Peter Schrag ripped me off!

My Lake Wobegon reference, anyway. And I'm sure he's never heard of me, but nevertheless... Anyway, here's his column, which I think is clear and succinct. Good reading.

Closer

I saw "Closer" last night. I was lukewarm on seeing it in the first place, but then a couple people I trust mentioned they hadn't liked it, so it sat around for about a month before I finally got to it. Anyway, here's the summary: beautiful people treating each other horribly with long lapses in time that are pretty much unexplained.

I've added a bunch of documentaries to my Netflix queue lately. I have Capturing the Friedmans, Murderball, The Fog of War, Winged Migration, Born into Brothels, Grizzly Man, Rock School, Mad Hot Ballroom, The Eyes of Tammy Faye, and The Filth and the Fury all awaiting my viewing pleasure. It's funny -- if you asked me if I was a big documentary fan, I'd probably say no, but I do like them and watch them fairly regularly. I just saw "Spellbound," too.

I might go to a show tonight. I really like going to shows, and I especially like the Knockoffs (who are playing tonight), and I never go out anymore. It's not that Sweetie discourages me. He always says I should go. I just most of the time am tired and WANT to stay home. Sad, huh? If I do go, it'll be right after ballet, so I'll be not just tired but sweaty and tired. Fun. But I still might. It starts at 8 and there's a $3 cover, which pretty much eliminates all my complaints about shows starting too late and costing too much. Well, we'll see.

Cool poem.

The Orange

By Wendy Cope


At lunchtime I bought a huge orange
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.


And that orange it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park
This is peace and contentment. It's new.


The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all my jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.


Wendy Cope, "The Orange" from Serious Concerns. Copyright � 1992 by Wendy Cope. Reprinted with the permission of Faber & Faber, Ltd.

My adventure at the FoodMaxx and other weekend goodness

Okay, let's see. On Friday I had a bunch of stuff to do, so I made a grocery run on my prep period. The closest grocery store is the FoodMaxx, which I've never been to. It's one of those ones that advertises its low low prices, and it's located in an ethnically diverse poor area (ahem, about a block from my school). Anyway, I go in because I need veggie boullion, black beans, a lemon, a green bell pepper, some jalapenos and cornmeal. Well, I go up to the place and it has those gigantic wide shopping carts like at Costco, so at first I'm not even certain they'll have a produce department. But they do. In fact, it's enormous. They have a HUGE selection of produce, including stuff I've never seen in either my usual grocery store or the asian grocery. There are mangoes and papayas galore, and HUGE bins of fresh garbanzo beans, which I've never even seen. (They come in their little green fuzzy pod.) So I find everything I need, but it's not in that great shape -- like my lemon is flat on one side and the bell pepper isn't particularly snappy. But whatever. Then I go hunting for boullion. Well, it's all kind of spread out. There's a Mexican foods section where the boullion things are printed in Spanish. I'd use them, but they only have chicken and beef. Then over by the soups there are more--three different brands--but still no veggie. In the spice aisle there are more still, but no veggie. I give up, figure I can use various spices instead, and start looking for cornmeal. Well, they have it in spades, different brands and everything. They have hominy and fresh masa. You want cornmeal products, they've got it! In looking around, I also notice that they have all kinds of other stuff I've never seem elsewhere; there are these Indian meals that come in a little foil packet that I've gotten other flavors of at Trader Joe's and the Co-op, but never this many varieties! I didn't even know there were like 12! And there's a whole rack of Persian spices that I had previously looked in about 6 stores for before finding a store near my house that had them. They also had these HUGE freezers like at Costco or any other big box store, and the place was designed like a big maze -- once you turned the corner past the produce aisle, there was only one way to get back to the beginning. Anyway, I'm going to go back when I have more time and explore the whole place. It was pretty cool.

Anyway, with all my ingredients, I made Cuban black bean soup and banana fritters and cornbread for dinner. Monkeygirl came over and we watched "Thumbsucker." I had mixed feelings about it. It was well-acted and stuff, but had a strange Oedipal theme that creeped me out, and the direction was a little strange. For example, no one ever talked above a whisper. And the teacher (Vince Vaughan) was totally unrealistic. And what was with the girlfriend? There was something clearly wrong, but her story was never fleshed out.

