some new year's excitement

I just received a letter from the New York State Department of Taxation and Finance saying I owe $5,873.63 in back taxes. Apparently I failed to pay taxes in 2004.

Shit.

Oh wait. I DIDN'T LIVE IN NEW YORK IN 2004.

Way to go, NY. I'm so glad that this is where your energy and resources are going. New Yorkers, be proud.

This is almost better than the time North Dakota suspended my driving privileges due to my (allegedly) not having had insurance at the time of the accident in which I totalled my then-boyfriend's car (sorry 'bout that, again...). (Incidentally, that accident happened exactly three years and five days ago. Also, it was not my fault. Really.)

They waited almost a year to decide that I hadn't had insurance and that I was no longer allowed to drive in their fair state. Now, I know you're thinking "So?" but really, who knows when you might need to drive across the northern plains, and it would be just my luck to find myself driving through North Dakota twenty years from now and get pulled over and oops! did you know your driving privileges were suspended? And then I rot in jail in North Dakota. No thank you.

Naturally, I responded to the State of North Dakota and reminded them that actually yes, I did have insurance, and if I hadn't, don't you think I would have been cited at the time by your friendly state trooper? To which they basically said "oh, right" and we agreed to forget the whole thing.

I will now fight the NY Dept of Taxation with the same brilliant argument, which I like to call "logic." You're darn right I didn't pay taxes there in 2004, and no, I'm not about to pay you that $6,000 now. But thanks for the momentary heart attack. Happy New Year to you too.

stickler (i.e. dork) (i.e. bored)

On the list of minor quotidian annoyances, most of us would probably include "being put on hold to wait for customer service." And being forced to listen to some hideous music designed to make you regret attempting your phone call in the first place. (Though, trust me, whatever you are hearing is better than the hold music of the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Service, to whose hold music I lost at least three months of my life in 2003-04. I can still hum it from memory.)

But honestly the thing that annoys me more than awful hold music - and I know this will make a few of you nod in agreement and many more of you start to reconsider our friendship - is the recorded message that my "call will be answered in the order it was received."

I do not claim to be the Grammar God (I'm pretty sure the title is already taken by at least three of my close relatives), but please? "In which"? "Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received"... It wouldn't take that much more breath or time to say, and it would just make that sentence so much more... complete-sentence-like.

Oh, wait, I just discovered something yet more annoying [what, you didn't realize I have been on hold waiting for customer service this whole time?]: being on hold long enough to write most of a blog post, just to have another computer voice tell me that all customer service representatives are at a meeting all day today and there is actually no one there to answer my call. Why it took the computer 15 minutes to realize and share that information, I'm not sure.

But I'm not to worry. I am to leave my name and phone number, and someone will get back to me in the order it was received. Oh good.

poster boy

As if we needed the world to be more ticked off at the effects of American greed and corruption on the world economy, we now have Bernard Madoff bringing down European investment banks single-handedly. Thanks, Bernie.

Apparently a lot of people invested in Madoff's scheme through their financial advisors. The NY Times reports that "investors are now questioning whether these paid advisers were diligent enough in investigating Mr. Madoff to ensure that their money was safe."

Right. I'm gonna go with "no" on that one. I think maybe the "diligent enough" part is automatically negated by the "$50 billion Ponzi scheme" part. Call me picky.

(And by that I mean: For Christ's sake, people, is that actually a question? May I suggest that you think of your lost money as a tax on being dumb.)

Let's be honest here. Madoff isn't that much of an outlier. You don't have to run a Ponzi scheme (or try to sell a U.S. Senate seat) to be corrupt. A bunch of people are skimming millions (billions?) from Wall Street, it's just that they've managed to get it codified as salaries and bonuses and convince the public that anyone deserves to earn that amount of money. And it's not enough that they get paid while Rome burns, they actually want to get paid for setting it on fire. All this while they sell out their companies, cut jobs, and pay no mind to their laid-off employees who have to survive now on unemployment... except oops! we've run out of that money too.

Madoff cooked his books and sold people fairy dust in order to bilk them of billions of dollars, sure, but I really don't see that much of a difference between that and what the rest of the Wall Street big men have done. Except that he'll go to jail, while they just have to settle for a few million less in their bonus check this year. *Sniff*

If the government were to get serious about cleaning up this mess, which I'm not optimistic about, I think they should cap CEO salaries, make most bonuses illegal, and require that all that newfound money go to shore up unemployment benefits, food pantries and homeless shelters. Merry Christmas.

contemplation

First, let me say that I do have light and heat in spite of last night's ice storm, and apparently I'm very lucky on both those counts.

I'm also apparently lucky in that I have not recently been threatened by rabid semi-aquatic fish-eating mammals.

Moving on...

Here I am, sitting at home at 9:30pm on a Friday night. Now, I'd like to think I wouldn't be sitting at home if it weren't for the fact that I'm on call for work. And it really is quite possible, since there were several enticing options for evening activities today... though, OK, I admit that as usual when I can't quite decide what to do, the idea of staying home was already gaining momentum when the work phone rang and made the decision easy.

Truth is, I think that (knock on wood) I'm fairly close to finished with grad school essays and being able to pull together the whole darn thing and send it off. Today I got the third and final (and longest) essay to a point at which I was actually ready to send it to a few people for comments. It's not quite "there" yet but it's finally close. As I said to one of my essay readers, I feel like I've dragged the thing kicking and screaming this far, if in fact an essay can kick and scream (and it sure feels like it).

And I am totally at loose ends. I've been living and breathing grad school applications for the better part of three months now. What did I do before that? Sure, there are a few things I want to and should be doing - practicing my bass, reading some good books, catching up on emails and phone calls and volunteer projects, getting back into yoga... and anything else that does not allow for massive time-frittering on the internet (she said to the internet), which is quite the hazard of sitting with a laptop on my lap all the time. And I know I will get back to those much more important things, slowly but surely.

I will admit, too, that I have occasionally enjoyed having a good excuse to stay home over the past few months. There has long been a tension in my life of being simultaneously an introvert and an extrovert, and introversion tends to win out particularly at this darkening time of year, and when I'm tired and stressed. I do love people; I just don't necessarily want to be around them.

Yet, I suck at sitting at home and being truly sequestered. Or I don't suck at it; I'm just massively out of practice.

I recall being quite the busy woman before this grad school project took over my life and free time. What was I doing? Where did it go? And why am I so bad at being unscheduled? Why am I totally freaked out by the idea of soon having a lot more free time?

I know, I know: that's dumb. I will look back someday and desperately wish for this problem. I'm not actually complaining, just being introspective (in writing. on the internet.) and rather frustrated with myself. It could certainly be worse. I could be defending my unlit, unheated home from rabid otters with a lacrosse stick.

ny times op-ed quote of the day

"We face an obesity crisis and a budget crisis, and we subsidize bacon?"

office quote of the day

"Everyone loves cans of unidentified meat."

shock and awe

The NY Times would have you believe that even Illinoisans were shocked at just how corrupt the governor turned out to be. As a semi-Illinoisan, I don't buy it.

They're shocked in that way that makes you laugh out loud in amazement when someone shows you that the extremely low expectations you had for them turn out to be still too high. Shocked like when six of the teenage girl's friends already died because they went into the basement in the horror movie, and then she goes downstairs too, because she really is just that dumb, even when there was all that screaming and blood and creepy music that might make a rational person think twice.

