Camp Report, Part II

David Mura, poet and novelist, spoke to our group last night. He ended with this:

"Because the journey was great, the person who started it could not be the one who finished it."

I like that.

Camp Report

Wireless access: $9.99 for 24 hours; no thanks
Hook up for laptop: Free and no one waiting to use this spot
Time to blog: Limited; breaks here and there, but reading assignments to complete
Food: Holy crap -- it's like a cruise and there's no one to stop me
Exercise: 3 miles around the lake; must run this at 6:30 every morning due to food situation
People: Devoted educators; very inspiring
Workshop: Long days; important work

Overall status: Miss friends and free time; glad to be here, nonetheless

Blogged Down

Sadly, I'll be taking a short break from blogging in the next few days and possibly longer. Happily, the Chickenchops, three of my very best friends from college, will be here to celebrate the imminent nuptials of one Ms. Pookie Stupidhead (nicknames have been used to protect identities, but the nicknames are real, I assure you. Please, god, let us have grown clever over the years). Nothing huge planned for the weekend except some wine drinking and laughing, but that's what we do best.

Then, I'll return briefly to unwind and repack, and it's off to camp I go. Well, training to be a diversity instructor, but since I have to stay in a hotel in the burbs and attend sessions from 8am to 10pm daily, it feels a little campish. I do expect to learn a ton and to meet great people, but if I'm lucky, there will also be horseback riding and swimming lessons. Or at least a good camp prank. What I'm hoping for most, however, is wireless service, so stay tuned just in case.

Get the Lead Out

I shouldn't take this out on the pencil, but it was the common denominator during each challenging moment of my tutoring session.

Do you have a pencil? Where can we find a pencil? Can you sharpen that pencil? Does that pencil have lead? Can you erase with that pencil? Stop throwing the pencil at your brother. No, the lead from that pencil won't poison you. Pick up the pencil. Put the pencil in the other hand -- the one you write with. Bring your brother's pencil back; he needs it.

I get paid good money to tutor a couple of brothers in handwriting (they are actually delightfully cute and smart), but wouldn't it be nice if I were teaching dance or sign language or naptime?

Celebrating Summer

I received a text message from best girlfriend today that read: “Happy solstice! Be bad 2Nite!”

Don't know what she had in mind, but the oreo ice cream at Sebastian Joe's should qualify.

In fact, I plan to be bad in a similar way at least once a week this season.

Why I Love Coffee Shops, Part I

You don't hear this everyday:

"I'm working on my dissertation in musicology. My focus is pop music and I'm researching in Minneapolis for the summer because Prince has really given me a way into my topic."

Turns out it's a fascinating argument having to do with African-American music and identity; it just sounds a bit odd at first.

A Ride Up Yonder

I had the great good fortune to pick up Newbery award winning author, Richard Peck, at the airport today. He's in town for the Chase Lecture and all the university bigwigs associated with it were busy with Father's Day events. Seeing as I have only a semblance of a life, I stepped up for the job. Plus, it'll be fun to convince my students that I often hang out with famous authors -- if only authors counted as famous to them. Sometimes, though, if I act excited enough, one of them will muster up an "Oh, that's cool," spoken with only a hint of sarcasm.

Quite a friendly man, RP. He was much more interested in learning about my dull life than talking about his own. In our short ride from the airport to his hotel, he learned of my upraising in Nodak, my college years in Northfield, the topic of my thesis, what everyone in my family does for a living, and that I know very little about the buildings in downtown Minneapolis. He also gives advice and recommends that I visit Chicago, that I thank my kind parents for letting me go to Carleton (thanks M & D), and that I encourage my young sister to move to New York soon or she'll never do it (which is what I keep saying too).

Here's what I learned about him: he's been to Minnesota before, he live in Manhattan’s Upper East Side near the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and his first publisher also went to Carleton (that connection never fails me).

Having gotten most of the attention, I felt pretty special by the end of our ride together. I appreciate that he found my life so interesting, even if I don't. Who knows, maybe I'll turn up in one of his upcoming novels.

