Things are out of order
My stars are misaligned
My planets are in retrograde

My psychic powers aren't working hard enough
or maybe too hard

It's effecting my self esteem
and my little dog

I need a prophet.

Virgo and Virgo Ascendant: All Mercury retrograde cycles particularly affect you in terms of your own body language and personal manner (you may feel that others misunderstand you)

In general, Mercury rules thinking and perception, processing and disseminating information and all means of communication, commerce, education and transportation. By extension, Mercury rules people who work in these areas, especially people who work with their minds or their wits: writers and orators, commentators and critics, gossips and spin doctors, teachers, travellers, tricksters and thieves.

Mercury retrograde gives rise to personal misunderstandings; flawed, disrupted, or delayed communications, negotiations and trade; glitches and breakdowns with phones, computers, cars, buses, and trains. And all of these problems usually arise because some crucial piece of information, or component, has gone astray, or awry.

It is therefore not wise to make important decisions while Mercury is retrograde, since it is very likely that these decisions will be clouded by misinformation, poor communication and careless thinking. Mercury is all about mental clarity and the power of the mind, so when Mercury is retrograde, these intellectual characteristics tend to be less acute than usual, as the critical faculties are dimmed. Make sure you pay attention to the small print!

Mon, Jan 28-Mon, Mar 10

This could explain alot for me in the last few weeks, and a few other Virgos I know.

Sorry, it seems I will be out of order until March 10.

Whatever you may be sure of, be sure of this, that you are dreadfully like other people.
- James Russell Lowell

I had a stressful weekend. (waaaa!)

I decided to get new tires, been needing them forever. On my way to get the tires I was in an accident. Wow! It was really scary! I've been in three accidents to speak of now. (Two in the past 6 months!) This one was scary #2 damange #3. I was driving down 360 and I looked down for a second- my car was out of alignment from the previous accident and I drifted into the next lane and bumped the back of the car in the next lane. It was totally my fault. She moved over and pulled off. I freaked out and started swearving, freaked out swearving is very bad on the highway. It's all in slow motion. I knew I was freaked out swearving, but I couldn't stop myself. I spun out, hit the retaining wall and stopped, facing oncoming traffic. (I was on the shoulder.)

A few people stopped to ask if I needed an ambulence. I wasn't hurt, Buzz didn't even fall off the seat. I told them I was fine and to go check on the people in the other car. They were fine too. In this accident, as with accident #1 scary /#1 damage I feel really blessed. It could have been a million times worse. I feel like God has protected me many times, and in these two times specifically it was like a physical presence beside me and keeping me calm and safe, and my little dog too!

Jesus loves me this I know.

Both cars were drivable, the police didn't even come. Of course, since I have all the parts for the body of my car except one, that one I don't have was the part damaged. The same dang fender I screwed up last time!

I decided to get the tires any way. Since I was in the area I decided to call pk. I never saved her name in my new phone, so I started scrolling through to find her number. I rememberd thinking that her number was a really easy one to remember, so I should recognize it when I scrolled thought the old numbers. I found a number that had a lot of 7s in it. I thought, "This must be it." So I called it. That was not it. That was the Tax Man. He let it go to voice mail. I did not leave a message.

I hung up.
I then proceeded to say some bad words.
Then I found pk's real number, which happens to have a lot of 9s in it, and saved her name to my phone.

I'm hoping that he just missed the call didn't know it was me and is simply not one of those curious monkeys who has to call back missed calls whether he knows the number or not.

Or- he knew it was me and scorned my existance as he ignored the call.

Either way, fine by me- I think if he would have answered I might have had another accident.

I wonder if Big Brother is still watching?

I watched a movie called "Children of Men" last weekend. Disappointing. I was lead to believe it had Gillian Anderson in it- really it had Julianne Moore- wrong red-head.
Some of the "standout" moments seemed too forced to me. It was about a future when women can no longer have babies. Well, with a title like "Children of Men" I was hoping for some kind of reproductive breakthough, but there were not children of men, there was one child, and that was of a woman. It should have been called, "Child of Woman- without Gillian Anderson."

Then I watched "Equilibrium." It was about a future where people are not allowed to have feelings. Well, heck, that made me feel angry. You can't have a human society with out feelings. We would all be apathetic and lay around and do nothing and all starve as we lay in our own filth.
Besides, the characters who weren't supposed to be having feelings were having feelings all the time. Anxiety, Ambition, Agression, isn't Apathy a feeling? Maybe it's a state. Those are just some of the 'A' feelings- it went on and on. I'm sure it would have been better if described in a book. Maybe "Children of Men" would have too.

Maybe my life would be better if described in a book.

"Deo Vindice"
Ironic.
So said the South in "The War of Northern Agression."
And I'm a Yankee.

May the LORD make his face shine upon you Anonyme!

"The next day an evil spirit from God came forcefully upon Saul." I Samual 18:10

This I also found strangely comforting.

Pudding called this morning to rant about seeing his character evoked on my blog-smart ass. He threatened to sic his gimpy little dog on me if I mentioned his name. I hardly ever put real names here, not to save myself from gimpy dogs or other threats intended to intimidate me, but for respect. And I also don’t write things about people that I don’t want them to read. That would be dumb on the internet now wouldn’t it?

I used a full name once- just because it seemed right, and that was not met with threats, but an answer to an old question and a kind word. I’m glad I did that.

Pudding said the lesson here, is don’t tell people that I’ve written about them. I say, more likely is, don’t assume people will read what has been written correctly, or with any sense of humor about it.

I’ve been told and I suppose it’s true that I run through the decision making process and my range of emotions right quick. Well, I have read half of Blink to my credit. Some people think this is a bad thing, (my quick processes, not reading Blink) like I haven’t really thought things out and/or I haven’t experienced enough of an emotion. I say not bad, just different, get over it.

I think I’ve recovered from my sadness. It was more than my promised one minute of mourning. I’ve smoothed the wrinkles out of my carpet, and I’m almost feeling back to my white-plastic- ball-with-a-yellow-centered-daisy self. I shall be more cautious.

As the feminists do not sing- Onward Christian Soldier!

I’m feeling sick. I could get ulcers from all this!

Well, probably not- about once or twice a year I work myself up into a big stress ball. Usually it happens in September, this must be my alternative time this year.

I had a dream last night. It was somewhat comforting. In the dream I talked to my stressor and while there was no forgiveness, there was at least civility.

I believe in dreams- they show what we want, what we expect, what we’ve been thinking about before we go to sleep, and sometimes, what God wants us to know.

I know if most people heard, “God told me xyz in a dream” they would think, “Okay loony-tune.” But I believe it, it can be.

I'm still sad. I've talked to a few people about it. A girl friend supported me and said the other was wrong. A guy friend said, the other was wrong, but maybe not as wrong as I had thought.

It's good to get other opinions.

I understand a little.

Still I'm sad to think that somebody out there misunderstood me so much, and as a result believes that I'm such a bad person.

So, I acted badly, but not intentionally. Most people don't understand this, but I believe in apologizing not only for things you have done wrong, but for things that other perceived wrongly. I made someone feel bad. Now I feel bad for doing that.

Under my hard candy coating- I've very sensitive,
and sad.

I don't even think ice-cream will help.

I feel really sad. It seems I’ve done something terrible and I don’t get to explain or apologize. I’ve been accused of defamation. To say the least I suppose- insult to the point of calling in lawyers and telling me I’m crazy and mean and inconsiderate.

I feel bad because I don’t understand how things went so wrong. I feel angry because I asked to please let me explain myself, but this person’s anger and hurt was so deep that wasn’t possible. I wasn’t even given a change to apologize.

I feel betrayed because although this person claimed to be a Christian, there was no charity in the reaction I was given. I understand that this person believed I have not displayed charity by my actions either, but communications are often misunderstood, and to give an opportunity to explain, apologize and forgive (if not forget) is a basic tenet of my belief system.

I’m sorry. I never intended to hurt or insult you.

This kind of misunderstanding happened to me once before. Then there was far more involved than what I understood at the time. It was bitter for me, but eventually the other person accepted my apology and also apologized. The break never healed completely, but we have no ill feelings about one another any more. That is Christianity, if not in perfection, than acted out in our own human, imperfect imitation of Christ.

I’m not perfect. Communication is not perfect. Interpretation is not perfect.

We never understand as much as we think we understand.

