Hop

February 25, 2011


No Odd-Friday Lanyards today.  I have to go up to Bryan High around 8:00 to set up the lanyard table/booth for the Color Guard Competition in the morning.  You can stop by the usual time (early evening) if you have the interest and skill set to help me sort the 25+ pounds of beads currently forming a bead stew in the bead room.  This beautiful, but randomized assortment, came from a generous donor from Atlanta, who had grown tired of her jewelry making hobby.  The collection is enormous (both loose beads and jewelry that needs deconstruction), and it will be enormously helpful, once we can get it organized.


I started this post with the title "Hop" but the blogger autofill turned it into "Hope" which would be a nice title, but totally inaccurate.


Today started as another perfect day in paradise.  Willie and Teddy took me on our usual walk.  I could see shadows of birds against the pre-dawn sky taking the early morning flight back north, signaling that I could, indeed, store the heavy woolens and cold weather paraphernalia.  As we neared home, Willie raced ahead.  I supposed he was looking for his cat mistress who he likes to serenade first thing in the morning.  I was wrong.


I rounded the corner into my neighbor's drive, because I thought I saw the shadow of Willie dart that direction.  I found him standing on his back legs, nosed pressed to the wire mesh, watching the neighbor girl's new, white bunnies hop willy-nilly around their hutch like Jiffy-Pop popcorn.


Dragging him home, I felt like a football player training by pulling the sledge behind me.


Once I had Willie home, I had to fetch the incorrigible Teddy.  She had assumed Willie's position, circling the bunny hutch and barking her tiny little bark.  The bunnies had stopped popping randomly around their cage, and were peering down at Teddy sticking their little tongues out in disdain.  


I wonder how long it will take for the bunny union to have to fill in 0 in the blank of their safety sign?

Graph

February 23, 2011

So, Ezra Klein, referenced this graphic in his blog yesterday.  It was derived by a couple business school professors.  This is a shocking disparity between actuality and perception (not to mention the ideal). 

It made me start wondering how much of the world we actual get wrong when we think we have it right.

Is my estimate of how many people enjoy my class this skewed?

How about my perception of how I looked in that new pair of pants I wore yesterday?

The possibilities to be wrong are endless.

It probably slops over into what most people think about how much money goes to pediatric cancer research, either by some esteemed agency like the American Cancer Society or at the federal level.  I'm not sure what you think about this, but here is the actual in 2008.

I had to blew up the graph to extra large, just so you could see the sliver of funding at ACS that actually goes to childhood cancer research.  Does that match what you thought or your ideal?

This graph of the NCI/Pediatric Cancer Funding doesn't even make sense unless you look real hard at it.  It seems like great strides are being made, but even at it's highest level in 2008, the yellow bar ($190) is less than 4% of the total expenditure ($4800) by the National Cancer Institute.

Where is the magic mirror that let's us see this reality and then demand that the reality change so that it matches our perception or maybe even our ideal? 

Do

February 19, 2011


Why it took almost a month after Walter's actual milestone birthday to celebrate with the Tjoelkers at Madden's last night, I can not explain.  Mark's trip to Australia; Elaine's mandatory chauffeur role in the Tjoelker boys' fun-and action-filled schedules;  Walter's many, many late nights at work; my own quick-filling dance card.  I can say with no hesitation that we all deserved a night off and were happy to have Peter Madden and his kitchen staff cooking for us.


Nobody needs one more thing to fit into their schedule, even if ought to be fun and relaxing.


So?


Instead of one more thing, I'll give you several:


Locally, 


We have two "Drives" going on right now:  


1.  underwear, socks, and toiletries for homeless children who attend Bryan school (NOTE:  unfortunately, we have way too many kids that fall into this category in the county)


2.  used books (not textbook or old encyclopedias, but stuff you enjoyed but don't need to keep) for the Hearne Public Library


Drop me a message (here, by email, by text, by facebook, by phone), and I will arrange to get your stuff from you.


Don't have stuff?


Help me man an Erin's Dream Lanyard booth at the Bryan High Color Guard Competition next Saturday.