Saturday I tidied up a little and ran some errands, then went to my cousin's 4th birthday party at Round Table. There was pizza and a mermaid theme. It's always nice to hang with my family. In the evening there was sushi, then I rushed a quick workout in. I ran into my Boompah, which was kind of funny, because I picked a stationary bike, started putting my stuff down, took the foot straps off the pedals... I noticed that the whole time an older guy on a bike a few feet away was looking at me, but I was studiously avoiding looking at him. Until, of course, I realized he was STILL staring as I was getting ready to ride. I turned to give him a hard look, and of course discovered that it was my Boompah (stepdad, to the uninitiated). Then after my workout I stopped at the Co-op and ran into one of my students! Sunday morning I read the paper, then went and worked out again and took the yoga class. The chick last week must have lulled me into a false sense of security about how hard yoga really is, because this lady was ROUGH! My legs were shaking and by the end I was having to stop and rest. I'm sore today. She kept having us do "chair," which is just a squat that you stay in forever. Then I went to Trader Joe's and ran into a co-worker. It was the weekend of running into people.

Mom and I spent the rest of Sunday attacking the monster overgrown shrubs in the backyard. There was a mock orange that was about twenty feet tall (they're supposed to be a shrub) and a big messy bottlebrush that was closer to thirty. The pile of yard waste in front of my house is about the size of an SUV. I still really need to do a LOT more landscaping, putting plants in, taking this shade thing down, jackhammering up the patio, hauling all that away and pouring concrete... It's going to be a huge project. We really still need to finish the kitchen, but I'm considering doing some of the outdoor stuff before it gets too hot and doing the bathroom this summer so we can be inside in the AC.

I guess that's about it. I'll be a little busier this week (my computer class starts), and then it'll taper off, since my 7th period will end. I have to go now and submit the paperwork to prove I'm a "Highly Qualified Teacher," (which basically means I have a credential). They need my subject test results, my credential, and my B.A. Basically just because I've submitted this twice before and am feeling a little bitchy, I'm also copying my CBEST, SSAT, and M.A. and submitting those, too. Not highly qualified, my sweet ass!

Timelines

Hi all,

Sorry I've been busy lately -- brother's Sandan, teaching workshop, poetry reading, various school meetings, teaching 7th period -- but there have been a couple things I'm ruminating on.

This next few months will see my one year wedding anniversary, my four year home-ownership-aversary, my cat's fourth birthday, my three-years-of-sweetie-aversary, my sixth year of teaching under my belt, 4 1/2 years since the breast reduction, four years back in ballet (as of this month, actually), two years since getting my M.A., two years since my mom retired, over 5 years with the Gynas...

I mean, Dang. It's all such good stuff, and it makes me feel all grown up and settled and secure and happy and funny all at the same time.



By the way, last night I think I came close to being the first person ever thrown out of our ballet class for smelling appetizing. I reeked of roasted leeks (which I had both prepared and eaten), and the girls all agreed that it smelled delicious, but I don't think the deliciousness of your body odor is necessarily a good thing. Of course, after that I had a really good class, earning THREE compliments (which are hard to come by), but then at the end we did a grand jete ending in attitude (a big old jump landing on one foot with the other one bent up behind you), and my vertebrae compacted like two sections of cootie plugging into one another. I swear I got a half an inch shorter.

More education stuff

Dang I'm political lately. Read this.

Now, I suspect a lot of people will read the first couple paragraphs and think "The kids can't meet the standards, so we lower them?! What a load of crap!" And I'm not really in favor of lowering standards either, but the two things I think are really important in this debate are the following. One, our "proficient" standard in California is above average. Now, I like "Prarie Home Companion as much as the next guy (which means I don't actively hate it), but it's a little unlikely that all our children could be above average, which is what the goal is. Yep, ALL children (100%!) proficient by 2016. That'll rule. We'll totally kick Japan's ass technologically then!

Second is the point that's buried way down in this article. "States that set the bar low academically have a distinct advantage over California, whose high proficiency standard is a laudable but unrealistic mandate to apply universally to more than 6 million students of varying backgrounds, Hancock contends." We face serious sanctions because we have higher standards.

