Z

ZUCCHINI BREAD

The small group leading class the other day asked that we each bring in a cultural artifact.  I brought in the St. Luke's Lutheran Cookbook from Wishek, ND.  My mom grew up there, and I didn't realize how much I missed that small town until I flipped through the pages of this book.  The hotdish recipes remind me of my childhood, and the German foods, like kuchen and knoephla, make me want to sit and talk with my grandmothers for a long while.

My favorite recipe in the book is for zucchini bread.  It's been a while since I've made it, but the oil stain on the page tells the story of how often I used to try.  I've never made it as well as my mom.  And I'm sure I never will.

Mom, if you are reading this, could you maybe bake a loaf?  I'll look forward to eating it with you next week.

Y

YAWP

Did anyone else want to become an English teacher because of that scene in Dead Poets Society where Robin Williams gets Ethan Hawke to sound his barbaric YAWP in the front of the classroom?

X

X, THE

I recently reread one of my favorite short pieces to use with students:  "My Name" by Sandra Cisneros from House on Mango Street.  I especially love this part about Esperanza changing her name:

I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody sees.  Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X.  Yes.  Something like Zeze the X will do.

We've been playing around with names for the baby.  Any child with "the X" as a middle name is sure to have an interesting life.  William the X.  Sophia the X.  Yes.  I think something with the X will do.

W

WAITING AND WALKING

My running has been restricted lately.  This is due in part to a) pregnancy* and b) ill-fitting sports bras.  (Incidentally, b is because of a).  I've been waiting and waiting for a new, more spacious bra to arrive in the mail, but some sort of back order has the whole thing on delay.  In the meantime, I've been doing more walking than running.  And I miss running.  A lot.

* That's right.  I'm knocked up and am finally revealing it to the internets. 

V

VERISIMILITUDE

I've always liked this word but find little occasion to use it because I don't know how to put it in a sentence.  Please, if you could do that for me, it would be great.

U

Dave tried to help me think of a post for U on our way home today.

URINE

This was his first suggestion.  "No," I said. "I need to think of something that has to do with me."

"Urine," he responded.  "You pee really fast.  Like a race horse."

"Okay.  Well something that isn't urine," I answered.

UP-SPEAK

"Up-speak?  What is up-speak?"  I asked.

"I'll just talk for a while and then you'll know.  I use up-speak all of the time."

"Ohhhh.  Is that why people always ask you where you're from?"

"Yes."

"I get it.  But it still doesn't have to do with me."

UNDERWEAR

This was his next suggestion.  "You're not wearing any," he said.

"Well, true, but I don't want to tell the internets that."

(Of course, I am doing that now.  It made sense to go commando for the short ride home from the gym, though.  It was appropriate.  I think.)


UNANIMOUS

His final offer.  "I don't have anything to say about that," I responded, "except that I don't expect we'll come to any unanimous ideas here."

"True," he concluded.

T

TOMORROW

I start teaching my summer course tomorrow.  I'm a bit anxious, but it should be a great class.  I've been prepping and prepping non-stop it seems, and I still don't quite feel prepared.  But, the train is taking off and I'll be on it.

S

SPILL

Something must be in the air, because like others I know, I spilled on my MacBook.  Technically, I spilled near it and merely SPLATTERED the computer, but that was enough to do damage.  Milk leaves residue when it dries, and enough of it got into the trackpad to destroy its clicking function.  

The good news is that Patrick, at the Apple Store, assured me that everything major about the computer checked out diagnostically and would be fine.  I can still use my computer with a mouse or with the touch function, but I've already found a few instances where clicking is preferred.  I can replace the trackpad for a SUM of money, and I probably will at some point.  Just not yet.

Patrick did want to know, "You spilled the milk?  Not a child?"  No, Patrick, not a child.  And I vowed then and there to never drink anything next to my computer again.  But Dave did just bring me a cup of coffee and it's nice to SIP it here while I write.

R

RUNNING LATE

This is a chronic problem for me.  I was late twice today, for example.  I'm working on it.  Unsuccessfully, but consciously.