Not a Local?


Try this, by mail:


Nikki the Red, who many of you know as the young woman who does the blogathon every year to raise money for pediatric cancer research sent me an email asking for something that I have a lot of (and so do you).  She writes:


"I'm in need of the bottom of your junk drawers. I'm looking for any kind of mini items, rusty old things, tiny toys that have been sitting around forever, broken jewelry or single earrings, whatever you have. If you'd be willing to ship it to me, I'll gladly pay your postage."


Apparently, she has an art project in mind.  Email her at pookielocks@ymail.com to work out the details.


What?  You don't live locally and you have no junk to mail to a poor, but creative college student?  Choose a project in your own home town and do something.


If you live in or near Boston or Buffalo, get with the program and donate something to Cure Me I'm Irish:


http://www.willlacey.com/2010/01/cure-me-im-irish-march-6th.html


http://www.curemeimirish-buffalo.org/


Or choose something close to your location and your heart.  Do it, and then leave me a note telling me about it.


Is all this happening too quickly for your already packed schedule?  That's okay, you can start planning your spring cleaning around the Erin Buenger Memorial Scholarship garage sale, coming on May 7.  Set aside your great garage sale items.  I'll arrange pick up and storage.




It doesn't matter.  You're busy, but not too busy to help.  


Let's Do It!

Break

February 13, 2011


If your dentist has his fingers in your mouth, that last thing you want him to mutter is, "Classic!"  When that happened to me on Friday morning the first thing I thought was "I hope he's not thinking of buying a classic/vintage auto based on the fees he sees looking in my mouth."  The second thing I thought was "Wake up, Vickie.  You must be having one of those dreams where your teeth fall out of your mouth.  Don't they signify that you are afraid of losing control?  Maybe I'm dreaming and my teeth really aren't falling out of my mouth.  But that can't be right.  Vickie would NEVER be anxious about losing control!"


So, it wasn't that bad.  I have, apparently, reached the age where my teeth may start breaking (from years of chewing? Will a liquid diet save the rest of them at this point?  Could I survive on hops-based or grape-based liquids?).  Sig Kendall, my hero dentist (who I called at home on Thursday night after I discovered half a tooth missing.  NOTE:  back before I was the mother of a pediatric cancer patient, I would never have called a doctor or dentist at home, especially in a case like this where there was no blood and no pain.) suggested I stop by his office at 7:45 on Friday so he could have a look and give me a temporary fix.  I countered with 7:30, so I could make a scheduled meeting.  He agreed.  By 7:50 on Friday morning, I was headed out of Sig's door on my way to my first meeting of the day and secure until next Thursday when I go back.


I turned back towards him as I departed and said, "That was quick.  You can grab a cup of coffee before you first real patient."  


But he had no patients coming in.  He had opened the office himself, turned on all the equipment, and organized his tray without any staff assistance.  Last Friday was his day off.  He was headed up towards Stephenville to deal with his place there.  All the pipes and the pump had frozen earlier in the week.  But he thought it was important to take time to come in and fix my tooth before he started the 200 miles he had to cover before he started plumbing.


This is the dentist who made a house call Erin's last week of life because one of her canine teeth was bothering her.  Have you ever heard of a dentist that makes House Calls?


This was the dentist who would sit in the floor to do Davis's and Erin's dental exams when they first started dental care at age two, because they were both a bit afraid of the chair.


Now you know why I have a dentist for a hero.

Bead!

February 6, 2011

If you are keeping track, this Friday is an Odd Friday and that means Party!  I am pretty sure that we are expecting more cold weather midweek (that's Texas cold, not Minnesota cold), but if you wear gloves, sit on your hands, or keep them tucked in your armpits on Wednesday and Thursday, then they will probably be okay to hold wire and pick up tiny beads by Friday afternoon.  I will look for you after school or after work, and I promise we will have excellent snacks!