Let's look at it this way. The world's record for long jumping is 29ft, 4.5inches. Let's say the average for you or me is 10 feet. A state like, oh, say Texas, sets their standard at 10 feet, and then absolutely everyone meets the standard! California set its standard at 15, and only 40 percent are making the standard. So we face sanctions including school closures. Yeah. That's about how it is.

Happy almost new year! (Or vernal equinox or Nowrooz)

haftseen06
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

Hi everybody! I think I said I'd try to post pictures of our Haft Seen table for Nowrooz, and I did. It's kind of a mishmash of traditional and well-this-will-work. The book is the Shahnahmeh, by the Persian poet Ferdowsi. The miniature is Sweetie's, as are the plate, platter, and the textile everything's sitting on. The daffodils and hyacinth are obvious, I guess. Monkeygirl made the mirror. There's also a candle, and on the tray, a bowl of vinegar, a jar of sprouting wheat, an orange floating in a bowl, two candies, some dried bilberries and dried sour cherries, hard boiled egges, an apple, and a bulb of garlic. I really am not good at making stuff grow, so I'm always delighted when it happens, and I'm pretty proud of my jar of wheat, even though it creeps Sweetie out. MMM... okay bye bye!

Lawnmower, Taco, Liniment, turn signals

How's this sound: I bought a lawnmower, because my husband is going to mow the lawn.
Does that sounds totally "I'm in my thirties" or what?

I mentioned the above to Drummergirl, and she said "yeah, I know what you're talking about; my Japanese dryer sings me a song at the end of its cycle that goes like do-do-do-do-doo-do-do-do-do..." I said, "Is that Taco's 'Puttin' On The Ritz?'"

I was at Target last night vaguely browsing the men's products (every once and I while I amuse myself by thinking that Sweetie might use man products like shaving cream), and I noticed that they are now carrying Watkins products. My grandma always used to have this stuff around the house -- sort of herbal Ben Gay-type products. Liniments and salves and ointments. I loved the way they smelled, so I was always inventing muscle aches in order to justify rubbing some of that stuff on. I'm sure my mom used to wonder why I came home smelling like ointment regularly. I almost bought some last night. I still might. And I did open up one jar just to sniff it; it took me RIGHT back to childhood.

I heard about a survey about why nearly 60% of people don't use turn signals when changing lanes. I tend to think people are basically good instead of basically evil, but sometimes I am driven to revise that theory by adding parentheticals. Like this: People are basically good (but kind of lazy). or People are basically good (in the sense that they don't actively want to cause harm to others most of the time). or People are basically good (but are misguided in many ways). or People are basically good (but not that smart). It makes me sad.

No Child Left Behind by those evil teachers

First read this:Ruben Navarette's article.

(Warning: although this post looks slightly more formal than some others, it is, as always, completely unedited. I'm just too lazy to proofread and revise.)

With all due respect to Mr. Navarette's credentials, the subject is not nearly as simple as he makes it seem. If the argument were only "NCLB and the exit exam ensure that students are meeting a minimum criteria of achievment before they are awarded a high school diploma," then I suspect there would be a lot less debate. And in that case, I too would accuse teachers who are against the testing of not being concerned with students' results. But the waters are significantly muddier than that. First among the many things to consider is the fact that until a very recent judgment, for the first time ever students in need of special education were going to be denied any kind of diploma, despite their best efforts and their many challenges.

Second is the fact that NCLB, well-intentioned as it may be, is entirely unfunded, meaning that to meet its stringent testing requirements, school districts take money away from established programs. This very morning it was announced that all district librarians here in the Sacramento City Unified School District are being pink-slipped (not fired, just notified that they could be) for budgetary reasons.

Third, although Navarette obliquely mentions "the racism that exists in the educational system" and quotes a principal who points out the unnamed "groups who are not scoring appropriately," he fails entirely to note the many other obstacles these groups encounter in attempting to receive their education. And I may be crucified for saying so, as implicating parents for being at all responsible for their kids' academic failure (it's a different story when you replace the word "failure" with "success") is the ultimate sin in this field, but many of the lowest performing students face challenges that come directly from their parents. The students must work to support their families; they take care of younger siblings; they spend part of the school year in Mexico; they are allowed, even encouraged, to stay home when the parent or other family member is ill; they have transportation problems and the parents don't make other arrangements; the parents simply don't put any value on school or apply any pressure to their kids to do well; the list goes on. And although we in the education business work our butts off to change the culture (and it is changing from within on some fronts), it is still true that it is often seen as unacceptable to be brainy or to work hard in those same "groups." Finally, and I don't know how to change this, there are significantly fewer African-American and Hispanic teachers than white ones. Students do not see themselves reflected in their educators, and that's sad. But where are those groups working instead, and if they think it's a problem (as I do), why aren't they here in the classroom? It's not blame or implication -- it's a question.

