oh, and with apologies to red sox fans

Know what I did last night?

Hint:

Sadly, there's no photo of me in my classic Twins t-shirt (I can't find a link to the old logo, but it's great - Minneapolis Man and St. Paul Man shaking hands across the Mississippi River) and baseball cap, alone among a sea of Red Sox paraphenalia.

Except I actually wasn't alone - there were at least five Twins fans in my row... but did they cheer on their team? Did they dare to clap when Joe Nathan came on in the 8th and miraculously got us out of a very tight spot? Not so much.

Obviously they've never been an opposing-team fan in Yankee Stadium. After (living through) that, I was fairly confident I wouldn't get killed at Fenway.

Oh what a game. Too bad for the Sox, who certainly needed it much more than we did. Yes, I hate the Yankees as much as any self-respecting American Leaguer outside New York City, and I'd rather - big-picture-wise - that the Red Sox had beaten us last night. But ultimately I'm a Twins fan and my team won a nail-biter in the rain at Fenway Park on a balmy September evening.

Doesn't get much better than that.

of course

Who doesn't want a supersonic toilet?

my brother is a loser!

In the best possible way. Look for the Report From Week 728 - he's on page 2: "Dogastrophe".

The best part is that he didn't even know until he got his prize in the mail, because it was printed Saturday, and he and most of his friends were doing something else on Saturday.

If you don't know what the Washington Post Style Invitational is... well, it's hard to explain. Every week they put out a call for entries on that week's topic, generally something requiring both creativity and silliness. They're usually hilarious to read. People whose entries are picked receive some sort of dubious prize, not to mention the official title of "loser." I believe that's a (joking) character judgment based on the fact that said people apparently have nothing better to do than think up interesting entries to the Style Invitational.

Go Dan!

DS

I studied classical violin from sixth grade until around the middle of college. I messed around with it now and then for another couple years, and then just sort of put it away one day and didn't take it out again.

When I started coming to New England and got into the contra dance community here, I learned that actually, some people don't quit playing the instruments they learned as kids just because jobs and families and other things come up to distract them. Or they do quit playing those instruments, but they pick them back up again or pick up something else that looks fun and exciting. I like that spirit, the spirit of doing what we can to make music, and especially to make it together, at jams and potlucks and dances and wherever else we can. And I started to think that fiddling looks pretty damn fun. (And then there's the upright bass, which I have a crush on and am going to start lessons on as soon as I can rent one affordably, but that's a whole other story.*)

After all, I own (or rather, have been entrusted with the long-term safekeeping of) a gorgeous violin that's been in my family for several generations. It's a beautiful instrument, and I have indeed felt rather shamefully disrespectful to leave it sitting in its case for the last few years. I've carefully moved it from apartment to apartment, and city to city. But I haven't played it. And that's just silly.

So, about a year ago (though I can't believe it's been that long) (I had a lot of adventures starting around this time last year, and I'm not talking adventures related - except really vaguely - to the violin) (and no, I'm not telling you more than that), I decided to pony up the $$$ to get the necessary work done on my violin, get the bow rehaired, and get it ready to play again. I was cheap enough to figure I'd just change the strings myself, which I did, but of course it took me about six more months to get around to that. In the spring I bought a lovely tunebook, written by a friend of mine, to get myself going on this fiddling thing. And a month ago I bought a new battery for my tuner.

Last night, finally, I played.

Today my fingers are sore and my chin is a little tender, but more importantly, I played for over an hour before I even realized time had passed. I'm out of practice, I'm out of tune, and I feel like a sixth-grade beginner again.

And it feels wonderful.

*The story is basically this: Have you ever seen a woman play an upright bass? It's hot. I want to be one of those women.

such fun, indeed

Have I mentioned that the quirky old New England house I live in has a profusion of woodstoves? Not that we're allowed to use them - it's not covered by the homeowner's insurance policy, and the insurance company office is literally right across the street. Doh.

There's even a funky little stove right in my bedroom, which I really wish I could use because I live in the Coldest House On Earth (whatever the temperature is outside, it's about 10 degrees colder inside. I'm not kidding). It would be so cozy to curl up in bed next to a crackling fire in the stove. Even though I'd probably feel warmer from the sound of the fire than the heat; I'm sure the heat would somehow instantaneously evaporate just like every source of heat does in this house.

But, much as the weather keeps pretending to turn to autumn, it's not quite time yet for fires in woodstoves. So something else has been getting cozy in my stove in the meantime. More specifically, the stovepipe. Night before last I woke up probably three times AN HOUR (again, not kidding) to the sound of something small yet quite industrious dragging who-knows-what into the stovepipe through the roof vent and scratching around. ALL NIGHT.

