Having survived the end of classes, letters of recommendation, birthdays, burning CDs for my neighbor, I am turning my attention full force to getting out of the country for a bit. 24 hours after picking up #1 son, I am dragging his college-weary butt to Ecuador to visit #1 daughter. He is being a good sport about this as he doesn't share my latin american wanderlust, being more inclined to head to Europe or the ever elusive Australian continent.
I have no idea what his desk looks like now (see prior post), but now that finals are over, he is under strict parental orders to have fun until he board glorious Jet-Blue for his transcontinental flight home with his girlfriend by his side and satellite TV to keep him occupied.
In the meantime, I must, today, finish grading, pick up last minute essentials like 30% deet bug spray and motion sickness pills (several overnight bus rides to various locations). I also have to wrap Christmas presents, pack, do laundry, get more cash (yessir, I would like all those small denomination bills new and unmarked, please), and figure out how to repackage a 77 lb. book shelf into something that meeting the size and weight restrictions for airline travel.
The weather forecast calls for freezing rain for the 24 hours before we leave. This may mean we have to go to the airport early and stay at a nearby hotel. I know from experience living here in the boondocks, driving ice covered rural roads at 3 am is not a good way to insure arriving at the airport on time.
This is the last communication for a couple weeks as there will be no regular Internet access where we intend to spend time. And this is a good thing.
Adios y paz.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Friday, December 09, 2005
**The Ansel Adam tree**
I took this picture and it filled me with memories of when the tree looked different. In years prior, there would be a garden train underneath, circling the tree in a big oval swoop. Presents would be stacked inside and outside the oval. The kids would bring up the wooden trail set and and build it over all the presents using the wrapped boxes as the foundation for bridges. The little wooden tracks would wind between the presents. All the little wooden accessories, tree, people and the like would be stacked around all the tree. Finally strategically placed among all this mayhem would be an impressive collection of Dicken's Village ceramic light buildings. The scale of everything was wrong, the floor was covered with with stuff and for the several weeks before Christmas that space was the focus of hours of imaginative play (and maybe a little present snooping, although this cannot be confirmed).
**Bad Shiloh!**
Every since the kids have fled, the canine of the house has decided that the life long rules of not getting on the furniture no longer apply. I come home to dog hair on the sofa chair, and "nests" on the futon and bed.My celestial futon cover is shredded from "nest building."
And yet I have noticed that I am not so consistent about telling her to get off the furniture - which she is on as I write.And for some reason, I am not waking up at night when she jumps on my bed, noses her way under the covers and curls up like this in the curve of my stomach. I awake spooning a dog.
I need a life.
Monday, December 05, 2005
**Trip report, part three**
One of the days in Santa Fe, we took off to explore Bandelier National Monument. We didn't go to the main section that sets off behind the Visitor's Center. We went to the northern patch of the park. It is a separate, islotated area known as the Tsankawi section. It is not heavilly traveled - we only saw a small group on the trail towards the end. I recommend it as a companion hike to the main route. It takes just a couple hours including lots of time to gaze at petroglyphs and explore caves.
The first two photographs show the initital hike in along the ridge of a mesa top. One of the common ways to go up and down parts of the mesa was with the classic New Mexican ladder. You also could squirm up through crevasses. Towards the latter part of the hike on top of the mesa, you come along foundations of ruins and an amazing amount of pottery shards littered everywhere.
After going going up and down for a bit, using you final drop down along the side of the mesa. Once below the ridges there were a series of caves that served as enclosed structures a seriously long time ago. They were probably created through erosion. But have clearly been altered by inhabitants as some walls had ridges carved out - probably serving as a kind of shelf. There also were little alcoves carved into the interior stone walls. You could tell which caves were used for cooking by whether there was soot coatings on the walls.
The trails used on this hike have been used for a very long time as evidenced by this rock portion of the path.
But the walk back along the side of the mesa was chock full of petroglyphs. Close to the best collection I have seen in years.
The first two photographs show the initital hike in along the ridge of a mesa top. One of the common ways to go up and down parts of the mesa was with the classic New Mexican ladder. You also could squirm up through crevasses. Towards the latter part of the hike on top of the mesa, you come along foundations of ruins and an amazing amount of pottery shards littered everywhere.
After going going up and down for a bit, using you final drop down along the side of the mesa. Once below the ridges there were a series of caves that served as enclosed structures a seriously long time ago. They were probably created through erosion. But have clearly been altered by inhabitants as some walls had ridges carved out - probably serving as a kind of shelf. There also were little alcoves carved into the interior stone walls. You could tell which caves were used for cooking by whether there was soot coatings on the walls.
The trails used on this hike have been used for a very long time as evidenced by this rock portion of the path.
But the walk back along the side of the mesa was chock full of petroglyphs. Close to the best collection I have seen in years.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
**Why I like December 4th**
Clearly, because it is not December 3rd.
December 3rd was the day I had the delightful experience of taking the LSATs.... again. Now these two questions might pop into you mind... Again? Why? Well for the obvious reason. The only possible reason someone would subject themselves to that experience voluntarily... more than once.
Money.
My law school deferral is up this year and I either enroll or shelve my plans. Permanently. I have no money to go. Between the costs of two private college educations (albeit, I contribute a small percentage of the sticker price), gourmet dog food and my own penchant for sushi, there is nothing left. And at my age, I am not about to take on the kind of debt it that would result from financing law school.
So law school, in particular, this law school has been weighing heavily on my mind. I was thinking about this reception this law school holds for admitted students. It typically is at some fancy schmancy law firm. These kinds of things fill me with angst. It begins with the fact that I have no clothes for such a thing. My angst then shifts to my own personal challenges interacting in large groups of people I don't know. I think they were peddling medication for this condition at one point. Social anxiety disorder was the diagnosis of fashion.
I imagine the hosting attorneys asking us newbie admits what kind of law interests us. Each area of law that I get exposed to, starts to fascinate me. So currently on the list is obvious media law and all its subdivisions, such as intellectual property law, FCC regulations, First Amendment jurisprudence, etc. Especially, when these issues hit the appellate level on constitutional questions. I also am interested in civil rights law because of my work with the ACLU. And then there is family law - thanks to my experience with my ex - although I probably would not raise this one at a reception. Would probably scare off most big firms.
One observation occured to me as I walked into town this morning - a chilly, foggy morning, but not raining, to my great and pleasant surprise. I was thinking about how interesting is the concept of blind justice. We (and I mean the generic "we") seem to toss around this term as some kind of descriptor of our legal system, or at least as some kind of ideal, and yet it is not achievable nor is it really desirable in my mind outside of matters involving the state as prosecutor.
When I sat in court this past October, and watched my attorney talk to the magistrate about how she sits on a court of equity and has the discretion to reach an equitable solution as opposed to a blind application of the most narrow reading of the statute, I realized he was arguing that blind justice is, in fact, not desirable. Blind justice leads to the unsituated application of statutes, regulations and policies without recognition that each sitution comes with its own unique set of facts. Blind justice leads to the comments from judges along the lines of, "...clearly the respondent/plaintiff is a slimeball, but the law lets him be a slimeball. And until the law changes..." A court of equity can account for someone being a slimeball, trying to manipulate the system and use loopholes to advantage.
Blind justice doesn't see the slimeball.
So now I am interested in whether there is a reconciliation between Rawl's notion of blind justice and the court of equity. Possible essay topic if I can free my mind up to dwell on it a bit.
December 3rd was the day I had the delightful experience of taking the LSATs.... again. Now these two questions might pop into you mind... Again? Why? Well for the obvious reason. The only possible reason someone would subject themselves to that experience voluntarily... more than once.
Money.
My law school deferral is up this year and I either enroll or shelve my plans. Permanently. I have no money to go. Between the costs of two private college educations (albeit, I contribute a small percentage of the sticker price), gourmet dog food and my own penchant for sushi, there is nothing left. And at my age, I am not about to take on the kind of debt it that would result from financing law school.
So law school, in particular, this law school has been weighing heavily on my mind. I was thinking about this reception this law school holds for admitted students. It typically is at some fancy schmancy law firm. These kinds of things fill me with angst. It begins with the fact that I have no clothes for such a thing. My angst then shifts to my own personal challenges interacting in large groups of people I don't know. I think they were peddling medication for this condition at one point. Social anxiety disorder was the diagnosis of fashion.
I imagine the hosting attorneys asking us newbie admits what kind of law interests us. Each area of law that I get exposed to, starts to fascinate me. So currently on the list is obvious media law and all its subdivisions, such as intellectual property law, FCC regulations, First Amendment jurisprudence, etc. Especially, when these issues hit the appellate level on constitutional questions. I also am interested in civil rights law because of my work with the ACLU. And then there is family law - thanks to my experience with my ex - although I probably would not raise this one at a reception. Would probably scare off most big firms.
One observation occured to me as I walked into town this morning - a chilly, foggy morning, but not raining, to my great and pleasant surprise. I was thinking about how interesting is the concept of blind justice. We (and I mean the generic "we") seem to toss around this term as some kind of descriptor of our legal system, or at least as some kind of ideal, and yet it is not achievable nor is it really desirable in my mind outside of matters involving the state as prosecutor.
When I sat in court this past October, and watched my attorney talk to the magistrate about how she sits on a court of equity and has the discretion to reach an equitable solution as opposed to a blind application of the most narrow reading of the statute, I realized he was arguing that blind justice is, in fact, not desirable. Blind justice leads to the unsituated application of statutes, regulations and policies without recognition that each sitution comes with its own unique set of facts. Blind justice leads to the comments from judges along the lines of, "...clearly the respondent/plaintiff is a slimeball, but the law lets him be a slimeball. And until the law changes..." A court of equity can account for someone being a slimeball, trying to manipulate the system and use loopholes to advantage.
Blind justice doesn't see the slimeball.
So now I am interested in whether there is a reconciliation between Rawl's notion of blind justice and the court of equity. Possible essay topic if I can free my mind up to dwell on it a bit.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
**And the adventure continues...**
I am sitting here at work... at 1 AM... waiting for a video project to render so I can then print it to digital tape (30 minutes) and then dub the digital tape to VHS tape (another 30 minutes). I am almost to the point where I am wondering whether, if I just stay here overnight, my students will notice I am wearing the same clothes. Probably will have to go home in the end. I am running out of M&Ms.
The posting on the trip report ended with all the yucky stuff. Now I get to talk about heading to New Mexico and romping around the Santa Fe area. And yes there are pictures...
... for almost everything.
I think some background is in order here. Best to be upfront about my obsession with New Mexico in general and the Santa Fe-Taos area (high road only), in particular.
I first started wandering to Santa Fe over 20 years ago. During the years, when my kids were very young and I was somewhat stuck at home alone with little help with their care, I was "permitted," yes, I said "permitted" one trip - totaling 36 hours - once a year somewhere without having to ... (and kids you know I love you dearly)... take the kids or my husband. My itinerary always led me to Santa Fe because it was 1) wonderful, 2) one of the few places on this planet where I feel completely at home, and 3) close enough to actually have some time there with only a 36 hour window.
I would usually take my friend Chris, another stay at home mom of two boys of similar age to my kids. It was even harder for Chris to break away, albeit for completely different reasons. It wasn't because her spouse didn't want to do full-time child care so much as he was a surgeon in residence and worked insane hours. Carrying the full load of child rearing was the sacrifice she was willing to make and it paid off for her. Within a few years, she was trying to decide which half million dollar home to buy on the shores of Lake Michigan while I was trying to make rent in a two bedroom apartment.
Anyway, our trip would start early. Really early. I insisted. Because the MOST IMPORTANT part of the trip, for me, was getting to Tia Sophia's before they closed at 2 pm. This entailed leaving Denver by 6:30 am or so and driving.... FAST... to Santa Fe. The old Volvo 240 cruised quite smoothly at 90 miles an hour down Interstate 25 thank you very much. I don't want to underestimate for my readers the importance of being at the front door of this restaurant at least 45 minutes before it closed. It is all about the blue corn enchilada plate. I had to have it. It was nothing short of an obsession. And, of course, the first thing I did upon stepping out into the streets of Santa Fe this time, was walk right down to Tia Sophia's. Sure I gazed at the storefronts along the way, commenting on the loss of the Woolworths and other shops I remember from twenty years ago. But be certain of this, not at the break of my stride.
I don't have a picture of Tia Sophia's. I guess I was just a little pre-occupied after not having been there for 14 years. It was a glorious meal. Blue corn enchilada plate smothered with green chili, all as good as I remember it. And across the table I was looking at my best friend. Did I mention that I did not make this foray alone? Tia Sophia's was perfect.
With full stomachs and a Starbucks in hand, the best thing to do in Santa Fe anymore, unless you have money you want to throw at incredibly expensive art, is to look at the architecture.
The city is so pretty. I love adobe architecture. And I live in exactly the wrong part of the country for it. Some of the best modern examples include the inns and hotels in the old part of town. This is a small inn that I would love to stay at. I can only imagine the price.
We stayed at Garrett's Desert Inn. It is a motor inn. And it looks like one. But it is a block off the square and easily half the price of anything else so close, before you account for the fact that you get free parking, otherwise non existent in the old part of Santa Fe.
This next building is part of the Hilton complex I believe. There used to be a great restaurant nearby call Maria Isabel's. But it is long gone.
The most famous hotel on the square is LaFonda on the Plaza. My travel companion, told me stories about how this was the only place his mother would stay. We wandered around inside quite a bit. This is a picture of one of the dining rooms.
Between the famous LaFonda and the motor inn was the Inn at Loretto. It is nothing short of exquisite. For me this was the most beautiful hotel to photograph.
On the other side of Garrett's Desert Inn was the oldest church in North America, the San Miguel Chapel. We walked around quite a bit, and I began to realize that as old as this is, the adobe bricks, mud coating, architectural features and the like, were far more modern than what I saw in Peru the year before. After all these trips to Santa Fe, being filled with a sense that I was seeing things so very old, the ruins on the Inka Trail go back so much farther in time.