Yes, Rod Blagojevich is the ditzy teenage girl getting hacked to death. This was totally coming.

disturbing

I hadn't realized until now that the phrase "the best and the brightest" was coined to be ironic.

And now history might be repeating itself.

Speaking of disturbing, it is really disturbing that Lawrence Summers is heading up Obama's economic team. Not just because he seems to think women are less capable in math and science than men (though Kim Gandy, President of NOW, poses the very interesting question whether "if [Summers'] comments about women's lack of aptitude for math and science had instead been a comment or an opinion about African Americans having less capacity for math and science, would he be on anybody's short-list?"). And not just because he's generally considered to be a total prick. But mostly because he played a significant part in creating the mess we're in now.

As Naomi Klein points out, there is quite a bit of "intellectual dishonesty" in parts of the Left about when the groundwork was laid for the current economic crisis. Calling it the Bush administration's fault sounds good in an election campaign, and certainly the last eight years have been completely disastrous for this country.

But c'mon guys. Deregulation really started rolling under Clinton. And who ran the Treasury under Clinton? Robert Rubin (who is now eating crow over at Citigroup) and... Larry Summers.

It's not that he failed to forsee the complete implosion of the economy. HE HELPED CAUSE IT.

And this is the guy Obama is going to be turning to for advice? Pardon me if I'm not overwhelmed with optimism.

in case you skipped the ny times this weekend

Several times as I read this weekend's NY Times I have found myself saying "Wow! Really?" So, I'm suggesting you read about:

1) Socially sanctioned transgender folks in rural southern Mexico.

2) The need for extremely careful, yet bold, decisions about the spending of all this fiscal stimulus money (yes, another I-can't-believe-how-much-I-now-like-Thomas Friedman column).

3) Bill Ayer's first major public statement about himself and the attempts to demonize him during the presidential campaign.

And, as long as we're on the subject of major breaking news, our local high school marching band is going to march in the inauguration parade, and I think that's pretty cool. They're a damn good band, actually.

Other breaking news: I think my new favorite thing is the chai shortbread cookies I made for a potluck today, the leftovers of which I'm hiding from myself until I go to work tomorrow and get my coworkers to eat them so that I won't.

And speaking of coworkers, I work with rock stars! I went to a local production of Puccini's short opera, "Suor Angelica," today - yes! We had a local opera production! - in which two of my coworkers had significant parts, and they blew me away. So I guess by "rock stars" I mean "amazing opera singers" which is pretty much the same thing, I'm sure you agree.

And that was my Sunday. The perfect day, if only it weren't succeeded by Monday.

and a youtube clip shall lead them

Something called the Churches Advertising Network (leave it to the Brits) apparently ran a competition for the best retelling of the Christmas story in under 30 seconds. I highly recommend that you peruse the winning entries, especially the special commendation, which is actually my favorite.

p.s. Did you know that "peruse" actually means "to examine carefully or closely"? I was ready for it, but it didn't come up on the GRE. I did OK anyway, wheeee! I also learned that "hell" can be defined as "a place in which you have to do the GRE math test for all eternity." And if Jews believed in hell, I would now be very, very good for the rest of my days on this earth.

Odetta, R.I.P.

"And you reach a fork in the road and you can either lie down and die, or insist upon your life.”

Ohh, she will be missed.

t-4 days

Until the GRE.

ACK.

a lot of gratitude a little early

I did, indeed, survive the Logan Airport experience. Thank you for your concern.

However, boo to the Massachusetts highway dept for the 45-minute detour that led me through the scenic downtowns of Athol and Gardner and made me nearly miss my flight. And whose idea was it to screw the subway in favor of an underground bus to the airport from South Station? Not so bad, but totally bizarre.

Also boo to the highway signage that suggests that a gas station is just here, right off this exit, don't worry! It's not like we would put that sign there to maliciously tease you into thinking there's a gas station nearby when really there's just a maze of darkened office parks in which you will probably get lost and needlessly run down what's left in your tank, just so you'll have to get back on the highway and pray until the next exit. Where there won't actually be a gas station either.

But yay for gas prices being down, so that when I finally limped into an open gas station in Leominster and put more gas in my tank than has ever gone in at one time before, it cost less than $25 (I have a small tank).

And now for the part of the story that most of you are probably not actually all that interested in: the wedding and associated weekend activities in Minnesota were WONDERFUL. I realized just how fun the wedding would be when the usher, a college friend, semi-jokingly asked "bride's side or groom's side?" and I was at a total loss as to how to answer (until, of course, he laughed and told me where the rest of our friends were sitting). Our friend The Reverend led a beautiful ceremony, complete with Thais' Meditation played on cello (which is, literally, my favorite piece of music in the world... or at least tied with Kol Nidre played on cello) and a surprise musical tribute from the bride's sister that couldn't have been more emotional had we been in a Meg Ryan movie.

And then, as we were being escorted across campus from the chapel to the reception hall by a bagpiper (both the groom and the college we went to are Scottish, OK?), the women stepping gingerly in our high heels through the remnants of the morning's snow, I realized that we had become Those People. The people who we used to gawk at as they walked across campus in fancy clothes for no apparent reason on random Saturday nights. I also realized a dream that I never even knew I had, which was to be escorted across campus by a bagpiper. I'd put that on the wish list in case I ever have a wedding, except I think that would mean my mother wouldn't come.

We outlasted all the other guests and the reception itself and headed out to the neighborhood bar - with, and at the specific request of, the bride and groom, because they are awesome. But before that came the real moment of glory, which involved weaseling our way into our old freshman dorm and trooping up to the top floor where we all met, and having a Group Nostalgia Moment (aka a 'Were The Rooms Always So Small And The Hallway Always This Narrow?' Moment). And only slightly scared the surprisingly gracious first-years as we peered creepily into their rooms and reminisced.

Except that my freshman year dorm room is now a bathroom. They renovated the dorm a few years ago and added a wing, and turned my room into a bathroom. Some other people's old rooms are just gone now, so I can't really complain. And I'm not really complaining anyway, because a dorm room is a dorm room and it's not like I miss living there.

But I do miss that group of people, crazy as we all were and are. Thank God they happened to me and that we stuck together in our random ways. So much so that now I'm not only still close with most of them, but with their parents too (as evidenced by the Saturday brunch where I spent more time talking to the parents than the friends)... and now, in a few cases, with their gorgeous children.

The Piano Man, the friend that The Reverend and I stayed with in St. Paul for the weekend and who came to the wedding as sort of date to both of us, asked me during the reception if the bride and I had been close. It was strangely hard to answer. I finally said "well, we didn't spend much time one-on-one, but you know, I'd throw myself in front of a bus [not the one that goes to Logan Airport, though] for her, and all that."

Which might not sound like the highest compliment of friendship, but really, when you haven't seen someone in years but you know they'd lay it on the line for you, that if you were desperate tomorrow you could call them and they'd get on a plane, that's about all that really matters in life, don't you think?