Mouse? Bat? Pack of rabid killer squirrels? Luckily whatever it is never ventured further down the pipe and out into my bedroom, but that didn't do much to cheer me up at 2:30a.m. At that point I probably would have happily throttled it with my bare hands (but I wouldn't have, no no! Hi, friends-who-recently-had-to-get-rabies-shots-after-catching-a-bat!).

Work yesterday wasn't as tough as I'd feared, fatigue-wise, mostly because I had a really fun crisis to take over my life all day. But today has been a little rough. The little bugger didn't come back last night, but I kind of wish it had because I was all prepared to smoke it out with a small fire in the stove. Yes, I've considered the dangers involved - the nest could catch fire, etc., etc. I talked it over with my landlord, and she agreed it was worth a try (with the emphasis on smoke rather than flame).

Have I mentioned how awesome my landlord is? Truly, truly awesome. If there were any doubt, it would be eradicated by this second part of her advice:

"a tip - if they die in there, you'll want to get the bodies out post haste... such fun!"

I guess that's fun I don't get to have for now, but isn't it nice to have things to look forward to?

lest you think too highly of me

Way back in July, when I went to the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival (can you believe that was almost two months ago??), I carpooled with my friend Zoe. I got to her house, unloaded my festival camping gear, and got the car ready to leave in front of her place over the weekend.

Except the passenger window wouldn't roll up. It's started to do this lately, as the electrical connections in my poor, overworked little Civic seem to be entering their twilight days. None of the driver-side controls seem to have quite the vigor that they once did. It hasn't been a really big problem, but it was supposed to rain pretty much all weekend, so I didn't really want the window rolled down.

With Zoe's help, I devised a garbage-bag-over-the-window scheme, complete with massive amounts of duct tape. The ultimate in classy car decoration. But hey, it did pour all weekend, and when I got back to my car, it was dry inside.

And a few days ago (yes, looooong after this whole incident occurred), I had an epiphany: Yes, the driver-side controls aren't working. But the passenger-side controls are fine. I didn't have to duct-tape a garbage bag over my car. I just had to lean across and use the passenger window control before turning the car off.

Can I blame this on the lack of emphasis on practical knowledge in college-level liberal arts education?

Or should I be trying to prove to you that really, no really! I have a college degree, I swear! Let's just say I wasn't a technology major.

by the way

Since I didn't actually spell out this annoying fact in the post below: I have no internet access at home right now. If you email me over the weekend, I will probably not see it til Monday.

In case you care.

Happy Weekend!

let it be known

Verizon. A big company, right? Corporate, efficient, full of technological resources. Or so one would hope.

One would be wrong.

Let me give you a completely hypothetical scenario: Imagine three roommates sharing a house. Verizon bill, for telephone and internet service, is in the name of one of them. Said roommate decides to move out. Does Verizon let him simply transfer the bill into another roommate's name? Oh, no no no...

Verizon's TOTALLY LOGICAL system is as follows:

1) Roommate #1 must cancel the account, paying something like an $80 termination fee

2) Roommate #2 must call Verizon to start a new account

3) Roommate #2 does this before the cancellation date, in hopes that service doesn't have to be disrupted. She is told that Verizon can't do anything until the previous account is actually terminated.

4) She calls back the day after the termination date. Verizon tells her that the account must actually "clear out of the system" (as if it were an outgoing tenant... except people don't get grace periods, only computerized sets of numbers do) before a new account can be entered for the same address.

5) Roommate #2 calls AGAIN a few days later, and spends 25 minutes on hold before she remembers that she has something better to do, like watch water boil.

6) Roommate #2 calls yet again, and speaks with Pleasant Customer Service Man who tries valiantly (it seems) to get her a better deal than the HIDEOUSLY OUTRAGEOUSLY EXPENSIVE one that Verizon offers for high-speed internet without phone service.

7) Pleasant Customer Service Man pleasantly reactivates the account, and pleasantly reports that we will have internet access again on September 21st.

I called on September 11.

Except originally I called on August 31st.

This, my friends, is a F*@%ing bad system. Not only can they not just roll over the account, but I have to wait three weeks and pay significant extra money in order to get a service that I already had. But there are about four telecommunications companies in this country and the very few other options are no better.

Gotta love the U.S.A.

good music, good cause

I know I just emailed a lot of people about this, but since at least a few of my blog readers are (amazingly) not actually relatives or close friends of mine...

Putamayo, the company responsible for making "world music" somewhat known and cool to many Americans who would otherwise think the Buena Vista Social Club were the only non-American musicians in existence, has put out a new CD called "World Hits."

