The day is lost

I'm not going to do anything school-y for an entire week when I get home. After that, I'll have to start researching, but just think about it! That means no response papers, no article reading, no pretending that I know what I'm presenting about while presenting, etc. This also means I won't have to stall before doing school-y things. I'm pretty good at stalling. Watch this:

Saturday 10:12- Consider waking up because my bed is very warm from heated mattress pad/ skylight combination. I also remember that I have a filled out punch card for the bagel place down the street and decide that today could be a free bagel day.
10:23- Officially wake up to Michael's phone call. We have "races" to see who can wake the other person up if they're being lazy. This might sound crazy. It is.
10:45- Go out on my balcony with oatmeal and my laptop with big plans to finish one of my projects.
10:55- It starts raining, oh well! I can't type in the rain. Better go do something else...
11:00- Bubble bath.
11:35- Consider getting out of the bath, but decide that it will be really cold out there.
11:36- Run more water into the bath.
12:00- Get out, turn on the heat. Shake my fist at the cold rain. Sit down on the couch to decide what would be better for lunch a grilled cheese, or a free bagel?
12:03- Accidentally watch Grey's Anatomy.
12:30- Nap
1:00- Consider waking up because it's so cold.
1:01- Pull extra blanket out from under the couch.
2:00- Wake up to the horrible realization that the bagel place is closed.
2:05- Decide that the day is lost.
2:10- Make grilled cheese and rearrange all the cabinets.
2:30- Clean out the clean fridge.
3:00- Think about starting final projects.
3:10- Blog


How am I supposed to work without a garlic artichoke bagel? I guess I'll have to do everything tomorrow.

Identity Crisis

Michael and I read the Eugene weekly as usual and decided to go to a wildflower festival outside of town. Remix: I make Michael do things so as to avoid my homework.

We, finally, found the arboretum and got in a line of cars for parking. Most of the them were Hybrid Prius, with a few running on bioethenal. Then we spotted another line of cars--not cars, trucks with American flag decals, towing trailers. Little did we know, the wagons were full of civil war reenactment gear. Large signs read "Civil War! -->" We were at a crossroads. Naturally, we parked in the middle and went to both. I feel the need to report that the wildflower visitors were required to walk a half a mile, while the civil war spectators had a shuttle bus. Of course.

Round One: A Nature Walk with Tom

We learned about the destructive nature of geraniums and Douglas Firs, and the sexual practices of maple trees. Quote of the hour? "When male plants can't find any female plants, the tree drops them, since there's no point in fertilizing yourself." Here I am, tree hugging.

 We were accompanied by a family with a little girl in a bucket hat (aka me, age five), a few older ladies and a woman wearing a raccoon tail, as if that was a valid option. We also learned that Michael must have great eye contact, because when ever we go on one of these things, the guide talks directly to him. He handles the attention by nodding wide-eyed with discomfort and standing behind me. It was a beautiful place--it doesn't seem fair for one place to be so green. We also really liked the "Human-powered vending machine." So much so, that Michael bought a banana. I considered getting my face painted, but I didn't want to look like a target for our next event.

 

 Round Two: Civil War Reenactment

Let's just say there was no organic fruit at the civil war reenactment, the "Coexist" bumper stickers changed to "Not my President," and suddenly suspenders were in fashion. I'll stop, before someone accuses me of stereotyping. We walked through the camps before the battle (oddly, they never said which battle it was...) and witnessed a child being recruited by a Union soldier while they stood in line for the porter potty. 

I used all my best Gone With the Wind jokes and sang songs from Cold Mountain, and we took our seats. The children all around were either terrified or giggling. Come to think of it, so was I.

The kid next to me was pretty into it. Quote of the hour? "I think the blue teams going to win, Grandpa."  The canons were outrageously loud. 

I have some shoddy camera work here when the canon goes off (sorry, it was scary). Michael's busy pointing out historical inaccuracies.

The dialog from the soldiers included "Medic, help this lieutenant!" and "We're going to need more ammo, general." One man repeatedly yelled, "Arrrrgggg" from the Union side.

