History Changed

I'm a GTF this year, so I'm teaching two discussion sections, running reviews and answering (a bazillion) student emails. As a side note, when did students start emailing so much? I probably sent two emails as an undergrad. Anyway, I was reading through the new edition of Gardner's Art Through the Ages, an Art History 101 mainstay, since I start teaching next week and found something I'd never seen before. It's new to me, but it's oooold.

The professor I'm working for is great. He may or may not have given me a B one time on a paper, but I forget that (well-deserved) outrage when he starts teaching. This is the 30+ time he's taught survey, but he obviously loves doing it. Who wouldn't want to tell people about paleolithic art for the first time? You get to start your first lecture with the words "Millions of years ago..." I'll probably never teach this class, since I focus on Modern/Contemporary art, but I sort of wish I got to.

So, I'm going to teach you, blog reader, about the new-to-me statue that was discovered a few years ago.

Human with feline head, from Hohlenstein-Stadel, Germany, ca. 30,000-28,000 BCE, mammoth ivory, Ulmer Museum

Did you get that? 30,000 BCE. Considering that Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel only 500 years ago, that's really old. 

There are still traces of pigment, so it was probably painted red...and the rest is a mystery. I will say though, this had to be important to someone, since creating it required hunting and killing a mammoth and then toting the statue around (it's about one foot tall) as you moved from place to place around Europe.

This is certainly not the oldest work of art, or even the oldest one we've discovered--there are a few incised lines on stone and one carving that may represent a face--but it's a rather exciting discovery. More importantly, I learned something new today. Sometimes I think I should take off to Southern Europe and start exploring caves. Brad would come with me, right? We could search for stenciled hands and herds of bison. Plus! I could be the historical expert on the Nova or the History Channel program about our discoveries (which is the ultimate goal, really). Paleolithic cave paintings, you know?

School is cool

It is raining on my skylight in little bursts. It gets almost too loud and then moves to the front of the apartment. It's more like a car wash than anything else--like the apartments moving through the shower.

Welcome back to Oregon, welcome to school.

I have a very important back-to-school announcement. I bought boots. I've been looking at them for over a year. They weren't even that expensive, I just can't technically afford anything right now since I'm barely breaking even each month. But, in the spirit of back-to-school excitement and my resolution to not eat out for one month (excluding lunch with my department folks...that's networking right?) I  bought them. They're winging their way to me via Amazon Prime at this exact moment. Wish me luck.

They're pretty.

In the spirit of not being able to really afford anything, Michael and I booked our plane tickets to San Francisco to visit the fabulous Harper family, see my parents, introduce Michael to the city and soak up some art. Less than a month! Here are a few picture from past San Fran fun. It's one of my favorite places.

 

Oddly, right now I'm most excited about the traveling part. Michael and I have never flown together and we always end up driving separately. Travel buddies!

Well, I'm starting school tomorrow. I bought a notebook and am taking a plant to school in the attempt to disguise the fact that my office is actually a cement block. So tomorrow, I'll be on the bus with my tennis racket (for my tennis class), a plant and the knowledge that I have boots coming my way.

So, even though pretty much everyone has already been in school for about a month, I'd like to say happy first day of school!

Style and Stuff

 Due to a little Huffington Post-ing and New Yorker-ing last night, I discovered the Honorable Daphne Guiness whom everyone is calling a "style icon." She just put her clothes collection on display at the F.I.T in New York (check it out here).

I have to say there is something strangely fascinating about her and I can understand why she inspires some enthusiastic fan blogs and is consistently referred to as a chameleon--I've watched enough America's Next Top Model to know that that is a good thing. I think all the fan sites should focus more on the wrapping than the person--why do they never talk about who she's wearing? The designers are the artists. I suppose she could be a muse...


As an art historian, I read a lot about "artist's muses." Unfortunately, the muse/lover/model is the only role women have in art history until pretty recently. After reading about all these muses though, I'm a little unimpressed with Daphne Guiness. She's heir to the Guiness fortune, and the daughter of a duke (thus the "Honorable" title). Although she did have an affair with the French philosopher Levy--a must for a muse--and left the homestead to do something rash when she was very young (she married a Greek guy, who her parents disapproved of), she's just soooo rich. I'm a little sick of the struggling, eccentric artist cliche, but it's a little easier to believe a commitment to art (fashion in this case) when you have to first quit your day job. I think it's possible this "Honorable" woman gets away with her choices because she has a fancy title and no budget cap. I know fashion is expensive, but I'm reminded of my favorite "muse," the Baroness Elsa who broke the rules of fashion and art.

Elsa Von Freytag-Loringhoven hung out with the German and American Dadaists in the twenties and thirties in Europe and New York. Really, Elsa and Daphne aren't so different: fancy titles, affairs with French philosophers, young marriages and abandoned families. But, Elsa used to collect her favorite garments from the NY streets and create her own, fantasmic, outfits--she was a Dadaist herself. My favorite of her accessories was a canary hat, with a live canary, but she also wore a tomato soup can bra (before Warhol was born, I might add), teaspoon earrings, lots of black lipstick and a bouncing spring, which she hung from her hip and let swish. She also once shaved her head and covered it in laquer (which is cooler than the Frankenstein wife doo, I think). The Baroness had hundreds of lovers, escaped arrest multiple times and made the stuffy French expatriots thoroughly uncomfortable. Her advances may have inspired Marcel Duchamps' returning to France--she also may have suggested that he try using a urinal as art. Hmmmm...

                               Elsa died under suspicious circumstances in a Paris apartment in 1927 after going a little crazy--like a good artist should. :)

Perhaps any blog post, that requires me to pull out my class notes from last year won't be to interesting to you, blog reader, but I'd just like to think about the woman with the tomato soup bra as the true "style icon," not the rich heiress who buys other people's soup bras. Then again, I just spent more time looking at Daphne Guiness pictures...

Bad Dog

When your dog is this cute...

... you think, "if we leave the apartment he'll just lay down nicely and practice being cute." Then, you come home and find that the library book, that you just convinced the library to buy (since you couldn't afford a $75 book yourself), has been thoroughly chewed.

Then you go garage sale-ing until you find this:

And guess what? He likes it. He lays in the kennel all day, like a cutie pie. I wouldn't want to lay in a kennel, but, then again, I wouldn't rip up a library book.

Even though he hurt my book, I'm going to miss this pupster (and his owner). Back to Eugene, back to the grind, back to "grad school." I'm happy that it's fall though--have y'all seen my raincoat?

A "Bloggy" Blog

I made crackers. No, really. "But Sarah, crackers come in boxes and in little plastic packets with bowls of soup," you might say. Well, you're totally wrong and completely close-minded. I made them. I may not have done much on this Friday night in Eug (pronounced yoooooj), but I did get all dressed up in my super cute apron. Then I tried to take a picture of myself. As you can see, I cut off half my face and was going for...ferocious?

I should try to put more flattering pictures of myself on my own blog. Oh well.

Parmesan Rosemary Crackers found here. Total success. I'm soooo domestic. I have to say though, I really hate when blogging cooks assume you have a Kitchen Aid mixer, or an other fancy shmancy device. "Leave the machine running" or "affix your extra foamy beaters" are not helpful parts of recipes. One recipe I looked at yesterday instructed the reader to "go out to their herb garden." Now, I know plenty of people who have herb gardens or herb planters, and I'm sure I will soon, but I thought that was kind of a silly step in the recipe. "Take off your poufy chef's hat and high heels and put on your crocs and straw hat and go out to the herb garden." I gotta write a recipe that just slips in "do a few squats while your waiting for your cookies--that way they'll be guilt free" or instruct them to check the oven every 32.5 seconds. Maybe I should write a sarcastic cooking blog instructing people how to heat up Lean Cuisines with lots of pictures. Anyway, here are my pretty crackers.

Here's what I wasn't doing:

I had a funny moment yesterday when I was talking to my Nana on the phone. She asked me about my blog (which I assume she heard about from my mom, since I'm not exactly a famous blogger) and then asked how my blog was different than "the facebook." My Nana's a pretty "with it" lady, but something about adding "the" to facebook just cracked me up. Anyway, I told her about my blog and she recommended that I be sure to dumb it down a bit, since my writing's probably too sophisticated for my friends from "the facebook." That's a very strange way of saying that she thinks I'm smart, I suppose. But, if this is too over your head, you big dummies, let me know.

Death of Summer

I'm officially back at school. I had huge swells of fondness when I stepped back into my apartment, the offices at school and even the library--that has to be a good sign right? I still think moving is hard. As much as I really like Eugene, it's hard to say good bye to people I love and watch Moose and Michael drive away. It's not all about location though, I think this is a strange time of life for a lot of my friends--it feels so transitional, with big changes, big moves and lots of big questions. When I walked into my apartment in Eugene, I at least felt stable on my feet. Now, don't ask me what/where I'll be next year, but I'm thankful that my little apartment feels like home for now.

I don't like when people apologize profusely for "neglecting" their blogs, as if they're houseplants or an obligation, so I''ll just say that the end of summer was full of playtime, including an amazing birthday thanks to all my people in SL (especially Jackson and Mandy--thanks guys!) and lots of eating. I do have a tan from all the climbing and dog-walking, so it's a good thing I'm back in Oregon. Hopefully my translucence will return.

Some of Michael's family actually moved closer to us (great for me, hard for everyone else), and we spent Labor Day with his sister's crew. I loved watching Brynn running from the waves in her Gilligan hat, Morgan chasing down kites and Chloe searching for shells. Such a cute family, I'm looking forward to visiting them as much as I can! The Oregon Coast is so beautiful, today was foggy and misty. I did have a moment of panic as Moose ran away into the mist because it was so thick...but he came back (whew). I may overload you with pictures, but they're so pretty!