If you can only be here in spirit, we will miss you, but not hold it against you.  One option for non-attenders is to stop by the new Semi-catalogue page at Erin's Dream Lanyards and let me know what you think.  I still have several more lanyard lines to write up and post, but this is a start.  We are about to get a lot of exposure through four pretty large sales opportunities in the next six weeks, and I am trying to get ready--both on inventory and support.

 

Take Care

January 30, 2011


Art Linkletter, who died last year at 97, parlayed a career in radio and early television into something remarkable by focusing on children and their take on the world.


I have a five-year-old friend.  She and her mom had passed some winter germs back and forth, and yesterday was the mother's day to feel poorly.  The little girl had told her dad about her mom's illness on the phone and as they said goodbye, he told her to take care of her mommy and maybe get her some breakfast.


My friend scavenged the kitchen, found a plate, and pulled some items out to make her mom a tidy breakfast.  She carried the plate into her mom's bedroom:  

Poptarts, a banana, and a Bud Light.  That covers the basic food groups for a quick recovery, don't you think?

Welcome

January 28, 2011


I have a new "Something Distinctive" about myself.  Walter gave me the gloves I wear (cashmere lined, no less) as my Valentine's gift the February before we got married. 

I suppose numerous people my age have gloves significantly older than their children.  Mine (my gloves, not my kids) will celebrate their 27th birthday in a couple of weeks.  But that's not what sets my gloves apart.


Last Thursday, my soccer team had its first practice of the season on a frozen night with high winds.  I, the cold weather weenie, bundled up--three layers on bottom, four on top--and chose to wear my heavier gloves and carry my special Valentine gloves in my stadium coat pocket (which is the reverse of what I usually do). 


Somehow I managed to arrive home with only three gloves.  I called my team's trainer to see if he had picked up my special, ancient token of Walter's regard.  Nope.  He actually went out to the fields the next day to look around for it.  Nope, again.


Five days passed.  I had to coach over the weekend in my less than satisfactory, bulky, unlucky gloves (which might explain our 0-3 performance).  I had resigned myself to hoping that Walter would still love me enough to get me new gloves this Valentine's Day.  I pulled up in the pitted, caliche parking lot, gathered my gear and looked down before I began the long trudge to our practice site.  And there on the ground, blending in with the stones and dust of the parking surface, obviously run over a few times, was my beloved glove.


Has anyone ever lost a glove and actually found it five days later, in the dark?


And as long as I am asking interesting questions, how did I come by such interesting and idiosyncratic friends?  And I'm sure the comments you have left (here and on Facebook) have not even touch the surface of what is out there.


So pardon me a few minutes to respond and comment on my commenters:


Joan--Yes, I still play trombone, but I am looking for a new ensemble as my old one broke up.  And, I'm not going to let you off the hook.  We are all waiting to hear something distinctive about you.


Debi--Thank you for your compliments and for jumping in for the first time.  We loved Pittsburgh when we visited Davis there and I can think of no amusement park that is more accessible or a better bargain than Kennywood.


And for those of you who are not my Facebook friends, I wanted to share these two distinctive readers:


Tanya--who has "been to Hawaii without ever having seen a thing there (my mom was pregnant with me the last time she and dad went!)...I broke my hand 200 feet above ground, riding on a zipline in Costa Rica...I can make my own walleye fishing lures...I loved Erin like crazy, even though I never met her in person."--how did you finish your zipline ride with a broken hand?


Alice--who I knew was amazing, but who may have the most distinctive comment:  "I can take a newly shorn fleece and wash it, comb, card, and dye it, spin the wool into yarn and weave or knit the yarn into something beautiful...BUT I cannot shear the sheep. I can also do the samething with cotton... no sheep involved in this one."


