippy yesterday morning, although this morning wasn't as bad. But that sweater is cozy. And on the way, I saw the second hot air balloon aloft that I've seen this week, and the third this month. It was cruising toward campus with me. I took some shots of it while I was at stop lights and signs and such, a few of which were taken from almost right underneath it. I may be able to post these later.

I'm on phones for a couple hours this morning starting at 8, so I'd best switch gears. Although it's been relatively quiet on duty for us counselors, that'll change next month, and increase as the months pass, before settling down some in spring. I've also got a web project going up in two days that I need to get cracking on, so I'd best put the time toward that if I have it.

I feel parenthetical this morning. Need to quash that before I get on with it.

Hi Dad!

Dad just called a bit ago to tell me he'd read through this whole thing. And liked it, which was rather gratifying. He said that it was good to learn some of the things I'd written up here. I frankly hadn't realized--or rather, had forgotten--how much I do reveal here. It's also nice to know that I'm not just talking into a void. So now I've got, what, two people following along? Speak up, if there are others. I like to know who's tagging along for the ride.

Because this entertains me: last Friday, walking back from dinner at Outback, J. kicked a flower right off at the stem. I complained at him, so he bent over and gave it to me, claiming that's what he meant to do (yeah, right). Silly plant-lover that I am, I took it home and stuck it in the water glass I had at my desk. It kept blooming, and one of the other buds started opening. By now, the original bloom has died, crumpling in on itself, and yesterday or the day before, I was tempted to pitch it. Instead I decided to just add water, and lo and behold, the other bud has continued to open. Brilliant! As a side note, my avocado plants, planted about a year or so ago, are both well on their way to becoming trees. The one in my room is growing up and out in three branches, and the one in my office is just going straight up, although both are leaning pretty horrendously toward the light. I love coaxing flowers/plants to do their thing.

Silly J. Fear my green thumb! (which only sometimes works, of course, but it's neat when it does!)

Photo graphy (space intentional)

I'm thinking of adding some photo- graphy here, perhaps from my old macro set (a year-long project I still adore).

If you'd like to see more, comment quickly, before I end up deleting this post entirely.

Much love.

Because I'm in that sort of a mood.

- Anne

weekend update

Posting while my brain's still spinning up for the day, so please forgive the near-list format.

Just finished my breakfast of blueberries and put another load of laundry in. Watched an episode of "How it's Made" on the Science channel explaining the growing of mushrooms and the making of gold rings (J.'s watching it--I virtually never watch TV on my own). Way more education than I'm used to in about the first half hour after I've awoken properly for the day.

That's right. I got up at 1 p.m. I was also up until 2:30 a.m. Not doing anything exciting, mind you, but working on various projects--of which I've got far too many. Last night's was weeding out my collection of magazine clippings. Those I would've tossed went to L., who I assume will put them to good artistic use (because he's good at that sort of thing). He'll be getting more and more as I go through them. He already carried a couple pounds with him back to his car last night, which was parked about a half mile away. Silly L.

This sleep-in is remarkable because for a good couple months, I haven't been able to sleep past 11 on Sundays, often getting up at 8 or 9, which irked me to no end considering that I often stay up until 2:30 or later the night before. I blame it on the fact that I would wake up, and the things I had to do that day would be running through my head, until I gave up and got up and started doing them. With an extra day (Labor Day) in which to do things, my brain didn't torture me too much this morning, although I did go out at around 10 and rang our neighbor's doorbell, to ask if she could keep the six five-year-olds upstairs on a sleep-over from running and jumping on something directly above my head as I was trying to get back to sleep.

And in this case, I feel I was justified. I'm sick. Properly so, although I suspected at first it was just the usual runny nose that accompanies the shift to fall (and thus my allergies kicking in). Not the case. Instead of going to what would have been my first tailgate ever (surprising, perhaps, given where I live), hosted and attended by colleagues at the Admissions office, I went to the doctor and got antibiotics for what she said (wonderful doctor, by the way, but unfortunately her usual practice is way out of my way--she just happened to be in my usual clinic to cover a Saturday) was a sinus infection. And if I didn't think so beforehand, I definitely know so now. I won't go into details, though. It wouldn't be pretty.