It's good, it's relatively inexpensive, and most importantly (to me and the reason I'm telling you this), a portion of the proceeds from CD sales will be donated to World Learning, the organization I work for.

So, if you like interesting music and might be interested in a good sampling of it, there are so many reasons for you to go buy this CD. (And might I stand on several soapboxes at once and suggest you buy it from your local independent music store or gift shop? Thanks.)

a city made for lovers; too bad for me

OK, I have way too much of a hangup over this (not speaking) French thing.

As I walk around Montreal and have to admit to people in shops and restaurants that I don't speak French, the first feeling that wells up inside me is shame. Seriously. Yes, I know that's ridiculous. It doesn't last, because while I am certainly capable of wallowing in absurdity, I try not to do it for very long. But it's there.

The feeling goes along with my intense fear of being an Ugly American, I guess. As if the fact that I was not born with the ability to speak every language fluently demonstrates terrible disrespect for people everywhere in the non-English-(or-Spanish-)speaking world.

Frankly, I think my frustration also comes from the great sense of loss - of missed opportunities - I get from not being able to blend right in and communicate openly with people. Even if I did speak the language it wouldn't necessarily help that much (I say from experience) because I still feel a lack of the cultural capital I would need to be sure I'm asking appropriate questions in a polite way, etc.

I see a couple of possible solutions to this problem:

1) Get the hell over it. Because really? Self-pity is unattractive. I try to learn the important phrases, to smile and be willing to communicate enough in other ways so that people know I'm making an effort. And anyway, I'm fairly sure I'm not an Ugly American. If anything, I'm too quiet (out of self-consciousness) instead of too loud, and the last thing I insist upon when I'm abroad is whatever I'm used to at home (ice in my water, etc... hell, even drinkable tap water). That's not the point of traveling (though many of my compatriots don't seem to have gotten the memo).

And the truth is, if this bothers me that terribly much, I should just stay home. Which is obviously not an option I'm interested in. So I need to stop worrying about it.

2) Find a friendly (and preferably attractive) (and preferably single) (and preferably located in the general area of southeastern Vermont) (oh, and heterosexual) young man to teach me French. And/or to travel the Francophone world with me.

The former solution is possibly the more practical, but while I'm busy getting over my neuroses, you should please be trying to think of whether you know anyone who might fit that bill (those looked like a lot of demands but they weren't, really... well, OK, we are talking about Brattleboro, but I have faith in you). It's not like I'm pining away here, but what can I say? Walking alone around a lovely foreign city full of beautiful (and I do mean beautiful) people, all of whom seem to have another beautiful person to hold hands and share their sunny Saturday with... it makes me a little nostalgic for that kind of thing.

My lovely friend Froggoddess has recently found a distinct correlation between articulating what she is looking for to cyberspace and actually finding it in real life fairly soon afterward. So the point of this is to follow her lead and see if the same luck/universe energy might look favorably upon me.

So sleep on it and let me know what you come up with. You can find me tomorrow in the park with a croissant and the English-language newspaper, looking slightly embarrassed, but happy all the same.

montreal musings

Just about everyone here seems bi- (if not multi-)lingual. Oh, the envy.

This city is so beautiful! This evening around dusk I walked through Chinatown to Old Montreal and wandered around the narrow old streets, happening now and then upon some massively grand old building or church. I kept having to remind myself what city I am in (really, what continent I'm on).

I have a major weakness (OK, several, but I'm only telling you one right now): almond croissants. I had one today that was light and fluffy and almondy and exactly what an almond croissant should be. I'm guessing it had no more than six ingredients in it, and at least three of those were butter. It is a good thing I don't live in a place where this weakness can be easily indulged.

I really wish my camera hadn't died in Ireland.

The two best cities in North America for Vietnamese food seem to be Minneapolis and Montreal. (Granted, I have not extensively searched other places, but I have never found pho as good as I used to get in Minneapolis... until tonight.)

I would really like to speak French. Not only would I feel like less of a tourist here, but from speaking my three French phrases (bonjour, bonsoir, and merci) (you know, the most important ones) I've discovered that I like the way French feels. It's like holding a couple marbles on the back of your tongue and trying to talk over them. But in a good way.

(This has little to do with Montreal other than the reason I happen to be in Montreal right now...) I really wish my Spanish were better. I can understand most of the people some of the time, but I want to understand all of the people at least most of the time. Especially the Chileans. That's when I'll know I'm doing well.

