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.