Q

My copy of Amy Krouse Rosenthal's book, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, finally arrived after a snafu at the library.  Just in time, I thought, to help me with the pesky letter Q!

While I like and whole-heartedly agree with Rosenthal's entry for Q:

Q-TIP

Inserting a Q-Tip deep into your ear is a great, undiscussed pleasure.

I was hoping for a more extensive list to inspire my thinking.  Instead, I googled, "words that start with Q," and that did the trick.

QUADRILATERAL

I've always loved geometry.  Which is weird, because I actually lack any sense of spatial reasoning or intelligence.  But if you give me a formula and a calculator, I can work my way around a polygon or two.

QUAFF

I once used this word to describe a hairdo.  That was wrong.

QUALITATIVE

This is the kind of educational research that I do.  It's a method of inquiry that employs observation, interviews, and document analysis to try understand people's actions and their own interpretations of those actions.  Some people have a hard time grasping how this can be research.  They think that quantitative methods are the only ones that contribute to knowledge and theory.  It's a debate that I won't go into here, but I can always tell I'm about to engage in that debate when someone asks me about my research hypothesis.  Sometimes I make one up to just disarm my conversant, but that's really not the point of what I do.  Dave has stopped asking me about my hypothesis, so things are calmer around here at least.

QUANTUM LEAP

I would like to be able to do this.  That show from the early 1990s made it seem really cool.  See:

QUARK

I don't know what this means, but it sounds like you should excuse yourself after saying (or doing) it.

QUARTERBACK

Recently, I was told that you should never choose a quarterback in a first round draft pick because overall, quarterbacks aren't that different.  You should choose a running back instead.  This bit of information will come in handy someday, I am sure.

QUESADILLA

The grown-up's grilled cheese.  I eat one frequently.

P

PERSPIRATION

I am a sweater.  Not like an argyle, but like this:

And I'm not kidding when I say that I've had sweat patches that could rival those in this picture.

Some of you may have noticed this problem.  How can you not?  But it's also possible that I've taken the right precautions over the years to hide this embarrassing quality.  For example, I tend to keep my arms down and wear black in almost all presentation situations.  This includes teaching.  And since I am a teacher by profession, this really limits the variety in my wardrobe.  Light blue cotton button-down?  No way.  Fitted top?  Can't do it.  Unless of course these items are in black.

It's not just presentation situations that ignite the waterworks.  Sometimes I've pitted out before I've even left the house.  In the winter.

Sure, I've considered and tried a number of options to remedy this problem.  Clinical strength deodorant?  Deep breathing exercises?  Air-conditioned rooms?  A concerted effort to simply not sweat?  So far none of this has worked.

Instead, I've accepted this problem.  It's my lot in life.  One that I'm pretty sure was passed down from my Grandma D.  That woman is a faucet.  And when I look on the bright side, I can feel good about releasing gallons of possible toxins from my body.  Please, let's all try to think of it this way.  If I can't change my body chemistry, maybe we could all work on embracing the pit-stain as part of a new eco-fashion movement.  Perhaps it's a stretch, but it's all I've got.

O

ORGANIZED

I try to put on a good show of being organized, but this doesn't help me feel any less

OVERWHELMED

by the tasks before me.  I mean, should a to do list in the summer be this long?  I think not.  So, I

OUGHT

to get to work right now, but I would rather be

OUTSIDE.

And if I were reading this very blog post at this very moment, I might

OBJECT

to such a lame entry for the July blogging challenge.  Here's what I say to that,

OH WELL.

N

NOSEBLEED 

We sat in the nosebleed seats at the Twins game last night, and it was delightful.  When you are up that high, there's a lovely breeze blowing over your shoulder.  And on a hot game night, that's a plus.  You can stand up whenever you want for how long you want, and there's no one behind you to complain.  And the best part?  We still had a fantastic view of the field where Liriano pitched a great game and the Twins beat the Sox 7-4.

We obviously had a very good time.