I told a few people about Fat Sal. What brings Fat Sal up? My intense dislike for mustaches. I suppose Fat Sal is a part of my childhood. Everyone has their stories, I have Fat Sal. I have Fat Pam too, but she's another story all together.

Again, looked in the archives, did find one mention of Fat Sal, but not by name, only be reputation.

Fat Sal the molester- why I don’t like men with mustaches:

by Shannon D. Peterson.

I grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood. I mean, it wasn’t inner city Chicago tenement slums, but it wasn’t the suburbs either. One day my friend and I were standing on the sidewalk when we saw a beat up old Caddy rolling our way. Maroon- grey primer, mid seventies model with pointy corners and enough room in the trunk for a peck or two of kidnapped, molested children. We were about 8 years old.

Our discussion on whether or not to draw the hopscotch board on that stretch of sidewalk stopped as that Caddie crouched and crawled toward us. The prey could smell the predator. We looked at each other, curious as to how the next moments would unfold. We knew every car in the project- we knew there was no reason for strangers to come through. We knew, although I doubt we could have expressed it, that we were being stalked.

We were impetuous children- reckless as we took in all the details. The car was much like all the other cars in the lots around us. Standard issue low income- beat up and noisy. The man was slovenly, fat, dirty and greasy. His moustache drooped flaccidly over his lip.

“What’re your names?”
“Jenny.” I lied
My friend became Shelly.
“You girls want to go for a ride? Get some ice cream?”
“No.”

He didn’t get out of the car, but he was suddenly too close.
How fast can a fat man move?

We turned and ran to the park. Screaming and laughing at the swings, we forgot about the fat man and the car as soon as we stopped telling each other how gross he was, and giggling over our new names.

That night my mom asked me what we had done all day. I told her about the man who talked to us. She said, “What is I big red car?”
I said, “Yes.”
She asked, “What it a big fat man?”
I said, “Yes.”
She said, “Did he have a moustache?”
I said, “Yeah!” (How do moms know everything?!)

She said, “That’s Fat Sal. Don’t ever talk to him again, and tell your friends to never talk to him. He’s a child molester.”
I said, “Oh, okay.”

Only later did I wonder why I accepted that explanation without question at 8 years old. Why my mother gave it to an 8 year old and why my mother knew exactly who I was talking about when I said “a man talked to me” are other questions I later considered.

Japanese Toilet Training for Kids (English Subtitled)

happy wee-wee! happy poo-poo!

I feel like I've written about this before, but I can't find any reference in my archives,
so here I go again, stop reading if you’ve already heard about this.

There is a cologne that really affects more than just my sense of smell, you know what I mean? I don’t know what it is called. I first started noticing it at the end of high school. My high school boyfriend wore it. It smells clean, like soap, but better. I smell it once every few months, and I just smelled it again a few weeks ago.

I was at school and I walked down the stairwell and stopped at the foot of the stairs and started looking around- I could smell it. I looked around the corner and out the door, but it was only the cologne left, not the man.

I’m not sure why I always look for the man who is wearing it. The time before that, I smelled it at the grocery store. I walked past the frozen food isle and I smelled it. I immediately turned my cart around thinking, “Maybe I need some frozen food after all.” When I pinpointed the man with the cologne I realized he was a middle aged, paunchy, balding man wearing khaki shorts and black knee socks. To top off his look he also had blue and orange tattooed flames peeking out from between his shorts and his socks.

Unbelievably, I stood there innocently looking at the fish sticks (which I would never buy in a million years) and taking deep breaths for a few more seconds before he moved on. I thought about following him- but I came to my senses in time to go on about my own grocery shopping business.

Here is what I think about this cologne:

It must be semi-popular as it has been in production all these years.
It must be moderately expensive. If it were cheap I think I would smell it on more people, If it were crazy expensive I don’t think my high school boyfriend or tattooed-knee-guy would be wearing it.
It smells clean.
When I smell it I automatically start following the smell.

Imagine the power a man I was actually attracted to would have wearing that cologne.

Maybe its better I don’t know the name of it. It could get me in trouble.

http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/asection/la-fg-christian5feb05,1,2056156.story

I lived in Islamabad for almost a year. I saw these slums at a distance, but I was told they were too dangerous to enter alone. Nobody wanted to go with me. They were in every way different from the rest of the capital city. I lived in an enormous marble house near a mosque and a market, where many of the affluent Muslim citizens of the city resided. In contrast the Muslim, Afghan refugees I worked with lived in concrete apartment buildings with tiny, dingy apartments. In even greater contrast the Pakistani Christians- people I am called to care for, they lived in tents and shacks made of cardboard and corrugated metal sheets. They were squatters in their homeland.

In the middle of one group's suffering it's easy to forget another group's long term issues and persecution. My eyes were certainly taken off my brothers and sisters. I regret that more fully now.

Yesterday in class, the gerunds and infinitives were even boring me to death. I switched to prepositions, but it wasn't enough- I had to get candy and dancing involved.

I gave them a gumdrop and a toothpick for each correct answer on the worksheet. Then I told them to build something from the gumdrops and tooth picks. They built a house (with a satillite) a church, and a rollar coaster. They also built some very thin people and dogs. That was a pretty good diversion. Then we still had 40 minutes left in class, and one student wanted to leave early- I said "No way man!"
He said, "What if I dance for you, then can we leave early?"
Now that is a pretty good trade off- yes indeed.

I agreeded that I would let the whole class go 10 minutes early if he got in the front of the room and danced for 30 seconds.

He finally agreed and got up and did one of those Russian squat and kick dances. It was awesome- I should have gotten a picture! It was harder than he thought it would be, so he was huffing and puffing by the time it was over.

Ah- grammar, candy and dancing. It was a good day.

Drat! My bread machine pooped out. I've ruined three loaves now, it's not my bad measuring, it's not the bad yeast, it's the bad machine. Now I'm going to have to go pay $20 at Salvation Army for a "new" one! I suppose I could look into an actual new one. Nah!

I'm not making fun of my students, I am enjoying them. A quote for all to enjoy.

"Movies are the real entertaining shows for the humans. I also like movies. "

On a different note, my stupid little dog is going around the house licking all the cob webs out from under the cabinents. Then, of course they get stuck on his nose, so he has to sit there and try to rub them off with his paws.

On a similar note, he keeps falling off the back of the sofa and landing on my ficus.

I had my students writing poetry today because we were studying journalism. Once I thought through the chain of what led me from journalism to poetry, I realized I’m an awesome teacher!

Or a really scattered one- I choose awesome.

Our chapter is about how journalism and news is shaped by the powers that own the media corporations. To show them the difference between good reporting and bad reporting I brought in an old copy of the “Weekly World News.” I had them “analyze” stories with headlines like, “How to tell if you’ve been abducted by aliens” and “Man electrocuted to death by a lightning bug.”

I recalled in the movie “So I married an ax murderer” the main character thought his wife might be an ax murder because of an article he read in a tabloid. The main character was also a poet. I thought, “If I throw in poetry this week, we can watch “So I married an as murder” in class and it will be considered a tie-in for the unit we just finished!”

So- poetry in class today. I had them do Haikus first. I had them each write one. Most of them were too shy to share what they had written, so I told them to only write the first line. Then I told them to trade papers, so nobody would be embarrassed to hear their poem because each poem was written by three people.

My favorite Haiku:

My pretty meadow
Pretty pretty meadow wow!
I really want it.

Then I had them write a four line “semi structured” poem, it had three dependant clauses and one independent clause.

My favorite clause poems:

Even you get hurt,
Even you are crazy,
Even I am still writing even,
In the end, I’m a crazy person.

But there’s more:

Although I have good personalities,
But I am not sure about me,
Although I hate myself,
I’m a perfect LADY in the world!

One more:

Because I have to go to restroom,
So I left you in the trash,
And, sorry, you have to wait for me,
See you tomorrow at the same time.

They crack me up.

On Sunday I randomly (well, I picked by location) picked a church off the internet yellow pages. I went to Northgate Baptist Church (I think.) Also chosen on account that it started at 10:45, and it was 10:15 when I started looking. I pulled into the parking lot and wondered if I had written down the wrong time. There were three cars in the lot. I went in and there were three people in the congregation- no there were about 20- but seated in a church building intended for 200 it felt awkward.

There was a piano and an organ, but no piano player or organ player. The Hymns (not repetitive praise songs thank you) were led by a 70 something year old man singing to prerecorded music. The preacher was middle aged and slightly unorganized. The people were friendly, and about 10 people came in late- later than me.