Next, an exit exam may or may not accurately reflect a student's learning. I've seen some of the tests that pass for assessments of standards around here, and they are utter crap. Also, I wish my readers could have stood in the gym, as I did, during a recent administration of the CAHSEE. The din was unbearable. Students were crammed into the room back to back at long, paper-covered tables. The gym is normally an echo chamber; under exam conditions every noise was magnified. Even my best and brightest students came back later that day worried that they had not done well because the atmosphere was so discombobulating.

With all that said, I am not against an exit exam. Sound crazy? As a teacher, I agree that we should be responsible for teaching our kids the basics. Otherwise, a high school diploma will quickly lose its value. If a young adult applies for a job and it is discovered that he or she cannot read but has somehow earned a diploma, any employer would stop accepting a diploma as an indication of merit. I don't want that. A diploma should mean something. I just think that, given the circumstances, we have a lot more talking to do.

When Navarette says that teachers "will talk your ear off about the shortcomings of students -- particularly Hispanics and African Americans -- but they're in no mood to confront their shortcomings as educators," I think he is mistaken. There are those of us who look at the assessments and are scared. I am one of them. It is terrifying to think that I might not be properly educating these students in preparation for college, the world, and the responsibilities of being a citizen. But for me, that fear is a motivator to step up my game. And if that same fear forces teachers who really don't do their job, dislike their students, and are only in it for the summer vacation to leave the field, all the better! I think good teachers, like good parents, worry constantly that they're not doing a good enough job, and I don't think that fear is a bad thing. Yes, we should have standards, yes, we should be held accountable, yes, the students need to learn. I am simply not convinced that this test at this time applied in this way is the right answer.

And, because this is not an editorial or any kind of professional publication, what's up with the fact that this guy has such a low opinion of teachers? We're racists who hate our students? For reals? We win the prize for having "the thinnest skins on the planet." "All they care about is whether you agree with them." We're "hostile" towards hearing other points of view? "...Many of them hate their jobs, disrespect their students and resent their supervisors." Teachers "always make the worst students." Wowsers! Nothing like making generalizations, huh? Well, I feel a little intimidated about disagreeing with him now, since I'm sure that makes me "hostile," but does anyone else smell some bias here? I suspect that there are people in every profession who have similar complaints, and people in every profession who would fire off a critical letter that might piss someone off, but that doesn't speak to the profession as a whole.

And a little more on the parent issue. It's practically an unwritten rule of political correctness that you cannot say that the parents are responsible for their kids' failures. But why? If a kid is a success, the first thing people say is what a great job the parents did of raising him or her. They must be so proud... And later on, much later in the conversation, maybe someone will give a shoutout to the 3rd grade teacher who inspired and encouraged the kid. Well if a kid can't graduate from high school, no one says to the parents "Wow, you did a shitty job, you must be so ashamed!" No, THEN it's all about the school and the school system letting them down. I'm not saying that anyone SHOULD say that to parents, but I think we should be able to say out loud that there are myriad factors that contribute to any student's success or failure, and those include the student, the parents, and the teachers. All three.

Okay, enough for one night. Bye all.

Credit card fraud

I am posting this link to Cockeyed.com as a public service. Scary stuff.

Point Reyes trip

Hi all! I'm back from Point Reyes. I wrote a LOT about my trip in a little notebook, and I don't know if I'll have time to write it all here, but I'll give it a go.