 The new Oregon residents (minus Gilligan Brynn).

Yes, the salt water gave him diarrhea and caused him to throw up twice in the car--but look at how happy he is now.

The fog really was crazy, it looks like they're in a sand storm. I suddenly understand why lighthouses are necessary along the coast.

 Building a sand castle, well more of a sand pile.

 Ellie chilled on her blanket most of the day, but she did dip her toes in the water.

 I rode a horse down the beach. Oh wait, I just took a picture of other people riding horses down the beach.

My birthday pedicure lasted. Thanks Mandy!

I yurted

The title of this blog post sounds like something an eight-year-old would whisper to another eight-year-old. Anyway, Michael, Moose, Rusty and I borrowed a yurt for the weekend. We tried to convince Moose that water wasn't scary and to stop chewing on tarps, wood, shoes and us. We slept in, went swimming, read and played a lot of Sequence. Yeah, Sequence; we're cool.

It was cold, but this is not the proper way to float on a tube.

Michael had to stand in the middle, slapping the water and yelling before Moose would consider entering the stream. Once he did get it, he would jump across like a gazelle. I wonder if there are canine swimming lessons...or doggy water wings.

 Rusty was such a show-off.

Overall the yurt was great, but I did have an altercation with a herd of cattle when I went on a solitary mission to get water at a nearby campground. When I got to the spiget, there were 7 or 8 cows standing around, just chewin'. I realized then that cows are HUGE, and I am small. I told them I was a vegetarian and recommended that they just kindly move, but I ended up having to run at them swinging the water jug yelling--it really was more of a wild yodel. They mooooved (get it?) and I promptly broke the jug somehow. I really don't know how I cracked it, but I ended up with no water and "There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza..." in my head. Stupid cows.

Super Secret Date

Well, I'm the best girlfriend in the world. I took Michael on a super secret date. (First we set the camera on my car and self-timed ourselves.)

I blindfolded Michael, drove to Layton, and ate at the Cracker Barrel.

 
That's right, the Cracker Barrel. He gorged on home cookin', sampled the rocking chair collection and browsed in the gift shop. It was pretty funny.

What he doesn't know is I secretly filmed him singing to the radio, while blindfolded. I'm so glad I have a blog--what an amazing platform for secret videos and such.

MOOOOSE

I would like to announce my new friend Moose. Michael got a dog!!! (I think he's half mine, but he'll be living with Michael for the next year with only weekend visitation for me.)

We went to the Humane Society in Salt Lake. I'm super supportive of the Humane Society, especially after visiting the state-run animal shelter which featured tiny kennels, lots of messes in the cages and some sick, sad looking dogs. I got Rusty (who's name was Scraps) almost 11 years ago from the same place. Rusty visited to meet our new friend. I know I've said it many times, but Rusty is the best. I chatted with some of the staff and they were so happy to see Rusty's triumphant return.

We visited two days in a row and at about 6:40 on Friday afternoon Michael decided on Moose (who was named Mugan...what is that? Megan spelled with a U?). We waltzed up to the front and declared our intentions. We were 10 minutes too late to adopt that day. It was very hard to leave him in his cage for one more night. On Saturday, we came to get him.

I think he was happy to see us again.

I hope all you blog readers click on this picture and check out Michael's smile--it's a love smile.

Jackson and Michael sat with him before he got microchiped.

So far things have gone pretty well (minus one mess in the basement). Moose was transferred from another kennel and was rescued somewhere in Southern Utah. He's about 11 months old and solid black. Moose was at the Humane Society for two weeks. I thought that was crazy since most dogs are only there for a few days and he's so sweet. But the staff told me that no one wants black dogs, that they don't seem unique enough. Moose is rather unique. For example, he's afraid of balls. What is that. Dogs love balls. Jackson tried to convince him, but we haven't gotten anywhere yet.

Things have been going well so far, someday he'll learn his name and figure out what "no" means. I think we're pretty lucky over all. I'm so glad that Michael and Moose will have each other to hang out with in Spokane. They're going to cuddle, I just know it.

First bath, poor guy.

Rusty is a pretty good host, although I think he's a little sick of the puppy antics.

Welcome to the family Moose...now, get off the couch.

I have to say, I got a little emotional at the Humane Society. Each dog has a paper with its name and some notes about his/her personality, including the "Intake Reason" listing why they came to the humane society. One of the dogs was a fuzzy sheepdog with a blue bandana. She was about ten years old, which was a little too mature for Michael's lifestyle. I was reading through her info, and pretty much burst into tears, when I read "Intake Reason: Owner died." If you're planning on getting a pet, they have some beautiful cats and dogs (they're cheaper too) no need to get a pure-breed weirdo, get a pet that needs some love.