so much in a symbol

not long after seeing the golden compass....

J: I'm still upset that that website said my daemon was a rat

K: Rats are smart and clever. I'm a rat.

J: Only in the chinese zodiac.

K: Elephants are afraid of rats.

J: I don't think that's actually true...

way better than a pet rock

Apparently, hedgehogs are just the rage right now. I momentarily thought about getting one as a pet since cats and dogs are out of the question. Not quite the petting type of pet, but they are really really cute.

Ah, I love the smell of family around the holidays

Whenever my brother talks to me about our mother he always manages to say "my mother", which always makes me a little nervous*. Like when they wanted to sit us down for a talk a while back and my immediate response was: ok, which one of you isn't my parent?

Actually, a very similar response to how John's dad signs his Christmas cards—Love "Dad".

I'd like to hear any stories that can top these. I mean I know that every family has its eccentricities†, but there are some basics that ours really need to get sorted out.


*And I'm really not joking, I don't think I've ever heard him say our mother, even when we were kids.

†This is a really fun word

the sad truth

I am terribly addicted to internet tv now.

For the longest time I thought only comedy central had it together enough to figure this out but now as I realize so many other networks are catching on, my quick procrastination fix is running rampant.

I swear soon I will let up enough to write a new (real) blog post.

Lesson learned for the day

It is nearly impossible to not burst out laughing when you hear someone whistling the theme to Jurassic park in a random stairwell.

Ok, not completely random, it being a stairwell in an engineering building which may have raised the chance of this happening quite substantially.

And yes, he did sound like a twelve-year-old first-time flute player.

mMMMmm

Best conversation ever. And no, I will not tell you the context.

N: I'm not good at somersaults
A: Me either, they're hard!
N: I like running around chopping up bushes.
A: Wait until you get a shovel! SO MUCH FUN!

observation

Yesterday, I saw a woman carrying a water bottle with half a dozen daisy heads floating on top. I couldn't figure out if she was planning to drink the water (do daisies sweeten the taste of water?) or if she was just carrying it around as a sort of charm. Perhaps she was trying to preserve a bit of summer before we plunge into flowerless seasons.

I also passed by a man who could really whistle. I mean really really well. In comparison, any sort of whistling I've ever done sounds like a twelve-year-old first-time flute player. I don't think I ever knew such a talent existed; I'm very glad it does.

sweet tooth

Every day should include at least a half a cupcake before lunch.

Why do I feel so happy today?

clouded glass

Yesterday my radiator hose exploded, sending faintly green smoke swirling in plumes to the motion of speeding traffic.

We went from crisis to repair shop in under 30 minutes. Not so bad, really. I kept telling myself that in these situations one has a full pardon to forget the rest of the day and go home; that when it seems like an omen is keeping you from work, you maybe should believe it is. But then I went work anyway.

the little things

one of the best things about living with you is that I can raid your sock drawer every morning.

translation, rotation

All of these wedding have allowed me to show off some of my more congenial skills—singing, dancing, calligraphy. I remember an old friend of mine whose mother made sure to impart this very skill set to her daughter to ensure a successful transition from adolescence to married life. The thought suddenly comes to me, I think I could make a pretty good Chinese house wife.

best way to commit

To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, in quiet solitude or blasting across the alkali flats in a jet-powered, monkey-navigated rocket sled; to love and to cherish as long as you both shall live?

My brother has a great sense of humor. A very fun and silly commitment celebration it was. Great show, y'all.

happy zeroith anniversary

Here's to one of the best couples I've ever known. Thanks for getting married; was lots of fun.


The best brides do jigs the morning of the wedding because they're so excited.


The best grooms wear chuck taylors with their wedding suits.

And the absolutely best couples do their own rendition of the first dance together: air guitar solos to sweet child o' mine.

so it goes

Update on the Umbrella Saga

(Is this turning into an umbrella blog? I don't know if those even exist...)

K: I lost my umbrella this morning
J: maybe you have a subconscious urge to minimalize to 1 umbrella each
K: I think a subconcious objective is to slowly supply the world with free umbrellas
J: umbrellas for all!!
you're like the johnny appleseed of umbrellas
spreading little protective bits of love wherever you go
(and I just do it with free NYC transit condoms)

Aimlessly silly

All day today I've had Simpson's the song "See my vest"* stuck in my head.

....Made from real gorilla chest...

...These white slippers are albino African endangered rhino...


*A parody on the Beauty and the Beast song "Be our guest"

Lost in Translation?