In the shower, I listened to Joy Division's Permanent, which has been in my CD player in the bathroom for awhile now. Which may say something, but not as much when you consider that I only listen to that stereo on the weekends, when I know I won't wake the roomie with the volume. I often forget, until I listen to that album again, that Joy Division first did "Dead Souls." I will forever associate that song with The Crow. Random thanks to R. for introducing me to that soundtrack in high school, before I'd ever seen the movie or, for that matter, thought that goth was cool.

In the car, I've got the new Conjure One CD, which I'm a little disappointed with. They strayed away from the exotic tone of their last album, which is what I enjoyed about it most. On the good side, I'm pretty sure Poe is back doing at least one vocal, although she's not credited anywhere in the liner notes. But I'm enjoying most of it.

On the text end, I just finished National Geographic's Perfume: The Art and Science of Scent, and I'm moving on to The Emperor of Scent : A Story of Perfume, Obsession, and the Last Mystery of the Senses, two very different books, though both handle on the same subject, and both are wonderfully written. And that subject, of course, is oh-so-appropriate right now, given that I can't smell a damn thing.

I've decided that I'm going to decorate my bathroom in CDs, after finding a hanging holder that displays them rather nicely (cheaply, but nicely) at Target. I hope to go back and find more of them, since I only bought one. Off to go do so.

soup

Can I just rave about soup for a moment?

Lunch today: Tuesday's leftover wild rice soup from Stone Soup. Still incredible, even reheated.

Dinner tonight: fresh smoked trout chowder also from Stone Soup. And awesome smoked trout it is. Thick, flavorful--can't beat it. There's also wild rice in this particular soup, which makes me wonder if Tom's using leftovers, or if he just got on a kick.

I rediscovered wild rice awhile back. That's also when I figured out that we don't get much of it around here. The stuff I've been buying comes from Texas, and is mixed with white. Requesting some of the real thing from my dad, back Wisconsin way, didn't come up with much either. Then again, most of the real wild rice I remember loving and seeing in the store often came from Minnesota.

The soup chef of Stone Soup, Tom Everly of Keystone Yankee Catering, is taking the next two weeks off, which is why I stopped by to grab some while I could (normally, I only head over there during lunch). This, of course, right after yet another of my coworkers (in this case, my grandboss) says he wants to go down there with me to grab some soup for lunch next Thursday. I've got four on the line at the moment, and with this break, they'll likely forget all about it in the interim. But I won't. I'll be over in my office just waiting for its return.

reading aloud

When I was little, I used to love being called on in class to read aloud. Now, though, I've lost those skills entirely. This was realized after trying to read the report of a friend of mine who just moved to New Orleans aloud to my roommate. I stumbled over simple (and sometimes ironic) words, words like "inadequate."

I blame this on adult impatience. And, I suppose, the fact that I don't read for really extended periods anymore, like I used to. But when it comes to the impatience, I just want to get to the end of the sentence. My brain is trying to go forward, skim through sentences as I do when I'm speed-reading. The fact that my speech is slower than my reading speed is not something my mind is used to, or comfortable with, so it just tries to keep up. Which, of course, doesn't work.

On a completely separate note, the students are definitely back, bringing with them all the baggage they carry from all different parts of the U.S. and the world. Although I haven't interacted with many, I know because, as happens every fall to some extent at one point or another, I can feel myself getting sick. Joy.

misty morning

This morning I stepped out into a very close world. Fog had set in overnight, creating a blanket clutched tight around us. Sometimes it loosened, but only very little.

I have a coworker who appreciates sunlight, and I could hear her protest already as I got into my car, but I knew it wouldn't impact me much. "It's a lovely morning," I'd reply, if she mentioned it.

And it is. The mist highlights spiderwebs built in patches at the top of the grass along the sides of the road. It masks the industrial chimneys occasionally seen pumping out steam on the horizon. It softens the arrival of about 40,000 students.