Friday, we hit town a little after 12:30, walked through a couple bookstores, then got pastries and coffee (pain au chocolate for me and a sticky bun for Sweetie) at the Bovine Bakery and sat on a bench in the sun. It had rained (and even hailed a little) on the way down, so the sunshine was a pleasant surprised. We then checked into Motel Inverness; it was a small room, but the lobby was nice, and the innkeeper was building a huge fire in the massive stone fireplace. The grounds were gorgeous (right on the bay), and we were "welcome to use the bird blind." We decided to go to the beach, so we started driving... and driving. We were headed for the lighthouse, but it was taking FOREVER, so we pulled off at South Beach. There were scary wave advisories, so we pretty much stayed away from the water, but we hung out and looked at the waves for a long time. The water up close was foamy and white, further out was pale green, the horizon was a dark indigo line, and the clouds were a purply storm. It was gorgeous. I've never seen this, either, but the horizon was bumpy! You could see it moving. The sea must have been really choppy. The beach was deserted for a long time until another couple drove up. It must have normally been pretty well used, though, because there were the remains of several fires, and a fair amount of trash, sadly enough. Sweetie even leaned over to look at what he thought was a pretty rock, and it was a pistachio shell. We drove back, passing several ranches (all named letters, like "M Ranch"). and in Inverness, the Dacha, which is a building that hangs out over the water on stilts, and is topped rather inexplicably with about 12 minarets.
We poked around Pt. Reyes Station a bit more, and while in Cowgirl Creamery, I said "Ooh, we'll have to get some things from here before we go!" Sweetie smirked, and wouldn't tell me why until we got outside. Then he said "Are you planning to sell my kidney to buy something there?" Sure enough, when we went back later, I admired some plum jam and saw that it was $18.50. I think my gasp was audible. That night we went to the Station House Inn for dinner, and it was really good. I had a veggie Shepherd's Pie, and it was delicious!
The next morning we got pastries again, this time from the Busy Bee Bakery, which was in Inverness Park and was charming as all get out. Sweets had another sticky bun and I had a tangerine spice scone. We liked our pastries and assumed that the chocolate croissant was good, since a French guy in there had two. Then we drove to Stinson Beach. It was a long but lovely drive, through rolling green hills, eucalyptus groves, around Bolinas Lagoon, through Dogtown (population 30, but with an art gallery!). We got a couple beautiful hours of sunshine, even though it was cold. We had brought long books and a beach blanket, and had a great time. It was lovely out, and iridescent foamy bubbles were drifting along the sand.
Back in Pt. Reyes, we got a sandwich and salad and ginger beers from the market. For store food, it was REALLY good. My salad had feta, dried cranberries, artichoke hearts, and balsamic vinaigrette. We took a nap that afternoon, then went to Vladimir's for dinner.
Now, I had seen on the internet that at Vladimir's, "Food and entertainment" was provided by the owner. That sounded good. What I didn't really think about was that at a Czech restaurant, I might not find much to eat. Well, I should have thought about that, as the ENTIRE menu was meat-centric. Not just meat-centric, but entirely meat-filled. Still, the waiter was super-nice, and he got the chef to hook me up with some sauteed veggies, as well as the dumplings, braised cabbage, and hot rye bread that came with every entree. I'm actually glad we went there, because we had a really good time. Sweetie described the interior as looking just like the place that, in D&D, you go to meet your fellow campaigners. He narrated for me: "You see an elf shooting fire from his fingertips." "I go talk to him." "You see a burly guy drinking at the bar." "I go talk to him."
It was all red leather, low chandeliers, horseshoe candleholders... Until about halfway through our dinner, we were the ONLY people eating there. Everyone else was clustered around the bar, and it was obvious they were locals. An interesting side note was that one of them was Bob Giacomini, maker of Point Reyes Farmstead Blue Cheese, who is a distant married-in relative of my Boompah.
Vladimir himself was an old guy entertaining the crowd at the bar, wearing a tam and athletic socks pulled up to his knees, and some sort of maybe vaguely ethnic outfit. Hard to say. He grunted us to a table, then his nephew took over.
That night wechecked out the bird blind, then pretty much watched TV, cracked a bottle of dessert wine, and that was that.
Sunday morning we went to the Pine Cone Cafe, which I can't recommend highly enough. The Coastal Traveler had said it offered food for "citified" tastes, and a Chronicle review mentioned its "citified" flavors as well. A really strange adjective for what was basically a very traditional diner, just with fresh, local, organic ingredients. I had a spinach, swiss, avocado and caramelized onion omelette, and I'm not sure I've ever had a better omelette. It was delicious. The decor was retro-50s, with map of America curtains, and overall a sweet, if Twin-Peaksy vibe. I loved it. I would totally go back there, and the lunch menu looked good, too. It was hard to turn down the honey-wheat pancakes. Mmmm. The organic thing is big there -- that's why Prince Charles visited, apparently -- and I don't think we had a cup of coffee that wasn't organic and fair trade the entire time we were there.
After breakfast we drove to Dillon Beach, which was a bit of a disappointment, because, beautiful as the view was, there was only one place to park, it cost $5, and it was raining. We turned around and went back to Tomales, where we had more pastry! (I just had "Chai-ish" tea, but Sweets bought a sticky bun for later.) We sat in a little covered area outside the bakery and watched the drizzle. Tomales is very pretty, in an old west sort of way. All the buildings on the main street look just like they must have 100 years ago. We were puzzled by the building that looked just like a bank that had a big sign that said "Not a Bank."
I really wanted to do a little shopping, so we went to Point Reyes Station again and I poked my head in most of the shops. Sweetie bought a beautiful photo called "Mt. Vision Moonrise" and I got some nudie postcards and a windchime. I liked these cool "vegetable papyrus" bowls made of dried really thin slices of veggies like purple potatoes and woven longbeans. Then we went to Olema for more shopping, and I LOVED the stores there. One was more arty, with textiles, scarves, books, and jewellery. I salivated over some hand-tooled leather purses. One store was more mixed-up, with pottery, imports, vintage jewellery (I had to get a pair of clip on chandelier earrings)... The final one was crazy, with original clothing designs that I really liked, with funky prints of Chinese babies and cowboy boots and sushi and stuff. They also had more funky jewellery (I got a Bettie Page bracelet and pin-up girl earrings). I also got Moe a super-Moe outfit, which I'm sure the boys will blog about later. The clothing was expensive, but they had all kinds of great stuff. I loved it. It was totally quirky -- they even had Lucha Libre masks. The ad in the Coastal Traveler described it as selling "women's clothing, men's stuff & fun things." Its hours were "noonish to sundownish." It was fun.
Then we got a baguette, apple, pear, some black pepper chevre, and candy and chocolate. We drove around a bit more and found Manka's (a super-duper fancy restaurant), then ate our goodies in our room. We dinked around some more and I took another nap (I love vacation!), then we went to Priscilla's for dinner. It was a homey little pizza shop next to Vladimir's, and we had a good dinner. I had pizza margherita, one of my favorites. Afterwards we walked out towards the bay and watched the clouds (pinky from the sunset and reflected in the water, with deep gray puffs in front of them). Then we walked back towards the car, but both noticed a little park at the same moment. It was tiny, but really charming. There were wooden steps up to it, a big log set up as a bench, bulbs and cherry trees, little flowering things, a fountain, and sweet ferny things growing up all over. I don't know what they really were, but they might even have been some kind of pine sapling. They looked lacy and delicate, but when I touched them they felt like pine needles. They were the shape of pine trees in minature. There were more at the motel, which had beautiful grounds, too, including several sweet pieces of statuary and bunches of calla lilies.
This morning before we left, we ate at the Bovine Bakery again. I had an Armando roll, like a cinnamon roll, but with apples and raisins! Sweetie had his third sticky bun of the trip, and we headed out of town. Sigh. We had a really nice time, and a good drive today too -- we got lost a little, but it was a nice drive anyway.