Good Stuff

I'm addicted to a new blog that The Savvy Mom turned me onto yesterday: Dooce. The author was fired for the things she had written, so how can it not be good. I recommend the entry entitled: A Story About Someone Else's Ass in the Poop archives (also TSM endorsed).

I'm addicted as well to Arrested Development and managed to watch twenty-two episodes between 8pm last night and 3pm today with breaks only for food. Which means that there were many breaks, but twenty-two episodes is still impressive, I think.

And despite the 80 degrees and sunshine outside my window, I think I better learn more about Tom's engagement to Katie before I shutdown this laptop. Ah. Summer. It feels good to not waste the day.

Money Blues

At the beginning of each month, I read my horoscope at Astrology Zone by Susan Miller. Some might argue that doing so leads me to fulfill Ms. Miller’s prophecy, but as nothing much goes on in my life, I figure what the heck.

Suze predicted that I would spend the month of June thinking about money. Not just now and then, but every day, maybe every hour. “Financial matters are abuzz and you'll be mired in calculator tape most of the month, dear Scorpio.” So far, she’s been right.

A few weeks ago I decided that it was time to explore the possibility of purchasing a house. Everyone else is doing it, and I like the idea of having something to call my own (other than my plants, which have names, by the way).

Just as I made this mental commitment, I noticed that my paychecks had ceased to arrive from the university. Makes sense. I don’t work there any more, but it also means 40% of my earnings gone. No problem, I thought. I’ll just have to spend less.

My roommate kindly listened as I sorted out the details of my new budget: drive less, study at home or library instead of at the coffee shop, take advantage of one year window to purchase wedding gifts for friends, wear one day disposable contact lenses for two days, steal Sweet & Low packets from restaurants for morning cup of joe at home. All good ideas.

Although S. Miller had not predicted it, the alternator on my car went out the next day. While this certainly meant driving less as I dealt with the problem, it also meant I was out 400 buckaroos. Damn.

For fear that I had jinxed the new plan by talking about it, I quietly went about my way purchasing groceries for home dining. Then a tree went down in the back yard and lack of electricity spoiled everything in the refrigerator. Double damn.

At least I could forget about that problem and head off to New Mexico, land of shiny, beautiful jewelry. And I did forget about the problem. Maybe too much. But is $80 so much to spend for a lovely new bracelet, ring, necklace, and pair of earrings? Come on. When will I be back there?

Returning home Monday night I renewed my vow to spend less. It’s been only two days. I have been out to both lunch and dinner and discovered that I had to pay an extra $30 on my phone bill for going over my minutes.

When Susan told me that I would think about money all month, I thought she meant that I would be thrifty and frugal. What she really meant was that I would fret over every penny spent -- while spending and spending and spending it.

Looks like it is time to sell books on eBay.

New Mexican Butterfly

Butterfly
Originally uploaded by jdockter.

I really like this one.

Chimney Rock...again

Chimney Rock 3
Originally uploaded by jdockter.

And another.

Chimney Rock

Chimney Rock
Originally uploaded by jdockter.

Here's a photo I took at Ghost Ranch.

Ghost Ranch, New Mexico

Georgia O’Keefe was right about the colors. The landscape, where green blooms from dry brown, red, pink, and orange, defies logic. Mountain. Mesa. Valley. Colors of the rainbow trout. And the backdrop of it all, a blue dreamt up by painters and poets.

Kept thinking about O’Keefe while I looked at her land, the Pedernal Mountain that God told her she could have if she painted it often enough. And I wonder, can I see what she saw here? I want to. I really do. But that’s a little weird, and it’s good, too, to see what I see. Through my eyes.

Is it possible, though, Freudian analysis aside, that O’Keefe and I would agree that Chimney Rock bears an uncanny resemblance to . . . well, you decide.