Classes start on Tuesday. I'm half thankful for the students' return, and half irritated by it. Their awkward and often lost arrival disrupts the easy flow of summer here. I admit it: I've become a townie. Then again, in the four years I've lived here, I've always felt like one. It's just that they descend like geese--loud, obnoxious, and often shitting all over the place an awful lot. When one gets detached from the flock, they make an awful racket of being lost.

I do understand all this, of course. I've been there myself. And I'm certainly generalizing--this is no one person I'm describing. It's the mass. And it's no one's fault. It's just an inconvenience, interrupting a comfortable flow and (gasp) evoking change.

I love academia. I do. Being surrounded by this many brilliant and becoming-brilliant people is invigorating. But I have to admit the return of students and introduction of a new batch can be both immensely hopeful and depressing. I see drive and spirit, and it's lovely and refreshing, but in the back of my head, the cynic in me starts making bets about how long it will take for that to be driven out of them. Somehow, I hope that students will avoid my mistakes, for example, but of course I wish that for them without being able to say what, exactly, those were.

Gosh. All this makes me sound like I'm becoming older and wiser, doesn't it?

Laugh while you can.

cities: addendum

I also meant to write briefly about how I really should be taking more advantage of the natural resources available to me in the area here, but (how appropriate) forgot.

Basically, I really enjoy trees, forests, streams, etc. But I don't see enough of them. My drive to work is the majority of my interaction, which is sad, and should be rectified. Again, though, I have to fight with the time issue.

Better to be too busy than to be bored, I suppose.

cities

So on my way in to work this morning, driving with my wrists crossed, hands kind of hanging out at the top of the wheel, under a blue sky liberally studded with puffy cumulonimbus clouds with airy white tops and starting-to-look-threatening bottoms, sunlight peeking through the leaves of the thick trees I drove through, my mind dispensed this quick little notion:

It was definitely good to go, but it's certainly good to be back.

Although I'm fascinated by some of the features of American cities on a temporary basis, I don't particularly care for them in the long run, and Indianapolis is no exception. Yes, the architecture can be neat. But the traffic and trying to get around is a pain.

European cities, on the other hand, I don't think I'd have as much of a problem with. I have Copenhagen in mind, of course. But this is a longer subject for another time.

So, to summarize the trip: good (if sometimes overly complicated and drama-filled though alternately nice to re-connect and make new connections) time there, but good to be here, too.

(I just realized that the parenthetical there doesn't make that very succinct. Oh, well.)

small towns

So I just got back from the post office.

I just realized this actually requires some prefacing. How odd. Here goes: I've found myself involved in an online swapping community. We swap various things--mostly scents, bath and body nonsense, that sort of thing, but also going out to handmade crafty things like painted boxes (which I gave a basic whirl about a month ago) and jewelry and such. I recently learned chainmaking via chain maille techniques, and only have the very basics under my belt. But one of the fine ladies on that forum wanted a charm bracelet, and most of the work I've done in the medium was something that is usually used as a base for a charm bracelet. She actually wanted to buy, not swap, once she saw a photo of the piece. So thus I got my first $25 (although I only asked $20) for a handmade item. So I sent it out, and she got it, and she likes it. Go me. That little bout of attention-deficit was entirely beside the point.

The point to the preface is that I find myself sending out little packages all the freaking time. When it's what we consider an even swap, it only costs me the postage (fifty cents, usually), and I get to try something new. Otherwise, I usually get reimbursed the postage. This cost analysis again brought to you by my lack of focus today, which is sometimes the case for me on Mondays, given that I usually get about four hours sleep the night before.

Okay. Let's try this again. I went to the post office in a nearby town, as that post office is a lot less busy than is State College's (notoriously long lines, and at lunchtime? forget about it). This town is nestled against Mount Nittany, and has a rather lovely little strip. My point here is that it's a tiny town (whoops, digressing again). So I was at their little post office, sending out three little packages, and on my way out, noticed that someone had left their car running while they ran in.

Then I realized that as soon as I stopped living with my dad, I had taken for granted that I'd never again live in a town where it's safe to do that. And I don't now. But it's neat to know that it exists, and so close by. I wouldn't do it there, but that's probably because I know how small towns work, and I'm not part of that small town. It's not that I think the people there wouldn't look out for me like they would their fellow residents, but that they don't know me well enough to get in touch with me if they needed to, or know whether or not I'd welcome the help.

Given that I moved from my dad's village to Beloit for college, which has really shady areas that are not safe--South Beloit being even worse--the switch to becoming more paranoid when it came to my car's security was a natural one. A good friend there had his car broken into while parked in the same lot I parked in all the time. That's not to say that Beloit's horrible, especially in the area around the college, but--well, stuff happens.

And stuff happens here in State College, too. Nothing I can think of has hit so close to home here, though. And S.C. has been rated the best small city in terms of crime. That study even states: "In particular, the burglary and auto theft rates are among the nation's lowest." But now that my concern for my vehicle was raised in college, I can't really go back. I have a friend who has a very low concern when it comes to security. I see that friend leave things unlocked all the time, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Heck, I even lock my computer when I leave my desk at work.

The moral of the story? I'm perhaps overly paranoid. But we knew that. On the other hand, it's probably better to be on the safe side. But in either case, it's nice to live near places where people aren't as concerned. It makes me feel better. (and on another non-focused moment note: I also adore that my commute takes all of fifteen minutes, tops.)

a useful metaphor

Tonight I rediscovered the secret to my practice of yoga:

Work, but don't push.

I think that may become a metaphor for lots of other pieces of my life.

(and man, does every piece of my body feel better due its rediscovery.)

degrees of success.

So last night, at the club, an old student of mine came up to the booth to chat--a student who hadn't been in the area for months, at least. Some two months ago, I'd halfheartedly tried to track him down online, mostly due to being reminded of him by making renewed contact with two other old students of mine, who graduated (or were about to graduate) from the same department. (For my own reference: AB, ES, and LB)

Turns out this particular student has been in New York since he graduated, working as a production assistant on two relatively popular Hollywood news-related shows. Frankly, I envied him just a tad upon hearing this. And, for that matter, felt more than a little humbled. It's a great leveling experience, this after-graduation thing--especially considering my (grad) degree is in something that most people find relatively useless. I can't tell you how many "And what are you going to do with that?"s I had to endure, usually followed with: "Teach?"

Since work today was relatively intense--two prospective student presentations, one right before lunch, one right after--I commiserated with J at some point, who asked if I'd been looking elsewhere. It caught me off guard. Such hadn't even occurred to me. Hadn't even entered my mind.

I like my job. Sure, there are a few things that I don't love about it, but overall, I'm happy with what I'm doing. I could start a list of what I like, but I'm not sure that would serve much of a purpose. The major drawbacks? The pace, perhaps, and the amount of things I have to do that aren't really related to what projects I'd ideally be working on, but that's really all when it comes to day-to-day tasks.

It's strange, I suppose. I didn't realize I gave off the impression that I don't like it. Perhaps the method by which I blow off steam/stress makes my close friends think so.

Upon leaving, one of the women in my office suite told me (only because a conversation was going on about it) that she's pregnant. I gave a cautious "That's a good thing?" She assured me that it was, kind of backhandedly complimented how discreet I was, and the conversation continued. Upon learning this, one of the women involved in the conversation had immediately offered to help her shop. The other immediately helped by providing suggestions and advice from her own experience. I said little to nothing. The latter woman finally said something to the effect of "I'll stop pestering you about it," and let her head to her car. The news-worthy one and I walked out to the parking lot together. I said that I wouldn't pester her about it. She replied: "You're always reserved and considerate. I would never expect you to be anything less than that."

If those are the primary characteristics I'm known for, I'm having mixed feelings about it. I guess, though, that it's work, and those are certainly two better things to be known for there. It doesn't make me sound like very much fun, though. But I do much prefer to be conscientious about those sorts of matters--to be sure of where others stand before I open my mouth about it.