At the end of the sevice I asked if there was any literature about the church I could take with me. They asked if I wanted Sunday School literature. I said,"No, I meant something like church history, or affiliation." They gave me Sunday School literature. It did have the Doctrines of the church on the inside cover.

Then out of the blue, this old guy (70-something song leader) tells me that they are a "closed communion" church. I said, "Oh- ok." But I guess I looked sufficiently surprised that he felt he needed to explain.
He said, "We believe only church members should take communion."
I said, "Do you mean only Christians, or only Baptists or only people who belong to this church?"

He meant people who belonged to that church- and he gave me some blah-blah about disciples and apostles and what Jesus wanted for church membership rules- which was all kinds of out of order and nonsensical. He said, "I'm not real smart about these things, but this is what our church believes." I just said, "Okay." I was willing to leave it at that, but then he said, "Well, I hope you agree with me."

I didn't want to slap down the whole "Bible College and Seminary" card, so I just said, "Actually, I don't agree with that because I travel and move alot, and if I only took communion at the church were I was a member, I don't think I'd get to take communion very often."

He kept talking as though he were going to "convert" me to closed communion, and I kept thinking, "Is this why this church only has 20 people? Am I not good enough for your crackers and grape juice? Does Jesus really require all this paper work?"

Finally I said,"I understand your beief, I just don't agree." Then he said, "Well, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but your belief doesn't have any Biblical support." It's a good thing he was an old guy- my believe doesn't have any Biblical support?! What he told me was supposed to pass for support of his belief? I'm thinking not so much.

Back in the day I spent alot of time thinking and discussing about communion- and one day I shall record all my shiney little thoughts on the topic-but now I must be off to bed with me. May I not dream about that little old man and his closed communions.

So, this past weekend- first I went to this radio station survey- they called me a few weeks ago and asked me if I listen to country music. I said, "Yeah, sometimes." So they said they would give me $50 if I came and did this survey. I said, "Heck yeah!" I have done much more for much, much less.

There were about 100 people at the survey. They played about 5 seconds of 500 songs. I marked down on a bubble sheet if it was F- favorite L- liked N-neutral D-don't like, H-heard too much or U-unfamiliar or something like that- as if I can keep all that straight, I've slept since then!

It wasn't bad- but it did take an hour and a half.

Then I took my $50 and went to Joann Fabrics and bought just one skein of yarn.

Then I went to California Pizza Kitchen to partake in what I credit as one of the nerdiest things I've ever done.

They called it 'meat space.' or maybe it was 'meet space.' Either way- nerdy. I started playing World of Warcraft and this was a meeting of people who play the game together (but alone, at home in front of the computer) So it was a bunch of people who knew each other by means of magical, imaginary characters. They were all talking in the speacial WoW languge of things still unknown to me. I told one of my co-workers about it and how weird it was, she said, "Don't worry, it will all seem normal if you keep doing it." Yes, and well, that's what I'm afraid of. What convinced me to go? Well it was at California Pizza Kitchen after all! (It's my favorite.)

I even told them I thought attending that meeting was possibly the nerdiest thing ever- one of them tried to convince me dressing up for the Ren. fair was more nerdy- but I wasn't convinced. Then they started talking about Sci-Fi/Fantacy conventions- and told me that if I've never gone/dressed up for one of those, I haven't lived nerdy, haven't even tasted it! Then they started ignoring me and comparing convention stories. WoW.

I was telling my students about the differenct between newspapers and tabloids . . . bat boy came up.

I thought before I started this vacation time that about half way through I would get bored silly and be wishing that work would start again. But- it turns out I’m really good at not working! Yes, I’ve grown. I remember when a month with no money and nothing to do made me crazy as a loon- but now I’m just fine with the situation. I haven’t even done half the things I could have done in this time. It’s a shame.

I did sleep a lot- a real lot. I shouldn’t sleep so much, but it is so easy. I’ve been drawing, knitting, crocheting, I sewed a project or two- watched many episodes of Bones and some Quantum Leap as well. I started playing an online computer role playing kind of game. I didn’t think I’d like that either, but killing imaginary creatures with magic fire balls- it’s good fun.

I tried out some step aerobic videos- awful, just awful. I’ve given up on trying to find a fun exercise to do by myself. There is no such stinking thing! I’ve decided that if I have to exercise alone- I might as well just jog around the block a few times and get it over with.

I’ve thought about making some resolutions, but I know if I had made any I would have already broken them by now- so why bother? My month-a-lusions are a much better system for me. I shall start them next month.

I’ve been out to the craft stores a lot in the past weeks- the yarn and the pencils- they suck me in! I’ve noticed that the Valentine decorations are out. It’s vulgar in a way- I mean the DAY AFTER Christmas there are hearts and flowers everywhere! I’ve also seen shamrocks and eggs- but I’ve gotta take it one at a time, and I really like Valentine’s Day. I’m not sure why- it’s not like I’ve had so many great Valentine’s Day stories to tell, but I suppose I’m an eternal optimist about it.

Potential month-a-lusion #1: write a blog at least three times a week.

Oooh! I got another class this semester! (Yeah me!) That’s some extra bucks for me- and I know just what I want! I’ve been eyeballing this super fancy Nikon SLR digital camera since October. One of my student’s brought his to a school event and his pictures were so beautiful! Not that a camera automatically always takes beautiful pictures regardless of the photographer’s eye- but let’s face it- the chances of amazing pictures are much higher when you do have an awesome camera.

Potential month-a-lustion #2: read my Bible every day

It’s not that hard- but then it’s not that easy either. There are certainly days when I can think of a million other things to do. I’ve been reading Judges. I’m socked that I went to 3 years of Bible college and 2 years of seminary and I still didn’t remember that Samson was a judge. I guess I never actually studied the book of Judges- huh. Of course I know the story, but for some reason I thought he was just a guy who happened to have long hair and be strong . . . ass’s jawbone . . . Philistines . . . I should really pay more attention. It’s embarrassing.

I took Buzz to Fort Woof- the dog park in Fort Worth (clever eh?) Things were going great, he was sniffing around the fence, peeing miniscule amounts on every post, table, weed, and blade of grass he could find, when all of the sudden this big dog came barreling toward us screaming it's head off.

It was that screaming sound a dog emits when it is either really hurt or really scared. It was a rottweiler. She was screaming “Help me! Help me! I’m being chased by a wild animal.” At least that’s what I think she was screaming- in doggie language.

She was probably too big to be in the “small dog” park. She was only a puppy- but even puppy rottweilers can be big- and she was. She was running toward any help she could get-and I happened to be the closet human in the line of the chase. I saw what was chasing her. She was right, it was a wild animal- it was a ferocious miniature poodle- a little white one with extra curly fur.

Well, Buzz didn’t like that screaming, nor the bulling- not one bit. He’s a peace keeping kind of dog, unless of course he’s the one picking the fight. So he jumped right in and started barking at the poodle.

In the mean time, the humans who belonged to the rotweiler were trying to figure out what he heck had happened to their dog. I was trying to tell the puppy she was okay, and the poodle was trying to figure out what the fuss was all about. I think he just wanted to play- but when things escalated into a running-screaming-chasing scenario he just went along with it.

But the picture of a rotweiler being chased by a miniature poodle, and a miniature dachshund defending the rotweiler against the poodle- that just make me laugh.

I've been visiting churches lately. And by "visiting churches" I mean I've taken several weeks, to convince myself that going to one church or another is a good idea, dragged myself to a service and felt tortured the full time I was attending service and/or Sunday school.

I think the problem is the size. Size does matter.

I am used to small churches. I guess I just like them better.

The church I went to last month disturbed me when the swing band up on stage started blasting out "It is Well With My Soul" full horns and drums. The worship leader was snapping and swiveling his hips in a way that would have made Elvis proud and I was thinking, 'This is a song written by a man who had just lost his three daughters! I don't imagine him swing dancing across the deck as his ship passed over the waters where his children drown.'

In the church I went to today the pastor kept saying, "Does your heart beat a skip?" I know I'm way too critical- but it so easy when they hand it to me like that. It makes my little ESL heart beat a skip.