M

MUSIC

We saw Joan Baez at the Minnesota Zoo this week, and I was absolutely stunned.  Stunned by the clarity of her voice, stunned by her beauty, stunned by the power of her lyrics, stunned by the reverence that exuded from the crowd, stunned by her storytelling charm, stunned by the relevance of her songs, stunned by how much the music moved me, and stunned (maybe most of all) by how good she looked in skinny jeans.

L

LOCAVORE

Dave and I like to spend our Saturday mornings at a local coffee shop, Swede Hollow, and then at the St. Paul Farmer's Market.  We do this routine so often that our favorite server at the Hollow knows what we order.  Two medium dark roasts, two slices of bacon artichoke quiche, and one cranberry white chocolate scone.  I've always dreamed of having someone know my "usual," so this gives me more joy than is really comprehendible.

Also cool is the fact that the Hollow uses ingredients from their own garden in their dishes.  So, we're eating local.

From there, we take in the market.  It's quite a beautiful place with all of the flowers, vegetables, and fruits.  Every week I say that we should bring a camera.  We never do.

Since Dave does most of the cooking at our house, I let him lead in the choices, but I do insist on a few supplements now and then.  This week we left with beets, green beans, raspberries, new potatoes, onions, and tomatoes.  All local and chemical free.

We also pick up a freshly butchered half chicken and some chicken brats from a local farmer and his family each week.  They don't know our usual order yet, but they do recognize us.  The young boy always makes a good case for trying their bacon.  Like he has to try very hard.  

We sort of fell into this routine.  I won't lie to you, we were in it for the cranberry white chocolate scone at first.  The market became part of the routine when we simply remembered it was going on one day.  Now, after a year of doing so, we go back because it feels sort of amazing to sit down for dinner and realize that everything on your plate is locally grown.  And it tastes good too.

Being a burgeoning locavore does have its drawbacks.  I'm typically very happy and excited at the start of the market and then ready to punch the next person who bumps into me by the end of it.  I never punch anyone though.  I just swear a lot.  But whatever.  We're doing our part to support local growers and eat healthy.

K

KC

What great good luck!  Today's letter is K, and I had coffee with KC today.  Excellent visit.  She's as funny as her husband, if you ask me.  Well, close anyway.

And how odd that she's on J and my name starts with J?  Thanks for the shout out, KC.  Almost like the planets were aligned or something.

J

JEAN LOUISE FINCH (SCOUT)

"Don't you remember me, Mr. Cunningham? I'm Jean Louise Finch. You brought us some hickory nuts one time, remember?" I began to sense the futility one feels when unacknowledged by an chance acquaintance.

"I go to school with Walter," I began again. "He's your boy, ain't he? Ain't he, sir?"

Mr. Cunningham was moved to a faint nod.  He did know me, after all.   

"He's in my grade," I said, "and he does right well.  He's a good boy," I added, "a real nice boy. We brought him home for dinner one time. Maybe he told you about me, I beat him up one time but he was real nice about it.  Tell him hey for me, won't you?"

----------

"So it took an eight-year-old child to bring 'em to their senses, didn't it?" said Atticus.  "That proves something -- that a gang of wild animals can be stopped, simply because they're still human.  Hmp, maybe we need a police force of children . . . you children last night made Mr. Cunningham stand in my shoes for a minute. That was enough." 

Happy 50th, To Kill A Mockingbird.  

I

ICED TEA

Here's a conversation from our house today while Dave worked at his computer and pretended to listen to me.

Me:  "I'm going to make some iced tea.  You want some?"
Dave:  "Sure."

I walk into the kitchen, take out some glasses and the cold-brew iced tea, open the packets, run the water, drop some iced cubes into the glasses, combine these elements, and walk back into the dining room.

Back in the kitchen.  Approximately four minutes later.

Me:  "Do you want some Splenda in your iced tea?"
Dave:  "I hate Splenda in iced tea."
Me: "Ok."

I stir my glass of iced tea with Splenda and walk back into the dining room with two glasses.

Dave:  "I didn't know I was getting iced tea.  Thank you."
Me:  Sigh.  "You're welcome."
Dave:  After taking a drink.  "Oh, ugh.  This needs some Splenda or something."