I wonder--if my coworkers knew my stance on children, would they be as prone to discussing them/their plans for them in front of me? It does happen a lot. Which, further, makes me wonder if I shouldn't make my stance known more obviously.

-erries (credit to L for that useful twisting of the English language)

Just for reference: I love berry season.

This week alone, I've had raspberries (both the usual pink and the unusual golden), blueberries, strawberries, and cherries. I'd forgotten how much I like blueberries--I don't think I've had them in years. Berries have become meals for me lately, although I often add a side of steamed veggies--broccoli or cauliflower, usually. I recently discovered how easy it is to steam veggies in the microwave. And boy, am I glad I did.

This week, I also finally returned to my old yoga instructor for once-a-week classes, having lost track of her during some of my more intense time here. C, the sweetheart that she is, didn't even recognize me when I showed up. It doesn't help that last she saw me, I had chin-length red hair and wore contacts. She said that it made her wonder if she would recognize her own children if they cut and dyed their hair. I found that extremely flattering, in an extremely weird fashion. But boy--whatever flexibility yoga had afforded me at one time, it's definitely gone now. I'm hoping it's just a matter of time for it to return, though.

Most of today I spent typing up recommendations to K, who's going on a trip to Denmark soon, with possible thoughts of living there in the future. I'd forgotten that I had so much to say on the subject--that email (now sent) got incredibly long. I may reprint sections of it here. When I have time. Which, in my case, often ends up to be never.

Gapping: conferences/work vs. energy

Between our Spring Conference, PACAC in late June, PACAC Summer Institute at Bucknell just past, and training our campuses on the new visitation system (I'm at our Delaware County campus presently), I've had enough of leaving early in the morning to drive around Pennsylvania. Between the aforementioned, plus Spend a Summer Day rehearsal this Sunday and other sundry nonsense for work, I've had enough of working outside my usual hours. Between visitation text work (not finished), revising the web application (not finished), various web tool additions (mostly finished), monthly updates to the student section of the site (ongoing), the final edit of the paper application (finished as of 5:30 last night) and the usual counseling I do, I'm surprised I haven't had enough of writing and editing. Nevertheless, I may be pushing too hard, because I feel like I need a vacation.

But I'm learning a lot. From Spring Conference, I got my first taste of our other campuses. At PACAC, I learned the importance of socializing with colleagues not from my institution and re-learned how useful some seminars can be. At Summer Institute, I learned how different Admissions at Penn State is from all other institutions. From the visitation tour, I learned that I adore the people I'm working closely with on this project, I saw more of our campuses, and learned how variable their operations are, as well as confirming that the work I enjoy most integrates text and technology.

All in all, I'm very very glad this job involves both, and my boss wants me to do more. Next up, I'm hoping to push my knowledge of the latter.

owls and spiders, oh my!

A. and I hiked about two hours' worth of Shingletown Gap last night, until we weren't sure we'd make it back to the car by the time the light faded enough that it was difficult to see our footing. We did make it, though. The sun hadn't even gone down yet, but the woodedness of the area and intermittent clouds did make things a little more difficult for us near the end.

We were slowed down by a flash of large wings through the pines, which A. noticed before I did. Being in the lead helped, I think. A large white/beige owl with a huge round face perched about a hundred feet away from us and began this call that almost sounded like a hiss, with more vocalization near the end of it. It was looking straight at us while it did this, as if accusing us of invading its space. I tried taking a picture of it (I haven't seen how this came out yet, but due to the dimness, I really doubt I got anything much). We stood still for minutes, and it started looking around and continuing to make the hiss-call. Owls are creepy when they look behind themselves without moving their bodies.

Eventually it hopped forward to a closer branch to us. Shortly after that, we took our leave. We looked back about fifty feet down the trail to see it still looking after us, calling its little hiss-call.