All this and it's not even Thanksgiving yet. This weekend in Washington DC promises to be great too, though it can't possibly quite match up. I'm flying out of Hartford.

or die trying

I wish I'd been carrying a camera around to capture the looks on people's faces this week when I've asked them if they've ever flown out of Boston's Logan Airport. Even the people who said no got a sort of horrified look on their faces, as if I'd just asked them if they ever bit the head off a chicken.

This makes me so very excited to fly out of Boston this afternoon, thanks guys!

Especially since everyone who did have advice to offer about the best way to get to the airport offered me completely different advice. Apparently Logan and the Boston public transit system completely change approximately every 12 minutes.

But assuming I make it through the Logan Airport experience alive and on time, it will all be worth it, because I'm going to Minnesota today for the wedding of college friends, i.e. a massive college friend reunion that is going to be soooooo wonderful.

This is that group of friends from college. Most people seem to have them. They're the people you met on Day One, the people who were with you and stuck with you as you figured out who you are, the people who have seen you on the best days and the worst, and everything in between, because you lived down the hall from each other and no one was about to step outside the dorm in February in Minnesota to visit other friends. Save those friends for the balmy months. These are the people that matter when the chips are down.

And now two of them are marrying each other and most of us will be there to help celebrate. I have trouble imagining a better way to spend a weekend.

Assuming I don't get swallowed by the Boston subway en route.

save tonight

Several things are happening tomorrow that I'm not at all excited about, not least of which is having to go to work, where certain recent events have managed to disgust me more than most of the pretty nauseating things of the past six months put together (not an easy feat). Most people don't look forward to Mondays, but tomorrow may be one for the record books.

So I'm going to spend a lot of tomorrow thinking about today. How I started the day with a couple hours of work at my food coop, and then went to Greenfield to meet the lovely Ms. Blue Eyes for brunch and lots of talk about Nicaragua, which I absolutely love and where she is about to embark on ten months of Fulbright grant research.

How I came back home and managed to squeeze in a bit of grad school application brainstorming - I wish I could call it "writing" but I don't think it counts if you end up with a blank page at the end, regardless of how many sentences you type and then erase in disgust in the meantime - before the Eight Foot Tall Man (I think he had another nickname at some point in this blog but I can't remember or find it) showed up, announcing that he'd just locked his keys in his car.

We spent a good amount of time laughing hysterically in my driveway while trying to maneuver a mangled wire coat hanger through his window frame to hook around the inside door handle. Which is not a bad way to spend half an hour, especially because it eventually WORKED! Making this the second successful car break-in in which I have participated in the past four months (though admittedly this one wasn't at the top of a remote mountain in North Carolina - you know who you are! - so there was less pressure).

And then we had a fabulous conversation about many things while I got a pot of chili bubbling on the stove, and then friends and more friends showed up for Potluck and Games Night, which has officially become my favorite night of the month because it involves my home, which I love, being filled with my friends, who I love. Which makes me feel, um... loved. Give and you shall receive, they say... I hope that's as true for everyone as it seems to be for me.

Because that is what will keep me going tomorrow. Because it makes everything else livable. Thank you, friends.

take that

To quote my brother, because I doubt he'll have time to blog about it himself, "Alaska says 'Oh yeah, Minnesota? Try three votes!'" (with Begich in the lead, woohoo!)

(For the record, the margin in the MN Senate race is now 206.)

with no offense to the healing arts

Can someone please explain to me the logistics of "placebo acupuncture"?

Do they stick you with fake needles? Hypnotize you and make your subconscious believe it happened?

(OK, OK, I do get it now, because I read enough of the article to get the explanation. Now I just want to know, who sits around and thinks "I wonder if you'd be more likely to get pregnant if we just convince you that you've had acupuncture instead of actually sticking you with needles"???) (Answer: someone who gets paid a lot more than I do, I'm sure.)

Next thing you know, you'll be able to get placebo massage therapy where they just pretend to touch you. But I'm sure someone's already trying to market that, anyway (or is that reiki?).

ouch

You want to know just how broken our healthcare and immigration systems are? Here's your answer. It ain't pretty.

unreal in mn

236 votes. Out of 2,422,848. (How that is "nearly 3 million," as the Star Tribune suggests, is a little bit of a mystery to me, but whatever.)

236. And anyone doubts that their vote matters?

UPDATE: Aha, I know how that's "nearly 3 million" - it doesn't include the 15% of the vote that went to the Independent candidate, Dean Barkley. And anyone doubts that runoff voting is a good idea?

distraction while we hold our breath

I can't say much about Election Day right now except that the photo in the NY Times of people lining up to vote outside PS 375 (aka Jackie Robinson School) in Brooklyn made me cry just now.

And I'm really excited that NPR's commentator thinks one of the four towns to watch for indications of how things will go nationally is Claremont, NH, since I canvassed there and I'm really optimistic about it. I'd love to think that it really is a good bellweather (assuming my optimism turns out to be well-founded, of course).

And I would love for things to be called early, but I won't believe anything until McCain concedes. 2004 hurt too much.

And now that I'm done not saying anything about Election Day, I wanted to post this video of some very life-affirming slam poetry. I was talking to someone about this recently and intended to send this to them (you?), but I can't remember who that was (no offense) and everyone should watch it anyway. This is a good moment for life-affirming art.

toward restoration

When you were a kid, did you wish upon stars?

I don't remember doing it much then, but the concept has somehow had more appeal as I've gotten older.

And just now, coming home from a Sweet Honey in the Rock concert, getting into a good meaty discussion in the car on the way back, getting ready to set my clock back for an extra hour of sleep before canvassing in New Hampshire all day tomorrow, I looked up for a long time at the blanket of stars with the Milky Way streaking across it.

And I'm not gonna lie, I made more than my fair share of wishes. But hey, there are a hell of a lot of stars out there tonight, and there are just so darn many things I'm hopeful for.

when life gives you lemons, make lists of all the things you could do with them.

WHAT I want to do

Learn how to plan and create sustainable communities that enhance human security after conflict and natural disasters and enable future crisis-resilience

Live in my wonderful apartment in my wonderful community

Sing in my vocal trio

Make some sort of money that allows me to survive in grad school

Get the most I can out of grad school without losing my mind

Play upright bass

Not go into horrific debt

Keep a pretty close eye on what life is actually about (read: NOT academia and stress and isolation)

WHERE I need to be to do these things

Boston

and

Southern Vermont

DISCUSS.

brilliant

Apparently the way out of the global food crisis is cultivation of potatoes. Yeah, didn't they try that in Ireland a while back? Worked great.

classic

Friend: "Monkeyhippy, why do you have a meat mallet on the floor of your car?"

Me: "Because it was rattling around too much in the glove compartment."

hopeful

Have you read the Chicago Tribune's endorsement of Barack Obama? Please do. It's rather awesome. And while it might seem obvious that they'd endorse him, it's actually pretty surprising. The Tribune has never, repeat never, endorsed the Democratic Party's nominee for President.

Also, just for fun: http://taxcut.barackobama.com/. (Thanks, Dan.)

half-seceded already

I listened with interest last night to the opening of the debate on Vermont Public Radio between the candidates for Vermont's one seat in the U.S. House of Representatives. "Huh," I thought, "I really don't know anything about that race; I should pay attention to this."

