"That's really hot, too" is the response I got in the midst of a conversation in which I was asked if I chewed tobacco. The answer to that, of course, is no. The guy expressed regret, because "chicks who do that are really hot." But the recent adoption of smoking the occasional cigar was a natural mention (stupid as I am), and then I got the quote in question.

He asked if I wanted to hook up moments later.

My "job" is so weird.

I think I found my first confirmed gray hair today. Except I'm not certain if it's gray, or just bleached out the way my hair sometimes is. On its own: not with any help from me.

Oh, and if I ever say I'm bored, and I'm not restrained in any way (don't have access to my stuff, am sick so can't concentrate or whatever, etc), kick me. Hard.

So, after an OS reinstall, the computer's back up and running, albeit in a castrated state due to lack of its usual complement of software. Working on that, though.

So my computer has decided that restarting every time it hits Windows is a good idea. The one possibility for fixing it did nothing.

"Crap" doesn't begin to cover it.

It's over. As far as I know, I'll be receiving my MFA (and Teaching with Technology certificate) as of Saturday. I've cleaned out my cube, turned in my keys, and only need to return a few pesky missing library books.

Now to find a job.

I'm head-and-shoulders into my thesis presently, and also don't have Internet access at my new place. Thus, I may be a bit distant until after August 11 (the dreaded due date).

Before I left, Dad got me a cake. Despite a long car ride, I managed to take it with (and keeping it cold was kind of a pain). So now it's sitting at the new place, as am I (actually getting some work done on my thesis, since my computer's here, although no internet means no distractions--but also no info when I need it). Problem is, plates are still packed, and silverware's absent as of yet.

Although I did experiment with cutting cake with chopsticks. That was amusing.

Back to thesis work with me.

Before beginning this post, you should know that I write this with bemused fondness, not the sarcasm it probably reads as.

So before I left, I mentioned to Dad that I wanted some Wisconsin cheese to take back with me (mostly because the cheese selection around here isn't fantastic). Now, in answer to this he passes along a package of "sharp cheddar cold pack cheese food" that he had around. Now, this isn't even a debate about whether or not cheese spread is actually cheese (which it's not). The point of this story comes when he packs it up for me to take with.

He took the spread out of its bag so it could go in the cooler—-this particular spread, being "genuine," needed to be kept cold. He looked at the little gift bag (with cows on it and red handkerchief-patterned tissue) from The Cheese Box, a local-ish shop (from the town on the other end of our ten-mile-long lake) and apparently decided the crackers would be lonely. He picked up a can of tuna and a can of salmon that he had sitting on the counter, and asked me if I ate tuna. I said yes, and emphasized how much of it I usually kept handy. He then proceeded to put both cans in the gift bag, next to the crackers, despite protests that I've got plenty.

Because you know, I can't go buy a couple dollars worth of canned fish if I ran out. Which I won't anytime soon, of course.

Despite this brouhaha, I sit here in front of my computer, eating cheese food and crackers because I'm hungry, but the food selection at this house presently is slim, and that which you can eat without utensils even slimmer (and going out of the house would make me feel like I was shirking on my thesis work, even though I'm doing so presently by typing this). So, you know, maybe Dad wasn't so far off.

Except I've got no can opener for the tuna out either. Smart me.

But you know, for "cheese food," it's not bad.

And I need to make another trip to the dealership. With six hours of the ride back left, my car's CD player decided it liked the CD it had in it so much that it kept it. But wouldn't play it for me, oh no. Instead I had to resort to radio. The number of country and/or Bible-thumping stations between western Ohio and here astounds me. Thank the powers that be for NPR. I caught the debate between Dean and Nader about third party candidacy and the election process. Fascinating. I freaking loved Nader's support of a binding "none of the above" vote. I will note, though, that neither of them wanted to touch the question about how we can open up the presidency to women and atheists. I found it interesting to note that whether or not women and atheists can even run is unclear.