I think that's as close as I've ever gotten to a wild owl. Earlier, we'd watched fish dart through the stream and wondered how they got into the little pools of stillness through the fast-running water, blocked by detritus. This stream feeds the Shingletown Watershed near the parking area--upon a Google search, I find this stream is called Roaring Run. During most of the hike, we could hear it, but I wouldn't call it Roaring. Perhaps it does farther up the mountain, though.

I love the fact that Google searches often lead me elsewhere: I just found out that Bellefonte has an old quarry that people use for rock climbing. I may just have to check it out.

Back to that hike, though: early on, we found an old house--mere foundations, mostly, at this point--with a little chimney section. In this, I found a snail. Don't think I've ever seen one of those, either. Later on, we found a bunch of webs that, upon poking my nose into, I realized were built by a tunnel spider. Eventually, upon using my camera to magnify an area we couldn't see very well, we saw the (rather large) yellow spider hiding within. Again, I don't think I'd ever seen a tunnel spider before.

In all, an excellent hike.

In home news, and on the subject of spiders, I found one of my two pet bathroom spiders hanging from me when I entered the bathroom this morning, having been kicked out of the other one's web the night before (but not eaten, as another unfortunate spider was. nothing like cannibalism in your bathroom to greet you in the morning). I suspect this one was doing something in the open doorway that I pushed through as I entered. I put it onto the floor by its dragline, and it skittered under the sink as fast as it could go. Guess I scare things that much smaller than me.

mountains and caves

Driving in this morning gave me glimpses of sunbeams--stairways to heaven--through the clouds. I wish there was another common name/metaphor for them: they're gorgeous, but hard to describe.

The low-hanging clouds made the range lining up with Mount Nittany hazy. Again, gorgeous. I'm glad to have such a pleasant--or at least picturesque--commute.

I had the opportunity recently to visit Centre Hall twice. I used to go there much more often, when H. lived out there, but hadn't been back in awhile. Centre Hall has the distinction of being built right at the foot of one mountain range, and the rise is impressive, especially as a backdrop to such beautiful houses and churches. Given, there's the mix of unattractive houses as well, but much down there is quite pretty.

In one case, I was driving J. to the dealership to pick up his car. In the other, I was driving out with D. to see Penn Cave. Penn Cave was a weird one for me: I adore caves and cave tours, even if I don't particularly care for the kitsch that almost always accompanies them (although I remember now that the D. from high school wrote enthusiastically about such kitsch, as a total aside).

Penn Cave, though, is a totally water-based tour. You're in the boat the whole time, sometimes ducking to pass through what they call the Narrows, or other low-hanging configurations. You get on the boat after watching the huge trout chase food people throw in (those fish get violent!), go through the cave, which isn't entirely impressive, then out the other side, through a man-made entrance. You get to see bits of their wildlife park, including a pair of nesting swans. The boat makes a circle around the island they nest on, then you go back through the cave and see it all again at a bit faster of a pace and including some special-effect lighting. Overall, though I love caves, I wasn't entirely impressed. I appreciated the drive out there more, in some ways.

In some ways, perhaps, it's the touch-feel sense of caves that I love. The expanse of interior space versus the press of rock bearing down all around you. Being in the water, in a boat, made that feeling very distant for me. Or perhaps it's that I had company. The most recent tours I've had of caves were done on my own--and it may be that I prefer the relative solitude. Relative, given that there's usually many others with me on the tour, of course.

That's it. I just need my own cave to retreat to.

The inescapable humidity broke today. Today's 73 degrees at 8 a.m. is a low for this time of day in the last few weeks, at least. I suspect we had rain overnight, which helped. The stormclouds on the horizon this morning promised either more to come, or that previous rainfall clearing. But the sun's angle through the dark clouds, with more dimness hanging over the closer mountains, is just lovely. I have to reiterate an earlier thought here: sun is more beautiful against a backdrop of darkness.