This area for me has wonderful mystical qualities. I always try to drive the high road from Santa Fe to Taos, and this trip was no different. We drove to my favorite haunt, before Chimayo: El Santuario de Chimayó –
Originally a private chapel, constructed from 1814 to 1816. It was turned over to the Archdiocese of Santa Fe in 1929. This is a nondescript church from the outside, but it attracts A LOT of visitors. In fact in the 16 years since my visit, they have added a large parking area and little shops have sprung up around the church. But the draw of this church is inside. It is a little room in the back. Enter and in the center of the dirt floor you see... a hole. This is no ordinary hole. Many have traveled to Santuario to gather dirt from this hole and have benefitted from its miraculous healing powers of the "Tierra Bendita" (sacred earth).
The altar of the church is beautiful as is its murals and candles.
I liked the candles in particular. I love picking up these candles at the grocery store They burn forever and they bring back fond memories of New Mexico.
My favorite part of the church is no longer there. In the back room, next to the Tierra Bendita, was a collection of crutches, and other artifacts that were left as evidence of miracles.
Most are still there, but the room has been cleaned up and my favorite image left as evidence of a miracle - a polaroid of a tortilla with the image of Christ's face on it - is no longer on display. So I have tried to do some research on this tortilla. I think I found the origin of it thanks to the Internet. From an Aug. 14, 1978 Newsweek: "Mario Rubio is rolling a burrito when she notices skillet burns on the tortilla resembling the mournful face of Jesus Christ. Shortly thereafter, 8,000 curious pilgrims trek to the Rubios' small stucco house in rural New Mexico to view the sacred icon. Mrs. Rubio leaves her house unlocked so that visitors may freely enter and examine the tortilla."
Of course there also is this more humorous retelling of the event. I wonder if having a polaroid of this tortilla in the church undermined her own tourist/pilgrim business - apparently numbering in the 100s of thousands. I have not been to her house, but I remember seeing this tortilla at Sanctuario.
How can you not love this part of the country?
Part Three coming soon.
The posting on the trip report ended with all the yucky stuff. Now I get to talk about heading to New Mexico and romping around the Santa Fe area. And yes there are pictures...
... for almost everything.
I think some background is in order here. Best to be upfront about my obsession with New Mexico in general and the Santa Fe-Taos area (high road only), in particular.
I first started wandering to Santa Fe over 20 years ago. During the years, when my kids were very young and I was somewhat stuck at home alone with little help with their care, I was "permitted," yes, I said "permitted" one trip - totaling 36 hours - once a year somewhere without having to ... (and kids you know I love you dearly)... take the kids or my husband. My itinerary always led me to Santa Fe because it was 1) wonderful, 2) one of the few places on this planet where I feel completely at home, and 3) close enough to actually have some time there with only a 36 hour window.
I would usually take my friend Chris, another stay at home mom of two boys of similar age to my kids. It was even harder for Chris to break away, albeit for completely different reasons. It wasn't because her spouse didn't want to do full-time child care so much as he was a surgeon in residence and worked insane hours. Carrying the full load of child rearing was the sacrifice she was willing to make and it paid off for her. Within a few years, she was trying to decide which half million dollar home to buy on the shores of Lake Michigan while I was trying to make rent in a two bedroom apartment.
Anyway, our trip would start early. Really early. I insisted. Because the MOST IMPORTANT part of the trip, for me, was getting to Tia Sophia's before they closed at 2 pm. This entailed leaving Denver by 6:30 am or so and driving.... FAST... to Santa Fe. The old Volvo 240 cruised quite smoothly at 90 miles an hour down Interstate 25 thank you very much. I don't want to underestimate for my readers the importance of being at the front door of this restaurant at least 45 minutes before it closed. It is all about the blue corn enchilada plate. I had to have it. It was nothing short of an obsession. And, of course, the first thing I did upon stepping out into the streets of Santa Fe this time, was walk right down to Tia Sophia's. Sure I gazed at the storefronts along the way, commenting on the loss of the Woolworths and other shops I remember from twenty years ago. But be certain of this, not at the break of my stride.
I don't have a picture of Tia Sophia's. I guess I was just a little pre-occupied after not having been there for 14 years. It was a glorious meal. Blue corn enchilada plate smothered with green chili, all as good as I remember it. And across the table I was looking at my best friend. Did I mention that I did not make this foray alone? Tia Sophia's was perfect.
With full stomachs and a Starbucks in hand, the best thing to do in Santa Fe anymore, unless you have money you want to throw at incredibly expensive art, is to look at the architecture.
The city is so pretty. I love adobe architecture. And I live in exactly the wrong part of the country for it. Some of the best modern examples include the inns and hotels in the old part of town. This is a small inn that I would love to stay at. I can only imagine the price.We stayed at Garrett's Desert Inn. It is a motor inn. And it looks like one. But it is a block off the square and easily half the price of anything else so close, before you account for the fact that you get free parking, otherwise non existent in the old part of Santa Fe.
This next building is part of the Hilton complex I believe. There used to be a great restaurant nearby call Maria Isabel's. But it is long gone.
The most famous hotel on the square is LaFonda on the Plaza. My travel companion, told me stories about how this was the only place his mother would stay. We wandered around inside quite a bit. This is a picture of one of the dining rooms.
Between the famous LaFonda and the motor inn was the Inn at Loretto. It is nothing short of exquisite. For me this was the most beautiful hotel to photograph.
On the other side of Garrett's Desert Inn was the oldest church in North America, the San Miguel Chapel. We walked around quite a bit, and I began to realize that as old as this is, the adobe bricks, mud coating, architectural features and the like, were far more modern than what I saw in Peru the year before. After all these trips to Santa Fe, being filled with a sense that I was seeing things so very old, the ruins on the Inka Trail go back so much farther in time.
This area for me has wonderful mystical qualities. I always try to drive the high road from Santa Fe to Taos, and this trip was no different. We drove to my favorite haunt, before Chimayo: El Santuario de Chimayó –
Originally a private chapel, constructed from 1814 to 1816. It was turned over to the Archdiocese of Santa Fe in 1929. This is a nondescript church from the outside, but it attracts A LOT of visitors. In fact in the 16 years since my visit, they have added a large parking area and little shops have sprung up around the church. But the draw of this church is inside. It is a little room in the back. Enter and in the center of the dirt floor you see... a hole. This is no ordinary hole. Many have traveled to Santuario to gather dirt from this hole and have benefitted from its miraculous healing powers of the "Tierra Bendita" (sacred earth).The altar of the church is beautiful as is its murals and candles.
I liked the candles in particular. I love picking up these candles at the grocery store They burn forever and they bring back fond memories of New Mexico.
My favorite part of the church is no longer there. In the back room, next to the Tierra Bendita, was a collection of crutches, and other artifacts that were left as evidence of miracles.
Most are still there, but the room has been cleaned up and my favorite image left as evidence of a miracle - a polaroid of a tortilla with the image of Christ's face on it - is no longer on display. So I have tried to do some research on this tortilla. I think I found the origin of it thanks to the Internet. From an Aug. 14, 1978 Newsweek: "Mario Rubio is rolling a burrito when she notices skillet burns on the tortilla resembling the mournful face of Jesus Christ. Shortly thereafter, 8,000 curious pilgrims trek to the Rubios' small stucco house in rural New Mexico to view the sacred icon. Mrs. Rubio leaves her house unlocked so that visitors may freely enter and examine the tortilla."Of course there also is this more humorous retelling of the event. I wonder if having a polaroid of this tortilla in the church undermined her own tourist/pilgrim business - apparently numbering in the 100s of thousands. I have not been to her house, but I remember seeing this tortilla at Sanctuario.
How can you not love this part of the country?
Part Three coming soon.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
**Trip Report: Part one of trip 1**
So for the past month or so, I have been travelling a bit. One trip was to Kansas City for a conference. No worthwhile pictures from that. I was in a hotel complex for two days venturing outside only at night to search for BBQ. It was an opportunity to network with other media advisors to take some comfort in the collective hell that can be our jobs sometimes. I roomed with an amazingly energetic newspaper advisor from an Ohio community college. I got tired just listening to all the stuff she is up to. Am I getting lazy or something? Maybe bitten by the tenured bug. Who knows. In all fairness I always have get a special place in my heart for sleep and mindless television. Why change now.
But I took two other trips in that brief time window. The first was to Colorado. It was a week long excursion packaged around a court appearance to respond to a petition from the ex as he is asking the court to relieve him of his legal responsibility to help the kids with college. I will get into that delightful experience in a later post. Outside of the court hearing and the prep time with the law firm, I managed to actually eek out some leisure time.
Right after arriving in Colorado and heading for Boulder, I took a detour into Denver and tripped down memory lane. Ironically, this memory was from a time I was married. Not happily, mind you, as I was raising two young'uns (no problem there) and caring for one 30 year old child. Doing everything in the house while waiting tables at night, caring for toddlers during the day, reading 800 pages a week of neo-marxist theory, post-structuralism, auteur theory and british cultural studies, cooking cleaning, chauferring to preschool, entertaining kids, driving an hour to class a couple times a week... made me a little cranky.
But, I have fond memories of the house I lived in. My daughter and son do too. They are the best memories of that time. It was the first house we ever owned. We made the downpayment with money my father wanted me to have when he passed away. At least, that is what my mother said at the time. It could be that she was just being nice about helping us, knowing we had very little money. I won't get into the whole common property law that divided the equity in the house (including that down payment from my father) between the two of use when we separated. But I was accustomed to the pattern of my ex benefitting from the efforts, generosity and good will of others. It is how he survives.
Ah, but the house.... We lived in this house for 6-7 years. I had to sell it after the split because the mortgage payment was only 100.00 a month less than my paycheck. And no help was forthcoming from you know who. It was a special place though.
So, I drove by the house.
The fence in front is gone. The house needs paint. Ivy is growing everywhere. The rope from the old airplane swing still hangs from the maple tree. The greenhouse in back - a massive 20 x 40 foot monstrosity with an old hot tub enclosed in it - is long gone and replaced with a deck.
The top end of the block has several homes with the "tops popped." These were old ranchs that have been rebuilt into a two story homes. Sign of growth, I guess. But the neighborhood overall still has a mixed income feeling about it.
One of my favorite places to go with the kids was a little cafe by the hospital. This was the kids' restaurant training ground. My son went there when he visited Denver with his girlfriend this summer. I had to stop in and check it out. It hasn't changed a bit. The round table in the corner is still there. The kids would order pancakes. The waitress, who is STILL THERE, used to tease them and bring out cucumber shapes and place them on top of the pancakes in a smiley face, while commenting on them needing their veggies.
While waiting for the food, the kids were allowed one spoonful each of the peanut butter on the table. It was a favorite ritual, getting as much peanut butter as possible on the spoon. Annie's still has the BEST green chili in the world. It is the only green chili that is unequivocably better then mine. Apparently I am not alone in my absolute resolve about the quality of Annie's green chili. Our waitress mentioned that the owner has, on occasion shipped out orders of green chili on dry ice. It is that good.
The second day of my trip was spent working with my attorney preparing for trial. It was a Sunday. Fortunately the 300/hour rate was not compounded to time and a half. Not surprisingly, I took no pictures. I was too keenly aware of the billable hours racking up to think about marking the moment.
Monday I accept the gracious offer of my alma mater in Boulder and established a guest account so I could work on-line, on campus, all day. Dangerous having an office in the engineering building with the coffee cart one floor below. That means easy access to lattes and with a web cam mounted on the cart, one has the luxury of waiting until there is no line before running downstairs. I had three lattes that day.
Tuesday was trial day. It sucked. It was expensive. That is all I have to say about that for now. I will return to the topic. Believe me.
The rest of the trip report is coming. Stay tuned for roadtrip to New Mexico and the search for green chilis.
But I took two other trips in that brief time window. The first was to Colorado. It was a week long excursion packaged around a court appearance to respond to a petition from the ex as he is asking the court to relieve him of his legal responsibility to help the kids with college. I will get into that delightful experience in a later post. Outside of the court hearing and the prep time with the law firm, I managed to actually eek out some leisure time.
Right after arriving in Colorado and heading for Boulder, I took a detour into Denver and tripped down memory lane. Ironically, this memory was from a time I was married. Not happily, mind you, as I was raising two young'uns (no problem there) and caring for one 30 year old child. Doing everything in the house while waiting tables at night, caring for toddlers during the day, reading 800 pages a week of neo-marxist theory, post-structuralism, auteur theory and british cultural studies, cooking cleaning, chauferring to preschool, entertaining kids, driving an hour to class a couple times a week... made me a little cranky.
But, I have fond memories of the house I lived in. My daughter and son do too. They are the best memories of that time. It was the first house we ever owned. We made the downpayment with money my father wanted me to have when he passed away. At least, that is what my mother said at the time. It could be that she was just being nice about helping us, knowing we had very little money. I won't get into the whole common property law that divided the equity in the house (including that down payment from my father) between the two of use when we separated. But I was accustomed to the pattern of my ex benefitting from the efforts, generosity and good will of others. It is how he survives.
Ah, but the house.... We lived in this house for 6-7 years. I had to sell it after the split because the mortgage payment was only 100.00 a month less than my paycheck. And no help was forthcoming from you know who. It was a special place though.
So, I drove by the house.
The fence in front is gone. The house needs paint. Ivy is growing everywhere. The rope from the old airplane swing still hangs from the maple tree. The greenhouse in back - a massive 20 x 40 foot monstrosity with an old hot tub enclosed in it - is long gone and replaced with a deck.The top end of the block has several homes with the "tops popped." These were old ranchs that have been rebuilt into a two story homes. Sign of growth, I guess. But the neighborhood overall still has a mixed income feeling about it.
One of my favorite places to go with the kids was a little cafe by the hospital. This was the kids' restaurant training ground. My son went there when he visited Denver with his girlfriend this summer. I had to stop in and check it out. It hasn't changed a bit. The round table in the corner is still there. The kids would order pancakes. The waitress, who is STILL THERE, used to tease them and bring out cucumber shapes and place them on top of the pancakes in a smiley face, while commenting on them needing their veggies.
While waiting for the food, the kids were allowed one spoonful each of the peanut butter on the table. It was a favorite ritual, getting as much peanut butter as possible on the spoon. Annie's still has the BEST green chili in the world. It is the only green chili that is unequivocably better then mine. Apparently I am not alone in my absolute resolve about the quality of Annie's green chili. Our waitress mentioned that the owner has, on occasion shipped out orders of green chili on dry ice. It is that good.
The second day of my trip was spent working with my attorney preparing for trial. It was a Sunday. Fortunately the 300/hour rate was not compounded to time and a half. Not surprisingly, I took no pictures. I was too keenly aware of the billable hours racking up to think about marking the moment.
Monday I accept the gracious offer of my alma mater in Boulder and established a guest account so I could work on-line, on campus, all day. Dangerous having an office in the engineering building with the coffee cart one floor below. That means easy access to lattes and with a web cam mounted on the cart, one has the luxury of waiting until there is no line before running downstairs. I had three lattes that day.
Tuesday was trial day. It sucked. It was expensive. That is all I have to say about that for now. I will return to the topic. Believe me.
The rest of the trip report is coming. Stay tuned for roadtrip to New Mexico and the search for green chilis.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
**Birthday Astrology**
| Your Birthdate: December 15 |
 You take life as it is, and you find happiness in a variety of things. You tend to be close to family and friends. But it's hard to get into your inner circle. Making the little things wonderful is important to you, and you probably have an inviting home. You seek harmony with others, but occasionally you have a very stubborn streak. Your strength: Your intense optimism Your weakness: You shy away from exploring your talents Your power color: Jade Your power symbol: Flower Your power month: June |
Thursday, November 10, 2005
**Up for Air**
Just caught the end of The Apprentice as I turned on the TV for ER. I notice the "fired" people were getting in the taxi and there was a brightly lit "Yahoo jobs" ad on top of the taxi. Nice little, yet ironic, product placement.
But that is not why I am blogging. I am blogging to whine.
Man, this is a brutal semester. Constant piles of news copy to grade. Video projects keeping ending up on my desk. My video job is nearing a deadline. LSATs are just a couple weeks away. I have traveled the past three weekends. I can't seem to clear off my desk, make any progress or even clear my head.
Generally when things pile up this bad, I have to add structure and organization to my life. And get more exercise. And not get behind on this darn blog.
OK done whining. Time for a trip report. Coming up.
But that is not why I am blogging. I am blogging to whine.
Man, this is a brutal semester. Constant piles of news copy to grade. Video projects keeping ending up on my desk. My video job is nearing a deadline. LSATs are just a couple weeks away. I have traveled the past three weekends. I can't seem to clear off my desk, make any progress or even clear my head.
Generally when things pile up this bad, I have to add structure and organization to my life. And get more exercise. And not get behind on this darn blog.
OK done whining. Time for a trip report. Coming up.
Monday, October 31, 2005
**Update from Ecuador**
My daughter finally emailed another summary of recent adventures in Ecuador. This email was more of a nail-biter than usual and my head is still full of images of her traveling out of the city on a bus and disembarking IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE.
Doesn't she realize that parents have nightmares about their kids.
She has now replaced my earlier parent nightmare - the one where I become a new mom and simply forgot that I had a baby and thus neglected to feed her for a week - to this new nightmare - innocent, trusting and intensely free spirited daughter believes coniving, fare collector-wannabe-boyfriend's directions and gets off a bus in a rural deserted area, never to be seen again.
I won't get into my own history of hitchhiking around Kenya because I am trying to avoid those "like mother, like daughter" comments.
For those who don't receive her emails, here it is, cut and pasted...
Another update from Quito...
I received a ´letter´ yesterday and was really excited until I realized the address on the front was in my handwriting. It turns out it was a letter from K about stress with some questionnaire I filled out last spring about how I deal with stressful situations. While I realize the study abroad office is trying to be helpful by this gesture, if I was having a hard time here the excitement of thinking I received a letter followed by the disappointment of realizing what the letter really was would depress me far more than not receiving a letter at all. Interestingly, I recently spent a lot of time doing the stress-relieving activities I described in the questionaire
One of the things (not including people) that I miss most here is the freedom/independence to do things on my own, especially after dark. It gets dark between 6 and 6.30 in Quito and once it is dark it is really not safe to be outside by yourself. It just so happens however that I love to go for long walks at night that are many times accompanied by long periods of swinging at random playgrounds that I encounter.
A few weeks ago we took a trip with K to the Paramo and during our stay at the hotel Aruba I discovered a playground. So that evening, feeling a bit swing-deprived, I spent two hours swinging before dinner and another two hours swinging after dinner. Then, I took a two hour walk around the hotel which basically translates into me doing way too many loops around the property.
The next day, I had blisters on the palms of my hands from the swings and my stomach muscles were so sore that it was hard to walk. Oops.
Besides the swinging and walking, one of my favorite parts of our trip to the paramo a few weeks ago (see the pictures on webshots) was inventing biological musings with A., A., and V.. We were constantly asking each other questions about things we saw and in turn coming up with possible explanations (some albeit more probable than others). They ranged from a discussion on determining the sex of a song bird based on its coloration, to the morphological difference between a duck and a goose to A.'s prediction that there was a limit on the height of Frailejones because if they got too high they would easily tip over in the wind to (my favorite) V.'s pig-chicken: a chicken lacking feathers on its back that she then tried to convince everyone was the origin of the mysterious but delicious jamon de pollo lunch meat that exists around Quito.
A. and I both skipped out medicinal plants trip to the markets to collect plants (A. to go on an amazing andianismo trip to an erupting volcano and I to collect stories for my oral literature class). We were going to make up the trip but Vlasti insisted on going with us to make sure we were safe. We felt kind of bad for making him lose an entire morning just for us so we decided one day on our way to school to buy him a cookie and coke as a way to show our thanks. Unfortunately, we decided on a cookie that was half covered in chocolate and as we bought it around mid-day before we had even made it out of the store it had become a very unappetizing mess inside its bag. By the time we made it to Cumbaya, the cookie was in so many pieces and looked so gross that we decided it had passed even the "it's just the thought that counts" part of gift giving.
Even more amusingly, at that point we had ditched the coke as well. As the owner of the store started to open Vlasti's coke we asked if we could take the coke to go which we thought insinuated that we did not want him to open it. He opened it anyway and then proceeded to pour it into a plastic shopping bag, which he nonchalantly handed over to us as he told us our bill. I tried unsuccessfully not to laugh but it was too much. We walked for about 20 minutes with our shopping bag full of coke but since neither A. nor I drink soda and at this point the coke was already warm and we still had another half an hour before we would arrive in Cumbaya we finally decided to dump it out.
A. and I always seem to have something go wrong when we travel together: this weekend we tried to take a bus to Otavalo to hike around lake Cuicocha but about an hour out from Otavalo the two left rear tires exploded for an unknown reason and it took the driver so long to fix them that we couldn't do the hike before it got dark.
I cooked lunch for my family this weekend, which was certainly an amusing experience. A couple of weeks ago I baked bread for a potluck at A. house so I was prepared for things like translating farenheight into celcius to use the oven and the fact that my host family does not own a measuring cup. But my meal of dolmades (stuffed grape leaves), a spinach salad, and apple crisp turned out to be quite an undertaking. I first got the idea when A. and I were on a quest for dried fruit that took us to many stores that sell imported goods (there is a great business opportunity in Ecuador for someone who wants to start dehydrating the amazing fruits that exist here because as of now there is not a single place to buy non-imported dehydrated fruits) when I saw jarred grape leaves. I got really excited because dolmades is one of my favorite dishes and I never expected to be able to find grape leaves in Ecuador. First, it didn't really occur to me that other ingredients crucial to the dish (aka dill) would be impossible to find. Second, the ingredients that did exist were super expensive (I cringed as I succumbed to paying 5 dollars for 6 ounces of feta cheese). Once I (sort of) pulled together all the ingredients or tried to invent substitutions, even my bread making experience had not prepared me for the difficulties one can encounter cooking in another country. For some reason I have not quite figured out things cook a lot more slowly on my family's stove. The imported grape leaves were a little old, torn, and of completely random sizes with a strange neon green tinge. I couldn't find dried cranberries for the salad and the almonds I was going to use were 5 dollars for a tiny bag so I settled on raisins and sunflower seeds instead. The whole ordeal took a lot longer than I had planned and my family was very paitent as we sat down to lunch over an hour and a half late.
Fortunately in the end everything turned out really well and the best part was that my family really enjoyed the food. My papi normally doesn't eat salad but wolfed down two helpings along with 9 dolmades, even though they are green too :). So a million thanks to you, mom for the recipies :) The meal really reminded me of home and made me realize how different the flavors of the food I normally eat in the states are. Just like I am constantly amazed at the delicious flavor combinations my family comes up with every day I think they were surprised at the combinations I used.
A few weeks ago I asked my histology professor if she knew of any veterinarians with whom I could do an internship. It turns out her husband is an avian veterinarian who works in a huge chicken farm outside of Quito. Over the next couple of weeks I wrote him a letter and translated my resume into Spanish and my professor gave me his business card (anything takes a long time to do here).
Finally, on Thursday my professor told me he accepted my letter and that I could meet him at the farm on Friday at the time I had mentioned. Well, I had no idea how to get to the farm and my professor didn't either so I spent that evening with my mami calling her friends trying to figure out how to get there.
The next day, I was so nervous I couldn't pay attention in any of my classes. I took a bus to Quito after oral literature and ran to the ecovia where I sat impatiently for it to arrive at the station at the other end of Quito, La Marin. Once the bus finally made it, I must have asked 10 policemen where the busses to Conocoto/Amaguaña left from since the ecovia didn't even make it all the way to La Marin because of road construction. I finally found a bus that said Conocoto but it didn't quite fit the description my mami had meticulously written for me on the back of a business card so I asked the driver and he assured me that his bus would pass by Incubadura Anhalzer.
I climbed on and as soon as we pulled out of La Marin the helper who collects fares sat down next to me to tell me that he would personally advise me when we reached my stop. That's nice, I thought, thinking he would then get up and continue collecting fares. But instead, he kept talking to me, asking me increasingly personal questions until arriving at the inevitable, "do you have a boyfriend?" And that's when I lied. "Yes," I calmly responded thinking that the moral sacrifice would leave me in peace as the bus rambled around the bends of the road. I was very wrong. He continued questioning me, asking me detailed questions about my boyfriend (how long we've been dating, what he studies, if he really loves me, etc) until he tried another tactic: "do you have a boyfriend here, in Ecuador?" "No!" I almost shouted in response. I wasn't expecting that one.
Despite his best intentions to convince me that it would be okay to have and Ecuadorian boyfriend (aka him) while my (imaginary) boyfriend continued to pine away for me amidst his architecture studies in New York, I kept insisting that it was not okay to have two boyfriends.
Finally he got up to collect fares again and a woman with a small child sat down next to me. I thought I was saved, but to my astonishment the bus assistant actually asked the woman to stand (there were no seats left) so he could sit next to me. Finally he told me my stop was coming up but when I looked out the window things didn't look right (as in there was nothing but a field on the side of the road).
Apparantly he was thinking of a different place when he told me his bus went to Incubadora Anhalzer and the bus I was on really doesn't pass anywhere near where I needed to go. So I convinced him to drop me off at an intersection where I could catch the right bus and to make a very long story slightly shorter I finally arrived at the yellow adobe walls that mark the entrance to Incubadora Anhalzer.
However, when I knocked on the iron gates and asked the guard for Dr. M. he told me that he wasn't there. "What?!" I almost shouted at him in disbelief, You have got to be kidding me. So after standing there dumbfounded for a few seconds I got the brilliant idea to call his cell phone since I had his business card. No one answered. A few seconds later I got a call on my cell phone that turned out to be from him asking me what I was doing calling him. After I hastily explained who I was he said he was in Guayaquil and wouldn't arrive for another half hour. It didn't exactly occur to me at the time that it is impossible to travel from Guayaquil to Quito in half an hour regardless of the form of transport.
I told him that I would see him soon and sat down to start writing this letter outside the gate of Incubadora Anhalzer (the guard still wouldn't let me in). There had been some thunder in the background for a while, but after about half an hour it started to rain. About two seconds after the first drops, it started to pour. About two seconds after the pouring began I was treated to the added entertainment of silica-bead-sized hail. I managed to convince the guard to let me in so I didn't have to sit in the hail but it wasn't for another two and a half hours until Dr. M. arrived.
While I was waiting, I asked some women who worked there if they wanted any help because I didn´t have anything to do. Although they said yes, I really didn´t know enough about what they were doing to be of any help but we ended up talking for a while and when in response to some question I explained that I was an exchange student, they were all really surprised and didn´t believe me for a little bit because they said they couldn´t tell I had a foreign accent and that I spoke Spanish perfectly. It was a really nice complement to receive.
In the end it was a good thing I waited: he is really sweet and the internship is going to be awesome, I think. I am going to be working with the reproduction side of the company, learning about raising chickens from birth to slaughter, vaccinating and examining them, performing necropsies, etc. And as an added benefit there is a woman who works in the accounting department who lives somewhat close to me in Quito so she can take me home at night so I don't have to ride the bus for two hours in the dark.
I had a presentation in my oral literature class about décimas, a type of oral poetry used by residents (mostly of African origin) in Esmereldas. I wrote my own décima to see how hard it was and it is really difficult. There is a pretty complex structure that you have to follow and add to that I was presenting on religious décimas so I had to write one on something from the Bible (not exactly my strongpoint) so the process was pretty hysterical. In the end it was
quite rewarding because when I sat down Andrea, my partner for our field work, wrote me the following note: "Me encantó! Realmente felicitaciones. Cada palabra que decías se
sentía que lo disfrutabas. Que hermoso que hayas escrito esta décima, porque puedo ver que te gusta mi país, que ahora también es tu Ecuador".
Otherwise, classes continue to go fine although they can be tedious at times. What I really want to do is spend time with my host family or at my internship not struggle through dry anthropological readings on whether corn was first domesticated by the Mayans in Mexico or by the indigenous Amazonian people in Ecuador. But the semester is more than half over so I think I can make it through :)
I hope you are all doing well and I send you good thoughts from the middle of the earth.
Doesn't she realize that parents have nightmares about their kids.
She has now replaced my earlier parent nightmare - the one where I become a new mom and simply forgot that I had a baby and thus neglected to feed her for a week - to this new nightmare - innocent, trusting and intensely free spirited daughter believes coniving, fare collector-wannabe-boyfriend's directions and gets off a bus in a rural deserted area, never to be seen again.
I won't get into my own history of hitchhiking around Kenya because I am trying to avoid those "like mother, like daughter" comments.
For those who don't receive her emails, here it is, cut and pasted...
Another update from Quito...
I received a ´letter´ yesterday and was really excited until I realized the address on the front was in my handwriting. It turns out it was a letter from K about stress with some questionnaire I filled out last spring about how I deal with stressful situations. While I realize the study abroad office is trying to be helpful by this gesture, if I was having a hard time here the excitement of thinking I received a letter followed by the disappointment of realizing what the letter really was would depress me far more than not receiving a letter at all. Interestingly, I recently spent a lot of time doing the stress-relieving activities I described in the questionaire
One of the things (not including people) that I miss most here is the freedom/independence to do things on my own, especially after dark. It gets dark between 6 and 6.30 in Quito and once it is dark it is really not safe to be outside by yourself. It just so happens however that I love to go for long walks at night that are many times accompanied by long periods of swinging at random playgrounds that I encounter.
A few weeks ago we took a trip with K to the Paramo and during our stay at the hotel Aruba I discovered a playground. So that evening, feeling a bit swing-deprived, I spent two hours swinging before dinner and another two hours swinging after dinner. Then, I took a two hour walk around the hotel which basically translates into me doing way too many loops around the property.
The next day, I had blisters on the palms of my hands from the swings and my stomach muscles were so sore that it was hard to walk. Oops.
Besides the swinging and walking, one of my favorite parts of our trip to the paramo a few weeks ago (see the pictures on webshots) was inventing biological musings with A., A., and V.. We were constantly asking each other questions about things we saw and in turn coming up with possible explanations (some albeit more probable than others). They ranged from a discussion on determining the sex of a song bird based on its coloration, to the morphological difference between a duck and a goose to A.'s prediction that there was a limit on the height of Frailejones because if they got too high they would easily tip over in the wind to (my favorite) V.'s pig-chicken: a chicken lacking feathers on its back that she then tried to convince everyone was the origin of the mysterious but delicious jamon de pollo lunch meat that exists around Quito.
A. and I both skipped out medicinal plants trip to the markets to collect plants (A. to go on an amazing andianismo trip to an erupting volcano and I to collect stories for my oral literature class). We were going to make up the trip but Vlasti insisted on going with us to make sure we were safe. We felt kind of bad for making him lose an entire morning just for us so we decided one day on our way to school to buy him a cookie and coke as a way to show our thanks. Unfortunately, we decided on a cookie that was half covered in chocolate and as we bought it around mid-day before we had even made it out of the store it had become a very unappetizing mess inside its bag. By the time we made it to Cumbaya, the cookie was in so many pieces and looked so gross that we decided it had passed even the "it's just the thought that counts" part of gift giving.
Even more amusingly, at that point we had ditched the coke as well. As the owner of the store started to open Vlasti's coke we asked if we could take the coke to go which we thought insinuated that we did not want him to open it. He opened it anyway and then proceeded to pour it into a plastic shopping bag, which he nonchalantly handed over to us as he told us our bill. I tried unsuccessfully not to laugh but it was too much. We walked for about 20 minutes with our shopping bag full of coke but since neither A. nor I drink soda and at this point the coke was already warm and we still had another half an hour before we would arrive in Cumbaya we finally decided to dump it out.
A. and I always seem to have something go wrong when we travel together: this weekend we tried to take a bus to Otavalo to hike around lake Cuicocha but about an hour out from Otavalo the two left rear tires exploded for an unknown reason and it took the driver so long to fix them that we couldn't do the hike before it got dark.
I cooked lunch for my family this weekend, which was certainly an amusing experience. A couple of weeks ago I baked bread for a potluck at A. house so I was prepared for things like translating farenheight into celcius to use the oven and the fact that my host family does not own a measuring cup. But my meal of dolmades (stuffed grape leaves), a spinach salad, and apple crisp turned out to be quite an undertaking. I first got the idea when A. and I were on a quest for dried fruit that took us to many stores that sell imported goods (there is a great business opportunity in Ecuador for someone who wants to start dehydrating the amazing fruits that exist here because as of now there is not a single place to buy non-imported dehydrated fruits) when I saw jarred grape leaves. I got really excited because dolmades is one of my favorite dishes and I never expected to be able to find grape leaves in Ecuador. First, it didn't really occur to me that other ingredients crucial to the dish (aka dill) would be impossible to find. Second, the ingredients that did exist were super expensive (I cringed as I succumbed to paying 5 dollars for 6 ounces of feta cheese). Once I (sort of) pulled together all the ingredients or tried to invent substitutions, even my bread making experience had not prepared me for the difficulties one can encounter cooking in another country. For some reason I have not quite figured out things cook a lot more slowly on my family's stove. The imported grape leaves were a little old, torn, and of completely random sizes with a strange neon green tinge. I couldn't find dried cranberries for the salad and the almonds I was going to use were 5 dollars for a tiny bag so I settled on raisins and sunflower seeds instead. The whole ordeal took a lot longer than I had planned and my family was very paitent as we sat down to lunch over an hour and a half late.
Fortunately in the end everything turned out really well and the best part was that my family really enjoyed the food. My papi normally doesn't eat salad but wolfed down two helpings along with 9 dolmades, even though they are green too :). So a million thanks to you, mom for the recipies :) The meal really reminded me of home and made me realize how different the flavors of the food I normally eat in the states are. Just like I am constantly amazed at the delicious flavor combinations my family comes up with every day I think they were surprised at the combinations I used.
A few weeks ago I asked my histology professor if she knew of any veterinarians with whom I could do an internship. It turns out her husband is an avian veterinarian who works in a huge chicken farm outside of Quito. Over the next couple of weeks I wrote him a letter and translated my resume into Spanish and my professor gave me his business card (anything takes a long time to do here).
Finally, on Thursday my professor told me he accepted my letter and that I could meet him at the farm on Friday at the time I had mentioned. Well, I had no idea how to get to the farm and my professor didn't either so I spent that evening with my mami calling her friends trying to figure out how to get there.
The next day, I was so nervous I couldn't pay attention in any of my classes. I took a bus to Quito after oral literature and ran to the ecovia where I sat impatiently for it to arrive at the station at the other end of Quito, La Marin. Once the bus finally made it, I must have asked 10 policemen where the busses to Conocoto/Amaguaña left from since the ecovia didn't even make it all the way to La Marin because of road construction. I finally found a bus that said Conocoto but it didn't quite fit the description my mami had meticulously written for me on the back of a business card so I asked the driver and he assured me that his bus would pass by Incubadura Anhalzer.
I climbed on and as soon as we pulled out of La Marin the helper who collects fares sat down next to me to tell me that he would personally advise me when we reached my stop. That's nice, I thought, thinking he would then get up and continue collecting fares. But instead, he kept talking to me, asking me increasingly personal questions until arriving at the inevitable, "do you have a boyfriend?" And that's when I lied. "Yes," I calmly responded thinking that the moral sacrifice would leave me in peace as the bus rambled around the bends of the road. I was very wrong. He continued questioning me, asking me detailed questions about my boyfriend (how long we've been dating, what he studies, if he really loves me, etc) until he tried another tactic: "do you have a boyfriend here, in Ecuador?" "No!" I almost shouted in response. I wasn't expecting that one.
Despite his best intentions to convince me that it would be okay to have and Ecuadorian boyfriend (aka him) while my (imaginary) boyfriend continued to pine away for me amidst his architecture studies in New York, I kept insisting that it was not okay to have two boyfriends.
Finally he got up to collect fares again and a woman with a small child sat down next to me. I thought I was saved, but to my astonishment the bus assistant actually asked the woman to stand (there were no seats left) so he could sit next to me. Finally he told me my stop was coming up but when I looked out the window things didn't look right (as in there was nothing but a field on the side of the road).
Apparantly he was thinking of a different place when he told me his bus went to Incubadora Anhalzer and the bus I was on really doesn't pass anywhere near where I needed to go. So I convinced him to drop me off at an intersection where I could catch the right bus and to make a very long story slightly shorter I finally arrived at the yellow adobe walls that mark the entrance to Incubadora Anhalzer.
However, when I knocked on the iron gates and asked the guard for Dr. M. he told me that he wasn't there. "What?!" I almost shouted at him in disbelief, You have got to be kidding me. So after standing there dumbfounded for a few seconds I got the brilliant idea to call his cell phone since I had his business card. No one answered. A few seconds later I got a call on my cell phone that turned out to be from him asking me what I was doing calling him. After I hastily explained who I was he said he was in Guayaquil and wouldn't arrive for another half hour. It didn't exactly occur to me at the time that it is impossible to travel from Guayaquil to Quito in half an hour regardless of the form of transport.
I told him that I would see him soon and sat down to start writing this letter outside the gate of Incubadora Anhalzer (the guard still wouldn't let me in). There had been some thunder in the background for a while, but after about half an hour it started to rain. About two seconds after the first drops, it started to pour. About two seconds after the pouring began I was treated to the added entertainment of silica-bead-sized hail. I managed to convince the guard to let me in so I didn't have to sit in the hail but it wasn't for another two and a half hours until Dr. M. arrived.
While I was waiting, I asked some women who worked there if they wanted any help because I didn´t have anything to do. Although they said yes, I really didn´t know enough about what they were doing to be of any help but we ended up talking for a while and when in response to some question I explained that I was an exchange student, they were all really surprised and didn´t believe me for a little bit because they said they couldn´t tell I had a foreign accent and that I spoke Spanish perfectly. It was a really nice complement to receive.
In the end it was a good thing I waited: he is really sweet and the internship is going to be awesome, I think. I am going to be working with the reproduction side of the company, learning about raising chickens from birth to slaughter, vaccinating and examining them, performing necropsies, etc. And as an added benefit there is a woman who works in the accounting department who lives somewhat close to me in Quito so she can take me home at night so I don't have to ride the bus for two hours in the dark.
I had a presentation in my oral literature class about décimas, a type of oral poetry used by residents (mostly of African origin) in Esmereldas. I wrote my own décima to see how hard it was and it is really difficult. There is a pretty complex structure that you have to follow and add to that I was presenting on religious décimas so I had to write one on something from the Bible (not exactly my strongpoint) so the process was pretty hysterical. In the end it was
quite rewarding because when I sat down Andrea, my partner for our field work, wrote me the following note: "Me encantó! Realmente felicitaciones. Cada palabra que decías se
sentía que lo disfrutabas. Que hermoso que hayas escrito esta décima, porque puedo ver que te gusta mi país, que ahora también es tu Ecuador".
Otherwise, classes continue to go fine although they can be tedious at times. What I really want to do is spend time with my host family or at my internship not struggle through dry anthropological readings on whether corn was first domesticated by the Mayans in Mexico or by the indigenous Amazonian people in Ecuador. But the semester is more than half over so I think I can make it through :)
I hope you are all doing well and I send you good thoughts from the middle of the earth.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
**On the road again....**
I am off to Kansas City for three days.... I am attending an advisors conference. I don't quite know what will be there, but my job promotion review recommended I get involved in a relevant professional organization so I am resisting the urge to hole up and just publish (both books and blogs) and "get out there."
This conference was supposed to be in New Orleans which was one of the initial attractions to attending. I have never been to New Orleans. But for reasons we all know, I won't be going there for this conference.
I have been to Kansas City before... over ten years ago. For a different conference. My biggest memories included excellent barbeque at a dive I know I never will find again, and some guy I hung out with who gave me a copy of the Barenaked Ladies' first CD. I also remember leaving to drive back to Denver in the ole Volvo. Those who travelled to KC with me did not want to leave for the return trip until 7 pm the final evening. After they got in the car, exhausted, they informed me that none knew how to drive a clutch. So I drove the overnight, 10 hour trip home, slapping myself in the face to stay awake. The Perseid meteor showers helped keep me awake, and fortunately the prairie is so damn flat it really would not have mattered if I drove off the road.
That's it. That is all I remember. The conference presentations must have been pretty memorable, eh?
This conference was supposed to be in New Orleans which was one of the initial attractions to attending. I have never been to New Orleans. But for reasons we all know, I won't be going there for this conference.
I have been to Kansas City before... over ten years ago. For a different conference. My biggest memories included excellent barbeque at a dive I know I never will find again, and some guy I hung out with who gave me a copy of the Barenaked Ladies' first CD. I also remember leaving to drive back to Denver in the ole Volvo. Those who travelled to KC with me did not want to leave for the return trip until 7 pm the final evening. After they got in the car, exhausted, they informed me that none knew how to drive a clutch. So I drove the overnight, 10 hour trip home, slapping myself in the face to stay awake. The Perseid meteor showers helped keep me awake, and fortunately the prairie is so damn flat it really would not have mattered if I drove off the road.
That's it. That is all I remember. The conference presentations must have been pretty memorable, eh?
**Classic Bush**
My republican brother (who hasn't really convinced me that he donated DNA to my amazing niece and nephew), posted a very humorous joke about Bush. Here it is fcr your enjoyment....
So Donald Rumsfeld tells Bush at the morning briefing, "Bad news
from the coalition. We lost 3 Brazilian soldiers."
Bush breaks down crying. "That's horrible. What a tragedy." He's
sobbing uncontrollably.
Bush composes himself and asks Condi, "How many is in a brazillion?"
This one stands without comment (well maybe a chuckle or two...).
So Donald Rumsfeld tells Bush at the morning briefing, "Bad news
from the coalition. We lost 3 Brazilian soldiers."
Bush breaks down crying. "That's horrible. What a tragedy." He's
sobbing uncontrollably.
Bush composes himself and asks Condi, "How many is in a brazillion?"
This one stands without comment (well maybe a chuckle or two...).
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
**Could she really be watching baseball?**
Yes, it is weird, maybe even disconcerting to those who know me AT ALL. But I just remembered the world series was on tonight and I flipped on FOX (something I am loath to do) and, get ready for this... also brought up the ESPN MLB Gamecast. I guess I got thinking about about Sarah and Jen who should be at Minute Maid Park, probably having simultaneous coronaries. It is the bottom of the 8th Houston is down by one. Two on two out...
Wow, hit down the third baseline, just fair... double with a run scored. It is tied.... Man... Ausmus better not leave two men on base. Dang. But it is tied.
Jeez, who is this person blogging? I better stop before people become concerned (I may just leave FOX on in the background...:)
Wow, hit down the third baseline, just fair... double with a run scored. It is tied.... Man... Ausmus better not leave two men on base. Dang. But it is tied.
Jeez, who is this person blogging? I better stop before people become concerned (I may just leave FOX on in the background...:)
Friday, October 21, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
**Darned demands of the real world**
I am coming to the conclusion that my job is not conducive to consistently maintaining a blog. And since I didn't nail the mega powerball lottery yesterday, blogging full-time does not appear to be in my immediate future.
By the time I get home in the evening, even operating the remote seems to require overwhelming effort.
I don't remember the last weeknight I got home before 8 pm. It got so bad that I actually had to strap on a headlamp and cut my grass - almost 8 inches long - in the dark this week. Let's just say I am glad I don't live in Becca's neighborhood. I would have had my front door paper-mache'd with covenant violation notices.
My fall doesn't show signs of letting up anytime soon. I work this weekend and then travel the next two weekends. I just returned from an 8 day trip, the details forthcoming in the next entry, I hope. I can't even make a dent in the pile of work that sits on my desk.
I work Thanksgiving weekend, and then I have to retake the LSATs in early December, in an effort to raise my score and secure an essential scholarship for law school. Otherwise I will have to rethink my career plans for the next few years. As soon as exams are finished, I leave for Ecuador to visit the long lost daughter.
I look forward to retaking her picture with feet straddling the equator. The last time her little toes touched either side of the zero latitude line was when she was 6 weeks old.
The highlight of the last two weeks, I have at least a years supply of Hatch roasted green chilis in my freezer. It is the ultimate comfort food.
By the time I get home in the evening, even operating the remote seems to require overwhelming effort.
I don't remember the last weeknight I got home before 8 pm. It got so bad that I actually had to strap on a headlamp and cut my grass - almost 8 inches long - in the dark this week. Let's just say I am glad I don't live in Becca's neighborhood. I would have had my front door paper-mache'd with covenant violation notices.
My fall doesn't show signs of letting up anytime soon. I work this weekend and then travel the next two weekends. I just returned from an 8 day trip, the details forthcoming in the next entry, I hope. I can't even make a dent in the pile of work that sits on my desk.
I work Thanksgiving weekend, and then I have to retake the LSATs in early December, in an effort to raise my score and secure an essential scholarship for law school. Otherwise I will have to rethink my career plans for the next few years. As soon as exams are finished, I leave for Ecuador to visit the long lost daughter.
I look forward to retaking her picture with feet straddling the equator. The last time her little toes touched either side of the zero latitude line was when she was 6 weeks old.
The highlight of the last two weeks, I have at least a years supply of Hatch roasted green chilis in my freezer. It is the ultimate comfort food.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
**Conspiracy Theory**
I listened to the news this morning and was surprised that journalists are reporting that conservatives were likely to be the biggest barrier to the successful confirmation of Supreme Court nominee, and Bush buddie, Harriet Miers.
And then I thought...
of course. It's a ruse.
Conservatives don't really have a problem. They are blowing smoke. Here's why.
Democrats have made it clear that the O'Connor replacement would be scrutinized carefully. Bush then nominates someone who has nothing to scrutinize. By that I mean that she has no judicial history, never argued before the SCOTUS, and most of her recent work has been in the White House. And Bush made it clear that he is a deep and unabiding believer in executive privilege.
In other works, Congress, you ain't getting nothin'.
Now the press say that it is the conservative wing that is reacting negatively to the lack of information, inspite of Bush's press conference where he repeatedly commented in classic Bush speak, that he picked a candidate who agreed with his "view" of the court's role and that Harriet wasn't going to "change."
So the rhetoric floating around, especially where conservatives are calling Bush the best republican president the democrats could ask for, is a dead giveaway.
This dissent is a plant.
With little else to go on, democrats are left with thinking about a nominee that apparently is suspect with the republican party. Then she must be okay, eh? Wham bamm she's in.
And then I thought...
of course. It's a ruse.
Conservatives don't really have a problem. They are blowing smoke. Here's why.
Democrats have made it clear that the O'Connor replacement would be scrutinized carefully. Bush then nominates someone who has nothing to scrutinize. By that I mean that she has no judicial history, never argued before the SCOTUS, and most of her recent work has been in the White House. And Bush made it clear that he is a deep and unabiding believer in executive privilege.
In other works, Congress, you ain't getting nothin'.
Now the press say that it is the conservative wing that is reacting negatively to the lack of information, inspite of Bush's press conference where he repeatedly commented in classic Bush speak, that he picked a candidate who agreed with his "view" of the court's role and that Harriet wasn't going to "change."
So the rhetoric floating around, especially where conservatives are calling Bush the best republican president the democrats could ask for, is a dead giveaway.
This dissent is a plant.
With little else to go on, democrats are left with thinking about a nominee that apparently is suspect with the republican party. Then she must be okay, eh? Wham bamm she's in.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Sunday, September 25, 2005
**The TimesSelect discussion continues**
Reading a front page discussion on PressThink (Jay Rosen's weblog linked from my blog), I came across a good point brough up in a journalism class discussion... Ironically, it arose in a class at George Mason University - the home and general breeding site for libertarian thought in the "worship Ayn Rand" sense.
Here is the concern raised about the new TimesSelect feature:
Outing: “Steve Klein, an online journalism professor at George Mason University, says one of his students raised an excellent point during a class discussion this week about TimesSelect: ‘Even if the Times picked up most of its existing online readers, how are they going to grow a new generation of online Op-Ed readers if they keep the columnists behind a pay firewall?’ Good question.”
Here is the concern raised about the new TimesSelect feature:
Outing: “Steve Klein, an online journalism professor at George Mason University, says one of his students raised an excellent point during a class discussion this week about TimesSelect: ‘Even if the Times picked up most of its existing online readers, how are they going to grow a new generation of online Op-Ed readers if they keep the columnists behind a pay firewall?’ Good question.”
**While we are talking about the New York Times**
The newspaper of record is slowly moving content to premium subscription. You either have to pay for an online subscription to access some of it or can get it free with a regular subscription. Can someone who has a subscription let me use their information to access premium content?
To do the online "TimesSelect" you either have to have the online premium account already and share the password and the account name with me (no big deal, really), or tell me the delivery address and the NYT's account number where you receive your print copy (which would either be on the newspaper label or on the credit card bill you use to pay for the paper). I can set up the account for you and tell you the password.
I hate the fact I can no longer read Nicholas Kristoff columns anymore, but out west, the paper of record costs a fortune to receive.
To do the online "TimesSelect" you either have to have the online premium account already and share the password and the account name with me (no big deal, really), or tell me the delivery address and the NYT's account number where you receive your print copy (which would either be on the newspaper label or on the credit card bill you use to pay for the paper). I can set up the account for you and tell you the password.
I hate the fact I can no longer read Nicholas Kristoff columns anymore, but out west, the paper of record costs a fortune to receive.
**Hail to the New York Times**
In one of the better staff editorials I have read, the New York Times steps, for a moment out of journalistic timidity and says it like it is. Here are the first couple of paragraphs. Go read the editorial for yourself before it slips into their archives next Sunday.
September 25, 2005
Hard Bigotry of No Expectations
Throughout his campaigns in 2000 and 2004, George W. Bush talked about "the soft bigotry of low expectations": the mind-set that tolerates poor school performance and dead-end careers for minority students on the presumption that they are incapable of doing better. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said recently that this phrase attracted her to Mr. Bush more than anything else.
It was, indeed, a brilliant encapsulation of so much of what is wrong with American education. But while Mr. Bush has been worrying about low expectations in schools, he's been ratcheting the bar downward himself on almost everything else.
The president's recent schedule of nonstop disaster-scene photo-ops is reminiscent of the principal of a failing school who believes he's doing a great job because he makes it a point to drop in on every class play and teacher retirement party. And if there ever was an exhibit of the misguided conviction that for some people very little is good enough, it's the current administration spin that the proposed Iraqi constitution is fine because the founding fathers didn't give women equal rights either....
September 25, 2005
Hard Bigotry of No Expectations
Throughout his campaigns in 2000 and 2004, George W. Bush talked about "the soft bigotry of low expectations": the mind-set that tolerates poor school performance and dead-end careers for minority students on the presumption that they are incapable of doing better. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said recently that this phrase attracted her to Mr. Bush more than anything else.
It was, indeed, a brilliant encapsulation of so much of what is wrong with American education. But while Mr. Bush has been worrying about low expectations in schools, he's been ratcheting the bar downward himself on almost everything else.
The president's recent schedule of nonstop disaster-scene photo-ops is reminiscent of the principal of a failing school who believes he's doing a great job because he makes it a point to drop in on every class play and teacher retirement party. And if there ever was an exhibit of the misguided conviction that for some people very little is good enough, it's the current administration spin that the proposed Iraqi constitution is fine because the founding fathers didn't give women equal rights either....
Friday, September 23, 2005
**Smile**
Q: What is Bush's position on Roe v Wade?
A: He really doesn't care how people get out of New Orleans.
A: He really doesn't care how people get out of New Orleans.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
**The Good, the Bad and the Ugly...**
is the name of a new film series started by a colleague. Tonight we premiered the Bad. I am pondering who would have sat through this whole movie in order to recommend it, and then it occurred to me that whoever chose this is actually watching it again.
Tonight's selection was Army of Darkness
I would have been more judgmental, but then I realized that the film has actually won awards.
It won the Saturn Award from the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films
It won the Golden Raven at the Brussels International Festival of Fantasy Film.
There is more but I won't bore you.
The movie had numerous memorable taglines associated with it:
Trapped in time. Surrounded by evil. Low on gas
Tonight's selection was Army of DarknessI would have been more judgmental, but then I realized that the film has actually won awards.
It won the Saturn Award from the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films
It won the Golden Raven at the Brussels International Festival of Fantasy Film.
There is more but I won't bore you.
The movie had numerous memorable taglines associated with it:
Trapped in time. Surrounded by evil. Low on gas
1 Man, 1 Million dead, The odds are just about even.
They move. They breathe. They suck.
Sound the trumpets, Raise the drawbridge, and drop the Oldsmobile
How can you destroy an army that's already dead?
In an age of darkness. At a time of evil. When the world needed a hero. What it got was him.
Now...
My favorite quote from the movie, set in the 1300's with plenty of old English in the script... happened at an amourous moment:
"Give me some sugar, baby." That was delivered by the lead in the film, Bruce Campbell.
He attended Western Michigan University for awhile. Hah.
**Did I Really Hear That?**
Let's just set the scene first:
I am watching ABC World News Tonight and on comes a story about the the Catholic church and gay priests. The reporter narrated a story that described the Vatican's and Pope Benedict XIV's pending deicsion to ban gay priests whether celibate or not.
But that is not what put me over the top and sent me "bee-lining" to the blog. One of those interviewed made a comparison between gay priests-around-little-male-parishoners to alcoholics being present with a key to the liquor cabinet.
When will the idea that one's sexual preference being a "disease" stop rearing its intolerant, ignorant, hateful, narrow-minded head?
Jesus! (and I don't mean that in the calling out for the "man" sense)
I am watching ABC World News Tonight and on comes a story about the the Catholic church and gay priests. The reporter narrated a story that described the Vatican's and Pope Benedict XIV's pending deicsion to ban gay priests whether celibate or not.
But that is not what put me over the top and sent me "bee-lining" to the blog. One of those interviewed made a comparison between gay priests-around-little-male-parishoners to alcoholics being present with a key to the liquor cabinet.
When will the idea that one's sexual preference being a "disease" stop rearing its intolerant, ignorant, hateful, narrow-minded head?
Jesus! (and I don't mean that in the calling out for the "man" sense)
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
**Whadda Day for News**
I have kept the television on in my office for much of the day (and I did not even catch the Daily Show!).
I watched Hurricane Rita tranform from a tropical storm to a Category 5 monster in what seemed like record time. And I monitored my nieces's blog as she and her friends prepared to evacuate from the Houston/Galveston area. More recently, I watched Jet Blue's Burbank/NYC flight perform an emergency landing at LAX after the front landing wheel was stuck at a ninety degree angle. The landing, live, thanks to LA area television affiliates, showed the AMAZINGLY skilled flight crew drop the back wheels to the tarmac, and then slow the airplane down BEFORE dropping the skewed front wheel. Contrary to what safely officials hoped, the wheel did not right itself on landing. It scraped along the runway, the wheel finally bursting into flames. But those darn pilots brought that plane to a stop without the wheel support system collapsing.
I will fly with those pilots ANYTIME. Now, whether I am going to be anxious flying on a A320 airbus, is another story. This is the second time that has happened on that model of plane. I guess it is better than a rudder breaking or a wing collapsing, or double engine failure....
I watched Hurricane Rita tranform from a tropical storm to a Category 5 monster in what seemed like record time. And I monitored my nieces's blog as she and her friends prepared to evacuate from the Houston/Galveston area. More recently, I watched Jet Blue's Burbank/NYC flight perform an emergency landing at LAX after the front landing wheel was stuck at a ninety degree angle. The landing, live, thanks to LA area television affiliates, showed the AMAZINGLY skilled flight crew drop the back wheels to the tarmac, and then slow the airplane down BEFORE dropping the skewed front wheel. Contrary to what safely officials hoped, the wheel did not right itself on landing. It scraped along the runway, the wheel finally bursting into flames. But those darn pilots brought that plane to a stop without the wheel support system collapsing.
I will fly with those pilots ANYTIME. Now, whether I am going to be anxious flying on a A320 airbus, is another story. This is the second time that has happened on that model of plane. I guess it is better than a rudder breaking or a wing collapsing, or double engine failure....
Thursday, September 15, 2005
**Googling "Failure"**
My ever clever nephew just sent me this and it is too good not to post.
Do the following:
Go to www.google.com and put in "failure" into the search key then hit "i am feeling lucky"
Hard to beat a search engine with a sense of humor.
Thanks, N.
Update:
Even better: it works with "miserable failure."
Do the following:
Go to www.google.com and put in "failure" into the search key then hit "i am feeling lucky"
Hard to beat a search engine with a sense of humor.
Thanks, N.
Update:
Even better: it works with "miserable failure."
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
**Balrog rises from the depths of Middle Earth**
It was inevitable that he would emerge as a topic in this blog. Ex-husbands don't die, they just fade in the murky and firey depths only to emerge again when money becomes an issue.
And so it is. Balrog arises again.
In a couple of weeks I head to Colorado to go head-to-head with a demon who now claims he does not see any value in higher education, and has stayed unemployed for over a year to present to the court a miserably low income in order to eviserate his support for two amazing, talented hardworking kids who have done nothing to this man.
Efforts to reach an agreement continue to fail. Lawyers are making the better part of a year's tuition and there is no end in sight.
I remain astounded that my best hope might be to salvage some measely amount of college support. After ten years time to save and plan, I managed - on one income and raising these kids alone - to put away enough money to cover half their college costs. Balrog meandered from job to job, took a year off to hang out in Italy, and saved nothing. Well except, apparently enough to pay $100,000 cash for a house in the italian riviera. Now he claims he has no money to help his kids with their education in spite of his written promise.
Where is the Gandalf when you need him?
And so it is. Balrog arises again.
In a couple of weeks I head to Colorado to go head-to-head with a demon who now claims he does not see any value in higher education, and has stayed unemployed for over a year to present to the court a miserably low income in order to eviserate his support for two amazing, talented hardworking kids who have done nothing to this man.
Efforts to reach an agreement continue to fail. Lawyers are making the better part of a year's tuition and there is no end in sight.
I remain astounded that my best hope might be to salvage some measely amount of college support. After ten years time to save and plan, I managed - on one income and raising these kids alone - to put away enough money to cover half their college costs. Balrog meandered from job to job, took a year off to hang out in Italy, and saved nothing. Well except, apparently enough to pay $100,000 cash for a house in the italian riviera. Now he claims he has no money to help his kids with their education in spite of his written promise.
Where is the Gandalf when you need him?
Monday, September 12, 2005
** 7 things....**
7 things I plan to do before I die:
* Fulfill a longstanding plan to travel from Chile to Argentina, to Patagonia, to Tierra del Fuego
* Excel at wilderness backpacking
* Go to law school
* Bike or ride a horse across country
* Build a retirement home in Montana, Wyoming, Idaho or western Colorado
* Learn to ride a motorcycle
* Be satisfied
7 things I can do:
* Write a book
* Ride horses, well
* Hike farther than I ever thought possible
* Milk a cow
* Teach, well
* Live on my own and be happy
* Raise children of substance
7 things I cannot do:
* See the forest through the trees sometimes
* Be satisfied
* Admit that I am wrong right away
* Take financial risks
* Easily let go
* Technical climbing
* Play an instrument well
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:
* Eyes
* Smile
* Intellectual capacity
* Minimal bagage (nearly impossible by middle age)
* Ponytails
* Ability to cut through bullshit
* Liberal, but not a loser
7 things I say most often:
* Is it Friday?
* I will be there in five minutes
* I love you Shiloh, you're such a good dog!
* I miss my kids!
* This is why I live on the other side of the country.
* What did that stupid idiot say today (referring to Bush, any member of the Bush administration, and/or any employee of FOX news) ?
* They should have impeached him and his two buddies (still say this in reference to the late J. Rehnquist and his cronies, J. Thomas and J. Scalia).
7 celebrity crushes:
* John Cusack
* Nicholas Cage
* Robert Redford
* Tom Hanks
* Morgan Freeman
* Denzel Washington
* Robert De Niro
Sunday, September 11, 2005
**Four Years Ago**
I remember coming into that morning work in Michigan. I pulled into the covered parking garage, stepped out of the car and crossed paths with a co-worker on her way to her car. She said with anxiety in her voice, "Did you hear? A plane crashed into the World Trade Center!" Two thoughts crossed my mind simultaniously: an image of a small private plane hitting the building and that what she told me was a joke.
Then I remembered the last time someone told me something like this and I didn't believe it at first. I was walking into a Burger King in Panama City. My cameraman had gone in ahead of me and when I entered the restaurant, he said, "The Challenger blew up." He was a kidder, so I didn't believe him. But he pointed to the overhead television, and there it was. The spanish was hard to follow, but the images said everything.
I walked into my office and turned on my television. I had the only office on my floor with a television (perk of the job). There it was. Within minutes my cramped office - no bigger than a parking space for a car - was full of people. There we sat for 8 hours. We watched the second plane crash. We watched the buildings come down. No classes were taught that day. The world stopped. My eyes left the television only long enough to drive home and turn it on there.
This event joins several other I have witnessed in my life that makes me feel to my core that the world is fundamentally changed. The Challenger explosion was like that for me. So was the death of Princess Diane for some reason. 9-11 joined that group. And now, New Orleans. For some the scope of the disaster is just too much to wrapped one's head around. Other incidents it the emotion.
I didn't know anyone else in Michigan who lost someone on Sept. 11th. But Michigan felt closer to New York somehow. Maybe it was because we were in the same time zone. Maybe it was because many here were from the east coast. Maybe it was because large cities were nearby us... cities that felt like an east coast city.
At that time, I had decided to move west the following year. I talked to my future employers a day or so after 9-11 and asked how the students experienced it out there. I was struck by how detached they were from the experience. It was traumatic alright, maybe like the way the Indonesian tsunami felt. Traumatic but far away.
9-11 is a mixed experience for me. Closer to home for sure, but having lived away from the east coast for many years, more removed than for my immediate family who lived an hour away by train from NYC (meaning it was a commuter area). They all knew neighbors - lawyers, stockbrokers and even one of the pilots - who died.
And then there was my cousin and his wife. I knew them, but not well. I hadn't spent time with my father's side of the family - after many years of living far away, and after many years since my father's passing.
Their son, Ryan, was on the 104th floor. Worked for Cantor. I knew of him more than I knew him. But I think of him every Sept. 11th. So he is not forgotten out on the west coast.
Then I remembered the last time someone told me something like this and I didn't believe it at first. I was walking into a Burger King in Panama City. My cameraman had gone in ahead of me and when I entered the restaurant, he said, "The Challenger blew up." He was a kidder, so I didn't believe him. But he pointed to the overhead television, and there it was. The spanish was hard to follow, but the images said everything.
I walked into my office and turned on my television. I had the only office on my floor with a television (perk of the job). There it was. Within minutes my cramped office - no bigger than a parking space for a car - was full of people. There we sat for 8 hours. We watched the second plane crash. We watched the buildings come down. No classes were taught that day. The world stopped. My eyes left the television only long enough to drive home and turn it on there.
This event joins several other I have witnessed in my life that makes me feel to my core that the world is fundamentally changed. The Challenger explosion was like that for me. So was the death of Princess Diane for some reason. 9-11 joined that group. And now, New Orleans. For some the scope of the disaster is just too much to wrapped one's head around. Other incidents it the emotion.
I didn't know anyone else in Michigan who lost someone on Sept. 11th. But Michigan felt closer to New York somehow. Maybe it was because we were in the same time zone. Maybe it was because many here were from the east coast. Maybe it was because large cities were nearby us... cities that felt like an east coast city.
At that time, I had decided to move west the following year. I talked to my future employers a day or so after 9-11 and asked how the students experienced it out there. I was struck by how detached they were from the experience. It was traumatic alright, maybe like the way the Indonesian tsunami felt. Traumatic but far away.
9-11 is a mixed experience for me. Closer to home for sure, but having lived away from the east coast for many years, more removed than for my immediate family who lived an hour away by train from NYC (meaning it was a commuter area). They all knew neighbors - lawyers, stockbrokers and even one of the pilots - who died.
And then there was my cousin and his wife. I knew them, but not well. I hadn't spent time with my father's side of the family - after many years of living far away, and after many years since my father's passing.
Their son, Ryan, was on the 104th floor. Worked for Cantor. I knew of him more than I knew him. But I think of him every Sept. 11th. So he is not forgotten out on the west coast.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
**Oregon voices**
Purusing the Oregonian, which I don't come across that often, I was struck by one letter to the editor today. A very succinct response to the Oregonian's front page picture on Sept. 2. It was an image of an deceased african american man lying in a lawn chair. This image generated a lot of "feedback" about the appropriateness of putting someone who had died on the front page. This woman's response was perfect in my mind:
She said:
I love the photo of the dead, elderly black gentleman lying in a lawn chair in New Orleans on the Sept. 2 cover of the Oregonian. It was arresting and shocking, but also a perfect representation of the broken social contract in this country. He survived the flood, but he couldn't survive the wait for help. No one should be offended by this any more than a christian would be offended by a painting of Jesus dead on the cross. Both of them represent man's inhumanity to man.
Simply and well put. Oregon. Nice state. At times.
She said:
I love the photo of the dead, elderly black gentleman lying in a lawn chair in New Orleans on the Sept. 2 cover of the Oregonian. It was arresting and shocking, but also a perfect representation of the broken social contract in this country. He survived the flood, but he couldn't survive the wait for help. No one should be offended by this any more than a christian would be offended by a painting of Jesus dead on the cross. Both of them represent man's inhumanity to man.
Simply and well put. Oregon. Nice state. At times.
**Oregon: the land of idiosyracies at their best**
Pacific University, in a suburb of Portland just appointed its newest member of the board of trustees. He apparently fits key criteria for board membership: moneyed, likely to be so honored at the opportunity that he gives that money to Pacifica, and likely to be so overwhelmed by the "letters" of all the other members of the board (it looks like he mat not have a college degree) that he won't ruffle and of the feather of the doctors, lawyers and ex gov.-types that share this honor. Who, you ask is will be "contributing" to the long term future of Pacifica U.? None other than:
Let's join in a round of "I wanna rock and roll all night.... and party every day."
Let's join in a round of "I wanna rock and roll all night.... and party every day."
**The Times-Picayune Open Letter to the Prez**
What can be said. The New Orleans newspaper, published on line during the worst of the flooding is back in print thanks to a neighboring printing facility. I think the paper captures some of the feeling of frustration. I do say, this one is a keeper. Here is the URL, but in case it doesn't stay current, the text is below (with all due deference to fair use).
We heard you loud and clear Friday when you visited our devastated city and the Gulf Coast and said, "What is not working, we�re going to make it right."
Please forgive us if we wait to see proof of your promise before believing you. But we have good reason for our skepticism.
Bienville built New Orleans where he built it for one main reason: It�s accessible. The city between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain was easy to reach in 1718.
How much easier it is to access in 2005 now that there are interstates and bridges, airports and helipads, cruise ships, barges, buses and diesel-powered trucks.
Despite the city�s multiple points of entry, our nation�s bureaucrats spent days after last week�s hurricane wringing their hands, lamenting the fact that they could neither rescue the city�s stranded victims nor bring them food, water and medical supplies.
Meanwhile there were journalists, including some who work for The Times-Picayune, going in and out of the city via the Crescent City Connection. On Thursday morning, that crew saw a caravan of 13 Wal-Mart tractor trailers headed into town to bring food, water and supplies to a dying city.
Television reporters were doing live reports from downtown New Orleans streets. Harry Connick Jr. brought in some aid Thursday, and his efforts were the focus of a "Today" show story Friday morning.
Yet, the people trained to protect our nation, the people whose job it is to quickly bring in aid were absent. Those who should have been deploying troops were singing a sad song about how our city was impossible to reach.
We�re angry, Mr. President, and we�ll be angry long after our beloved city and surrounding parishes have been pumped dry. Our people deserved rescuing. Many who could have been were not. That�s to the government�s shame.
Mayor Ray Nagin did the right thing Sunday when he allowed those with no other alternative to seek shelter from the storm inside the Louisiana Superdome. We still don�t know what the death toll is, but one thing is certain: Had the Superdome not been opened, the city�s death toll would have been higher. The toll may even have been exponentially higher.
It was clear to us by late morning Monday that many people inside the Superdome would not be returning home. It should have been clear to our government, Mr. President. So why weren�t they evacuated out of the city immediately? We learned seven years ago, when Hurricane Georges threatened, that the Dome isn�t suitable as a long-term shelter. So what did state and national officials think would happen to tens of thousands of people trapped inside with no air conditioning, overflowing toilets and dwindling amounts of food, water and other essentials?
State Rep. Karen Carter was right Friday when she said the city didn�t have but two urgent needs: "Buses! And gas!" Every official at the Federal Emergency Management Agency should be fired, Director Michael Brown especially.
In a nationally televised interview Thursday night, he said his agency hadn�t known until that day that thousands of storm victims were stranded at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center. He gave another nationally televised interview the next morning and said, "We�ve provided food to the people at the Convention Center so that they�ve gotten at least one, if not two meals, every single day."
Lies don�t get more bald-faced than that, Mr. President.
Yet, when you met with Mr. Brown Friday morning, you told him, "You�re doing a heck of a job."
That�s unbelievable.
There were thousands of people at the Convention Center because the riverfront is high ground. The fact that so many people had reached there on foot is proof that rescue vehicles could have gotten there, too.
We, who are from New Orleans, are no less American than those who live on the Great Plains or along the Atlantic Seaboard. We�re no less important than those from the Pacific Northwest or Appalachia. Our people deserved to be rescued.
No expense should have been spared. No excuses should have been voiced. Especially not one as preposterous as the claim that New Orleans couldn�t be reached.
Mr. President, we sincerely hope you fulfill your promise to make our beloved communities work right once again.
When you do, we will be the first to applaud.
OUR OPINIONS: An open letter to the President
Dear Mr. President:We heard you loud and clear Friday when you visited our devastated city and the Gulf Coast and said, "What is not working, we�re going to make it right."
Please forgive us if we wait to see proof of your promise before believing you. But we have good reason for our skepticism.
Bienville built New Orleans where he built it for one main reason: It�s accessible. The city between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain was easy to reach in 1718.
How much easier it is to access in 2005 now that there are interstates and bridges, airports and helipads, cruise ships, barges, buses and diesel-powered trucks.
Despite the city�s multiple points of entry, our nation�s bureaucrats spent days after last week�s hurricane wringing their hands, lamenting the fact that they could neither rescue the city�s stranded victims nor bring them food, water and medical supplies.
Meanwhile there were journalists, including some who work for The Times-Picayune, going in and out of the city via the Crescent City Connection. On Thursday morning, that crew saw a caravan of 13 Wal-Mart tractor trailers headed into town to bring food, water and supplies to a dying city.
Television reporters were doing live reports from downtown New Orleans streets. Harry Connick Jr. brought in some aid Thursday, and his efforts were the focus of a "Today" show story Friday morning.
Yet, the people trained to protect our nation, the people whose job it is to quickly bring in aid were absent. Those who should have been deploying troops were singing a sad song about how our city was impossible to reach.
We�re angry, Mr. President, and we�ll be angry long after our beloved city and surrounding parishes have been pumped dry. Our people deserved rescuing. Many who could have been were not. That�s to the government�s shame.
Mayor Ray Nagin did the right thing Sunday when he allowed those with no other alternative to seek shelter from the storm inside the Louisiana Superdome. We still don�t know what the death toll is, but one thing is certain: Had the Superdome not been opened, the city�s death toll would have been higher. The toll may even have been exponentially higher.
It was clear to us by late morning Monday that many people inside the Superdome would not be returning home. It should have been clear to our government, Mr. President. So why weren�t they evacuated out of the city immediately? We learned seven years ago, when Hurricane Georges threatened, that the Dome isn�t suitable as a long-term shelter. So what did state and national officials think would happen to tens of thousands of people trapped inside with no air conditioning, overflowing toilets and dwindling amounts of food, water and other essentials?
State Rep. Karen Carter was right Friday when she said the city didn�t have but two urgent needs: "Buses! And gas!" Every official at the Federal Emergency Management Agency should be fired, Director Michael Brown especially.
In a nationally televised interview Thursday night, he said his agency hadn�t known until that day that thousands of storm victims were stranded at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center. He gave another nationally televised interview the next morning and said, "We�ve provided food to the people at the Convention Center so that they�ve gotten at least one, if not two meals, every single day."
Lies don�t get more bald-faced than that, Mr. President.
Yet, when you met with Mr. Brown Friday morning, you told him, "You�re doing a heck of a job."
That�s unbelievable.
There were thousands of people at the Convention Center because the riverfront is high ground. The fact that so many people had reached there on foot is proof that rescue vehicles could have gotten there, too.
We, who are from New Orleans, are no less American than those who live on the Great Plains or along the Atlantic Seaboard. We�re no less important than those from the Pacific Northwest or Appalachia. Our people deserved to be rescued.
No expense should have been spared. No excuses should have been voiced. Especially not one as preposterous as the claim that New Orleans couldn�t be reached.
Mr. President, we sincerely hope you fulfill your promise to make our beloved communities work right once again.
When you do, we will be the first to applaud.
**Walmart and McDonalds**
So, there have been all sorts of reports about businesses promising to continue paying displaced workers for anywhere from a month to 6 months - the length typically seems to depend on the size of the company. So big one's have stepped forward and promised to pay workers for 6 months at least. Smaller one's promise what they can, generally committing to continuing paychecks as long as they can financially. The floating casinos - now destroyed shells on the beach- are continuing to pay employees.
And then there is Walmart, Mickey D's and UPS. According to the NY Times this past Sunday:
While some employees of large companies are still receiving paychecks, Wal-Mart stopped paying workers in the area four days after shutting its stores, and McDonald's and UPS have not paid regular wages to idled employees since the storm hit.
Now Walmart has denied this, saying they are still paying employees, but I heard on TV (so it must be true, right?) that they plan to stop paychecks imminently. And here my hard Walmart heart was almost softening when I heard of their significant donation to relieft efforts and their promise to find jobs for all displace refugees that want them. This seems to be recast into a promise to give jobs to all displaced Walmart employees that want them, whereever they current are refug'ing - if there are job openings. So I am trying to find the definitive position of the largest private employer in the country. What exactly are they willing to do.
At least Mickey D's is upfront. They have confirmed that they ain't paying anybody any more.
And then there is Walmart, Mickey D's and UPS. According to the NY Times this past Sunday:
While some employees of large companies are still receiving paychecks, Wal-Mart stopped paying workers in the area four days after shutting its stores, and McDonald's and UPS have not paid regular wages to idled employees since the storm hit.
Now Walmart has denied this, saying they are still paying employees, but I heard on TV (so it must be true, right?) that they plan to stop paychecks imminently. And here my hard Walmart heart was almost softening when I heard of their significant donation to relieft efforts and their promise to find jobs for all displace refugees that want them. This seems to be recast into a promise to give jobs to all displaced Walmart employees that want them, whereever they current are refug'ing - if there are job openings. So I am trying to find the definitive position of the largest private employer in the country. What exactly are they willing to do.
At least Mickey D's is upfront. They have confirmed that they ain't paying anybody any more.
**Administration of Shame**
Not being this furious since Rehnquist appointed Bush Jr. prez, I thought an excerpt from Kristoff's New York Times column was in order so we may acknowledge yet another accomplishment of this administration.
The U.S. Census Bureau reported a few days ago that the poverty rate rose again last year, with 1.1 million more Americans living in poverty in 2004 than a year earlier. After declining sharply under Bill Clinton, the number of poor people has now risen 17 percent under Mr. Bush.
For a brilliant biting pieces check out Maureen Dowd's column. I like her work more and more.
The U.S. Census Bureau reported a few days ago that the poverty rate rose again last year, with 1.1 million more Americans living in poverty in 2004 than a year earlier. After declining sharply under Bill Clinton, the number of poor people has now risen 17 percent under Mr. Bush.
For a brilliant biting pieces check out Maureen Dowd's column. I like her work more and more.
**The Race Factor**
So the news media continue to raise the "race" question. Was race a factor in the loss of lives, predicted now to approach 10,000? That is a stupid question that begs a response of ridiculous, and worse, marginalizes the complexity of the race question.
Then there is the follow-up question of class. Again, a completely artificial way to set up the debate that becomes is easy to dismiss. One cannot seriously conclude that there was a systematic decision made to leave people behind because of their race and/or class. Our government doesn't operator at the level of such open and obvious racism.
But look deeper and across time and you can see how race is at the very core of the devastation in New Orleans. Not overt racism, but systemic structural racism. You have a city built upon the backs and cheap labor of an underclass. You have a city (and this is NOT limited to New Orleans) where the civil rights movement resulted in legal rights of equal opportunity, but not until all the natural resources and long term forms of wealth had been gobbled up by the elite anglo class. Great to have equal opportunity when there is no level playing field to begin with.
The very fact that the poor in New Orleans or in almost any metropolitan area in this country are African American should bring this fact home given we have had "equality" for 4 decades. The moment of devastation was not about race. The past 40 years of poverty and structural perpetuation of inequality is about race. Katrina just put it in front of the cameras so couch potato liberals and conservatives hiding behind the belief that widespread racism ended with the civil rights era, could not avert their eyes any longer.
Yes, it is about race and class. That fact that they intersect in the bowels of New Orleans; the fact that the faces crying for help from rooftops of shanties and from floating mattresses are overwhelmingly black; the fact that the city never developed an evacuation plan for the significant portion of the population that lives under the poverty level and does not have private transportation; brings racism and class, hopefully, into the public consciousness again.
Katrina did not discriminate in her destruction. She took the possessions of rich and poor alike. But the rich can rebuild. The rich have insurance. The rich have their lives.
To New Orleans, Lousianna and the U.S., the emperor is not wearing clothes.
Then there is the follow-up question of class. Again, a completely artificial way to set up the debate that becomes is easy to dismiss. One cannot seriously conclude that there was a systematic decision made to leave people behind because of their race and/or class. Our government doesn't operator at the level of such open and obvious racism.
But look deeper and across time and you can see how race is at the very core of the devastation in New Orleans. Not overt racism, but systemic structural racism. You have a city built upon the backs and cheap labor of an underclass. You have a city (and this is NOT limited to New Orleans) where the civil rights movement resulted in legal rights of equal opportunity, but not until all the natural resources and long term forms of wealth had been gobbled up by the elite anglo class. Great to have equal opportunity when there is no level playing field to begin with.
The very fact that the poor in New Orleans or in almost any metropolitan area in this country are African American should bring this fact home given we have had "equality" for 4 decades. The moment of devastation was not about race. The past 40 years of poverty and structural perpetuation of inequality is about race. Katrina just put it in front of the cameras so couch potato liberals and conservatives hiding behind the belief that widespread racism ended with the civil rights era, could not avert their eyes any longer.
Yes, it is about race and class. That fact that they intersect in the bowels of New Orleans; the fact that the faces crying for help from rooftops of shanties and from floating mattresses are overwhelmingly black; the fact that the city never developed an evacuation plan for the significant portion of the population that lives under the poverty level and does not have private transportation; brings racism and class, hopefully, into the public consciousness again.
Katrina did not discriminate in her destruction. She took the possessions of rich and poor alike. But the rich can rebuild. The rich have insurance. The rich have their lives.
To New Orleans, Lousianna and the U.S., the emperor is not wearing clothes.
Monday, September 05, 2005
**spamalot** (EMILY READ THE COMMENT)
Got the first spam comments. Pesky lil' fellas. Welcome to comment verification land.
**News from the Equator**
I thought that I would post the contents of some of my daughter's emails since she appears to be too busy to update her blog. Slacker. For efficiency and brevity, I excised the ongoing expressions of love gratitude that I am her mother:) and just left in the stuff I thought would be of general interest for those who know and love her. Or just know her. I also left out the part where she provided detailed instructions for the care of her fish, Che. Needless to say, there has been some anxiety around the house over whether we might kill the fish. Too many animals of hers are being left in my rather inconsistent care. For the record I have almost killed her dog three times since she left for college.
Anyway, here is some of what she said last week.....
The morning after I arrived I went with my family to see a little bit of the city. We went to this hill above the center of town where there is a huge statue of La Virgen de Quito who stands on top of a serpent signifying the dominance of good over evil and I suppose the dominance of Spain and its Catholicism over the indigenous people of Ecuador.
We walked around the center of town with them at night and all the churches and old colonial buildings were lit up. We saw a bunch of chivas, which are these converted trucks that have a band playing on the roof and people travel below in a sort of parade. They played Quito’s anthem and my abuelo tried to teach me how to dance to it, but it wasn’t too successful.
Most days, though I spend hanging out with my mamí and Paula talking about life and holding Paula’s hands while she tries to learn to walk. Paula is learning all the sounds of animals so I have been learning all the songs that she listens to in an attempt to participate in talking with her.
The university is amazing - a little, no very grandiose. There are tons of fountains all over the place and a lake (well, maybe a pond) filled with goldfish and koi. Needless to say I spend a lot of time at the pond staring at the fish. In addition to the carp, there are these black organisms that look like a cross between a tadpole and a fish larvae. I can’t find anyone who knows what they are.
I am taking a Spanish class for the first week that meets three hours a day then I come home and eat lunch and spend the rest of the day with my mamí and Paula. Wednesday is the actual orientation to the university for all the international
students who will be arriving and then I will pick classes and start school for real.
I think the bus ride to and from Cumbaya is my favorite part of the school day. I walk six or so blocks down a steep hill to the first bus I take (all I know about it is that it’s blue) that takes me past the commercial part of Quito, by Parque de la Carolina, this huge park in the middle of town, where I get off. Technically, I am supposed to ride the blue bus all the way to an old Olympic stadium a few blocks away but I still haven’t figured out how to take the bus that far. The bus I always end up getting on turns before the stadium. From there, I take a very crowded red bus to a transfer station where I take a green agricultural bus to Cumbaya. The bus to Cumbaya always plays music according to the taste of the driver (usually some kind of traditional Ecuadorian music). People get on at random places and sell everything from cd’s to El Comercio (the main newspaper) to metal orbes decorated with colorful beads.
Cumbaya is in a valley to the West of Quito so the bus climbs up a small mountain before descending into Cumbaya and as the bus reaches the top of the mountain the contrast between the blue sunny sky, the snow covered mountains and colorful buildings in the valley below muted by a layer of smog is incredible.
Although there are designated bus stops, no one really uses them so when you want to get on a bus you kind of jump on as the bus slows down a little. To get off, you do the same thing, jumping off running as the bus slows down a little. The stop where I get off comes up really quickly because generally I am staring out the window at the surroundings when suddenly I realize I have to get off.
There ya go. Once her email is up and running again, I will try and post more.
Anyway, here is some of what she said last week.....
The morning after I arrived I went with my family to see a little bit of the city. We went to this hill above the center of town where there is a huge statue of La Virgen de Quito who stands on top of a serpent signifying the dominance of good over evil and I suppose the dominance of Spain and its Catholicism over the indigenous people of Ecuador.
We walked around the center of town with them at night and all the churches and old colonial buildings were lit up. We saw a bunch of chivas, which are these converted trucks that have a band playing on the roof and people travel below in a sort of parade. They played Quito’s anthem and my abuelo tried to teach me how to dance to it, but it wasn’t too successful.
Most days, though I spend hanging out with my mamí and Paula talking about life and holding Paula’s hands while she tries to learn to walk. Paula is learning all the sounds of animals so I have been learning all the songs that she listens to in an attempt to participate in talking with her.
The university is amazing - a little, no very grandiose. There are tons of fountains all over the place and a lake (well, maybe a pond) filled with goldfish and koi. Needless to say I spend a lot of time at the pond staring at the fish. In addition to the carp, there are these black organisms that look like a cross between a tadpole and a fish larvae. I can’t find anyone who knows what they are.
I am taking a Spanish class for the first week that meets three hours a day then I come home and eat lunch and spend the rest of the day with my mamí and Paula. Wednesday is the actual orientation to the university for all the international
students who will be arriving and then I will pick classes and start school for real.
I think the bus ride to and from Cumbaya is my favorite part of the school day. I walk six or so blocks down a steep hill to the first bus I take (all I know about it is that it’s blue) that takes me past the commercial part of Quito, by Parque de la Carolina, this huge park in the middle of town, where I get off. Technically, I am supposed to ride the blue bus all the way to an old Olympic stadium a few blocks away but I still haven’t figured out how to take the bus that far. The bus I always end up getting on turns before the stadium. From there, I take a very crowded red bus to a transfer station where I take a green agricultural bus to Cumbaya. The bus to Cumbaya always plays music according to the taste of the driver (usually some kind of traditional Ecuadorian music). People get on at random places and sell everything from cd’s to El Comercio (the main newspaper) to metal orbes decorated with colorful beads.
Cumbaya is in a valley to the West of Quito so the bus climbs up a small mountain before descending into Cumbaya and as the bus reaches the top of the mountain the contrast between the blue sunny sky, the snow covered mountains and colorful buildings in the valley below muted by a layer of smog is incredible.
Although there are designated bus stops, no one really uses them so when you want to get on a bus you kind of jump on as the bus slows down a little. To get off, you do the same thing, jumping off running as the bus slows down a little. The stop where I get off comes up really quickly because generally I am staring out the window at the surroundings when suddenly I realize I have to get off.
There ya go. Once her email is up and running again, I will try and post more.
**Missing the Offspring**
It only has been 20 days or so and I miss them both. Maybe the aftermath of Katrina has something to do with it. Maybe it is a long Labor Day Weekend without a barbeque or hike with the kids. But it feels a long way off until I see my son for parent's weekend and a lifetime (not even 1/10 of the trip has passed) until I see my daughter's smiling face. But she did send two pictures in an email. That is before she lost email capability:
This is a picture of the grounds of her university. Can you say Ecuadorian upper class education?
This is a picture of her mama and little Paula. My daughter must be in heaven having an 18 month old in the house!
This is a picture of the grounds of her university. Can you say Ecuadorian upper class education?
This is a picture of her mama and little Paula. My daughter must be in heaven having an 18 month old in the house!
Friday, September 02, 2005
**Bit by the hand that feeds ya**
Here is a link to the transcript of the New Orlean's mayor who is peeling away the layers of bullshit that is mishaping the reality of the tragedy in the fallen city. If you can listen to the sound file that also is available on the CNN page. Then you can hear the deep frustration in this man's voice. That alone would have been enough to make me mad as hell. But then a colleague brought in a transcript from the most recent Bill O'Reilly show. Check it out and get mad. O'Reilly insinuated that those who stayed behind did so so they could loot the city.
Here is how the coversation went on the Sept. 1 show:
O'REILLY: Well, you know, what I - from what I'm hearing, this looting was fairly - you know, it's not an organized thisn like organized crime. But these people didn't want to leave.
SHEP SMITH: It's wide spread, Bill.
O'REILLY: Right. But they didn't want to leave because they sensed there might have been an opportunity to do what they eventually did, if they stayed behind knowing."
Racist chump he is.
Here is how the coversation went on the Sept. 1 show:
O'REILLY: Well, you know, what I - from what I'm hearing, this looting was fairly - you know, it's not an organized thisn like organized crime. But these people didn't want to leave.
SHEP SMITH: It's wide spread, Bill.
O'REILLY: Right. But they didn't want to leave because they sensed there might have been an opportunity to do what they eventually did, if they stayed behind knowing."
Racist chump he is.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
**What to Say?**
School has started, work days returns to the 14+ hour routine. It is hard to find time to blog with everything else in my life crammed into the 3-4 hours of non work time that I am actually awake.
Classes began today. Didn't feel much of the usual excitment, but I am working through my own "sending the kid off to college" at the same time I am taking under my wing some else's kid who was just sent off to college. That duality makes for an interesting experience.
Hurricance Katrina's aftermath appears so much worse than expected. Epic really. I have added to my site a blog maintained by two journalists who weathered the hurricane and offer some unique insights. I will post more as I find them.
Classes began today. Didn't feel much of the usual excitment, but I am working through my own "sending the kid off to college" at the same time I am taking under my wing some else's kid who was just sent off to college. That duality makes for an interesting experience.
Hurricance Katrina's aftermath appears so much worse than expected. Epic really. I have added to my site a blog maintained by two journalists who weathered the hurricane and offer some unique insights. I will post more as I find them.
Monday, August 15, 2005
**Blazing slow DSL**
It is 10:35 pm. I started a call to Verizon DSL technical support at 9:30 pm. After thirty minutes I heard a human voice. Another 30 minutes have gone by and I can barely load a web browser page. A test of my DSL shows it an utter failure. Originally, I called to find out how to hide access to my wireless signal. I figured things had slowed down cause I had users on it. Now after running some "tests," nothing seems to be working.
I am on hold again, while my "technician" speaks to a "network" guy. I think my modem is crap.
And to boot, Word is quitting on me unexpectantly, all the time. Maybe something is wrong with my new OS. Here's to the Tiger.
I am on hold again, while my "technician" speaks to a "network" guy. I think my modem is crap.
And to boot, Word is quitting on me unexpectantly, all the time. Maybe something is wrong with my new OS. Here's to the Tiger.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
**"Empty Nest" Coming to a theatre near you soon**
This Sunday evening at the same time my sister and her family board Jet Blue for the red eye back east, I put my oldest on the red-eye for Miami. After arriving, she boards another plane for Ecuador. It will be 8 months before I see her bright eyes, unless I manage a trip to visit. I am used to her not living at home, but not used to what is likely to be intermittent communication at best.
Then the following Wednesday, I hop a plane with my son and take him to college. So even with his spring semester test run in Italy, I am struggling with the "real" empty nest that I face this fall. It has been so busy this summer I have hardly noticed that my kids were gone most of the summer with their respective jobs. Maybe that busy feeling will continue and I won't miss their absence at the molecular level like I fear. Again I ask, where are the other parents going through this?
Then the following Wednesday, I hop a plane with my son and take him to college. So even with his spring semester test run in Italy, I am struggling with the "real" empty nest that I face this fall. It has been so busy this summer I have hardly noticed that my kids were gone most of the summer with their respective jobs. Maybe that busy feeling will continue and I won't miss their absence at the molecular level like I fear. Again I ask, where are the other parents going through this?
**Family time**
So long overdue on the update. But the excuse is company, particularly company that I haven’t told about blogging, so I tend not to do it when I have visitors like that.
Most of the past week has involved entertaining. My niece is visiting. She is a remarkable young lady. Quiet, but a deep thinker and quite observant. At the tender age of 14, she is better read than me when it comes to literature.
Part of the real fun of having her around is showing her my favorite places. It is fun to experience them again through her eyes.
And then there is the joy of being an aunt instead of a parent. I remember well, my sister poking fun at the “video game-free zone” that was my house and sending Game Boys to the kids for Christmas. So it is pay back time. My niece now knows how to drive... A clutch to be specific. For two different cars.
She is good.
She also has been tasked with watching selected R-rated movies. We started her on "Dogma."
Then there is the slight shift away from nonfiction literature at my prodding. She has now read "Fast Food Nation" and is starting on "Nickled and Dimed."
I kid with her saying my goal is to insure that her parents never again let her come spend part of the summer with me.
It doesn't seem to be working, cause her mother doesn’t seem to mind….:)
Now the rest of my niece's family is here and our days are spent picking up, feeding the kids, running the dishwasher, tripping over piles and piles of shoes, picking up, hiking, feeding kids, laundry, picking up, watching "Meet the Fockers" 50 times, and more picking up and feeding kids.
I am having a blast with the house full. Just powerwashed the outside of the house. My plan is to do the same inside when everyone goes.
Most of the past week has involved entertaining. My niece is visiting. She is a remarkable young lady. Quiet, but a deep thinker and quite observant. At the tender age of 14, she is better read than me when it comes to literature.
Part of the real fun of having her around is showing her my favorite places. It is fun to experience them again through her eyes.
And then there is the joy of being an aunt instead of a parent. I remember well, my sister poking fun at the “video game-free zone” that was my house and sending Game Boys to the kids for Christmas. So it is pay back time. My niece now knows how to drive... A clutch to be specific. For two different cars.
She is good.
She also has been tasked with watching selected R-rated movies. We started her on "Dogma."
Then there is the slight shift away from nonfiction literature at my prodding. She has now read "Fast Food Nation" and is starting on "Nickled and Dimed."
I kid with her saying my goal is to insure that her parents never again let her come spend part of the summer with me.
It doesn't seem to be working, cause her mother doesn’t seem to mind….:)
Now the rest of my niece's family is here and our days are spent picking up, feeding the kids, running the dishwasher, tripping over piles and piles of shoes, picking up, hiking, feeding kids, laundry, picking up, watching "Meet the Fockers" 50 times, and more picking up and feeding kids.
I am having a blast with the house full. Just powerwashed the outside of the house. My plan is to do the same inside when everyone goes.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
**An Unfinished Life of another kind**
I saw a preview for the upcoming film "An Unfinished Life." Starting to see the hits on my blog increase, probably because people are looking for information on the movie. It stars Robert Redford, Morgan Freeman and others, who, frankly, I don't care about. Morgan Freeman and Robert Redford are two of my favorite actors. Add to that list Nicholas Cage and John Cusak (who was starring in the movie I actually went to see: "Must Love Dogs"). Quick observations cause blogging time is limited:
- Even thought Redford plays a drunk and, with makeup, looks as old as he ever has, I would abandon my career, kids, and so forth for him. What can I say?
- Starting to feel the same way about Cusak. Dang his on camera awkwardness is appealing.
- "Must Love Dogs" had many moments that struck uncomfortably close to home, but I really liked the movie, if for no other reason, see number 2. above.
Friday, July 22, 2005
**Amazing restlessness**
I am anxious. Summer is past half over. I have a lot to do. Don't want to do any of it. Feeling the need to hit the road.
This happens to me every summer, typically sometime in July, when I realize that I could be perfectly happy never teaching another class and just continuing my career in a continuous state of summer break. The campus is truly its most lovely when there are no students. I am almost schizophrenic in the way I think about work and careers, moving lightning fast between ambition and whatever constitutes its opposite. So, while I am very jazzed to start law school in a year, it is agonizing to think about preparing my fall syllabi. Instead I think about Montana, Wyoming, New Mexico, Idaho, Colorado, British Columbia and Alberta and all the places I could wander instead of updating computer operating systems for my video editing suites.
In 3.5 weeks, I put my daughter on a plane to Ecuador for 8 months and trek with my son back east to drop him off at college. I rented his room to a student for the semester, but she is so busy, I don't imagine her being around too much. For the most part it will be just me and the dog who spends most her days like this:
On the other hand, say the word "treat" and:
This happens to me every summer, typically sometime in July, when I realize that I could be perfectly happy never teaching another class and just continuing my career in a continuous state of summer break. The campus is truly its most lovely when there are no students. I am almost schizophrenic in the way I think about work and careers, moving lightning fast between ambition and whatever constitutes its opposite. So, while I am very jazzed to start law school in a year, it is agonizing to think about preparing my fall syllabi. Instead I think about Montana, Wyoming, New Mexico, Idaho, Colorado, British Columbia and Alberta and all the places I could wander instead of updating computer operating systems for my video editing suites.
In 3.5 weeks, I put my daughter on a plane to Ecuador for 8 months and trek with my son back east to drop him off at college. I rented his room to a student for the semester, but she is so busy, I don't imagine her being around too much. For the most part it will be just me and the dog who spends most her days like this:
On the other hand, say the word "treat" and:
Thursday, July 21, 2005
**We got video!**
Dear Sarah was kind enough to load my Yellowstone videos on her site so that you can view them.
The first one is of steam rising off the thermal area at sunset
This next one is of Grotto Geyser, also steaming away in the sunset.
This video is of a little pool, about 24 inches in diameter boiling away.
Finally this video is of Lone Star Geyser erupting.
I think what I like best about these videos is the audio. Someone needs to go to Yellowston and collect audio of the natural environment and record a CD. If you close your eyes while you are in these basins, especially late at night when there are no other humans around, the variety of sound is amazing.
The first one is of steam rising off the thermal area at sunset
This next one is of Grotto Geyser, also steaming away in the sunset.
This video is of a little pool, about 24 inches in diameter boiling away.
Finally this video is of Lone Star Geyser erupting.
I think what I like best about these videos is the audio. Someone needs to go to Yellowston and collect audio of the natural environment and record a CD. If you close your eyes while you are in these basins, especially late at night when there are no other humans around, the variety of sound is amazing.
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