And for those of you who don't check through on the Comments here:


Erin--I only eat yellow box Cream of Wheat (never the red).  By the way, asking a question, even a a good question does not excuse you from writing something distinctive about yourself.


brooke--(Only for you would I deliberately leave a letter un-capitalied)  "i tried out for the olympics in whitewater slalom kayaking in 1992.  i've lived in 5 states and 4 towns, one major city and 3 minor cities. 2 of the towns and 1 of the minor cities were college towns or "college minor city".  i am an academic kid. (my parents were academics, their friends were academics, their partners were academics, etc..). i don't think there was a key adult in my life who didn't have a phd or who wasn't getting one.  i am 4'8" tall.  i can knit without looking.  i've been blogging since election day of 2000.  i am a life long democrat. yes, i even campaigned for mondale & ferarro when i was 11. doesn't mean i'm a big fan of the party these days though :("

Olivia--who recently lost one of her dearest friends also took the time to leave a comment "I lived in Belfast, Northern Ireland for a year. Belfast is my favorite city.  I think wearing Dora band aids is much better than the standard of band aid and I am convinced using them makes your injuries heal more quickly.  I am 27. Most people I meet think I am 10 years younger...at least.  I adore sarcasm.  I read history books for fun.  I am left-handed.  I looooove cleaning!"


Okay, just like that television network says, "Characters Welcome!"


And for your viewing pleasure, and to see what a fatty Uma (with the "unfillable corgi tummy"--description credited to Mara, who would know) once was.

And yes, that is Erin holding the camera and laughing.

Stand Out

January 26, 2011

So here I sit, one week after Walter's birthday, having not even mentioned it.  We celebrated quietly, but effectively, and will probably go on celebrating for several more weeks.  We have managed to get the year and the semester started, and no doubt it will all be a mad rush to Christmas and New Years, but we will gladly take you along for the ride for another year in the life of the Buengers.

Every semester I gather some information from my students on the first day of class.  Some of it is pretty prosaic (what telephone number can I use if I really need to contact you?).  Other information helps me gear my courses more specifically to their interests.  I also ask some questions just to take the temperature of the class and to get to know them a bit better.  I have done this for years, and the answers give me both a generalized view of the students and also an angle on their peculiarities.

One question I always ask is for them to tell me "Something Distinctive" about themselves.  Here is this semester's answers (one student per distinctive thing), with the more entertaining ones highlighted:

I don’t eat anything green.  ANYTHING.

Identical twin brother

High school in Rhode Island

I only have 24 teeth

Love to sail

Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia

Sing and play keyboard

Love salt water fishing

Switched majors twice

Creative

RE License

I have a scar from a pencil sharpener accident

Heart surgery. Plus waterfall repelling

Hate math, love statistics

Violinist

9^th generation named Virginia in my family

Can sing Disney songs in Spanish

From New Jersey

Africana Studies/Philosophy

Youngest of 7 kids

1^st generation born in US

365 Project

Extremely messy yet organized

Can make a pretty awesome chocolate cake

I can clap my 100% flat feet like hands

Born in Mexico

Triathlete

Lived in Africa

From an emerging country

Grew up on a farm

Always look at the pros and cons before deciding anything

French

Single dad

Love cricket

Love ribeye steak

Play water polo

Huge fan of Family Guy and American Dad

Play in a band in Houston

Fence

Bad cook

Remembers silly things and forgets important things

Good cook/green thumb

11 siblings

I value practicality and hate tradition

Never broken a bone

I have both dimples and freckles (NOTE:  I didn't realize this was rare, but apparently it is)

I am reclusive

I play lacrosse and trumpet

I can crack the knuckles of my toes without touching them with my hand

I smile a lot and wear purple

Likes to learn many topics

Obsessed with productivity and time management

Proud Armenian

I have studied in France, New York, and Beijing

Every man in my family is named James

I go to Hawaii at least once a year

I have a twin sister

I speak Chinese, English, and Japanese

I can remember lyrics to Thai songs

Perfectionist

Deployed to Iraq

Studied abroad

Eagle Scout

Aren't they diverse?  I tell them some distinctive things about myself:

I play trombone.

I will not watch online videos that are supposed to be funny because someone accidentally gets hurt.  EVER. 

I am completely in the dark about reality television.

I like Cream of Wheat (not instant) much better than oatmeal. 

I can consistently fall asleep within two minutes of lying down.

There are many more things that I could mention, but I won't reveal any more until I hear how you stand out. 