I did know that our current Democratic (it might seem like it goes without saying, but hey, our governor is Republican. We can be weird just like everyone else) Representative, Peter Welch, seems to have been doing a pretty good job, and that he's running for re-election. OK, so who's running against him? Just because he's a Democrat and pretty good doesn't mean another candidate isn't better.

See, I decided after the last Presidential election that I have to start voting for the candidate I truly prefer, not just the lesser-of-evils-and-maybe-actually-has-a-chance candidate (though I struggle a lot with this still - and the race for VT governor will put it to the test). I believe the only way multi-party options will become a reality in this country is if those of us who are not impressed with the main party candidates stop voting like lemmings jumping off a cliff and start supporting the people we really want in office (crazy talk, I know). And hey, who knows, maybe even a GOP candidate will be the more impressive. It hasn't happened yet, but I try to be open-minded, really I do.

As it turns out in this case, Peter Welch won not only the Democratic primary for U.S. House but received so many write-in votes in the GOP primary that he's also the Republican candidate.

Have I mentioned I love Vermont. "Wacky as the day is long" should totally be our state motto, except it probably wouldn't fit on license plates.

Now you may have the same logical question my mom asked when I describe this situation to her last night: "Does that mean he debated himself?" Actually, it doesn't, because we have this crazy thing in Vermont called "other parties." He was debating candidates from the Indepent, Progressive, and (widely-known and ever-popular) Liberty Union parties.

But I admit that I didn't listen. I'm all for considering the options, but I'm also all for writing personal statements that will hopefully get me into grad school, and the fact that Rep. Welch was nominated by both major parties is enough for me this time around.

P.S. There is all manner of sketchiness around straight-ticket voting, have you heard? If you live in one of the states where it's an option, DON'T DO IT. Vote for each candidate individually. Thank you.

still here

Between Wednesday and Monday I spent a total of approx. 36 hours in the car.

The rest of those days I was learning about domestic and sexual violence and child abuse (woohoo), dancing, (re)connecting with some great people, listening to live music, having wonderful conversations with trusted friends who are being excellently helpful on the question of what the heck I'm doing with my life, being freezing cold and totally sick, starting to collaboratively write my first contra dance, and laughing a whole lot. And having almost no internet or phone access. It was, as usual, life-affirming in many, many ways.

Now I'm back in the real world and drowning in my inbox at work and needing to be much more intensely focused on Rachel-getting-into-grad-school activities, and wishing for more time to focus on a few other things (and folks), not to mention wishing I needed much less sleep.

The good news is that I'm not planning to spend more than an hour in the car any day between now and November 5. Well... an hour at a time, anyway...

observations - bonus track

• The world is oh so small! Two of my very favorite people in the world found themselves at the same wedding in Atlanta last night, which wouldn't be so weird except that one of them is a dance community friend from western Mass. and the other is a former work friend from my time in New York, though he lives in Washington D.C. What are the odds that they'd have a mutual friend whose far-away wedding they'd both travel to, much less that they'd find themselves chatting enough to discover that not only do they both know me, but they'd actually met briefly once before, when Jacob (for whom I can't think of a nickname right now, darn it) came to visit me and we went contra dancing in Greenfield. I guess the odds are pretty good, actually. Because it keeps happening. I love it.
  

observations of the past few days

• Human communication is stunningly confusing sometimes. My belief is ever reaffirmed that a) it's healthy to maintain a certain skepticism about the idea that you understand a person or a situation, and b) it's really a marvel that human beings communicate successfully at all. And c) if you forget to second-guess yourself now and then, the universe will find ways to remind you.

• Global capitalist systems have us so twisted that I wonder if we really have to have a total meltdown to wake ourselves up (except I'm not optimistic about even that working, and of course it's easy for me to sit in my cozy apartment and suggest such things as if they're permissible). The Market rules us as if The Market is not made up of PEOPLE, damn it. People. You. Me. Millions of our friends. Does this disconnect not bother anyone else?

• My cousin and her partner, who have one adopted and three foster kids, one old arthritic and one young crazy yappy dog, 120 chickens and 18 goats on their farm that will soon house a commercial goat dairy, a full time synagogue rabbinical position, and a long list of community commitments and causes, are my total heroes. My life is so flippin' easy.

• Graduate school applications involve many, many steps and pieces and dominoes falling in the right order. My brain feels a little scrambled, and I've barely begun.

• We've had enough random tragedies here now. Basta.

• Vermont in autumn is actually better, somehow, than it appears in photographs.
  

• Corollary to that: few things are too stressful when you happen upon stunning beauty on a regular basis. Chalk it up to my ADD, maybe, but no matter the rut my brain is stuck in, "ohmygod look at that incredible tree/mountain/sunset" snaps me right out of it.

• Flying trapeze is somehow harder and easier the second time. I can't wait to see how it is the third time.
  

• I need more than five or six hours of sleep a night.

• My community is full of the most absurdly wonderful people imaginable. I know I've said this before; I just want to make sure the universe knows that I'm still grateful.
  

roads that don't exist on the map

I spent all day today canvassing in rural west-central New Hampshire. This is a very different experience from my previous canvassing stints in south Minneapolis four years ago, where we walked house to house in neighborhoods where the houses were quite a bit less than, say, a mile apart. Rural New Hampshire is a different story.

When we returned to the Obama office in downtown Claremont, NH and did our tally sheet, we discovered we'd actually knocked on 17 doors. (By "we" I mean myself and Zoning Man, a new friend from recent debate-watching festivities, whom I hereby introduce to you.)

Seventeen. In four and a half hours. And that might have been counting the house with the majorly mean-looking, snarly, barking, spike-collared, not-tied-up German Shepherd, on whose door we actually got nowhere near knocking. It definitely included the "house" that appeared to actually be a chicken coop with a lamp in the window - there were cedar shavings on the floor and everything!

So really we spent the afternoon driving around on back roads in rural New England looking at the beautiful fall leaves and gorgeous mountain views. And occasionally parking the car and walking up a driveway to knock on doors and chat about politics. And occasionally driving down a road until the asphalt turned to dirt, which gave way to dirt wheel tracks with grass growing in between, which then, at least once, just sort of petered out into the woods. Oops. Turn around (I think I did more three-point turns today than in the rest of my life up to this point).

I don't want to jinx anything, but I am feeling good about the direction New Hampshire's voters seem to be swinging. We were in an area with a demographic that you'd think would be unlikely Obama supporters. Yet, of the maybe ten people who actually answered their doors, we did not talk to a single person who was even leaning toward voting for McCain, much less anyone who was solidly in his camp. Granted, we drove past McCain yard signs (as well as Obama signs) and we were focusing on reaching out to voters who were registered as undecided.

But of those ten "undecided" voters, at least a few were so firmly for Obama that we didn't even stay to chat, because contrary to seemingly popular belief, preaching to your choir isn't a great use of time. Others were really leaning toward Obama. Only a couple were really undecided, and the hope there is that come Election Day they'll remember those pleasant young people who drove all the way out (and we're talking "out there") to their house to discuss the issues and their vote.