K: Do you want me to hook you up with some Japanese candies?
A: Yeah, if you can find vegan ones. We have these marshmallows made with agar-agar but others say gelatin-beef.
K: Yeah, they have plenty of seaweed over there and not much land for sad little pigs and cows
K: We'll make sure they're vegan.

Later that evening...

.....Well, how about you just motion to the candy and oink questioningly?....

King Boring and Queen Fabulous

I just found out that my new home is a five minute walk from a place called King Boring Field.

No Joke. Doesn't that sound like someone asked a six year old to name the place?


After searching on the internet for a while, I discovered that C. King Boring was a Dearbornite and the owner of the Detroit Gems basketball team, who played for one year with that name and eventually became the LA Lakers.

Continuing to read about Dearborn, I learned that it may be the only city that owns land in another state. We own an apartment complex in Florida. How extremely odd.

let us have big hearts and rational words

It has been quite a dramatic year. And I do mean both interpretations of the word: exciting and full of drama (and drama).

I'm building up quite the experience in crisis intervention.

Internal Argument or Sometimes I can be very silly

K: Why are all of these glasses dirty?!?

K: Have you been washing dishes without your glasses again?

. . ...

K: I don't like wearing glasses in the morning :p

This just about sums up our relationship

Mom: You know that house that we own and rent in New Hampshire?

K: The one you were planning on selling to pay for my college and never did? The one I keep telling you to sell since housing prices are probably at their peak in the area?

Mom: Yeah, well I read in the paper that housing prices may be at their peak in the area so I think we're going to sell it.

K: Well I'm glad you finally made a decision.

Mom: Not making a decision is still making a decision.

K: ?

K: Well I think it's a very good idea to sell since you may have been spending more money on maintenance than you've actually made in renting it. Plus, it is probably a good time to invest your money in some other medium than the real estate market right now.

Mom: Yes, it is a very good idea to sell. And we're not even going to have to pay capital gains tax because we'll be buying a similar rental property with the money from the sale.

K: I need to go now...

rhyme and repetition

Telling myself that I love math must be working; I was really excited today to learn that my Stats class will be teaching R.

first day of school

I am a misfit engineer, a wannabe policymaker, poet, sage masquerading as a student who is confident and enthralled in mathematics masquerading as an undergraduate liberal arts kid trying to get into french 101.

re-(dear)born

It's official. I live in Dearborn now. The Thai protectors are now watching over our house in beautiful, wonderful, forgotten Dearborn instead of my former apartments in the tight, crumbling student buildings of Ann Arbor.

While there will always be some friction moving in together, things have gone really well. Many of the closets are overstuffed, and we have to resolve the issue of having two coffee tables, two vacuums, and no less than 24 stemmed glasses*, but there are certain unexpected perks of combining possessions. For instance, I now have an umbrella vase (I've always kind of wanted one of those).

I do have to admit that the whole move hasn't completely sunk in yet. I am starting to feel more at home, and am having an easier time of it than some of our plants. Apparently, ivy grows up in Ann Arbor and down in Dearborn. This one is now thoroughly confused.

*We're thinking of having a house-warming party so that our stemware can be used and some inevitably broken

Let your hair grow long

The move is almost complete! I'm slowly selling most of my belongings and keeping only that which brings me joy. In the meantime I have to put up with waiting in a barren apartment for craigslist people who show up late or not at all. It will all be over soon; the last few materials are being made ready for transport. Which brings me to a most important dedication to my plant who I've let grow long and wild and take over my kitchen window (as well as the surrounding cupboards and part of the sink).


When it first came to me, its vines were probably not longer than a foot. Once they had grown down from their pot all the way to the counter below, I made up my mind not to trim them back but to let it grow wild until it decided otherwise. I soon began to put up hooks that I could wind its vines twice, sometimes three times, around. You could note good times and bad by tracing the groupings of leaves along these vines.

I'm sorry dear plant, I had to trim you back so that you wouldn't be damaged in the move. Your new style looks great. And if you convince me, we can start all over again.

and then there was one

When I first went to college, my mother gave me an umbrella with a head of a duck as the handle. (This gives you an idea of how little she notices what I like.) It was a good umbrella with a quick open button and a pretty large canopy, but I completely detested the duck head. Still, I absolutely refused to spend any money on something as silly as an umbrella. So, I walked around with my hand covering the duckiest part of it. I momentarily considered sawing off the beak of the duck so you couldn't tell what it was, but this seemed rather morbid, so I didn't.