Diet

January 21, 2011

What would you do with 51 cans of Del Monte French Style No Salt Added green beans?

We feed them to Uma.

You can see Uma under Walter's right arm in this (pre-Teddy) family photo:

From WELCOME TO ERIN'S HOME

Don't you think it's a shame for a dog to have so many chins? (I'm going to add a video here if I can find it that demonstrate her true proportions, so you may want to check back later.)

Walter's friend Bob Calvert's widow gave us Uma (aptly? named for Uma Thurman) after Bob died a decade ago.  Uma has always been a model of anxiety and insecurity and for as long as she has lived with us has eaten as a way to calm her inner demons.  Her palate warms to savory and unsavory items dropped on the kitchen floor, bird seed spilled out from the feeder, and anything rotten discovered on her long side trips to the compost pile.  We got to the end of the rope with her over Thanksgiving when she dug up the daffodil bulbs we had just planted, on the theory that they were tasty, rather than toxic, morsels (see line 1 of this handy chart).


Since then, we have added a can of green beans to her daily diet.  Each can adds a mere 70 calories to her intake, but takes up a good portion of her stomach and seems to take the edge off of her almost unquenchable hunger.  She seems calmer and perhaps more svelte.  And as best we can tell it produces no unseemly side effects.

Dream

January 17, 2011


If it is January 17, it must be time for your annual reminder of the words of Martin Luther King, Jr.  I did't have to do this regularly until a couple of years ago, when the local paper stopped running the text of the speech in the paper.


Here, for example, is one of my favoritely titled posts of all time:  Don't Lean In.  I didn't have to focus on MLK that day because we had handled it in-house.  It was only in 2009, when the paper let me down, that I had to take matters in my own hand.

http://erinbuenger.blogspot.com/2009/01/still-waiting.html

And again, last year:

http://erinbuenger.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html


This being Aggieland, I have now created a tradition by doing something twice in a row.  So here is your 2011 MLK "I Have a Dream" speech.  This time the complete version.  Try to watch it without tearing up.  I can't.

Change

January 14, 2011

I began the day wondering if I was still a virgin. I looked it up on the internet, and I am. 

Walter on the other hand, needs to come out of the closet.  After living under DADT for his entire life, pretending to be something he was not, I discovered today that he was a Sagittarius, not a Capricorn.  I needed to learn what I had gotten myself  into now that Walter's true and essential self had been revealed after all these decades.  I found a description of Sagittarius here.  (Sagittarius is a centaur, definitely not the randy, old goat that he always led me to believe he was.  And how did he trick me for more than a quarter of a century so that I didn't notice he was half man and half horse.  I mean, really?  I couldn't tell the difference between a goat and half a horse?) 

How could I have missed that he was really "blindly optimistic," "careless," "irresponsible," and "jovial?"  You think you know someone, then bang, the astrological calender changes and you find yourself wondering, really wondering.

My mother (and Erin) have become Tauruses (Taurusii?).

Davis is now a bland Pisces.


I can only take comfort that some things remain constant, and yes, I persist as the perpetual virgin.  My only question is how my sister, Katherine, became a virgin after all this time.  

Drudge

January 13, 2011

With only two of five runways open at Logan and scenes like this, I can say with enthusiasm that I'm glad we flew to Boston last Thursday rather than today (Funny how this photo just blends right in the Let's Do It! wallpaper).

In fact, practically everywhere in the country (except here and also where the Tjoelkers are vacationing) has snow.

 

I guess it doesn't really matter what the weather is like, given how I have had to spend my days since we returned from Boston:  doing the mind-numbing work of migrating all my teaching and personal files to a new server (before class starts next week).  I wish it were as simple as drag and drop or copy and paste.  It actually requires that I rename each file and link individually.

The only thing that has cheered me much is how well Erin's Dream Lanyards has been doing.  We had a very robust holiday season and are preparing to set up tables/booths at four events next month.  We have scheduled a workshop for MLK Day afternoon to build up our stocks.  Come if you can.  I will be the person with the hunched over posture and fingers that looked permanently curled to a keyboard.