A, a (relatively) new infatuation, gave me an original painting this past Saturday. It's dark, featuring a layer of newspaper with a photo from Berlin after the Russians entered it. In the right bottom corner is a little girl wrapped in a 20 Euro note. The rest is a smear of grey, with a flash of red peeking through. The slate found on a curb, broken, appears on top and bottom right. In describing why those colors, A explained that since I wear a lot of black, and it was being painted for me, darker was probably better. I can't argue: it fits perfectly over one of my black bookcases. "Places in Picturebooks" is written on the back, along with A's signature.

We got together on Friday as well, downtown. There, I ran into the closest friend I've got at work. Turns out he knows A to some extent. I met the friends of both, joked around for awhile, and then we went back to A's for a movie.

The week before, A and I had gone for a walk in a park I'd known existed but had never been in. It was gorgeous, and I lost myself in the details. We hovered near the spring, or at least we assumed it was a spring, since we couldn't see the source for sure. We watched things on the bottom of the streambed, through the clear water. We examined the ivy overtaking trees, and the magnificent twists it made on its way up, and the interlocking of its wooded base. A identified the trees that stood far above the rest of the greenery (which of course I forget the name of now), amazed that things could be dredged out of a started-then-abandoned undergrad in Forestry. We paused on every bridge to take in everything in minute detail. It made me miss the macro photography series I'd worked on for a year. During that walk, as well, I noticed that I pretty much forget my nose in the winter, but something along there--a purple flower of varying intensity, I think--smelled amazing. It's kind of strange to suddenly have something to smell outside again. But I like it.

Today I managed to get caught in two different storms. After the first, I drove silently, watching the steam rising from the roadway, seeing through that mist a mix of dark green pines and fresh new summer leaves on the rest, and weaving around the branches and leaves down everywhere. It was bright--so bright, in the post-thunderstorm sun. Even the stadium, with the sun streaming down, looked attractive. Fresh and gleaming. Past it, the storm having moved into the next valley gave the bright glass and steel a dramatic dark backdrop.

The second storm was surprisingly violent. I cruised along the bypass (which, as an aside, I'm thankful for, as it gives a height in the valley--a viewpoint I never would've had otherwise). I watched lightning strike to the right of the road, and a moment later the thunderclap made me jump. I laughed at myself afterwards for startling: I knew it was coming, after all.

Intensity, both the storm and the sun, leads to joy.

Walking into my building, I looked down at my feet, wondering at how comfortable my shoes were, and realized I'd put on the wrong shoes. I almost laughed out loud, despite other folks also coming in to work. My current shoes are emphatically not business-wear, but rather more like overgrown leather slippers. They're by Børn, and are amazing.

The moral of the story is: at least my footwear can make me laugh on days I'm in a rush to get out of the house.

Saw/heard Crystal Method last night. Scott was excellent, despite a few technical issues: his partner, though, we heard little from.

Evil Nine warmed up to being pretty decent. The opening DJ, on the other hand, was lamentable. In my professional opinion, his beatmatching and transition skills needed some serious work.

In general: great beats. Just wish they'd all used more vocals.

Side note: good candid picture opportunities. Got some great results, both crowd candids and performer shots.

Excellent night--equal parts shooting and dancing.

Today I was in a meeting with about seven people in it, by memory. Three of us were Annes--in fact, all the females in the room were named Anne. All three of us spell it the same way.

I go from being the only Anne, especially the only Anne-with-an-e, to that name being as common as pennies.

Better yet: one of those Annes shares the same job title and responsibilities with me, and has the office next door. Even better yet: we have the same middle name, as well.

There seems something a bit wrong about snow drifting past magnolias in full bloom.

Snow greeted me as I walked out of the house this morning. Less than a block from home, the little amber gas pump next to my speedometer lit up.

Normally, I'm a good girl, and follow the advice my dad provides: that is, never let your tank get below half when it might snow.

Really, near May, I didn't think this would be a problem. But I have to admit I debated for a good long time (even though I was five minutes late for work) about whether or not to get gas before going in. Lateness and a meeting spurred the latter choice. Instead, I snagged a couple minutes at lunch to do so.

The older lady in the car who pulled in behind me couldn't figure out how to work the pump. The reflection on and angle of the little screen on the pump (as well as her height, or lack thereof) contributed to the problem.