I walk back to the kitchen for the Splenda and think of a post for this blog that starts with the letter I.

H

HASTE

I'm working on a not-so-large project for a journal right now, and because I waited so long to get started, I'm behind and having to make haste.  I should keep working, but I think I'll go to bed and get a fresh start in the morning.  I'm thinking I can still make my end of the week deadline and fit in that late morning meeting. Keep your fingers crossed.

G

GREYSEN & GRANDPA GARLAND

There's one special G in my life.  This guy:

Actually, when I think about it, I have two special G's in my life:

It seems safe to say they have a few things in common.

F

FABRIC

I'm going to learn how to sew.  I made a duffel bag once in 8th grade, so it can be that hard.  These great fabrics will be my inspiration. Napkins seem like a good place to start. 

On a side note, I am also really diggin' the FRIGID air coming from the energy-sucking air-conditioner in our dining room window.  Sorry, planet Earth.  It was unbearable in here.

E

EDWIN & EDNA

I can't remember the last time Dave called me Jessie.  He knows my name.  He just doesn't use it.*  When he does call me Jessie, I usually think that there's something terribly wrong.  That he swallowed a peanut or some fish or is choking.

I imagine that he called me Jessie when we first met, but shortly thereafter be began calling me JD.  I liked JD.  It reminded me of the time in elementary school when I tried to get everyone to call me JJ.  My mom called me JJ for about a week, but no one else did.  Thanks, Mom.  You're the best!

A couple of years ago, Dave stumbled upon the name Edna for me.  Neither of us can remember how it came about, but it stuck and now I readily answer to it.  Even in public.  I thought it appropriate for Dave to have his own nickname, so I started calling him Edwin.  Now we're Edwin and Edna.  A hip couple in our 30s.

There are, of course, variations on these names.  Na.  Win.  NaWin.  Windom.  Edwina.  I can't explain, however, why Dave recently began calling me Wilson.  I think it's a reference to Cast Away.  The movie where Tom Hanks gets stranded on an island and talks to the volleyball, Wilson, to keep from going crazy (or to demonstrate that he is crazy, I'm not sure which).  Probably I should feel flattered that Dave thinks of me as his volleyball on this island we call life.

Probably.

*Also, he spells it wrong occasionally.  Our season tickets to the Guthrie, for example, read David and Jesse.

D

DAIRY QUEEN

What better way to celebrate America's birthday than with a blizzard?  I was so pleased to find an open DQ on our way home from the cabin today that I didn't even mind when I had to eat Dave's cookie dough blizzard because they mistook his "no extra fudge" for "extra fudge."  (Note:  This happens at least every third time that he makes this request, and usually I won't allow the trade.  Clearly I was in a very festive mood).  

C

CABIN

I've been trying to think all day of a good C word that isn't CABIN, but I haven't come up with anything.  But I am at the cabin this weekend, so that's convenient.  Hmm.  Convenient.  Oh, never mind.  It's too late now.

My day at the cabin consisted of breakfast, a short run followed by a short swim in my running clothes, lunch, sun-bathing, more swimming, reading a book about growing up in North Dakota that my pal Sarah gave to me, beating Dave in cribbage, a nap, dinner preparation, another swim, a delicious dinner, and now this.

I am hoping that tomorrow will look much the same.

B

BUDGET

I am putting myself on one.  With Operation Dissertation Writing soon to be in full swing, it seems wise.  I've never been much of a spender anyway, but it's still frightening to think that eventually I'll be contributing zero dollars to our family of two.

Don't worry.  The budget will include a per diem for coffee-shop purchases.  The writing will not happen at home.  We all know that.

A

ASTROLOGY

On the first of every month I like to check my horoscope to learn what the weeks ahead may hold.  I can't say that I've ever had an earth-shatteringly accurate reading, but it's fun nonetheless.  Unfortunately, Susan Miller at Astrology Zone hasn't updated her site, and it looks like I'll have to wait until tomorrow to learn about July.

I could really use some direction on certain matters, but I'll save that for fodder in the July Blogging Challenge.