That's about it. Take care everybody!

It's a small, small world...

Okay, I know I've addressed this theme before, but sometimes it still really takes me by surprise. Yesterday I went to my uncle's house to "jam;" I suck, but so does my uncle, so if we just play quietly, then the two guys who are good can make most of the noise and we feel like we're making music! Anyway, Uncle e-mailed me yesterday and said that the guitarist's wife went to school with one of the Gynas. I figure it must be an anthropology kid that knew Drummergirl, since that's way more recent than Gynagirl's educational experiences. But lo, when I am introduced to "CJ," she says that it is indeed Gynagirl that she knows -- they went to high school together in Elk Grove. But she also says she recognizes me and is sure she knows me. We start poking through the past, this job? That school? But no, we can't pin it down. Until she mentions a guy named Jeremy, and out of nowhere I ask "Jeremy that lived with Shane R?" Yes! That's him! Well, I figure she's a friend of Jeremy's old girlfriend that I met at a party or something, and I start kind of reminiscing; "Yeah, I used to date Shane, and he and Jeremy's girlfriend Caroline," (she smiles in excitement and recognition) "and I used to hang out and talk, too. I never saw Shane again after we broke up, but I always really liked Caroline." I stop thoughtfully and she almost yells "I'm Caroline!!!" Oh!!! Man, what a difference ten years makes. She used to have perfectly straight hair, but I should have recognized her anyway -- she has these ice-blue eyes. And I think if she'd been introduced as Caroline, I wouldn't have gotten stuck like that, but for whatever reason I didn't equate "Caroline Johnson" with "CJ." Anyway, we reminisced a little, and it was cool to see her.