No one died for the first twenty minutes, but then people started dropping. I think I would be great at dying. Put me in coach. 

This is the Confederate last stand, the fighting's getting closer to the audience. My favorite soldier is the portly gentlemen with a pistol who gets in there at the last second. The horsemen with the floppy hat is also entertaining.

 

Big thanks to the city of Eugene for accommodating our eclectic interests. Pretty good day. That banana was delicious.

Dear Mom

Mom,

We’re going to have to rain check on our Mother’s Day festivities, since I’m living in a different state and all, but I thought I’d give you a blog post instead of sending you something. Amazon recommended that I buy you a diamond pendant, but I’m going to go with this…

You are the easiest person to talk to in the entire world—I have no doubts. Even about things that are supposed to be hard to talk about or that no one else talks about with their mom. You’re not just a friend that’s a good listener though; you’re my mom. You give me mom advice and mom praise and you help me talk through problems. You’re really good at the praise part though. For example, you can make me feel great in a dressing room, which can be a depressing place. Most people can’t wear turtlenecks like you can, Sarah. I also think your shoulders are really pretty. I didn’t even know shoulders could be pretty. Now, I’m incredibly confident about my shoulders. I must have got my ego from you. Nah, I did that without any help—are you impressed?

Come to think of it, I think I got my sense of humor from you. Remember when my kindergarten teacher told you that I was a little sarcastic? I have no idea where that came from… I have to say, I wish I was being sarcastic about my outfit in the picture below, but I seem to genuinely think I'm lookin' cool.

You spin terrible situations. You don’t sugar coat things or turn into a maniacal cheerleader or anything, you just calmly reason out the good while remaining empathetic. I’m really impressed with how mature and classy you’re being about this break-up. I got dumped. But, somehow you salvaged something from the wreckage every time. Your Marie Callendar’s uniform is ugly, but that color looks nice on you and at least you don’t have to waste real clothes on work. And when situations are too terrible to spin, you just nod and that makes me feel better too—like seventh grade, or when Daddy fell.

Growing up, you read me books out loud while I bounced around on the end of the waterbed. If I ever have kids, I have only one plan: they’re going to hear Little House on the Prairie, The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter before they fall asleep. 

Also, if you could give my children “the talk” I’d really appreciate it. You were pretty amazing at Halloween costumes too—I should say you are pretty amazing, because Star Wars 2009 wasn’t too long ago. I was half Dorothy/half Scarecrow one year—you can’t buy that one at a store. I’m pretty positive there isn’t a pattern either.

Last weekend I watched the Bloomsday racers run by in front of Michael’s apartment. I saw a lot of families and I got a little emotional remembering how fun it was to run races (I spent a lot of time walking, but still) and to watch you run in your marathons. Dad would shuttle Laura and I around so we could see you multiple times during the race—I know you never broke any world records but it was really fun to cheer for mommy. I think that’s because you spent a lot of time clapping after my concerts, and I have to say they always meant more to me when you and dad were there. 

I thought walking in my graduation would be lame, but it felt great knowing that you were doing the Scotsman right behind me. I hope you’ll whistle at my Master’s graduation. That’s reason enough to study.

I’m a little obsessed with merging my worlds—I loved bringing friends home from school to play games with you (and dad, before he fell asleep). Sometimes they never leave, and still come over to “watch the Biggest Loser.” I mean, come on, Michael and I played Settlers with you on our FIRST DATE.

I don’t mean to say that you did everything right. You taught me that trash cans were called dumpsters and then sent me into the world to make a fool of myself. I have a grammar problem because of you—this makes texting very difficult. Remember when you took away my binky? Rude.

Well, mom, I’m really proud of you. I brag about you all the time. The NY Times’ Crossword? My mom thinks that’s pretty easy.  I love telling people that you made my gauntlets. We both like dark chocolate (I've obviously always liked it, see picture below) and baths. We have the same eyes. When people ask me what color my eyes are I just say, "same as my mom's" because I don't think they are a color, really.