M-I-C-K-I-E

January 9, 2010

Walter's Aunt Martha and Uncle Herman did not start out as native English speakers (German on the one hand, Polish on the other), but they caught on well and I never had any trouble understanding anything either one of them said.  I remember the first time they drove over the couple of hours from Taylor to meet the infant Davis.  They had never had children, but had proudly claimed all of their nieces and nephews (and their offspring) over the years. 

Aunt Martha handled Davis like a pro, enveloping the bundle he was, and cooing into his sleeping face.  Uncle Herman then took his turn. . . not quite as expertly, I recall.  He held Davis in the crook of his elbow, but somehow, Davis's head ended up lower than his feet and in the ensuing moments started fretting a little.

Uncle Herman stared down at him, wondering whether his turn had lasted long enough to satisfy the dictates of politeness or whether he was stuck with a baby that was about to go off like a bomb.  Aunt Martha nudged him firmly with her elbow, and as it dug into Herman's side, she hissed "Jiggle him, Herman, jiggle him."  And jiggle him, indeed.  Herman started bouncing Davis in his arms and surprised Davis into silence and perhaps a return to slumber. 

That wasn't enough for Martha, however.  She was convinced that Davis would wake back up and fuss if Herman stopped, even for a moment.  So as we talked about the spring rains and the fine wildflower showing they had seen roadside on the drive over and how the cotton looked in the fields, she would interrupt the flow every once in a while with admonition to "keep jiggling" if Herman's will to jiggle flagged even a little.

I recall this story, because I had a chance to remember both of them Friday night.  I have a pretty easy to pronounce first name and rarely have a chance to hear people mis-calling my name.  Being with Aunt Martha and Uncle Herman was always one exception, because they tended to use German/Polish consonant pronunciation, so that Vickie and Walter came out Wickie and Valter.  Meeting my new friend Evelyn Lacey on Friday night, introduced a new variation on Vickie:  Mickie.

Pat and Dina Lacey, parents of the wonderful Will(iam), Evelyn, and Catherine had me out for family pizza night on Friday (and Catherine can stow away the pizza!).  If any of you have ever watched the "Dance, Dance" videos that Pat posts, I am here to attest to their authenticity and energy.  Pat, out of respect for my students' ability to find anything on the internet that might be construed as suspect about their professor's habits and hobbies, did not record our dance frenzy (or our wrestling moves), but let me just say that we had a joy-filled time and that Evelyn's face and relative primness of her body language below does not reflect the pace and delight of the rest of the night, as she continued to try to attract my attention for the next thing:  "Mickie, my turn!  Mickie, come here!  Mickie, Mickie, Mickie!"

I also got to browse Will's Friday folder, where I saw his perfect spelling test and we engaged in a long a detailed conversation about his library book about snakes.  I don't think he believed me when I told him about all the snakes we have at Leisure Lake, six of which were shown in actual color photos in the very book he had checked out of his very own school library.  I think I am now a very exotic person.

Thank you Pat for picking me up and driving me back to Boston.  Your family is the highlight of the trip, barely edging out my long walk through the winter wonderland of Beacon Hill, the Boston Commons, and the amazingly frozen Charles River (in my perfect, borrowed snow boots).

*********

NOTE to Catherine:  Thanks for the inquiry about the small violin and piano that we gave Adam and Nico for Christmas.  I would say that the piano is about Barbie size, but the violin would be about cello size for a Barbie.  They are both music boxes and have excellent detail.  The violin even comes with a carrying case, so you can pretend like you are carrying a small machine gun a la Mugsy Malone.  I found them at the Signals catalogue. 