A number of years later I finally decided to buy myself another umbrella for going-out purposes where I couldn't bare to show the duck head for any moment. But because of my persistent stubbornness not to spend money on umbrellas, I bought the cheapest one I could find—one of those that folds up really small but as a result has flimsy linkages. Not surprisingly, it lasted only but a little while before it got testy; it seemed to work fine during a little drizzle, but on those moments when you really need it and the dark clouds overhead start letting loose, it just refused to open.

My next umbrella was a long, pointy umbrella that you use for more for style than for practicality. I bought it to match my swimsuit. I realize this is a difficult concept to explain. Suffice to say that John and I had a lot of crazy ideas for our early dates. Due to some pleasant distractions, I haven’t yet taken it to the beach.

Umbrella number four was bought as a replacement for the duck umbrella after I left it in a friend’s car. A few weeks ago I saw the duck’s eyes peering out of her husband elect’s* back pocket. (Don’t worry Ross, I think it’s much happier with you.) Number four was probably my favorite: tan in color with a quick release and a sturdy canopy; all around a beautiful umbrella. So naturally this is the one I chose to bring on a trip earlier this year, fearing a forecast that called for constant rain. A DC coworker of mine kidded that it seemed a little funny to carry an umbrella when the sky was completely blue and cloud free. Feeling rather silly, I left the umbrella in my hotel room. Not twenty minutes later black clouds appeared out of nowhere and brought a torrential downpour down upon me. Ducking into an icecream parlor, I contemplated how in the hell I was going to get out of this without facing complete wet misery. At that exact moment, a short squat man walked past the parlor window pushing a cart full of umbrellas: five dollars, five dollars. Enter umbrella number five.

Belgium ate number five and six (left by a crazy ex-roommate). C'est assez, Belgique? That made the count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

I am now gazing in the direction of a corner of a coffee shop (which is every coffee shop in every city) where umbrella number four used to be resting. It seems to have disappeared after I relocated to another corner of the coffee shop. I hope someone is happily weathering the rain with their new found tan, wonderful umbrella. I am very sad, left with only one lonely umbrella number three. I guess it’s time to hit the beach.

* she hates the word fiance and so is now bringing this term into fashion

you've got the stuff?

I'm always happy to get letters in the mail, but you can imagine my surprise yesterday when I received this note from an Erin Marra, a name I had never heard before.


What does one do in this situation? Go through the various #7034 gym lockers in town to see what might be waiting there? Send a note back to Vestal, New York? I started to think this was an intricate scam, where I would find the appropriate locker and it would be full of drugs or money, and perhaps even the police waiting to nab anyone who opens it.

Then I remembered that I was expecting a key from my friend Erin (not with the last name Marra, not living in Vestal, and not for a gym locker) and that this was all an elaborate scheme to prevent potential mail stealers from finding the key to her apartment with the address attached.

I know you're trying to be tricky Erin, but this might have been a little much.
.

more drama at work, less at home

When I first met you, I thought: you have to live close to me so my children can know you, even though I wasn't planning on having children.

Today I marked on Google Earth where we all fought on a dark street in Manhattan; where you hung your head outside the cab just to feel the air blowing across your face, just to feel something different; where we spoke on the train. The earth still spins, the sun still shines, and corn and pumpkins still grow at 22nd and 3rd; all is right, all is good.

Sometimes it takes great conflict to bring people closer together.

Happy birthday, Brian.

May your Brooklyn garden always treat you well.

Trapezery

Back from New York for a crazy weekend of karaoke, long island beaches, and of course a trapeze class:




























we did leg hangs, catches-return, and backflip dismounts.
used muscles i didn't even know i had.

see Brian pull it off perfectly here.

Oh, the things we do

It's funny when you get a garbled voicemail that says "your cute" and neither you nor your partner can tell who it's from.

It's even funnier when your partner realizes he left it the night before and forgot all about it.

Dream log

Last night I dreamed that all of our clean water needed to be made by electricity. The lights went out and so we had to collect the trickle of rain falling down our orange roofs. It filled up a clear glass with an eerie glow of green muck. We watched as the gooey sediment fell to the bottom, and I waited for someone else to try the first drink.

Mama Tessa

It's funny when you start talking about a deceased, fictional character like she was a close friend of yours.

....

J: I don't see a need for you to understand everything about me. Tessa was plenty mysterious.

....