The Sunday school teacher was telling a joke: Let me see if I can remember it- An atheist was angry about the fact that everyone had holidays to celebrate except him- so he got a lawyer and said, "Look, the Christians have Easter and Christmas, the Jews have Hannakah and Lent- . . ." It is at this point that that my head tilted to the right and I thought, 'Did he just say the Jews have Lent?!'

And the rest of what he had to say was out the window- I mean if he thinks the Jews own Lent, what's the point of going on?

But the rest of the joke- the Jews have Lent- and I demand a holiday for atheists! So they went to court and presented the case. The judge listened, but when the argument was presented he slammed his gavel down and said, this case is dismissed! The atheist said, "What! I want a holiday!" The judge responded, "In the Psalms it says, "The fool says in his heart there is no God." You have a holiday, it is April 1st."

That was just a filler, the projector was down, and obviously it was useless to try to give a speach off a piece of paper when there was a perfectly malfunctioning powerpoint projector in the room.

The joke didn't fill the whole time the projector was down, so some other guy got up to give an announcement- he asked us when they should move the class time to (how could I know?) and told us we needed to be "Kinda specific."

Kinda specific.
Really.

I've been so industrious this weekend. It's easy to be industrious when you know you don't have to go to work on Monday. Usually I just sit around thinking that I'm going to have to think of some lesson plans before I go to work on Monday.

I made potato soup and bread bowls. Potato soup- easy. Bread bowls-kinda hard. Neither of them turn out to be espcially yummy. They were both okay though.

I hung some curtains in my bedroom, I rearranged my books- well most of them any way. I put my clothes, which had been piled on the floor for un-numberd days, away; I finished one school bus yellow sock and started the second one. I made a tiny little panda with no obvious purpose in life- aside from being cute of course.

I learned how to make a colonial knot, as French knots are apparently impossible to one such as I. I made a list of all the other things I need to do this week with my fountain pen. :) I went to church this morning . . . I don't know why every church is so weird to me these days. More on that later. AND I vaccumed!

Oh wait! I also put together a door shelf- and this is an accomplishment because lately I've been in this, "I wish somone would come and do this for me so I wouldn't have to read the directions" mood.

The left sock is the one I made, the right sock is the one my mom made a million years ago, and which I am using as a pattern for the new one. I think I could market them as "Sweaters for you feet and legs."

When I was in Jr High I had a facination with a boy named Josh and fountain pens. I'm totally over Josh, it turns out, that after close inspection of his wardrobe- he didn't change his pants often enough to convince my BFF (or until the end of 7th grade) that he was sanitary.

Eventually we gave up harrassing Josh and his unwashed pants, and I put away my fountain pens. Giving up on Josh, well, there's no question about that- it was certainly a good idea. But the fountain pens- I can't imagine why I gave up on them. I just found what's left of my collection- ink included. Fountain pens are so cool!

They look cool, when you write with them your writting looks cool, and the scratchy-scratchy sound they make on paper is cool. I dare say one even looks cooler when using one, perhaps just by association.

I shall once again be cool by associating with fountain pens.

Other news- Oh my job- I'm still working at UD- and my students are still cracking me up.

It's really a fun job- if only I had befits it would be perfect.

I asked one of my beginning students what she was going to do for Thanksgiving break (Whooo-Hooo! I get a whole week off!)
She said she was going to: "That place that has the machines you put money in them and you get something."
I thought: 'A vending machine convention?'
No: next guess- my job is alot about guessing what in the world they might want to be communicating to me:
Me: "A casino?"
How did I guess that? I have no idea- it's like pictionary or charades, you just start throwing things out until you get it.
Student: "Yes, yes! A casino!"
The nearest casino is in OK.
I said, "Are you going to Oklahoma?"
She said, "No."
The second nearest casion is in LA.
I asked, "Are you going to Louisinana?"
She said, "No."
She said, "I'm going to that place in the desert where there are many machines."
'robot land?'
Me: "Are you going to Las Vegas?"
Student: "Yes! Las Vegas- it is very famous.
"Me: "Yes, very famous- be careful."

I guess I'll hang out here- no money- no plans- but I do have socks to knit . . . books to read, movies to watch, lessons to prepare, etc.

I just reread that last sentence-I am in great need of locating some local friends! Maybe I'll make it my goal to find out where I can go to meet new and exciting people.

I'm knitting my aunt some tube socks. It's so mindless- I love it. Some knitting takes way too much thought- but tube socks not so much- and she just wants them to wear around the house, so I choose the ugliest color of yarn I had on hand. Someone gave it to me- it's school bus yellow. For some reason I just can't bear to turn down free yarn! Even if I can't think of a thing in the world I'd do with it- I must take free yarn! Otherwise it's just a little orphan ball of string nobody cares about! I know eventually I'll think of something for the free yarn- and here it is- tube socks.

I ordered some goodies from Amazon- a crockpot- which is delightful- my next "fix-it-and-forget-it, but-not-for-too-long" creation shall be potato soup with a chipoltle swirl. Yes, Yes, I know it shall be delicious!

I also ordered a humidifier- I was sick, and I felt that would help me- of course as soon as it showed up I started feeling better. I took it out of the box because, well, it's adorable. It is! It even says so on the package! "This adorable humidifier will blah-blah-blah. . . " It's shaped like a penguin, and smoke comes out of his beak- "This adorable smoking penguin is not a toy!"

When the weather gets colder and my skins starts doing the "I'm so dry I shall crack" thing, I'm turing the smoking penguin on!

The third thing I ordered never showed up! I suppose I don't really need it after all. I just thought it was funny. I suppose that I wouldn't really use it much, and I couldn't show it to many people as my little ole sense of humor apalls people sometimes.

It was a book called "Subversive Cross Stitch." It has all these little cutsie patterns peppered with naughty words that I never use in public, unless they are really really called for.

It didn't come, so I'm going to cancel that order and get something else that I will actually use, and not just pull out and giggle it once a year or so.

Neb V was over the other night for lentils- they were a bit too tomato-y but edible over a bit of Moroccan couscous. Buzz was salivating over his inane idea of eating the neighbor’s cat. Honestly- that cat weighs more than he does and with flattened ears and a raised paw a cat can send him away screaming like a baby who just lost his last piece of candy. Last time Mary’s cat got within two feet of him she sent him into a screaming episode that took him in a 20 foot circle around her yard. Ridiculous little dog.

Anyway- Neb V was making couscous. She was looking in the cabinet for a measuring cup when she stumbled upon my Nutella. This is not my first mention of Nutella- it is certainly like a nectar vastly popular in Europe and shamefully ignored in the American market. I had a Nutella crepe in Paris- heavenly- really. I found a jar at the international food mart, Zam Zam, which is just down the street. I had no idea that Zam Zam was an international food mart; I just had to stop in one day to find out what on earth it was. I mean just the name sounds so exciting- “Zam Zam!”

Neb V said, “Oh! Nutella- it reminds me of my childhood, growing up in Europe, I used to love Nutella for dinner.” My first thought was, ‘Oh, growing up in Europe, it sounds so- you know- fancy. “I grew spent my formative years in EUROPE darling!” My second thought was quick on first thought’s heals, ‘You can’t eat Nutella for dinner!’ I mean, anything is possible, but ewww! Nutella is a speadable chocolate-hazelnut jar of sweet yumminess. It has the consistency of peanut butter and the meltiness of milk chocolate.

She said it all depends how you go about your Nutella. She said she loved it with bread and butter. Sounded kinda ick to me, but what do I know? I didn’t grow up in Europe.

The Nutella episode got me to thinking about my childhood, and what reminds of my formative years. Gill Village- not quite so fancy as Europe to be sure, I dare say public housing never is.

I thought maybe generic items could be my thing- the old kind with black and white labels that actually said “generic” on them. Does anyone even make real generic items? I think it has all moved to store brands. My next memory was used condoms in the play ground- but no I don’t frequent play grounds much any more- and I have no occasion to come across used condoms either. Free government cheese? Unlike M&Ms, which melted in your mouth, not in your hands, that stuff didn’t melt anywhere, for anything- it was dreadful.

“Green Things” remind me of that time. There was a Green Thing in each lot. I have no idea what those Green Things were; some kind of electrical boxes. Most of them were about two and a half feet tall and two feet wide. There was a big Green Thing in the lot next to mine- we called it “The Big Green Thing,” imaginative group of youngsters that we were. If you touched a bolt on top of The Big Green Thing with one hand, and touched the back side of The Big Green Thing with your other hand, you could feel a shock run from one hand, across your chest to the other hand. One day we decided to scientifically measure the strength of the current. Our science determined that the current was strong enough to run through 4 children if we all held hands and one touched a bolt and the other touched the back of The Thing.