I arrived back to find that virtually all my belongings (which had already been boxed) had been moved to the new place by L. and J.

My friends rock. The end.

So, I've made three trips to the dealership today. As soon as I left from the (supposedly) simple oil change that turned into a bunch more little things, I found out my driver's side (power) window had decided to die.

Better I find out now than on my trip, as I kept saying.

I feel like someone took my energy, stomped on it, kicked it in the stomach, and then ran away.

That'll teach me for doing heavy lifting and hauling when I'm technically sick.

Yup: I've got bronchitis. I just hope I didn't pass it along to anybody before I found out for sure.

My students are planning an end-of-class potluck for Thursday night. I know it may not really have anything to do with me (although I am invited. I checked.), given that I just happened to be put in charge of a great bunch of people, but I'm finding myself immensely flattered, nonetheless.

In the past, it's been rare that I find teaching quite this rewarding, so these moments are immensely valuable to me.

I just enabled comments through Blogger. I really will get back to this again, I swear.

A student from last semester just left the townhouse. Given, he only lives a few doors down, but still. He dropped in to ask if I'd be willing to do an independent study with him, to work on his last story and hopefully ready it for publication. He says he's been passed around from professor to professor (all tenured), each saying they couldn't do it.

If I'm allowed to, I'd love to.

That said. Now I'm suddenly conscious of my surroundings, as I invited him in after he asked. And my appearance, for that matter. I thought at first, the way he was shifting on his feet, that he needed a ride somewhere, that he'd been plowed in or something.

It's odd to take a step outside your life to see how others might view it.

After I said yes, if I was allowed, and he was stepping outside, he said something like, "a glimmer of light on this day," in seeming gratefulness.

I do rather hope this pans out.

Just got back from DJing work. Not bad, not bad. Monkeyed with equipment, got the scoop on the job, specifically the club we do nights for.

I did manage to use my shin to catch the gig box a couple times. First day on the job and already bruised. Just like old times, working for the orchestra. One thing I'll definitely be grateful for is that this job will actually make me aware of my strength again (and perhaps urge me to work on it). I lifted the gig box by myself and all the equipment manager could say was "Whoa: you're a monster!" The other perk is that I'll learn how to handle the equipment. The other perk is that I'll actually get some official training on the mixer, so it'll no longer be "I'm not going to touch that, because I don't know what it does."

So, so far, it looks like all perks. Except, maybe, for the bruises. But I know how to deal with those.

Got the DJing gig. Start tomorrow.

Mental note number one: painting your own pottery at a place that fires it for you can be great fun. Not really a group interactive thing, unless you're making pottery that's supposed to go together, but fun nonetheless. We're going back. (We have to: our pieces aren't done. Mental note number two: painting a design always takes longer than you expect.)

Semester's over. Grades posted. Not done commenting on the drafts, but hey. I'm still feeling pretty good about it all.

Now: to figure out when I'm going home, and how much time I can spend there, considering I have to have my entire thesis done by the second week in January. First draft, obviously. But I'm probably short about, oh, at least fifty pages at this point. Mustmustmust get on that during break.

Just got off the bus, where I ran into a student of mine from this summer.

And we talked, you know? Talked, person to person: no student/teacher role bullshit involved. About his job at the local ski area, about moving West, about this town. And he's probably my age, if not older. He's been in town for 13 years, and is tired of it. "The novelty has worn off," he said.

And it was nice, you know? Real. On the level. I do that with current students as well. Outside of class, I'm just me. No bullshit. But there's still a level of formality that seems inavoidable. But I love running into students after their class is over and done with. There's just this relaxed air, which is near incomparable to anything else. It's great.

As much as seeing former students and classmates everywhere is kind of creepy to me--it makes me feel too well known, like I'm back in my itty-bitty high school--there's an up side to it, too.

And yes, it's waaaay too late for me to be up doing this.

Snowy snow.


My buried car.


Of the porch.


Off the porch.

Pictures, pictures. As promised. The sunset: