Oh yeah, the blog... Well, asides from being really busy with moving and making the new house liveable (and being sick, some of us), there's also the little matter of still not having internet where we're actually living. It's not particularly convenient to drive 20 minutes to write a blog post, so that's why there's not very much going on here. But we're settling in nicely, so expect more frequent updates to resume within a week. Or after a week, perhaps, since it's next Saturday they're installing our internet. It should arrive about the same time as the new couches. Yay!
Typing that title, I had a thought: is not all travel time travel? We have not yet, I believe, mastered the art of instantaneous travel, and so everywhere we go we're moving into the future at a rate of one second per second. Right? But that's not what I wanted to write about. What I did want to write about was the fact that where I live and where I work seem to be in different climatic zones, so in driving to work I have the feeling I'm passing some two or three days into the future. Going home, of course, sees the same thing in reverse. I only hope my trip home this afternoon doesn't take me so far back as to go right back to the end of winter; they tell me there might be a frost tonight! What will happen to my poor helpless seedlings I just put into my brand new garden?!
I have my computer in my house now, which is a big step in the right direction; the internet will follow in due course, and then we'll be back in business! Posting blog entries at work here is fine, I suppose, but it'll be nice not to have to work on IE 4.5 any more.
I have been particularly difficult this week. Please send your sympathies to Dan, who is trying to find a way to put up with his five-foot terror of a girlfriend. Maybe it's the growing older that's making me so irritating. Still, i wonder: Is there a time past which you hate your job so much that you actually spontaniously combust? I am the human guinea pig for this theory.
Today I fired an employee for the first time ever. I felt the raw heat of power surging through my veins.... or maybe that was just the sudafed cold kickin in; i'm not sure. But still, it was a good firing, especially since hiring that non-computer-literate A--hole was about the worst interview miss-read i've done...ever.
Now I am now one step closer to Donald Trump. I'm comin up!!!
I'm back online, after a disurbingly long hiatus: it was too painful to contemplate. But things are all fixed up now, so expect informative and humerous updates to resume presently; at least, as soon as I think about something to write about. Leah kept things going for a while, of course, and I know everyone likes her stuff better, but it falls to me to put in all the filler, a task which I will resume in short order. Not tonight, though.
You might think that your actual bony teach couldn't sense so much pain as to make you complain literally about your teeth hurting. That would be before you soak them in bleach for seven hours straight. My teeth are killing me. For lunch I had a wrap sandwhich, but i had to take out the lettus, and then eventually the bread, because it was just too much for me to bite on. It's only 3:30, and already i'm exhausted from the tooth throbbing. Hot hurts and cold hurts, even just the cold of the air-conditioned room. In the future, i will only eat luke-warm pudding.
All this for white teeth on wedding day. You know what they say:
"Beauty is pain, and pain is weakness leaving the body."
Who says this? Actually, i think i heard it on MTV.
It's country living around here, now. Much like where we lived in Santa Monica, the location of our new house offers many of the elements of a rural neighborhood without actually being out in the country; even more so in this case. Most of Bedford is plain old suburbs (considerably less urban than Arlington, but still suburbs), but all five houses on our dead-end street (or the land under them) used to be owned by the same family, so to this day there isn't much in the way of fences or plantings between the property: just alot of lawn and gardens. The street has something of a rustic character as well--public works doesn't make it out here a great deal, and so much the better--as do most of the houses, especially our own. And then, the clincher is that our mailbox is on a plank set atop two posts, along with three others. They used to keep pigs in the little woods behind our house, I'm told, and not so long ago neither.
So I'm taking full advantage of all this rural character, and not only with the garden I've planted (I seem to be suffering from an unbearable urge to bring forth the fruits of the earth, but that's a subject for another post). No, the true joys of country life are to be found while lying in a hammock on our extensive porch. It's also nice to have the sun streaming through the bathroom window in the morning when I take a shower; there wasn't any sun in Arlington, I seem to recall.
Before the move there was much rhetoric among the Arlington appartment residents about a so-called "New Regime" to be put into power in the new house. This New Regime of household government purported to fix the problems of the old appartment, including but not limited to: lack of organization of incoming mail and bills, laundry all over the floor in the bedroom and bathroom, dirty dishes stacked everywhere in the kitchen except in the dishwasher, and that pile of crap by the couch that leah dumped out of her purse two weeks ago. The new regime would streamline all these previous problems by imposing new "Putting away" and "clean up after yourself" legislation upon the inhabitants. Additionally, it was thought that the nicer and more attractive nature of the new house would spontaniously inspire such acts of cleanliness, as it is the natural state of the human heart to yearn for Freedom from clutter.
Such were the optimistic hopes for the New Regime. Unfortunately, insurgent forces of messiness and disorganization have already begun to spring up at this early stage of Cleanliness building. It seems that the Squibix by nature are resistant to the forces of Tidyness. We already begin to see pockets of messiness springing up all over the house: Mail all over the kitchen table, Laundry overflowing from the basket in the bedroom, dried food from our first dinner party all over the stove and counters, and a pile of crap that leah just dumped out of her purse all over the brand new couch. Without the immediate deployment of additional housekeeping forces, i fear the Squibix household may risk descent into permanent messyness.
This current conflict is unlike any that we have faced before. The battle will need to be won in the hearts and minds and under the filthy fingernails of the squibix population.
That's what the bumper stickers say, and that's what was the case here this evening. Leah overstated the problem anyways, in my opinion, but what matters is that things are now almost ready for a general's inspection, or a visit by Joanna--things downstairs, at least. Some parts of upstairs have yet to recover from the move, and other parts are just a little messy in the regular way of things.
I took a horrible long test today, two of them in fact. I may describe my experiences in said examination at a later date.
We had our first official sunday performance from our new rector on Sunday. That's all I want to say about that; I just wanted to get in that ridiculous pun. But it's true, I don't even know her yet. We'll have to wait and see how she does over the long term. I have no doubt she'll prove a marvel of rectitude.
Aright, that's enough of that. I meant to write this post yesterday, and I tried to even, but the squibix web was down or something. Who administrates this shoddy site, anyways?! All seems to be in order now.
Infrequently updated blogs where the author writes nothing but apologies for not having written are dead boring, so you won't get any of that.
So we have some land now: vast expanses of land, the same sort of expanses that inspired the pioneers of the American West in the 19th century, I believe. Our yard is like almost half an acre now. You know that awe that settlers felt on first beholding the great plains? Well, we've got it here. The only disadvantage is the mowing: I've already done it twice, and the second time I hand-counted the individual blades of grass; I'd tell you how many there are, but the number is so long it would stretch out the page beyond the width of your browser window (yes, even you with the gigantic flatscreen monitors!) and just generally mess with the formatting. Suffice it to say, it's more grass than I ever imagined ever having.
But there are advantages to all this land, and one of them is being able to have a garden (or indeed several gardens, were I so inclined). Now, I won't say that I can credit myself with a green thumb yet (it may just be a bit of fungus or mold I picked up) but I feel an irrisistable urge to obtain new plants and put them in the ground. And then take care of them, of course: last night I had a dream that the temperature dropped into the twenties, and I was so worried for my pea plants. Yesterday I built them a fence to climb on out of chicken wire, and then sat with them and gently helped their little tendrils onto its support. They didn't seem to appreciate the aid at the time, but I'm sure they'll be climbing right up in no time.
In any case, it's all very exciting; you may expect many more garden tales in future.
So I know I was going on all about plants yesterday, but that's old hat now. Don't get me wrong--I'm still dead set on this agricultural line--but it ain't vegetables any more. No, that flora can't hold a candle to real live fauna, in this case chickens.
We had somebody from Drumlin Farm come in to the classroom yesterday to show us some eggs and chicks and growed-up chickens (as we are studying eggs at present, and hope to be hatching out our own at a later date). They were really something to watch: the chicks were pretty old, a reasonable double-handful each, and they could jump to a suprising hight with the aid of their wings. They also ran around like crazy, and peeped a little. The hen and rooster were more restrained, but still very impressive and almost as exciting to the children. The rooster crowed several times, which was a real crowd-pleaser.
Anyways, I was immediately overcome with a strong desire to possess some chickens of my own, to be housed in a small chicken-house somewhere on the back of the property. I told Leah about this wish as soon as I was able to, and she brought up the issue of, one has to take care of chickens and presumably they need medical care and things like that from time to time. I'm sure I don't know, but it does sound likely. So maybe we'll wait a while. But someday, definitely, someday. In the mean time I'll always have the plants.
I would have posted yesterday, but all my free time is taken up by gardening. Really! I meant what I said about the chickens the other day, but in view of the difficulties in beginning the chicken project I'm sticking with plants for the time being. Also, I have decided that perhaps plants and animals can coexist, and both be objects of desire for my agricultural soul; it sounds crazy, but I'm told that's how they do it on farms these days. I planted strawberries today and moved some of that sage or whatever it is from the side yard to the back; yesterday I moved some lilies out of the woods into the garden and cut back the (deadly) dead stems of the wild roses and just generally tried to nicen up the woods. Other things too I did, I'm sure, but I can't remember them.
I also picked the first fruit of the garden today, which was vegetables: lettuce to be exact. And they were the most delicious lettuces I ever tasted! Even Leah agreed that they were good, and she is not crazy like I am. I'm boring everyone with all this garden talk, but it's like an irresistable obsession!
You know, the question of whether it's raining is not as simple as we might imagine. The other day, for example, I was working in the garden (really?!) and there was maybe a little drizzle coming down: an increasing drizzle one might say. But there was no sudden downpour, no distinct moment where I could say 'it is now raining'; besides, I wasn't getting very wet. Nevertheless, when I went out to do some errands I couldn't help but notice other people scurrying across the parking lot with their heads down, or huddled under umbrellas. And here I was just strolling along with my head uncovered.
Now, this evening saw something of the same situation, only more so. Sara (one of my young charges) had soccer tryouts, and the setup for such things was such that no makeup date was possible, were it to rain. And it wasn't raining at the start, just, you know, misting. But after about twenty minutes of the ninety minute tryout, any impartial observer would have had a hard time arguing that the rain was not now coming down. Still, the kids on the field played on (not that they had much choice) and the adults, some of them anyways, stayed on the sidelines. Some of them--myself included--even declined the use of umbrellas. It is an interesting psychological observation.
And we've had plenty of time to observe it, because it's been raining plenty. Well, there hasn't been a great deal of rain actually falling, in terms of filling up the rain gauges; what there has been is about ten days in a row when the forcast was mostly cloudy, chance of rain. So folks have been feeling rainy for a long time. I don't mind it though. It's good for the planties.
I am a bad wife.
Dan spent 30 minutes lovingly making me lunch, and i left it on the kitchen table to go rotten and stench up the entire house by the time we get home this evening. And then i call Dan when he's at work and leave a message on his machine that says DID YOU PUT MY LUNCH IN THE FRIDGE BEFORE YOU LEFT, BECAUSE IF YOU DID NOT THE SHAME OF IT ALL WILL CERTAINLY CAUSE ME TO TAKE MY OWN LIFE BEFORE THE END OF THE AFTERNOON.
I am a bad test taker.
I will never get into business school because i will never succeed on the GMAT because i will never learn the multiplication tables because i am a complete idiot and say in front of a group of 10 people that 8 times 4 is 24 and the Princeton Review teacher looks at me as if my face was suddenly smeared with dog shit and asks me slowly to add 8 plus 8 and then add it again. And i say 24. Because my brain is an empty hollow space filled only with Britney tunes.
I am a bad car owner.
I still have my snow tires on my car, and it's almost june. And my front bumper has been broken for two years. And i can't bring myself to take it to the dealership because that involves getting someone else to drive me home, and then i sit at home all day on my one day off without a car and without anything to do. And then they end up keeping the damn thing for three days, and they say it's okay, i'll give you the number for hertz, and i say NO IT'S NOT OKAY BECAUSE I'M ONLY 24 YEARS OLD AND THAT MEANS I CAN OWN A HOUSE AND I CAN OWN A CAR AND I CAN RUN MY OWN BUSINESS AND I CAN PAY TAXES AND I CAN WORK MY ASS OFF, BUT I CAN'T RENT A GODDAMN CAR FOR TWO FREAKIN DAYS so i have to call my mother to drive me around like a little retarded child.
I am a bad manager.
When my employees aren't helping customers i think: I wish you were somewhere else, not in this store, away from me, so that i wouldn't feel burdened to find you something mundane task to do while we make small talk about my f-ing wedding planning DO NOT ASK ME ABOUT MY WEDDING PLANNING DO NOT ASK ME HOW THE WEDDING IS GOING IF YOU ASK ME ONE MORE TIME ABOUT THIS F-ING WEDDING I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO COME OVER THERE AND SLAP ACROSS YOUR UGLY MUG YOU I AM NOT KIDDING I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT BEFORE WHAT MAKES SO FRIGGIN INTERESTED IN MY WEDDING ANYWAY ?
I am a bad adult.
I am tired of working, i am tired of paying bills, i am tired of cleaning the house, i am tired of laundry, i am tired of working so hard, i am tired of leaving the house in the morning carying more lbs in daily luggage than twice my weight, i am tired of planning this stupid wedding, i am tired of being nice to my family, i am tired of studying, i am tired of working so hard, I AM TIRED OF WORKING SO HARD!!!!!
Now, I know I've been accused of talking about the weather too much, but this time it isn't just me: these days the weather is a subject of near-universal discussion here in eastern Massachusetts. That's because there's been a tremendous lot of it. Today it finally stopped raining for the first day in about 17 years, and the sun even came out for about 15 minutes. Long may it last, since we have this big party Sunday. Our house isn't very large, so we might be in trouble if we can't spread the entertainment out to the lawn and porches. In any case, we're cleaning and prettifying the place something fierce, or at least I am; Leah is saved from such things by having to work. The house is going to look great, I promise! Anyone reading this is welcome to stop by Sunday afternoon between 3:00 and 8:00 and celebrate with us.
Wow, it sure was nice out today. Kind of took everybody by suprise, I think. It only rained for like, fifteen minutes out of the whole day! Sadly, I spent most of it inside, making the house all nice and pretty; but I did get out a little bit in the evening, long enough in any case to be bitten by about five hundred mosquitos. Or perhaps it was by the same mosquito five hundred times. I wasn't really keeping track. I killed about twenty of the poor little creatures too, I'm afraid. I was wondering what had caused their numbers to increase so dramatically, and then I saw the six-inch deep standing water in the woods behind my house. There's like a swamp across the street, too, but I think the mosquitos over there limit themselves to biting the kids that live over that way. They (the humans) provided ample dining opportunities today for those across-the-street insects: they spent most of the afternoon playing out in the woods in their bathing suits.
And then I watched some TV this evening, and I happened to see an ad for Budweiser that says we should buy their beer because they're 'the last big american brewery owned by americans.' What a pitch, huh? I know I always choose my beer based on the economic impact of the bewery operation, and many of my friends choose strictly on nationalist principles, so Bud's campaign is sure to be a sweeping sucess. Or it would be, at least, if they could make a beer that's even half-tolerable. I bought Sam Adams for the party.
This morning on my run i saw a deer, just standing there on the bike path, chillin like a villin like it owned the damn thing. It wasn't until i was about five feet away from it that it looked at me as if to say, "Oh, so you want to use this road too?" and then casually hopped its little bum like a billion feet into the air to get over the fence and down the side of the little hill there. It almost made me feel awestruck in sudden closeness to wildlife and nature. Well, it should have almost made me awestruck, except i was in the middle of running through the lyrics to Kelly Clarkson's hazle eyes in my head, and i was calculating that about six miles, that's about 600 calories, that's about a fifth of what i ate yesterday while trying to study for the GMAT, and if i get home in under an hour i'll still have time to shower and pack up my stuff to drive to Bentley straight from work and if only i had remembered to wash my bras yesterday while was at home i wouldn't have to wear the same exact camis i wore to the party on sunday, because even if i wasn't sweating they smell a little bit like wine and sugar, and who wants that smell all day when you're trying to work and study and stay up till midnight and not eat, and what's this flippin deer doing in the way? Doesn't he know i've on a tight schedule?
I have entered the i-will-eat-anything stage of my stress cycle. It comes right after the i-am-on-a-strict-diet-for-the-wedding stage, just when the stress of trying to put together the wedding invitation list meets the stress of trying to take the GMAT in July and not knowing the multiplication tables. At this point i would have to work out for a solid week straight to equal out the amount of chips i ate this weekend while doing math problems. if 2ab=1/a+3/b2, a apparently equals i need to eat a heaping plate of tostitos and b apparently equals times 50million!!!!!
Confidential Note to my old highschool boyfriend: Do you remember how you used to get me speed and it like made me really thin and like able to study? Well, do you think we could that again, but, like, you know, without the me needing to make out with you part?