I may be trying to be a bit too much like you in the picture below, though.

I’m proud of our relationship, too. Thanks for making that happen. I call you when I have good news, or bad news or no news. One thing, before I go…somebody asked me what my favorite five minutes of the year was as part of a silly quiz thing. It was sitting with you on the couch at Christmas, watching our elf family dance. No question.

 

Happy Mother’s Day! 

Love you,

Sarah

Grad school blues, and such

I typed "Art history sucks today" and this was the first image that came up. My thoughts exactly.

I should mention before we begin that Kate Middleton studied art history, so if you want to marry a prince you should start with an art history program. Not really though, I don't want to be in classes with those girls (or boys).

Grad school sucks lately. Here’s why:

1—“Don’t worry about picking a thesis topic yet, Sarah. Live, learn, absorb and really take time to grow. By the way, if you could just tell me what your thesis will be for class tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”

2—You’re funded! Or are you… We’ll let you know in two to three weeks, so just spend your time thinking about that. I know, I know, don’t complain about getting $$, Sarah. I’m just complaining about the stress.

3—First year fifteen. Like freshmen have an excuse to gain weight?

4—Anything below a B is actually an F. But, hey! don’t worry about it. Live, learn, absorb…

5—My boyfriend lives in a different state and we spend most of our time talking about our homework. I don’t mind this so much, sometimes Michael actually cares about the French feminist I’m reading, or issues of Intention, plus he’ll argue with me about it. That really is a good thing, honest. Anyway, 7-8 hour drive? Good plan, SarMichael! (our names don’t fit together in a cutesy way, but it never works out if they do—remember Bennifer?)

6—The most enforced rule on campus is Do NOT eat in the library. So, don’t eat since you’re always in the library.

7—Read everything. All the time. And when you’re done, research for your huge papers. PS—what’s your thesis topic?

8—Grad school makes you old. Remember when I used to take like 5 classes and stay up until 4 am having confetti fights?

9—I found a good yoga class, but they don’t practice on moon days. Freakin hippies. Plus when I’m there they always casually mention that I should be doing about an hour of yoga a day, and then they ask me what I’m writing my thesis on. Just kidding.

10— My plants are dying. They hate me, which is completely rude because all I do is love them.

11— I’ve become so paranoid about exploited departmental toner by printing articles at school, that I had to either buy my own super printer or start taking anxiety pills. I bought one. Wait, what if my printer runs out of toner!! I better stock up on toner, paper, buy a generator in case I lose power, and maybe a back-up printer. I’m considering pasting google-y eyes onto the front so I can have a friend at home. Screw you, plants—I’m going to hang out with my printer.

12—I signed up for a Verizon Wireless super internet plan over the summer. I can be online for about 20 hours a month without paying extra. 2- year contract? You got me again, Best Buy (Newman!). That may seem like a lot of time, but it isn’t. If I chose to watch Modern Family, patrol facebook…or blog at home, I end up having to ration my research time. I actually have to make lists before going on the internet. Don’t despair! I have more time to work on my thesis (grumble, grumble).

13—Everyone refers to each other as “colleagues.” If I ever start an email with, “Dear colleagues,” somebody punch me.

14—Speaking of emails, one of my professors suggested that “Hello, blah blah” was not an appropriate salutation and that I really should begin things with “Dear so-and-so.” It took ALL of my willpower to not reply: Dear so-and-so, Thank you for the advice! Sarah.

15—I have that “Drivin round town with the girl I love…” song in my head all. the. time.

Okay, so that last one has nothing to do with graduate school, but it may be my most pressing problem. I like my program and am proud to have been accepted, I’ve been very lucky with funding, I like my apartment, my classmates and teachers (I mean, colleagues), and I like Eugene. But this past week I’ve had a case of the mean reds. I’m just missing my roommates (which includes about 7 girls… and also Jackson), MGB, Sunday dinners, my puppy and my family this week. Why? Because none of them ask me about my thesis. OR sing peppy, pop songs (except for Michael).