We're off to Point Reyes soon, (but our slobbering half-crazed Rottweiler is guarding the house), and apparently they have "a little thing you can plug in in the lobby" for internet service, so I expect you won't hear from me until Monday. Take care, all.

Mockula

Busy, gotta go!

1. Saw two rainbows, one today, one yesterday. Today's was from end to end. Cool.

2. Blew a tire Sunday. Sucked, but the AAA guy was there within 20 minutes and I was on the road again.

3. Needed new tires Monday. Sucked, but hey, at least I HAD the credit available to buy them instead of having to go without. Plus, I saw the rainbow from the tire store yesterday. So that's a plus.

4. [Removed for excessive venom.]

5. I have rather suddenly found myself teaching a 7th period madrigal choir class. It will make me rather pressed for time all month, but it's going all right so far. I wish I knew how to play the piano so that I could, I don't know, play the bass parts for the men to hear instead of just asking them to take it down an octave. I'm working on it.

6. I'm pleased to have done something here at the house last night. It's almost Nowrooz, the Persian New year, so I've set up a Haft Seen table, which is hard to explain, but the short story is that it has a number of symbolic items on it to help usher in the new year (and am I crazy or does it make sense to celebrate the new year at the vernal equinox when Spring is starting, the sun is returning, the days are getting longer, and life is starting to renew itself all over?). On ours, we have two colored eggs (just like Easter, yay!), a bowl of vinegar, some dried cherries and bilberries, an orange floating in a bowl of water (to symbolize the earth floating in the universe), some sweets, an apple, a bulb of garlic, and sprouting wheat. What we are missing is a hyacinth (I'll pick one up soon), some sumac, and samanu (a "pudding" made from sprouted wheat and water). For good measure we can also throw on some coins and nigella seed (I don't actually know what this is, but I've seen it at the halal market, so I might get some). I asked sweetie if I was a total dork and he said no. Nowrooz is more of a Zoroastrian festival than an Islamic one, although even Islamic Iranians celebrate (they just put a Q'uran on the table!). Anyway, I've been pleased every time I walk by it!
Nowrooz mobarak everybody! (Happy new year.)

7. I guess that's it for now. Wait, I was embarassed today at the thing - one of the other people there was a professor of mine years ago, and he has a good memory. So in front of my new colleagues he says "Hey, didn't you win the...?" "Ahem, yeah, the Bazanella." "But more recently, didn't you read at the...?" "Festival of the arts, yeah." Geez, I'm trying to keep it on the down low!!! They already think I'm uppity because I teach in the International Baccalaureate program.

Okay, now that's it.

The DaVinci Code

I finished it today. I have a few problems with it (which my mom and I have been e-mailing about), like the fact that between the two of us, we figured out every anagram, puzzle, clue, and secret code about a hundred pages before any of the main characters (the cryptologist and symbologist included). But there were two things that are of note Count Mockula-style, and don't worry, no spoilers are coming. Okay, just a tiny one.

1) One of the characters is named "Teabing," which to my amusement, I couldn't help reading as "Teabag." If you aren't a pervert or haven't seen John Waters' "Pecker," just... nevermind.

2) I was misled somewhat as to the nature of the secret. MINI-SPOILER AHEAD.
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Okay, so they're searching for the holy grail, right? But they're thinking it's not really a literal cup... There is a lot of talk of the "sacred feminine," of the chalice representing the female, of it holding Jesus' blood, of it bearing fruit, of the "sword" and the "chalice" being opposites... Well, I think it's natural that I was leaning towards a holy vagina interpretation, right? Anyway, that was not it. I mean, unless you're using the word in a particularly vulgar type of synecdoche.