Creatures of Habit

My electricity has been out for almost 30 hours now. That should be enough time to adapt to a new way of living, but here are a few things I've attempted recently:

a) Put a cd into the stereo to listen to after drying my hair;
b) Checked in for today's flight online and downloaded boarding pass to print from home;
c) Plugged in cell phone for recharging;
d) Obsessed over blog entry for so long that laptop battery died; and
e) Turned on the bathroom light 50 million f-ing times even though I KNOW nothing will happen when I do that.

I'm not complaining. My roommate reminded me that electricity is a luxury that millions go without. Still, I don't enjoy eating melted fudgsicles from a bowl (that didn't stop me from having three).

Sister Size

My favorite bra broke last week. I know teachers who have had this happen in front of a classroom, but for a lazy woman on sabbatical, no huge deal. Trying to replace a much beloved and worn garment, though, colossal deal.

With about 25 minutes to spare after my eye appointment at the mall, I decided to pick up a new bra at the Marshall Fields Field Days Sale. Good bras, 40% off.

It was a mad scene. Every retired woman within a 5-mile radius of Southdale was there, at 10:35 am, to be fitted for or aided in the purchase of her support garment. The salesman, yes, MAN, assured every woman, “Obviously, I don’t work in this department, but I can ring you up” when asked about locating the Olgas or Balis or the “buy two, get one free" items. When I finally snagged a young woman to ask whether they carried a 32D (I know, it’s a ridiculous size, but it’s mine) she led me to a rack of $65 bras. Not on sale. Discrimination? I think so. When I gasped, she told me to try the Playtex “nearly” bras. I’ve tried to deny it for years, but I am not “nearly” a D cup.

Victoria’s Secret, five minutes later, was a quieter scene. A young, bubbly saleswoman approached instantly, and seemed genuinely remorseful that they did not carry my size. I could tell she understood my plight and really wanted to help. “I just know you’ll love our Angel line. Let’s try a few in your ‘sister size’, 34C.”

Sister size? Apparently, all these years I wasn’t wearing the wrong size, I was just wearing a sister size. Learning this was a great comfort.

“Yes. I’d like to try your Angel line,” I replied.

Twenty minutes later I left with a $36 bra. It’s not the color I wanted -- they were out -- and it won’t work under t-shirts -- which is all I own. Plus, I sort of hate bows and lace -- it has both. But, it’s in my sister size -- and that feels good.

Tube Tops and Tonics

I like clever names.

Which is why I was pleased with myself when I came up with "Tube Tops and Tonics," a name for an event planned in collaboration with best girlfriend, JM. Paired with the great name was a great plan: Sit in the sun in tube tops (so as to avoid tan lines while wearing strapless dresses for summer weddings) and drink gin and tonics (so as to avoid evitable boredom caused by sitting in the sun).

Brilliant name, brilliant plan, feeble execution (see below):

Problem: Too cheap to purchase tube tops (when will we ever wear them again?)
Solution: Strappy tank tops (close enough)

Problem: Forgot to purchase gin before event on Sunday
Solution: Vodka from pantry (it's not like we're picky)

Problem: No juice for vodka
Solution: Crystal Light (who needs the extra calories anyway?)

Problem: Rain clouds rolled in shortly after solving problems 1, 2, & 3
Solution: Eat entire bag of Oreos at kitchen table while contemplating origin of the universe (we are nerds, after all)

We're gonna try this again soon. And we're keeping the name.

It's About Time

I've been known to obsess.

Step one in my self-prescribed, anti-obsession therapy program is to start this blog. Not sure how the program will go because first I obsessed about what to name my blog, then I obsessed about what to write in my first entry, then I'll obsess about why the hell I thought I had anything interesting to say in my blog, and soon I'll obsess about whether or not anyone is reading it. (Not to mention the numerous times that I'll read over each entry to check for errors and flow).

Since step two of my program involves living by a "what the hell" philosophy (thanks to an aside from Lee the other night), I went ahead with this entry anyway.

And it can only get better from here.