Waste

January 5, 2010


I read in the paper this morning that Americans waste 160 billion pounds of food each year.  Some comes (I imagine) from those trays of foods the cafeteria ladies dump into the trash after the kids have eaten the roll and picked the bits of meat off the faux pizza slice.  I figure another pretty big amount comes from supermarkets disposing of regulated products that pass their expiration date.  Close to half, however, comes from our homes.  When I say "our," I'm not just talking about Walter and my home, but I will admit that we have had some trouble trimming our shopping and cooking down to accommodate two rather than four. We don't seem to get through the milk in a timely way.  We end up composting more spoiled produce than we should (composting is better than landfilling, but not that much better).  We seem to feel there is some virtue in storing our leftovers in little plastic tubs that clutter the refrigerator for a requisite number of days before we toss them in the garbage, rather than throwing them out immediately after they become left over.  Is it delusional in addition to being excessive to imagine that someone might reheat and reuse those items?


I don't think I can eliminate food waste, but I think I can do better than I am.  One solution I'm going to try:


Once a week (or every other week) take all the saggy, wilty produce from the refrigerator, put it all in a stock pot with water.  Make vegetable stock.  Compost what remains of the even soggier, wiltier vegetables and freeze the stock instead of buying canned stock for my cooking needs.


Any other ideas?


Walter and I are headed to Boston tomorrow for a professional meeting.  What was I thinking?  At least Mary Ann was sympathetic enough to lend me some snow boots.  Now I have to figure out how to fit them in my suitcase (and wonder if anything in my professional wardrobe goes with orange snow boots).

Terrorize

December 31, 2010


I should probably wax poetic about the end of the year, my lessons learned, my hopes for 2011.  I may fall into that trap tomorrow.  Today I want to tell you about my trip to the meat market.  


Until breakfast this morning, Walter and I were undecided about whether to cook New Year's Day dinner or take the fam to eat out.  We finally decided on eating in, so that we could guarantee the right kind of luck and money (black-eyed peas and cabbage) in our NYD diets.  This sent me off shortly after breakfast to Readfield's (my butcher) in search of a pork loin.  I took my running buddy, Emma (niece extraordinaire) with me.

Said niece, Emma

Emma was fascinated by a store where all you can buy is meat and meat-related stuff.  After Ben, my favorite butcher (and don't tell me that everyone doesn't have a fave butcher), picked and wrapped our roast, Emma wanted to carry that almost ten pound beauty to the cash register.  


At first she cradled it, but since it is long and a bit unwieldy, she opted for slinging it over her shoulder (like a continental solider), and hefting it to the check out.  I helped her get it up on the counter, where she tapped on it while Tammy rang it up.  Someone asked if she was tenderizing it, and she agreed that that was what she was doing.


Emma insisted on carrying it out to the car and pulled it up on her lap for the ride home, where she continued to make a very satisfying noise slapping it as we drove along.


After a few minutes she asked, "Aunt Vickie, do you think I have terrorized this end enough?"


I pronounced it suitably terrorized and she worked her way to the other end.


I am perfectly certain that we will have the most terrorized roast in the neighborhood for our family dinner tomorrow and with all the black-eyed peas and cabbage we are going to eat, we will be the most fortunate family as well.

Report

December 28, 2010

Merry Christmas!

I accidentally decided to take a Christmas hiatus.  Over the last week, I considered posting.  Who wouldn't have wanted to read my sassy description of Davis bringing his pots and pans home for Christmas SO THAT HIS MOM AND DAD COULD HELP HIM SCRUB THEIR OIL ENCRUSTED BOTTOMS?

Adam definitely asked me to do a post about the Christmas day concert that he and Nico performed at our house on their new violin and grand piano music boxes.

There has to be a story worth relating about my niece dating a mouse elephant.

You definitely deserve to read the account of the annual Christmas bird count (as performed by the Brazos Master Naturalist and/or the local Audubon Society).  Once again they spotted at least 150 vultures that live at one house.  Those black dots on and around this house are roosting vultures not multiple lightning rods.

While those intrepid bird watchers/counters roamed the county spotting over 500 birds, about twenty Canadian (I'm guessing on their nationality. I didn't check their documents) geese dropped by our lake for a bit of a swim before they moved on further south.