Apparently New Hampshire isn't the only swing state where people are feeling optimistic about Democratic progress. There's a good story today on my new favorite poll-watch website (thanks Tim!) about optimism in Indiana, a state Republicans have long counted on, and how perhaps the most heartening thing there is the great mix of people who are coming out to volunteer for Obama. It's not just college students, as is often the case, but all ages and backgrounds. The same appears true in New Hampshire. Zoning Man and I were probably the only 20-somethings in the Claremont office today. The rest of the room was quite mixed, some families with teenage kids, a great elderly couple who were rather dressed up for the occasion, and many people in between.

We care. That feels good. And we care in apparently large numbers in states that some had given up on. We can do this!

if you can't handle cryptic blog posts, turn away right now

It's 3:00a.m.

You know how last week the debate was on Friday night? Yeah, well this week it wasn't, oops, and that sucks ass for my rapidly-upcoming morning at work.

Granted, the debate ended, um, many many hours ago. But then, see, I needed to sit on my friend's couch and catch up on things and deconstruct structural injustice and try to find our places in the dismantling of White patriarchy, all while watching the Cubs utterly blow it.

And then I clearly needed to wash some dishes, because a) I helped dirty them, and b) another reason I'm not going to talk about. And then I even more clearly needed to stay and have another conversation for an hour and a half. It's part of a game I like to call Diving Head-first Into the Shallow End, or, I Suck At Emotional Self-Preservation, which is related to reason "b" above, and no, I'm not going to explain it now, either. I have faith in you. You're smart enough to guess.

And then I just had no interest in sleep, which quickly degenerates into helloooooo internet! I could do the dishes in my own sink, but those don't have quite the appeal, plus I think my dish-washing karma for the night is more than covered.

...

SIGH.

I'm so screwed.

that was me, being wrong

There is no toss-up.

Sleep does NOT win out over flying trapeze. I think maybe nothing wins out over flying trapeze. OHMYGOD that was fun. Beyond fun. My hands are rubbed raw and I will be too sore to move a muscle in the morning, and it's worth all that AND too little sleep, and then some.

Anyone want to go to trapeze class with me next week?

way past my bedtime

And I thought last night was late, after getting home at 12:30 from a long-overdue friend visit that turned into me crouching by his computer "watching" the exciting end of the Twins game (Go Twinks!). But this is Friday night, after all. And there's nothing like a good old debate-watching party to lift the spirits (the liberal ingestion of, um, spirits helps too). Now it's 2:00am, which is really an absurdly late hour to be awake, what with having flying trapeze class in the morning.

I think it's going to be canceled because of rain, though. And given that I would need to get up for it in six hours, give or take, I actually almost hope it's canceled, especially if they reschedule for next week. Hm, flying through the air vs. getting more sleep. It's a toss-up.

Even before trapeze class, I can say with sincerity - but don't just take my word on this; go find out for yourself - there is nothing like flying through the air to remind you that you love life.


By the way, since it's now the job of the internet to tell us who won the debate, here's my take... I think Obama was great, I think McCain looks kind of pathetic when he tries to have that smirky grin on his face, and I think we'll know on Nov. 5 who won the debate.

you heard it here first

Because I have officially lost faith that good intentions can prevail over ego and incompetence and bureaucracy in the work world (yup, and I've been in the work world only five years. Impressive, no?)...

Because I miss the world of ideas, and haggling over theory and dissecting structural violence and privilege and writing papers instead of sleeping enough (I'm not sure about that last one, but it seems to go with the others, so I may as well embrace it)...

Because reading for pleasure is just too much fun...

Because maybe, maybe, if I play my cards right and things fall into place, I'll come out on the other side more employable...

Because I'm totally in love with where I live, so clearly I need to move...

Because massive debt is fun...

... I think I'm going to try to go to grad school next fall.

And because if two years worth of massive debt is fun, three years must be even more fun...

... I think I want to get a dual Master's degree in International Affairs and Urban and Environmental Policy and Planning.

And if we're really dreaming big here, then maybe I want to go from there and get a Ph.D. and teach college students how to be critical thinkers and social activists.

There, I said it.

That's the hard part, right? Saying it out loud, declaring it to the world? Taking the GRE, applying to school, going to school, and somehow paying for school are the easy parts, yes? I'm sure I read that somewhere once.

best idea ever

The following message was forwarded to me this morning. I acted on it and I hope you will too. Why? Because protest is good, and hilarious protest that supports great organizations is even better.

Subject: FW: Best Idea Ever!

Dear Friends, We may have thought we wanted a woman on a national political ticket, but the joke may have been on us. Are you frightened as I am by Palin's position on women's issues? May I pass along the following fiendishly brilliant idea?

Make a donation to Planned Parenthood. Of any amount, in Sarah Palin's name. Here's the best part: when you make a donation to PP in her name, they'll send her a card telling her that the donation has been made in her honor. It won't change the election but it will support an important organization and it will make women's voices heard. Here's the link to the Planned Parenthood website:

http://www.plannedparenthood.org/

You'll need to check 'make honorary or memorial gift,' and fill in the name of the person you want to 'honor,' i.e. Palin. Fill in the address to let PP know where to send the 'in Sarah Palin's honor' card. If you use the address for the McCain campaign headquarters, they'll get the message.

McCain's headquarters address:

McCain for President
John McCain 2008
P.O. Box 16118
Arlington, VA 22215

Please free to send this along to all your women -- and men friends and urge them to do the same.

what this is

This is a grieving process. I realized it this past weekend, while I mercifully escaped into the Cheese Queen's gorgeously nutty house in Ashfield, MA for a harmony singing workshop with the lovely Val Mindel and Emily Miller. Mostly I kept my mind off work, as there was enough to occupy my brain. But several times I did suddenly realize that my mind had wandered back into the minefield and I had to go retrieve it before anything bad happened.

During one of those wanderings, I guess, it came to me that part of the reason I feel like I'm on a constant emotional roller coaster is that I'm grieving for what could have been, for the possibilities of my job that will now never be realized.

Except until certain things happen, it's more like grieving for someone that has a terminal illness but hasn't yet died. Or being in a relationship that has a predetermined end date. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. I'm not saying that this is as bad as dealing with a loved one's terminal illness; thank God I don't know from experience. But in a way it's not terribly different. When you have a vision of your life that's pretty great, and pretty much on-track, and suddenly it's thrown out the window and there's apparently nothing you can do about it, that feels pretty major.

I will be fine, one way or another. As Billy Jonas sings (six or seven times a day on my iPod these days), "any way you go you're gonna get there." Obviously there are oodles of privilege running around my life, and no matter what happens I will find a way to land on my feet, and even (though I don't want to jinx anything there) stay in my wonderful new apartment and keep dancing and singing.

I just have to grieve a while first.

better today

The FCC has declared my self-exposure yesterday as slightly less appropriate and far less culturally significant than Janet Jackson's nipple at the Super Bowl. I am therefore dutifully bleeping it out of existence.

Apparently last night I needed to have a tantrum to the internet. Today I need to keep my shirt on and apologize for outburst.

Yesterday was, indeed, a really bad day. I am still struggling with all of that, and in some ways probably will forever, as it re-emphasizes questions I've had for a while now about personal and professional priorities, the purpose (if there is one) of ambition as it's traditionally defined, and what's really important in life. I continue to be pretty disappointed in our culture's mainstream answers to these questions, and to be unsure of whether the most sane response is to fight the system or go live off the grid in the woods somewhere.

And then I got a good night's sleep and woke up this morning deciding that my current situation is what it is, and I will fight it and stand up for myself and make whatever decisions I need to make, but I will not wallow in depression over stupidity I have no control over, and I will not let it take over my life.

You're probably as relieved as I am. As is the FCC. Just trust me on that.

and...?

This post has been removed.

and in other news

What if, in order to maintain my dignity and integrity, I have to quit my job next week?

Wouldn't that be interesting?

feeling less alone

I don't think anyone is more surprised than me that my very favorite thing to read on the internet, besides the webpage of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (yes, really) is a blog by an ex-Mormon married mother in suburban Utah. Then again, she somehow appeals to a whole lot of us, apparently. And today I love her more than pretty much ever before.

And here's my favorite comment on the post (though I did not read all 452 of them), from someone named Adrienne:

"I keep looking at Palin like, really? that's...the best they could come up with? And I'm not a little bit offended that the Republican party seems to think I'll look at her and say "OMG, *you* have ovaries? *I* have ovaries! I should TOTALLY vote for you and that guy who was lobotomized by the Republican party two years ago in return for the CHANCE of being president!" As though, perhaps, the presence of my ovaries renders me retarded..."

time bomb

I may not really blog at all over the next ten weeks, but rather just pass along the excellent points of others. Like this one, the full title of which I'm going to share because it's just so good (as is the article):

Ask Not What Bristol Palin Can Do For You, Ask What Sarah Palin Can Do For Your Pregnant Daughter.


Is anyone else terrified at the thought of Sarah Palin being one (old, jowly) heartbeat away from the Presidency? Why isn't EVERYONE terrified at that thought? I'm not saying that as a proud liberal, feminist and Obama supporter; I'm saying it as someone who feels really lucky in life in this country and on this planet, who is scared and saddened more than enough at the current state of things and the dire need for us to begin repairing some of the damage of not just the past eight years but really the past 50 or 100.

How in the world does anyone think she could do a good job as President? From what I've seen so far, her greatest strength is that she's good at biting retorts and degrading comments, not to mention glossing over hypocrisy on personal vs social issues (see link above). Good for campaigns, useless and dangerous in leadership.

But then, it's starkly obvious that John McCain's campaign is only about getting to the Presidency, not being a good President. It's insulting to me, particularly as a woman, and, frankly, it's pathetic. Or would be if it weren't so scary.

Oops, I guess I just blogged after all.

in case you missed this

If you didn't read my most recent post, and haven't been watching the news OH WAIT THEY HAVEN'T REALLY MENTIONED ANYTHING ABOUT THIS, here are some links to more info about the raids, arrests and general intimidation of protesters and journalists by St. Paul police and National Guard troops at the RNC. As a former St. Paul resident, I am ashamed of the city I once proudly called home.

those were the days

I miss the days (oh wait, maybe they never existed) when the right to freedom of speech and assembly meant something, don't you?

believe it or not

I am ever-fascinated by the mystique that seems to surround New York City, and the obnoxious obsession with its own greatness that pervades feelings and writings about the place. Of course, a local paper should probably be something of a cheerleader for its hometown, even if that local paper is the New York Times. So I can't be too annoyed by this article. That said, I really have to take issue with a few specific examples of that obsession.

For one, the way that many, include this article's authors, totally exaggerate the "rude New Yorker" reputation. Actually, I've always been pleasantly surprised by the willingness of New Yorkers to stop and help someone find their way. I visited New York twice before I lived there, and both times, as I found myself on a street corner trying to plot my course on a subway map, had people stop and ask me if I needed help finding my way.

I made a point of doing it while I lived there, because I was so happy to have that myth dispelled for me when I was a tourist. Funny thing is, I got asked for directions all the time - literally, every day - at the beginning, when I was fairly clueless myself. As time went on and I got pretty good at it, fewer people asked me. Perhaps New York doesn't harden your soul so much as your face.

And sure, I've had rude cab drivers, but more often I've experienced the (sometimes annoyingly insistent) friendliness of cabbies who actually want to know about me and to talk about their day. Maybe that's because I started the small talk. Maybe New York just isn't actually exempt from the Golden Rule.

So many times I've wanted to shout "YES it's OK to love living in New York! I just don't, AND THAT'S OK TOO."

I can't figure out if New Yorkers have to tell themselves and the world that they're unique and rude and tough in order to gird themselves to put up with the craziness, or if they really want to believe it. Or if they hear "I don't like living here" as "I am weaker than you and/or less able to appreciate the wonders of this city" because the culture of the city mandates it or because a lot of them would otherwise have to admit that they don't actually like living there either.

It's not just "the sinking realization of what an alienating place the city can be, especially for those who are not wealthy or who do not have a pre-existing network of friends." It's not that "the subway maze seems indecipherable." It's the obsession with money, and the need to spend lots and lots of it to live in a non-shitty apartment in a relatively safe and interesting neighborhood within an hour's subway trip of anything worthwhile (like, um, your job).

It's that it's much easier to eat out and go shopping than to get away from traffic and see the stars at night, and I've realized that my priorities are the other way around. It's that that realization doesn't make me weak, but that the New York Times wants you to think it does.

An interesting thing happened when I decided to move to Vermont from New York: a lot of people I talked to got a faraway look in their eyes and spoke wistfully about how great that sounded. Some of them have families and friends and lives settled enough that staying is just easier than leaving. Many have great jobs that are only in NYC. And I totally respect that; I miss the organization I worked for in the city, and one of my major hesitations about going to grad school is that many of the jobs that would be appealing and available afterward are there and nowhere else. We all have to set our own priorities and find ways balance them, despite it often being logistically and emotionally difficult.

And, yes, before anyone gets too pissed off at me, I know perfectly well that many people - good, friendly, interesting people - completely love it there and have wonderful lives and friends and really sincerely can't imagine wanting to live anywhere else. And I'm happy for them.

I just get tired of insisting that I didn't get chewed up and spit out. I just didn't like it. You might hate living in Brattleboro, VT. That's fine. That's why both places exist and are populated (the latter with many transplants from the former, actually).

While this whole thing probably sounds like a defensive tantrum, it's really intended only to offer another perspective that you won't get from that article. My perspective is that, nope, the city didn't fit me; it was always an XXL t-shirt on a small frame, and a grimy-yet-incredibly-overpriced one at that. But actually it wasn't as mean and intimidating as they apparently would have you believe.

It's a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

i strongly suggest protective head gear

Soon I shall post rapturous odes to the glory of living alone in my wonderful new apartment... but not yet (I can actually hear your sigh of relief).

(I would like to take this moment, however, to speak rapturously of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream, which I happen to be dripping onto the keyboard right now. O! How it dost steal my heart and enlarge my ass.)

Today I just want to say that on the way to meet The Linguist for a lovely dinner in Greenfield tonight, I pulled up short before turning a corner in order to give a cyclist the right of way. As he looked back, I realized it was one of my favorite folk singers, who happens to live locally. I didn't really come close to hitting him, and the silly man wasn't wearing a helmet, but that didn't stop me from feeling just slightly more startled than I otherwise might in such a situation.

It's like the time I worked up the courage to take my violin to a local session, planning to hide in the back, and ended up stuck in the middle next to a) one of the most attractive men in my community, on whom I have the kind of crush that makes you feel completely stupid every time you're in the presence of the other person, which is both fun and really annoying now that I'm not in 6th grade anymore, and b) one of the best composers and performers of traditional music, um, anywhere. And my violin bridge spontaneously snapped in half while I was trying to adjust the tuning and the pieces went shooting through the air just past Mr. Incredible Musician's head, and I thought to myself, gee, wouldn't it be fun to be forever known as the person who BLINDED Keith Murphy by (very accidentally, but still) stabbing him in the eyeball with a piece of my instrument?

I think I'd much rather stab myself in the eyeball with a piece of my instrument.

It's not that I have it in for musicians or that I'm particularly prone to almost causing bodily harm to musicians I admire. It's just that there are more musicians around here than you can shake a stick at, whatever that phrase actually means, so you're bound to nearly run one over sooner or later. You didn't know that music could be a contact sport, did you?

this blog is going to the dogs. don't worry, it will come back.

The best part of yesterday was having so many people show up to help me move that it took only a couple of hours, which is really far less than I deserve. I love my community. The contra dancing community (+ Ben) moving company really should give it a go. We're damn good at this. I had the whole afternoon and evening to unpack and move things around and start to get the place settled.

The worst part of yesterday was realizing that I actually had to say goodbye to The Dog, who is going to Maine today with his actual owner. It's a very good thing, since I'm not living there anymore, the house is pretty empty without my furniture, and he'll love being in Maine with his (human) mama and lots of space to run around. But to give you an idea, I'm almost crying right now at the memory of saying goodbye to him.

Conclusion: I really love my new apartment. And I really, really miss The Dog.

big talk

Thomas Friedman does it again.

(Here's where I pointed out his doing it before.)

sweet and cuddly except sometimes not (not an autobiography)

My housemate went to Maine to work on a farm this summer, allowing me to wallow just a little bit more in the fantasy that The Dog actually belongs to me. And perhaps letting me gain a little bit of perspective just in time to soften the blow of the upcoming massive separation anxiety I am sure to feel starting next weekend, when I no longer live here and can't live in that fantasy world anymore (nor, because of the rules of my new apartment, can I turn the fantasy into reality by getting a dog of my own, darn it).

While he doesn't hesitate to wake me up in the middle of the night to remind me that I'm a lousy human who continuously fails to do things like stop the thunderstorms or pet him 24 hours a day, we've generally been getting along very well. We go for walks once or twice a day, aka "who will attack us this time?" excursions that are getting a little old, in my opinion, though they do keep us on our toes.

See, The Dog is one of those Very Large breeds, or mix of breeds more accurately, that look scary to people and intimidating to other animals. Little do they know that all he really wants in life is people to pet him and walk him and generally love him ALL THE TIME. That almost any time you hear him growl or bark in our house, it's his way of saying "Hey! Remember how you were going to pay attention to me now?" He is a young adult male pit bull/boxer mix, and those are breeds that love their people (sometimes more than we can handle). And like to dominate other dogs, particularly male dogs.

And we live in a town where there are a LOT of other dogs, including a lot of other large dogs. For reasons that confound me - maybe they watched Lassie too much as kids - a lot of my neighbors seem to dislike keeping their dog on a leash, even when walking down the sidewalk on my street, one of the busiest in town. This is very sweet and happy-go-lucky and all, until my pit bull decides to eat your chihuahua because he thought it was a one of those organic fair trade dog treats they sell at the Co-op.

I admit that this is somewhat hypocritical of me, because The Dog can somewhat regularly be found wandering innocently around the front of our house with no leash, though he knows perfectly well he's not supposed to (oh, don't give me that anthropomorphizing stuff; look into his eyes - he knows). See, we let him out back to pee, and since we live on a hill that's at approximately a 90-degree angle from the road, there's no possibility of building a fence to keep him out there. He knows he's supposed to bark from the back door, but sometimes he wanders around and waits at the front door instead. My biggest fear is that he'll run into the street, followed closely by the fear that someone will get nervous about seeing a pit bull wandering around and call the cops.

Which is what I feel a bit like doing every time we're out walking and we go by a house with a dog running free, and I have to hold my breath and pray that they don't take an interest each other (after all, the other dog might try to defend its rightful territory while The Dog would counter with the old "But I peed on your lawn just this morning" argument, and then the gloves are off). The same applies when we're walking the paths through the woods nearby and pass by people walking their dogs off-leash. I'm guilty of it too, especially on the mountain trails where keeping him on the leash is a recipe for me to get pulled down a mountain much more quickly than I'd like to go (though I am clearly capable of falling on my ass without his help, too). But in the last four days we've gone on five walks, and on each of those walks we have had nerve-wracking encounters with other dogs.

I don't want to give you the wrong impression here. Most of the time he's fine. Most smaller dogs are afraid of him, and he usually just sort of looks over their heads with a facial expression that says "I would almost notice you, if only you weren't such a tiny, insignificant speck." I have to wonder about the little dogs (like the one we met tonight) that jump right at him; either they have a very over-inflated sense of self-importance, or they're actually just flinging themselves toward his mouth on the assumption that that's where they're about to end up anyway, so might as well make it quick.

Many larger dogs aren't a problem either. He likes a friendly butt-sniff as much as the next guy, and likes the ladies enough to make me wonder sometimes if his neuterer did a complete job. But then there's the shepherd trotting along after its owner's bicycle on the opposite side of the street yesterday who merrily jogged out into traffic to come meet us (I think it was going to be a friendly meeting, actually, but I'd rather you not get hit by a car for it, thank you). And the collie we met in the woods the other day, where I could tell things were not looking good just from the way their tails sprung higher and higher up into the air the closer we got. Luckily I had him on a leash and the collie's owner grabbed his dog around the neck and pulled him away as they lunged at each other's faces.

Of course, ten seconds later you'd have never known that he'd just tried to bite another dog's head off. Lunge-chomp-done. Maybe that's better than current human methods of conflict resolution. Our species does things much more slowly, and with far more expensive and complicated weaponry. And we hold grudges much longer. But I don't have the option of putting Dick Cheney on a leash (believe me, I'd take it), so I have to do what I can to help keep order in the little corner of the world that I have some say in. All I ask is that others do the same.

purposefully cryptic*

Highlights of the whirlwind Miami trip earlier this week:

• the beach
• speaking Spanish
• delicious handmade pasta (at Spiga, for those of you heading to South Beach for a meal anytime soon)
• watching storm clouds go the other direction, for once
• the beach, early in the morning, empty except for me
• starting the day with real espresso, made by a real Italian guy, in a tiny little Italian cafe, where all the other customers were (really!) Italian.
• eating lunch and reading the newspaper cover to cover at News Cafe (from which Gianni Versace was walking home when he got shot, says my friend Ben) and watching the fancy people go by
• coming home

Lowlights:

• the task I was actually sent there to do, which luckily went OK
• coming back to the hotel, turning on the news, and having the shit scared out of me after the fact
• the Miami Beach version of a good time, which appears to involve lots of money, tiny bikinis, fake tans, nightclubs, and clothing boutiques... none of which interests me, in case you wondered
• the sunburn on my upper lip. Not the lower one, just the upper. How do I do these things? Clearly I carefully covered my lower lip and then stared up into the sun.
  
• the airport shuttle driver, who said he supported Hillary Clinton and is dismayed that "now they want to paint the White House black." To which I said "yup, and I think it would be one of the best things to ever happen to this country." He changed the subject and started telling me about his Shih Tzu puppies.

I'm tempted to start speculating in print here about why I volunteer for things that might suck. OK, more accurately, I've been speculating for the last five or 10 minutes, then hit the "delete" button. It doesn't it really matter. I do it, I'll keep doing it, and I don't believe in harboring regrets.

But sometimes the things that might suck really do.

*I really can't get more specific, sorry.

the universe having fun

On Tuesday morning I looked at my boss and said "wow, it's been quite a week... Oh crap, it's only Tuesday."

Part of the problem is that the craziness started on Sunday, when the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival suddenly found itself in the path of a severe thunderstorm that I can only assume was of right-wing conservative suburban origins, given it's apparently strong desire to blow away all us New England folk music hippies. The festival folks are calling it (erroneously, I'm fairly sure) a tornado; my lay-meteorologist brother thinks it was a derecho; I just thought it was a great thunderstorm, except I was worried about the safety of festival-goers (rightly, from what I've since seen on YouTube - people holding up tents by bracing themselves against the tall metal tent poles. Um... tall metal poles? Lightning? Guys?).

Of course, it was easier for me to stay calm - not only did I grow up with (and now actually really miss) that weather, but I was in the dance tent, which stayed upright and dry - if not quiet - under the golf-ball-sized hail. At least, until the over-saturated ground stopped accepting the water pouring down on it - a nearby town reported .93 inches of rain in ten minutes. Ten minutes! - and the whole place flash-flooded, sending water up over the edge of the 3-inch platform dance floor. And the power got knocked out. Of course, what do contra dancers do under such circumstances? A few people grab brooms to fight the water out, the band goes to the middle of the hall, and everybody waltzes (as opposed to contra dancing, which requires a caller with a microphone).

That worked until they advised everyone to get out because two of the big tents had already blown down, and oh by the way DON'T TOUCH THE METAL POLES. Um, yeah, time to go. And, due to trees down on the road to the interstate, it only took me 3.5 hours to make the usually-two-hour trip home. The back roads through the Berkshires are lovely this time of year. Trust me. I've now seen most of them.

Sunday should have warned me about the rest of the week; I may have just stayed home in bed had I properly read the signs. Monday brought some crazy stories from the previous Friday (when I wasn't in the office), trying to find a way to get some very important items couriered from Vermont to Florida ($4000!!) and a surprise last-minute trip to Springfield, MA to pick up the surprise last-minute candidate for Dean of Students (who I loved, yay!). Tuesday brought the request from high-ups in my organization that I be the courier to Florida (no, they're not paying me $4000; that's sort of the point of sending me)... on Thursday.

It's surprisingly easy to make arrangements to fly to and stay in Miami on less than 48 hours notice. And surprisingly easy to cancel them and make them all over again, when it turns out a day later that I actually needed to go this coming Monday, instead of Thursday. I'd actually alread checked into my flight, and assumed that the airline would take this opportunity (since they don't seem to miss one these days) to financially eviscerate me for my "mistake," but no. I called, they canceled it, I called Expedia, and they actually offered me a way to cancel and rebook with no change fee, which they totally did not have to do. The universe is smiling.

The last couple days of the week didn't really match up to the first few (thank God). Now it's Saturday morning and I'm sorting through stacks of CDs that I am going to get rid of (did you hear that, world? I'm getting rid of things. Not a lot of things. But still. I'm actually doing a pre-move purge, aren't you proud? Sarah, this means you).

I'm really just trying to stay awake - it's 10am and I just returned from spending the night on top of a mountain. Adventure Man, in one of his many wonderful outing schemes, loves to go stargazing, and keeps an eye on the moon cycles and cloud cover forecasts. So, we headed up Putney Mountain last evening, hiking the mile or so to the top right at sunset, spread out our sleeping bags, and urged the clouds (and the distant lightning occasionally reflecting off of them) to go back from whence they were coming. We didn't have much success at first, but after dozing off for a couple hours I woke up looking at a blanket of stars over my head. When Adventure Man woke up he exponentially increased my knowledge of constellations, and we just marveled at the view of the Milky Way and the nearly constant shooting stars seemingly just above our faces.

Oh, and I nearly forgot the guy playing the saxophone. After we'd been on the mountain maybe 45 minutes, I saw light flashing off the trees near us. Being fairly sure that I hadn't done any hits of acid before our outing, I looked around and around for signs of other humans, and sure enough after a few minutes a young man came out of the woods on the trail we'd climbed, and as he passed us to find another flat sleeping spot he called back over his shoulder "will it bother you guys if I play some saxophone?" Resisting the urge to ask him how good a saxophonist he is, we said "sure" and proceeded to be serenaded to sleep by what I can only call New Age saxophone. Of all things.

It's not the most rested way to start a weekend, but it's pretty spiritually refreshing. Which I needed, to keep packing through the weekend and be ready fly to Miami bright and early on Monday. Once I'm back I'll just be holding my breath until Move Day, happily just a week and a half away. I just hope that these are really the only things that happen in the next two weeks. Since the last week seemed to last about a month.

laughing til i cried... or crying til i laughed?

My office-mate was recently laid off because his full-time position was eliminated due to budget cuts. He was then immediately hired to fill the half-time temp position that they created to cover for the loss of his position. At this moment he is on the phone at his desk. Trying to sign up to receive his unemployment check.

curious

Ye who checked my blog from Libya: who are you?

as it turns out

No cookies were necessary.

WOOHOO!!!!

August 15 is The Day - the day I get to take on the privilege of paying rent for two different apartments simultaneously, since my current lease runs until September 1. But it will be worth it to get to move over the course of a couple weeks instead of one horrid day as usually happens. Volunteers will be welcome :) I will help you move in return. Many people can attest.

And thank goodness this got worked out today, because the rest of my workday was a bit of a three-ring circus. I can't say more than that without saying too much about my workplace on the internet. Let's just say, my approach of keeping my expectations low so as not to be disappointed is serving me well. Sadly, I think this is probably good advice for just about any workplace. For your sake I hope you disagree.

In entirely different news, because you totally needed to know this: I just made some kick-ass zucchini bread. And if you are going to be at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival this weekend, come find me; I made it to share.

impatience

I found the (seemingly) perfect apartment yesterday. Looked at it over lunch hour and faxed in my rental application - complete with cover letter - about 15 minutes after returning to the office. They want someone for August 1, which really isn't that far away, though I hope they let me move in at the end of August without having to pay rent for the whole month, since I'll still be paying rent at my current house. But I would pay both if I had to. It's that great.

I hereby apologize for the fact that no matter what I'm doing or what we're talking about in the next few days (they can't take longer than a few days, can they? CAN THEY???), I will be somewhat distracted by the part of my brain simply repeating over and over "I really want that apartment, I can't wait to hear about that apartment." Really. I'm sorry. If you think you're annoyed by it...

Anyway, I'm considering taking the rental company fresh-baked cookies. Overkill?