I have to say I fear becoming that little old lady. The day that technology confuses me to the point that I can't fill my gas tank is the day I should really stop driving. I don't think it'll happen anytime soon, but that certainly helps along my drive to stay current with web and tech developments.

Even better, during my last (first, for that matter) staff review, I was told the entire office depends on me to research and help implement new and better ways to communicate with students via tech and the web.

I like my job.

Judged the Student Film Festival here yesterday, along with five other people. One work felt like a standout to me--an almost concept-piece about a woman who kills God, and the world being unprepared for it. It was also one of the few actually on film, and you could really tell the quality difference. Touches of beautiful color work were included, and simply amazing visuals every once in awhile.

Overall, it was great fun, and I think we turned out an excellent Film Festival. I hope they'll invite me to do it again next year.

I just saw Amiri Baraka, Sophia Sanchez, and a couple younger folks perform and speak. As is my habit lately, thanks again to my fantastic uncle and his fabulous gift of a great little voice recorder, I recorded the entire thing. I intend to convert the files to .wavs and burn them to a CD, if that's possible.

That experience was just amazing. I'd forgotten how much I love the poets that emerged from the Harlem Renaissance--and their younger protoges were also excellent. Baraka read the poem "Somebody Blew Up America," which moved the governor and legislature of New Jersey to try to oust him as poet laureate of New Jersey. His reading style--confrontational, vehement--can be entrancing if you let it.

Also amazing (but not nearly so much) was the girl sitting next to me who later asked: "What's your major?" after asking me for copies of the files. Mental note: email her when I've managed to burn the CD.

While I have to say I'm really, really curious about my background, I'm not $100 plus shipping curious.

I just got my boss's boss (a.k.a. my grand-boss) to say "when last we left our intrepid adventurers" in a meeting. Then he proposed to rename our committee the Intrepid Web Adventurers on the condition that we all had to stand with our hands on our hips, chin up and at an angle, when we said so.

I said that I'd do it only if I got to take a picture of him doing it.

My grand-boss rocks.

See the links for the current events around here that have been occupying way more mental space than, in a just and proper world, they should.

The letter that started it all.
Allies respond.
The editor's retort.
The 'use this for good, not evil' editorial.
One columnist's take.
A professor's input.

Many of the responses to the first letter there show some intelligence. Then again, we also got responses like this one:
"Showing gays kissing illustrates sinful ways."

Sometimes I wonder about humanity.

In other news: The Internet is not destroying the English language.

There's so much I've meant to write. So many entries I've composed in my head, never to emerge again. Often birthed on the drive to work.

For an example of my schedule after work of late, here's my last week:
Monday - mall and dinner with G.
Tuesday - coffee, walk, and drink with A.
Wednesday - planned BBC mystery night with G. and J. My body decided it wanted sleep more.
Thursday - dinner and used bookstore with D.
Friday - birthday gathering/dinner with J., L., and Dax. Bar thereafter with J., G., and a different J.
Saturday - gathering of friends and game
Sunday - work at the club

And this week's been remarkably similar. Why did I suddenly get so popular, and why does it have to suck so bad to have no time to myself? (not that I'm complaining about the company, mind.)

Today's going to be a crazy day here. I can smell it.

It's been a misty morning, sliding into a dreadfully dreary day. Mt. Nittany, when I drove in, had a ring of fog around its base. The mountains just visible beyond the soccer field from my office window are still barely visible. Everything's hushed. It was quiet in the office this morning, although when student volunteers arrived, that changed, as usual.

But now, through the hush, come the yells of the field hockey team as they practice in my office's backyard. They are quieter than yesterday, though, and I have my trusty headphones.

I'm sure this headache will pass.

This entry is what blogging's all about.

Go read it.

How old am I again?

So I woke up with the Toys 'r' Us song stuck in my head (you'd be baffled by how often this happens). I went back to sleep for fifteen minutes, and it changed into "Barbie Girl."

That morphed into something else similarly juvenile, but now I've forgotten what.