I am not a fan of currencies employing coins of greater value than 25 cents. This whole 2-dollar coin thing is just a bit much, don't you think? I have so many coins clinking around in my pockets that I sound like a lost pirate.

And speaking of money: if you were planning on traveling internationally and expecting a lot of bang for your U.S. buck, I strongly recommend either serious adjustment of your expectations or staying home.

did you know they speak french here?

I'm on my first-ever trip to Montreal (and to Canada in general, actually. Well, except for those 20 minutes when I was nine years old, but I really don't think those count) this week for my first-ever academic conference.

The conference is the Latin American Studies Association (LASA) annual congress, involving many thousands of people from all over the world. By the way, it's in Canada (or rather, not in the United States) partly so that the Cubans can come, which adds a cool dimension. It's four days of jam-packed sessions - about 20 sessions running simultaneously in about two-hour blocks from 8am to 8pm. A session generally consists of three to six people presenting their papers around a particular topic, and the topics range widely: gender/feminist/queer studies, power systems, citizenship and political participation, art and film and literature, historiography, public health, and about six hundred other things. Many things that I don't get to think about very much, that are sometimes way over my head (especially when they would already be over my head even if the presentations weren't in Spanish), and that I LOVE thinking about.

It's terribly difficult to choose between the sessions, since so many are going at the same time and all of them sound so cool. And I'll admit that it's a little tough to sit in sessions at all, since it's sunny and warm and I'm in a whole new place that I could easily spend days wandering around and exploring.

Everything I've heard about the loveliness and European-ness of this city appear true, even though about half of my wandering thus far was the walk from the bus station to the bed-and-breakfast I'm staying in, which took me directly through what is apparently the strip club district of Montreal (yet I felt totally safe at 10:30 at night; welcome to Canada, I guess).

Goals for the coming days include: absorbing some tiny bit of the incredible academic knowledge that surrounds me at this conference; absorbing this bit of the experience of academia in general, as it becomes clearer to me that that's quite possibly my path (after all, I'm thrilled to sit and listen to people discuss gender and citizenship and empire and social identity theory all day, and find myself wanting to be taking part in the discussion too, rather than just listening. Kind of a flag, right there); finding time to wander the city; finding and sampling, against my better judgment, poutine; heading up to the Plateau to check out the view... and getting some sleep sometime, I guess.

Cuz, to be honest, this "thinking" thing? It's tiring.

recently added to the Awesome list

1. Last night I went to the drive-in movie theater for their (apparently) annual end-of-the-season (drive-in movie season, that is) quadruple feature. I have been meaning to get to the drive-in all summer and have consistently failed, so when I realized that not only was it my last chance to go there until next summer, but the Bourne Ultimatum (which I've been waiting to see on as large a screen as humanly possible) playing this weekend, it was obviously time.

I convinced three friends from work (how sweet is it to be able to consider coworkers friends, and to work with people who will do fun things like this with me!) and a couple other friends to head down there. And we took the dog, who proceeded to be majestically cute the entire time, especially when he developed a crush on my friend Ben and they both fell asleep curled up under Ben's blanket. We saw Evan Almighty, the Simpsons Movie, and Bourne back-to-back (-to-back). That's about five hours of movies. We left before Invasion, because it was 1:00am and I was getting up at 7:00am to help friends move this morning (Happy September 1st!). And because, seriously, have you actually heard anything good, or anything at all, about that movie?

Bonus: my friends are the Creatively Prepared types, so in addition to the obligatory lawn chairs and blankets to sit on, we had pillows and extra blankets and a grocery bag full of homemade seasoned popcorn and bread and cheese and several kinds of spreads and oodles of other snacks. And beer, except apparently drinking it there violates open container laws (we were warned beforehand, so that we didn't find out firsthand). Oh well.

2. Today after getting up too too early and glorying in the perfect late summer day while helping two friends move (into two different apartments), I came back to Brattleboro and ate my usual delicious Indian food lunch at the Brattleboro Farmers Market. And then I saw the crepe stand. And let's be honest here, I did some damn hard work this morning. So I treated myself to one of the most delicious concoctions I've tasted in a long time - a crepe consisting of fresh (local) peaches and blueberries, (local) maple cream cheese, freshly whipped (local) cream and spices wrapped in a freshly-made still-warm thin pancake. OHMYGOODNESSYUM.

Edit: 3. Not having to pay three people's rent as of today. My roommate decided to stay (with the dog!! YAAAAAY!!) and another woman who comes highly recommended by one of my work/drive-in-movie buddies is on her way here (from Indiana) to move in with us while she finishes her last semester of grad school at SIT. Which means we'll be looking for someone again come December, but for now, PARTY ON!