This morning (I use that term more in hope than in confidence, since Davis is still asleep) we are packing the Young Prince up and sending him back to Ohio, betting once again that he can squeeze through between the storm that just blanketed the eastern half of the country and the one that's pending.  I just don't know how he is going to work at the incredibly high standard and rate of productivity that he has become accustomed to, thanks to his diligent and able assistants:

Fix

December 22, 2010


I can't figure out why some people can't view the long and the short version of the two C-SPAN videos r when I post them within the same entry.  Here is the short (Erin) version.  The longer version and the explanation is in the original entry below:

Observe (Personally)

December 22, 2010


I had planned a journal entry for today that involved a youtube video and wind.  I can save it.  


Instead, I'm going to exercise a point of personal privilege this morning, much as Congressman Chet Edwards did on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives last night.  I encourage you to watch the entire twenty-five minutes if you have the time as he talks about what is right and best about America (this video starts about half a minute before he takes the floor, but it was the best I could do in the way of editing the C-SPAN video so that you didn't have to watch the preceding ten hours and 57 minutes of deliberations).  If you don't have a half an hour to spare, skip to the second clip I have embedded below (SPOILER ALERT:  Erin plays a featured role as her legacy becomes part of the permanent Congressional record.).  It's just a minute or two that comes near the end of his speech.  Let me know what you think.

Clean and Caption

December 16, 2010

Cleaning up at the end of the semester gives me a brilliant, liberating feeling.  It goes beyond clearing my office desk and credenza.  I tackled the desk in Erin's room this morning.  I work in Erin's room almost every day.  I check my mail on the laptop at her desk.  We have all the beading activity in her room.  As you know, any flat surface accumulates stuff, and her desk is no exception, so this morning I returned all the strewn about markers that Emma had used to make Thanksgiving decorations back to their various containers.  I sorted bead project addresses and receipts and put them away.  I now have a clean flat surface, so more stuff can start building up!

In the process I opened one of the gazillion books, notebooks, photo albums, diaries, etc. that Erin was always starting and abandoning.  

For your entertainment, here is a sampling from that very Lisa Frank Diva Photo Album.  I have written her own caption that she included on the back of each photo (proving, once again, that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree--I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to find the perfect caption for each photo I put in an album, which explains why I am six years behind in getting my photos organized.).

"the karatie boggie  EB, CS!"

NOTE BENE:  I think she meant "the karate boogie."

"Long way from success or should I say tall?"

I also found this in the "notes" section of the album, thus affirming the lovely effect cleaning and sorting can have:

Anticipate

December 12, 2010


At first, Davis was going to stay a few days in Columbus after he finished taking and grading finals.  I figured he had earned a little time to blow off steam and hang out without responsibilities or even having to explain to his (very understanding) mother why he was awake when he should be sleeping and vice versa. Friday night he called for travel advice:  should he try to slip out of town and down IH65 as the very rainy front pushed through and before the very snowy front arrived?  I hadn't watched the weather, so I assumed he could let it pass on through over the weekend and get on the road on Monday.  


When Walter and I tuned into the weather channel over coffee on Saturday morning, the news looked grimmer.  If he missed that very small window that appeared to be open between late Saturday morning and late Saturday night, it would be next Thursday at the earliest before he had another safe opportunity to drive out of Ohio.


Never mind that his sleep was way off from the cumulative effect of late night studying plus the marathon grading party that he and the other TA's had until 5:30 a.m. one night this week to get final grades turned in in time.  He packed up and got on the road:  Columbus, Cincinnati, Louisville, Bowling Green, Nashville, Memphis, Little Rock, Texarkana, and then a series of small east Texas towns.  Since he left, we have spent more than our usual amount of time in front of the weather channel and with a tab to weather.com opened, watching as this cold front swept the path behind him.


I have a pot of green chile chicken and potato soup on the stove and think he might arrive by 9:00 or so this evening.  There's are many ways to drive the final 250 miles of his journey, but no good way.  Just two-lane windy, hilly (for Texas) roads through little east Texas towns.


View Larger Map

I hate waiting.


(FYI--DAVIS ARRIVED SAFELY LAST NIGHT)