Who pays attention to green electrical boxes any way? Have you noticed them? They look like this:

No- I finally came up with THE thing that reminds me of that time of my life. Cinnamon rolls. Not just any kind of natty-day old-rubbery icing-cinnamon rolls. I mean real, fluffy, hot, sticky, sweet, fresh cinnamon rolls. My mother didn’t like to bake much, but she was an expert at cinnamon rolls. There was no telling when the cinnamon roll mood might strike- (just one of the many unexpected pleasures of living with an undiagnosed manic depressive.) When the cinnamon rolls appeared, there were no rules about how many we could eat- because we all knew, including my mother, that cinnamon rolls could not be saved- they were only good hot out of the oven.

I attribute my weakness for Cinnabon and green electrical boxes to these formative childhood memories.

I've decided to start up my month-alutions again. Every month I choose a resolution to keep for the month- I've already started my month-alution for November- to finish the projects I've started before stating any more.

I've finished my "Neopolitan" scarf. Someone gave me this yarn- I thought and thought about what I could possibly make out of the "dusty rose" color. It's not my favorite, but I couldn't part with perfectly good yarn just because it's not my favorite color- that's discrimination. I put these three colors together because they remind me of ice cream- ummm ice cream . . .

Only about 10 more projects to finish . . . :)

Other month-alutions- starte looking for a church, save some $, take my dog on more walks- these aren't all for this month, just ideas for coming months- I don't want to get too ambitious.

So I hung up my stuff on my walls today. I'm slowly getting things in place so that it doesn't look like an inside garage sale in here. I need another book shelf to finish in the living room, then I can start in my bedroom.

We are having a Halloween picnic at work-I think it will be fun- I like Halloween. I'm also looking forward to Christmas- all the decorations out make me happy. I know it's way too early- but they still make me happy- I think the anticipation is fun. I wish I had space for a tree- but I don't really- and I don't really have any decorations for one either. Just random ornaments here and there.

Who wants to invite me for tree decorating? I think I could be happy decorating someone else's tree- then come home and put up my radiation nativity and 1 foot tree-decorated with earings and necklaces.

I promise not to vomit mucus on your Christmas decorations!

I would officially like to ammend my previous entry for the grossest thing I've ever done from popping a zit in my ear (it was really ick- I could actually hear it pop, and I felt the puss shoot out and logde under my fingernail) to vomiting mucus on to my keyboard- then then cleaning up the vomited mucus off my keyboard- I'll will count those two actions as one total gross event.

It was like somekind of alien/horor movie. As if vomit isn't bad enough- it was mucus from my rather severe sinus drainage. I was just coughing when blahhhh! There it was on my keyboard all slimy and smelly. It was all so sudden- there was no time to react- do you know how smoothly mucus comes up? It's like lighting- honestly. Lucky for me, very little of the bean soup came up with the mucus-the came up later, and not nearly as smoothly.

They keyboard seems to be alright, but my spacebar is sticking a little-- blame it on the alien mucus.

It's cold today. I could see my breath this morning. It was cold and rainy and windy yesterday- it would have been a good day to stay in bed, but taking a day off is not an option with this job.

A person sure can get used to new work situations quickly. I do miss those three day weekends in Bangalore- and now I'm only actually at work 20 hours a week. I have lots of things to do outside of my 20 hours of work time, but I can do them at home or where ever I want. That's nice.

I should be doing a lesson plan right now . . .

I thought I might have some interesting facts to write about- but I suppose I was just trying to find something to avoid the lesson plans- back to the plans for me then.

I'm online!

Oh yeah- home and online- I feel all fancy now. Sick and snotty and coughing and wearing my jammies, but fancy non-the-less.

I gotta go puff an inhaler.

Alright, back to the business of being online.

No news is good news- so my mom used to say. My no news is that I'm still sick. I've been to the dr. a few times. He's given me some different kinds of pills and syrups and puffers. The latest narcotic syrup, which has an unfortunate purple flavor, seems to work, but the actual allergy medicine's doing nothing for me. He gave me antibodics too, just in case it was some horrid infection-

I think I just wasted my $44.95 on those puppies.

I'm listening to Paul Anka singing "It's a Sin" which should be sung by The Petshop Boys . . . Rock Swings . . . where do I get this stuff?

Negotiation of meaning between second language learners:

Male Japanese student: “Mamasita!”
Female Mexican student: “You shouldn’t say that, it’s rude to say that to women.”
Japanese student: “Oh! It is? What does it mean?”
Mexican student: “It means something bad to women, like you want something from them, you only like to look at them.”
Japanese student: “Oh.”

Two seconds later

Same male Japanese student: “Mamasita!”
Female Columbian student: “Ah! Who taught you that?”
Japanese student: “(Names a male Spanish speaking student) says it all the time!”
Columbian student: “Well, that is him, he’s joking, but you shouldn’t say it!”
Japanese student: “Doesn’t it mean I think she’s pretty?”
Columbian student: “Yes, but it means more, like you want to have her for sex, it’s a sexy word it’s bad to call nice women that.”
Japanese student: “Oh! So if I see a woman and I want to fuck her I say it!”
Columbian student: “ah- well . . . yes”

So I finally gave in and decided that coughing all night, getting stomach cramps, vomiting, a back ache, a head ache and not being able to talk or breath was hindering my happy outlook on life. It only took two and a half weeks for me to come to this conclusion. I was sure I would just get over it-eventually. I was sure it was only allergies and I knew if I went to the doctor he would say, “It’s allergies, that will be $100.00- Thanks for stopping by.” But I gave in when I started dry heaving last night, and it felt like an invisible giant had reached into my chest and was squeezing all the air out of my lungs slowly- slowly- slowly.

I suppose I got a little taste of what asthma sufferers feel when they have an attack- as though surely death is upon them . . . squeezey giant and all.

I started listing my problems in the doctor’s off ice today- the nurse as looking at me like I might be contagious and realized I sounded deathly ill! Like, I might have bird flu or something! Then the doctor came in and said, “It’s allergies, that will be $65.00- Thanks for stopping by.”

So- not exactly as I expected, but pretty darn close. He seemed to be a nice guy. He gave me some samples and a prescription for some narcotic cough medicine. SCORE! He said, “Take these pills, this inhaler, and this syrup- and call me in three days to tell me if any of it worked. Oh, and don’t drive after you take the syrup.”

I'm not avoiding the blog- I'm not! The blog is back, but my internet is not. I've been in my new apartment almost a month- my how time flies - and I still haven't bothered to get internet. Well, there are so many other pressing things to be done, like, put my copious amounts of junk in nooks and crannies, buy more stuff, walk the dog, cough up a few lungs, knit, read, watch movies, make quasidillas and tator tots- honestly the list goes on and on.

Brand new on my list starting last night is wondering how long it will take for one of the low flying jets to crash land in the middle of my building. When I moved in to this apartment, I knew that I was close, very close to the airport, but not actually in any flight paths. Last night it was a little stormy and as I was looking up at the beautiful sky- the transparent rainbow, the grey white puffy clouds when an enormous jet came swooping out of no where (SWOOPING I tell you!) and blasted right through my rainbow and puffy clouds with an earsplitting jet-like sound which I would attempt to imitate, but it's no use, you can't read imitated sounds.

I thought maybe this isn't a new flight path, maybe the airport is just backed up because of the storm, maybe they are just circling, maybe it will all go away soon.

This morning when I took Buzz out for his pee-pee time the weather was perfect. The sky was clear blue peace- the breeze was light and cool, the temperature was hovering around perfect, the sun was bright, but not too hot and the jets were flying low-low-low, one about every 3-7 minutes.

I'll take a picture, but I'm sure it won't convey the magnitude of the situation- bother.

We were talking about superlatives, comparitives and equatives in class. I gave my students some examples of equatives that are commonly used to compare people to things.

He is as big as a horse
as strong as an ox
as stubborn as a mule
as dumb as a rock
as cute as a bug


I admitted that sometimes they didn't make much sense- I mean, I personally never thought many bugs were especially cute . . . maybe a lady bug . . .

I asked them if they had any sayings in their languages that equated two things this way. Some of them mentioned some that sounded familiar when translated to English.

as gentle as a lamb

One student said, "He is as lost as Adam between his mother's legs."

"Well," said, I, "That is pretty darn lost."

Scrabble always intimidated me on the account that I can't spell- but I've been playing it online and I've only cheated once. :0) Of course I'm losing- but I am after all a first timer.

I've been watching CSI New York- New Yorker accents are annoying- like that should be a revelation to me. Are people who live in New York really like that or are they just stereo typing for the show? They seem kind of bitter, slightly psychotic and snappy on the show. I'll go to New York City one day and see for myself.

In other news . . . I thought I'd put up some pictures of other things I've been doing since May- as that is when I basically gave up on blogging.
amigurumi friends


1. Power to the amigurumi!
pumpkins and a seed pod
2. Been trying to draw/paint with Misty

3. Knitted and crocheted a thing or twoLouie's cape

4. Started to make a dress

(this is were I broke my camera and became dispondant about taking more pictures.)

5. Organized my copious collection of colored pencils, knitting needles and crochet hooks by making little paper pockets for them.

6. Painted a pink and blue mini-milk pitcher cow at the "Creative Hands" ceramics place.

7. Read a few books, but still working on the 1000 page monster I started on the plane from India.

8. Taught Buzz some new tricks, he can wave "bye-bye" now. He looks like a tiny retarded midget when he does it. That is so not PC- fine he looks like a vertically challenged, mentally different, small person (dog) when he does it.

I've been working on my mythical creature . . . here's some more parts. They area umm . . . special parts.

I'm actually almost done- I took this picture earlier- before I broke my camera. (sadness)

I dropped it and broke the LCD screen- it still takes pictures, but I can't see them, or any of the menues. I can still download them etc- but most of the fun of a digital camera is seeing the pics immediately. I'm guessing it is going to be about as expensive to fix it as it is to get a new one.

:0(

The blog might be back . . . I've been so busy trying to learn/teach grammar, trying to decided if this is what I really want to do, trying to decided where to live, what to do next, how to do it, etc that there is no time for the blog.

Not that I've run out of things to say . . . oh no- there are things to say. Not important things, but things no less.

I've started to crochet (Remember my amigurumi phases? Still in it.) a mythical creature. I shall let you guess what mythical creature it might be. Right now it has the unfortunate appearance of a crocheted breast. (About a C cup.)

No, the mythical creature is not a breast that Daniel is allowed to touch.

I am currently teaching two grammar classes and one speaking class at the University of Dallas, which is ironically in Irving across the street from NCH, the chemical company I worked at as I finished up my MA TESOL.

I will be moving to Irving to my own tiny not-so-ghetto apartment a few miles from UD next weekend.

I have a new facebook page. I don't know how to use it, but it is kind of fun trying to figure it out.

I will attempt more email writing and blogging in the near future.

is the blog back?

One of the things I like to have the students do is look up images of words they will hear in the movie. We are watching Jacob the Liar, which is set in a WW2 Polish ghetto. They looked up images of concentration camps, ghettos, star of David, swastika, tanks, Hitler etc. I have them email me the images so I can put them together for review.

Here’s one of the images of Hitler:

"Hello Hitler" to be precise. HA!

I am working in a program called "Focal Skills." They (they who made up the program probably) say that students learn up to 35% faster in this type of program than in the more popular types of programs such as Intigrated Skills or some such.

So I've spent the last month working in the beginning level of the Focal Skills program, Listening. How do you teach someone to listen? You may be asking. Well, you're asking, I'm asking- it's a darn good question. The main method is to give the students what is affectionately known in the TESOL community as i+1 communication.

It goes like this. I pop in a movie. We watch a few seconds of the movie. I hit pause. I ask a bunch of yes/no or short answer questions. Things that are pretty obvious. “Does the boy have a flashlight?” Well, it’s obvious to you and me, but if you don’t know what a flashlight is, it is certainly less obvious. They say yes or no, or they look at me blankly. I point to the screen, “Flashlight.” I pretend there is one in my hand, I look for something in the pretend dark. I write flashlight on the board. I summarize the scene we just watched. “The boy is looking for something. It’s dark. There’s a storm outside. There’s no electricity.” I point, I act, I make sound effects. Big fun. I turn the movie back on and go through the whole thing again after about a minute.

That is i+1. “i" is what the student can understand already. They know “dark” and they know “storm.” I give them +1 “flashlight” and “electricity.” I give it to them so it’s not so hard to be discouraging, but not too easy to be boring (I hope.) I help them understand the dialogue in the movie by making it simpler and pointing specific things out.

I’ve done three movies this month. 1. Groundhog Day- that was my “this is how you do it” one. I got help from another teacher. 2. National Treasure- that was my practice one and 3. Jacob the Liar- that is my second practice one. I will continue to have practice ones until I decide to do one for a second time.

Students: they do say some pretty funny things.

The other day in class:
Me: Does anyone know what “disgusting” means?
Student1: I know, it is a small dog, long.
Me: Ummm – (what the . . . ) No.
Student2: No, she is thinking dachshund. Disgusting is . . .

Me: She just called my dog disgusting! humpt!

Louie goes for the ears

Louie and Buzz

Louie goes for the camera

Louie the Yorkie

Buzz and his LOVER

I was going to Wal-Mart Tuesday. I needed a new skillet. I thought about asking to take my friend’s car, but then I thought, “Why would I? My car is fine.” I took my car. It’s funny how each little decision can change your personal history.

I went to Wal-Mart. When I got inside, I realized that the lotion that I bought a few days before, which I wanted to return, was still in my car. I thought about going back out to get it before I started shopping. I decided it was too hot to go back outside. I thought “I’ll bring it in when I take this stuff out.”

I bought the things I needed, and looked around at things I didn’t need. A trip to Wal-Mart is hardly ever just in and out. When I went back to the car I put my new purchases in the back. I saw the lotion I wanted to return there, and some bags that I wanted to recycle. I thought about taking them in, but I decided that I would certainly be back to Wal-Mart soon. I’d do it later.

I wonder if I had taken my friend’s car if things would have been somehow different.
If I had taken the lotion in and returned it, and recycled those bags, would those few minutes have changed what happened on the way home?

Maybe not.

On the way home I was driving down Abram Road. My light was green. I saw a car coming toward the intersection. It looked like it wasn’t going to stop. Too late I realized it was in fact not going to stop. I slammed on my breaks. She saw me. She swerved.

Accidents happen in slow motion.

My front passenger side hit her front driver side. The speed limit is 35. It wasn’t a hard impact.
In both cars the majority of the damage was that the fenders were bent down and rubbing the wheels.

She was a young woman. “It’s not my car! It’s not my car! I don’t know what to do!”

I tend to be very calm in these situations. Some people think it’s because I’m in shock. I think it is just how God programmed me. Some people react calmly to minor emergency. Some people react calmly to bigger crises.

My dorm room flooded once in college. I freaked out for about five minutes. Then I realized I could shut off the water myself. Three inches of water on the floor later, crisis averted.

When something life threatening happens around me, I understand the seriousness of it, but the fact that I have avoided the danger makes me immediately happy. I want to laugh. “I made it!” “Thank you Jesus!” Sometimes I do laugh. This makes people think that I must be in shock. I may be, but I don’t think so. Usually after something very serious happens I like to play a game of chance. Just to see if I’m still lucky after the event; the lottery- or some such game. I never win, but I’m not sad. At least I’m alive to play.

She didn’t know what to do. I said, “We should move the cars out of the intersection and exchange insurance information.”
She said, “I don’t know what to do, it’s not my car.”
I said, “Do you want to call the police?”
She said, “It’s not my car!”
I said, “Go ahead and call them if you think that’s best.”
She called them. They told her to move her car out of the intersection.
I moved mine too.
They came, bent our fenders away from the wheels. They made sure we exchanged information, asked us if we were alright.
They didn’t ask what happened- they didn’t care. No questions, no reports.

She says her light was green. Well, of course- it wasn’t her car.

Now my car has this scrunched up expression.
It has this sheepish half smile.

D says it looks like it has some sort of palsy.
My car is handicapped.

We are waiting to hear back what the insurance companies decide. I don’t have comprehensive, so I’ll probably end up paying for mine.

I’ve already starting obsessing about a Z just like mine on E-bay. The bidding started at $500. It doesn’t run- but I just need it’s parts. I hope nobody bids on it! It should be mine!