K: You know, Tessa would copy articles down to memorize them; maybe that would work for you.

....

I finished the Constant Gardener over a month ago, but she just keeps coming up in conversation.

a change begins

I am moving to Dearborn this fall. I might. I'm pretty sure. It's definitely going to happen.

John owns a wonderful house in Dearborn that just refuses to let us go. It turns out that Dearborn might just be the worst place to own a house right now. Especially if you want to sell it. See more on the crappy real estate market in Michigan, and the curse of the St. Joseph statues. But since we've been trying to live together (in one place, without commuting back and forth, owning two of everything, and driving ourselves crazy) for over a year now, I've decided that it's time to take action and move to Dearborn until the house sell.

So the plan for moving to Dearborn is to commute together into the Ypsilanti-Ann Arbor area. Which really means that I drop John off at work, get to my lonely parking lot on UM's north campus, work a ton since there's nothing much else to do up there, pick John up from work, and drive back home. The plan was to run this routine for the last couple of days since we had to be in Dearborn anyway for house showings and bridal showers. This should be easy, right? No big deal.

Then chaos ensues. The first day, I realized that I had forgotten to pack for three days instead of two and had to return to my Ann Arbor apartment to pick up more clothes. The second day I missed a turn off the freeway and decided to take a detour back home to pick up wrapping paper for the bridal gift. We then realized that the bridal gift is sitting very comfortably in a closet in Dearborn instead of in the car in Ann Arbor where we need it.

This may get some getting used to.

ever constant watcher

.
my love likes to sleep with his eyes open,


and he wonders why bright lights keep him up.
.

little demons

i have decided that i really hate grapenuts. i hate grapenuts. i don't know why i keep trying.

Goddess of the morning red

Ever seen the northern lights?













I grew up in the U.P. I usually saw the northern lights at least twice a year (for hours on end, sometimes weeks) during my entire childhood. They take many shapes: sometimes very pale, ghost-like creatures dancing on top of the stratosphere; sometimes giant, living paint streaks of blue, purple, and red. It's really easy to imagine that some sentient being is trying to communicate with the flashes.

I actually thought that anyone who lived anywhere remotely cold in the northern hemisphere could see the northern lights. It was like our gift for putting up with the bad weather. And I still don't understand why there aren't any southern lights from where the electrons leave their pole.


post script: there are in fact southern lights (aurora australis)! I wonder if you can see them from New Zealand. There are also aurora on Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.

contagious engagement

Last weekend I attended a bridal shower for John's sister, Juli. This marks the beginning of at least five wedding—and all the showers and bachelor(ette) parties that go with them—we will be a part of this year.

This was my first bridal shower, to the horror of many 30+ year old women in pink dresses who would then look down motherly at me: "you'd better get used to it". John came with me to say hello to everyone and then retire with the men and small girls to lunch at an Irish pub. I jokingly expressed my wish that they would sing some good Irish drinking songs to John's step-father, who responded with an honest look, "I know you'd rather be coming with the guys".

Luckily Juli is an amazing person, and although she put on a good show in a sun dress for the occasion, I knew she also felt out of place. You have to understand, this is the woman whose gift registry list is full of power tools. I had to laugh when I saw "nail and file set from sears" on there when I realized she was talking about hardware. And although I had to put up with everyone taunting her about breaking the gift ribbons and guessing how soon it would be until she had children, it was all worth it to see the look on her face when she opened her new table saw, saber saw (with laser guide), and a half a dozen combination squares.

Happy pre-wedding bliss, Juli!

snakes, glorious snakes

Yesterday John and I went for a run in the Arboretum and there, slithering through the grass next to the river, was a man-sized pale green snake. I guess someone decided to take her for a walk.

You surely don't see something like that that every day.

favorite line

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry.
"Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

squibs

I heard this twice today, on separate sides of town:

I don't care about Harry Potter!


Although I am reading it, considering almost all my favorite characters are dead, my care is also waning

The Great Womyn in my Life

Oh Alissa, i admire you,

for working for your family so long, both during the grueling day and those nights making something for a pregnant relative or your favorite nephew.

i love your raw independence, your unfamiliar wary of attachment;

and yet, your honest admission of melting again and again.

i love your intense faith, although sometimes it sets us apart;

how you followed your stubborn ambition to go back to school without support, then cursed it for wanting you to fail, then missed it when you had triumphantly left it behind.

i love your love for colors of earth and stone.

the secrets we keep

I'm the type of person who doesn't mind sharing things.