I went to a ballet a few weeks ago. I intended to write about it directly afterwards, but well, I’m a slacker.

The Metropolitan Classical Ballet (of Arlington) presented two world premieres for the season finale. “Jeux” and “Joaquin Murieta.” “Jeux” or “Games” en francais was what I expected from the ballet- slightly abstract, interpretive and let’s face it- a pointless story.

“Jeux” from what I understand: There was a blonde tennis player flitting around on her toes hitting imaginary balls when a man in tiny white shorts came out to “play” with her. They ran around for a while, he chased her. Of course he caught her because he had the unfair advantage of actually using his whole foot while she had to tip-toe away.

Once he caught her, a brunette tennis player came out. He was distracted. She ran around looking cute on her toes. He chased her. She tip-toed away. Then he chased the blonde- she let him catch her- the brunette looked jealous- the blonde looked as smug as one can look while standing on her tippy-toes. The brunette enticed him with her obscenely long legs. He dropped the blonde and ran for the brunette . . . it went on like this for a while. In the end- I’m not sure what happened. I think I blocked it out.

If I had written it, however, the women would have both picked up their tennis rackets and beaten him severely with them and then tip-toed off stage prettily leaving him and his balls to play games by themselves.

“Joaquin Murieta,” on the other hand, what like no ballet I have ever imagined. It was one of the most bizzar spectacles I’ve ever paid to see.

The story was easy enough to follow. There was a young man (Joaquin) who lived in Chili. He wanted to make some money (to get married, or to provide for his new wife? I’m not sure, but it surely was something about the woman.) So when he heard about the California gold rush, he went for it. When he got there, things went oh-so-wrong. The California cowboys didn’t like how successful Joaquin was, so they took his lady and gang-banged her. She couldn’t stand the idea that there was a rape baby inside her, so she killed herself.

Joaquin, of course had to confront the evil cowboys. Let me point out at this time that the cowboys where in full dress, hats, jeans, flannel, vests, chaps etc. Joaquin, however was wearing a flouncy shirt and tights. It’s dang hard to look tough in a flouncy shirt and tights, especially when your enemies are wearing jeans and flannel.

In the end Joaquin dies. Quite dramatically- death comes and seduces him in a totally creepy and disturbing way. That is by far NOT the most disturbing thing about this ballet. Here are some other disturbing details, and a short description of quite possibly the MOST disturbing scene in ballet history.

1. As I said, it was a ballet, but for some reason the music was all 70s Rock Opera style. I kept expecting the “Jesus Christ Superstar” disciples to pirouette on stage snapping their fingers and singing “What’s the buzz, tell me what’s happenin’? What’s the buzz, tell me what’s happenin’?” and “When do we ride into Jerusalem? When do we ride into Jerusalem?”

2. The ballet was set in Chili and moves to California. I would have made sense to me if it had been in Spanish- cause it was set in Chili- or English cause it was also set in California (besides the fact it was world premiering in Texas.) But instead, as it would make sense to ballet fans (perhaps) it as all in Russian. It wasn’t just that the words were Russian, but the Chilean folk dances looked strangely Russian to me . . . and the music . . . like a Russian disco- or so I would imagine a Russian disco. I understood what was being said because there were “superscripts” above the stage. But I get the feeling all the superscripts were translated and typed up by a Russian- one who couldn’t spell in English.

3. There was one entire scene about a shooting star. She had an iridescent-glow-in-the-dark costume. It would have been okay if she had danced as he shooting star, but instead she was carried around by a troupe of male dancers (what do you call a male ballet dancer? a ballet-er?) all dressed in black, even over their faces so that they would blend into the back drop. It was all fine except for their very white hands showing up so cleverly under the black light. The hands were distracting me and the hand offs where much more awkward than it would have been if they had just let her dance for herself.

4. Finally, the gang banging scene- voted by me MOST disturbing of all things ballet. I knew it was coming when those bad cowboys busted in on her. It could have easily been implied and not dramatized at all- but they went ahead with it instead. There were five cowboys. They chased her, and caught her, because once again, they could run on their feet, while she had to escape on her toes. The picked her up, one on each arm and leg, one cowboy laid down and the other four thrust her up and down on him like she was no more than a bed sheet. She was just flying around like she didn’t have any bones at all. One would finish and take the other one’s place at the arm or leg so the next cowboy could get his turn underneath. It was not nice. In this case ballet is not always pretty.

Afterward we went to talk to one of the dancers. She did not hide her opinion that the owners of the company had chosen the worst ballet they could find to end the season hoping that the turn out would be so bad that the investors would get their money back. She didn’t care, she had found a new job with a different company.

I was just reading in Psalms.

Here are some things I noticed and liked-
Sometimes reading in Psalms can be a downer- all that bashing babies heads against rocks and woe-is-me the enemy is crushing me and why aren’t you helping out Oh God?! Then the very next chapter is “Praise God! He’s great! He’s done some really great stuff! He’s always there for me! Yeah!”

I suppose sometimes I forget that Psalms was written by lots of people for lots of reasons and unfortunately I am currently too lazy to go and try to figure out what was going on when each one was written. I get the sneaking suspicion that they are not in any kind of chronological order- I don’t know what kind of order they’re in, but I like them.

It’s not hard to figure out why Psalms and Proverbs are often included in New Testaments. There is really a Psalm and a Proverb for every mood and occasion.

In Psalm 90 the author is all – “God you’re really great- you know everything. You know we humans are nothing, just grass, just a sigh and you know our secrets and our sins- “Your anger is a burden each day we live . . .” Then verse 12 “Teach us to use wisely all the time we have.” Let us celebrate what we do have- and what I really liked about it: “Make us happy for as long as you caused us trouble and sorrow. Do wonderful things for us.”

That’s pretty bold- You caused a lot of trouble for me- so now please make me happy and do something great!

What causes God to give us sorrow? Trying to get us to know who he is.
What causes God to give us joy? Letting us Know him when we seek.

“Our Lord and our God,
treat us with kindness
and let all go well for us.
Please let all go well.”
CEV

In Bangalore, I missed the monsoon.

It rained once or twice, it drizzled and sprinkled and spat, but it was never what I considered a monsoon- not even a light monsoon which was the actual promise. When I got back to TX I got my rain. The “Summer Storms” are all over the news. This is the TX monsoon- it comes once every two or three or five years. I don’t find it unpleasant at all- I would give 75% of the time I’ve been back to rainy days. Rain- dark clouds threatening skies, ominous thunder and lightening across the sky- 25% bright sunny hot, shiny summer days.

Everything is green and lush, and all the rivers and streams are high- too high in fact. The news weather report has started including “saturation levels.” They let us know how much it was rained, how much more it will rain, and how much longer we have before the ground is so saturated with rain that flash floods will come and sweep us away. Lawns have turned into swamps, people have been evacuated from their homes; cars have floated away in rivers that used to be city streets. People have been rescued and people have drowned.

The signs on the highway have changed their blinking messages from “Click it or ticket,” to “Turn around, don’t drown.”

I’m not tired of the rain. I like the rain, the cool of the evenings, the smell of the wet soil. I like the sound of the water rolling off the roof and splat-tat-tattering down to the driveway. I like the bubbles that form on the surface of the puddles when the fat drops hit. I like the concentric rings that bounce off on another when the bubbles pop. I like the sunshine that breaks through between storms.

This is a good monsoon.

I’ve been looking for a job in the DFW area- so far no luck. This is the problem of being an ESL teacher- nobody knows how many students will come, how many visas will be granted, what will happen between now and August in the international political scene that will change everything- will they freely grant all the visa requests? Will they say half of the students who have been accepted are national security risks? Who knows?

Everyone I’ve talked to are either filled up or can’t tell what they might need until August. The problem, of course, being that I’d greatly like to have a freaking job by that time.

I’m mostly ruled out international jobs on account of I hated the last one. Poor reasoning perhaps, but I found one on the beach in Mexico and well- Mexico isn’t THAT foreign is it? AND it is ON THE BEACH. Is it a nice beach? This shall have to be ascertained before I even consider taking the job.

This would not be the job that helps me pay off my student loans as I was hoping to get at this point. This would be the job on the beach which has completely different benefits.

Benefits:
It’s on the beach
I could possibly learn Spanish, which would defiantly be useful
The pay isn’t great, but most likely enough to keep up with my student loans
It’s on the beach
Did I say it’s on the beach?
There is also a Walmart (!!) How bad could it possibly be if there's a Walmart?
Tacos will be cheap

I have not been very agressive in the job hunt- sigh- why can't I just get the first job I apply for?

I did apply for a pretty nice sounding job at DBU- they haven't gotten back to me.

Heck!

The many moods of Buzz:

"NO! I don't want to have my picture taken! Leave me alone! And I hate this shirt! I look fat in orange!"

"Oh fine! Go ahead and take it then, but I hate you for it."

"Hate, hate, hate . . . stupid orange shirt . . . "

"Ok, take the picture quick, I'm not going to look this cute all day!"

"Still hate you."

For those who have asked, everything’s fine.
For those who haven’t asked, everything’s fine.

Buzz and I have been enjoying the easy life of mooching off of people who actually have jobs. It works like this, if you let me come stay with you I’ll do house chores and make cookies for you . . . I’m thinking rice crispy treats and laundry . . . maybe chocolate chip cookies and vacuuming . . . Buzz will try not to pee on your stuff and will sit around looking cute. He will also bark at anyone who dares come to your door (including you) and will look longingly at your food while you eat it.

I bought a car- so far so good, but I’ve only used one take of gas. It’s a 1986 Nissan ZX300. What does that mean to me? It means it’s a hatch back and I like hatchbacks.

It’s a sports car that was on the road before I hit puberty. It does not have a back seat. It’s not supposed to. It’s a silver-ish sort of color.

It’s a manual. That particular feature mocks and taunts me, but slowly I am taming the beast.

It talks to me. It tells me things that I should already know- but have somehow forgotten. That would be a very useful feature if it told me all the things I needed to know but had somehow forgotten. But so far it’s only told me “Headlights are on.” and “Emergency break is on.”

It has T-tops, which sound cool, but in reality they only let the summer sun shine brightly down on my head and make me wish I had a hat on and squint my eyes. Squinting causes wrinkles. This car may make me wrinkly.

It has a cd changer, but I have no idea how to use it. It has a satellite radio port and antenna, but no satellite radio.

It was once owned by a man who made a living dressed as a clown who represents a major fast-food restaurant chain.

No- that’s not true.

I'm still having problems uploading my pictures- maybe some problem with yahoo at the moment-

I think I may have started a small riot on the way to work today.

I had a bag full of candy, pens and paper which I took to the squatter kids.

I walk by them everyday- usually theres tons of kids just hanging out playing in the dirt.

Today there was only one little girl and a baby. I walked up to her and gave her some candy- immediatly there were 20 kids yelling for more candy.

I gave them each two pieces of candy- taking care to open some for the babies so they could pop in their mouths- those older kids were vultures for candy- I was afraid the babies wouldn't get anything.

Then I gave them pens and pencils- they loved the pens and pencils, but were stragely not interested in the paper. I was thinking they go together but what do I know?

By the time I was down to just paper and candy I gave up trying to be fair. I threw the candy up in the air - handed the bag of paper to and older kid and walked away.

Two of the older boys who were there were not squatters, but just wanted some free stuff (and got some) decided to be my new best friends and walked me all the way to work- then I told them the guards wouldn't let them any further they turned around and went home.

Time for the lice shampoo now.

Anwar- my auto driver/tour guide took me all around Udaipur- palaces, gardens, monuments- blah-blah. But before all that there was Laxmi. The streets of Udaipur, like the streets of so many old cities are narrow and dangerous. Especially dangerous if there is an uncooperative Elephant blocking the way. Anwar turned to me and said, “That’s Laxmi” like Laxmi was an old friend.

I looked around Anwar’s head out the front window of the auto rickshaw and saw Laxmi- Laxmi it seemed wanted to go up the hill- Laxmi’s rider wanted him to go down- it was a battle of the wills. Apparently Elephants- or maybe just Laxmi don’t/didn’t have much of a will; and after a short discussion involving a stick with a hook on it- down the hill they went.

An angry elephant is not what you want 20 feet in front on you when your in no more than an over grown tricycle. I was glad Laxmi was kinda laid back that day.

After Laxmi my next animal kingdom encounter was even smaller, fuzzier and scarier. Anwar took me to this place where the Maharajas went to be buried. There were more than 200 enormous markers- and by marker I mean 2 to 3 story marble, dome topped gazebo looking things. Each Maharaja had his own and size had to do with importance and wealth- a few were massive- bigger than some houses others were more gazebo size.

As I was walking around I felt all alone in the world- obviously not a popular tourist destination- you aren’t really allowed to take pictures there- but for a mere 20 rupees the guard can be convinced. I was walking around taking pictures when I saw white people.

We chatted a bit and they pointed out the oldest and biggest dome- they said, “There’s a monkey in there- but he’s a black faced one so don’t worry.”
I said, “Oh he won’t bother me?”
They said, “No- the black faced monkeys are pretty tame- but the red faced ones are fascists.”
I said, “Oh- well over to the monkey I go then.”
I walked over toward the monkey/dome and the monkey poked his head around a column and looked at me.
Maybe I looked at him too long- but I wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to do anything crazy. I climbed the stairs slowly- the monkey kept his eye on me. I kept my eye on the monkey.

Once I got to the top he decided he didn’t like me and he bared his teeth and made a frightening monkey noise. I thought that was pretty fascist even if he was a black faced monkey.

I started backing up- then realized just in time that I was about 10 feet above the marble base of the structure and if I took one more step back I was sure to break my melon- then the monkey would probably eat my brain before Anwar got around to looking for me.

I took one more look at the fascist monkey and as calmly as I could walked down the stairs and away from the structure. I looked back once and the monkey was following me!

I started walking faster anywhere but where I was seemed good to me- unfortunately I was walking in the wrong direction. When I dared look back after a minute or so I realized the monkey wasn’t tailing me any more; but after wandering the entire parameter of the burial ground I realized I had to go back past the monkey spot.

Needless to say that was a quick exit- but no monkey sighting on the way out.

I told Anwar to take me back to the hotel and my new friend the bathtub.

I had seen enough of Udaipur.

Udaipur- the city of . . . why did I go to Udaipur again?

Udaipur the city of lakes and . . . elephants.

I wanted to go to Udaipur because I had seen these amazing- beautiful pictures of the Lake Palace. It is- as it sounds a palace built in the middle of a lake. It takes up the entire island, so it looks like a palace just floating on the water. It’s a nice effect- when there’s not a drought- which of course there was when I was there so it was more like the foundation of a palace floating in the lake- it was still really nice- no really it was nice.

But the elephants make a more interesting story. I had a cab from the train station to the hotel. It was my first overnight train experience and although it was better than I thought it might be- I still hadn’t slept much. I was all blurry eyed and dazzled by the heat.

We came to the foot of a hill where we ran into what seemed to be a mob/traffic jam. There was a big temple, a big elephant, a lot of white people and a classic car. It’s always some kind of weird holiday or festival in India so I asked if it was a celebration.
My driver said no, they were filming for Bollywood. Awesome- I got out my camera.

As we inched closer to the center of the scene the white people started dispersing and the classic car drove away- the elephant stood and waited. I looked at the elephant- he was close enough for me to reach out the window of the tiny car I was sitting in and touch him. I decided against it- but I could have. The elephant looked at me. They have surprisingly small eyes for such large animals.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
I took his picture.
He stuck the end of his trunk in my window.
I squealed.
The remaining white people looked at me and giggled.
The elephant giggled.
I giggled.
The driver shook his head and put it in first.

At the hotel I had a short love affair with the bathtub.

In the afternoon I went out sightseeing- “There’s the lake- there’s the palace in the lake.”
I was quite possibly the worst tourist ever- the guide was so disappointed with me.
He said, “Oh- you’ll want to walk through the spice market.”
I said, “No- I don’t want to- I’ve seen a spice market before.”
He said, “Do you want to go to the City Palace (different from the Lake Palace) and see the museum?”
I said, “No- I’ve seen palaces and museums before.”

He was a good guide he told me all about the intrigue regarding the rulers the Hindus against the Muslims- Sons against fathers- it was all over my head. Maharaja blah-blah-blah- Mogul Shah-blah-blah-blah 300 years old blah-blah-blah- who can keep up?

Next time- on the monkey who chased me through the ginormous graveyard- and mention of Laxmi the friendly neighborhood elephant.

Come back tomorrow for inserted pictures in this and following stories- I haven't quite got them uploaded yet-