I may give you a bite of my favorite mint chocolate-chip ice cream. I may finish your water after you've left.

I may, if I like you.

Cherry season is my favorite time of year

when i was six years old i choked on a cherry because i decided that swallowing them whole was the fastest way to eat them. (note to future parents—when your child asks you if you can eat both the stem and the pit of the cherry, try to anticipate what's going to happen next.)

Everything you've been told

It's true. Europe is pretty small. One rental car over a week can in fact take you to four countries. Lunch in Luxembourg, dinner in Germany, just in time to get back to Belgium for a night cap. It is also true that there is constantly a cloud over Belgium. The sun may appear every now and then but it is sure to rain at least once a day. Luckily, we made a break for Normandy for two days and enjoyed the sunshine and beautiful scenery. Yes, our route may look a bit strange, but considering much of the right portion was done without a map, it's not so bad.


I got more than I bargained for on the language front. I thought I'd get a chance to practice my french, and I did. But I did not count on having to remember how to converse in basic german or having to speak bits of coherent dutch. (Yes, that's right, small countries like Belgium and Switzerland divide themselves up into regions that speak the nearest neighboring country's tongue). What I learned is you can still get by speaking german to dutch speakers, and for a lot of words they'll just think you have a really strange accent. Still, I couldn't help having the Swedish-chef like chant "ferdi fundi bundi" in my head all day.

down for the count

Nothing like an hour customer service call trying to fix my internet connection to take the creative spirit out of me.

I'm practicing je suis canadienne but I suppose George Bush est un crétin would suffice

I don't understand how I could both be so excited to go to Belgium but simultaneously doing anything to procrastinate packing for the trip. Maybe I just need the pressure of an impending departure to get me rolling (apparently less than 20 hours is not quite impending). Maybe I've decided that for once it would be fun to go on a trip with nothing packed and pick up stuff along the way. Probably more fun in my head. Better get back to the suitcase.

On another note, I've been practicing my french really hard so that I can say a whole host of useful things:

Would you like to drink something with me?
Est-ce que vous voudriez boire quelque chose avec moi?

What do you want to drink?
Qu'est-ce que vous voudriez boire?

I would like to drink some wine.
Je voudrais du vin, s'il vous plaît.

I don't know if I'll get to chocolate by tomorrow...

cover me in your canopy

Typical Ann Arbor rain today, furious and beautiful.

I have five umbrellas, none of which are with me now. And so I am hiding in an obscure building, oh so thankful that I have my laptop to occupy me while I wait for a calm in the storm. I began to wonder, when did I start minding the rain? Is it because I wonder farther from home now and can't change my drenched clothes? Is it because so many of my destinations are over air-conditioned and it's no fun being cold in the summer? I'm not sure. I haven't figured it out yet. But I do know that a couple of years ago it was no problem to walk down the street in the furious and beautiful rain and now I am waiting for it to pass.

Head in the sand again

I may have figured out one problem that might keep me from being a good blog writer. I have a propensity for getting extremely ambitious about a particular subject, like when I decided to learn french one day and spent the whole evening gleaning words from boowa et koala. Sometimes these periods last for one or two days, sometimes they last for months. But usually, after a while, I'll drop the subject in favor of a new ambition. (Don't worry friends and lovers, this usually doesn't apply to people.) So here's my secret: this post, like a few others, was written on the same day as the previous but saved and posted a few days later to give the appearance that I am a normal blogger that can write a little every couple of days. It's not true.

This habit of binging and neglecting is especially a concern when it comes to reading my partner's blog. While it might be nice to save a dozen posts and read them all when he's away, and it is, sometimes I will find that half of our friends are extremely concerned that he's going to lose it and throw the A-through-K rack out the window and that he's received multiple death threats I never knew about. I'm going to have to keep up with this one.

Stubborn Me

I am determined, determined, determined to make this blog a success.

I realize that I have a tendency to leave three or four months in between my posts and because of my pride in vague, poetic concision they may only consist of a few lines, but I can still do it. I can hold it together.

So my first task as a successful blog owner was to give it a new look. Here it is and I like it.

back to the drawing board

Today NPR told me that thanks to quantum physics, the future and the past are uncertain, which means my previous post is junk.

I'll have to think this over.

Tonight I proved that determinism and free will are the same

Randomness is how we characterize what we can't measure; it does not actually exist.

The day we have learned how to measure everything, science and mathematics will end and art and literature will get all of the funding.


More to come.