Thanksgiving Ends

I'm thankful for Thanksgiving. This is a fact, a truism, a truth, a point of concurrence, and one that I'm very aware of as I return to my thesis project and prepare for my thesis proposal which is happening in a few days. I genuinely like grad school, but it's nice to remember that even if my department laughs in my face, reclaims all my library books, rips the nametag off my mailbox and apologizes to my students upon hearing my proposal there are people who will still like me.




My committee wouldn't push me out in the Oregon rain would they? As I desperately grasp my Chicago Manual of Style...





So thanks for all the Thanksgiving love, family. Mom, Dad, Laura, Michael, Becky, John, Jen, Seth, Morgan, Chloe, Brynn, and Ellie: you're the best.


I also would also like to share a student email:

Hey!
I haven't come to class lately I've been soooooo super busy. would you mind xeroxing your notes and emailing them to me.
Thnx!

I wish I were lying about that one. I responded nicely, but I was tempted to just reply with "Nope."

Thanksgiving Begins

I spent this weekend with Michael's family in Portland. It was so much fun. I think the highlight was when his nephew, Morgan, insisted that everyone participate in a pillow fight (with constantly changing rules). I've decided that my graduate program should do this--I think it could really help us relieve some of that academic aggression. I think the Modernists would win, obviously.

Here's some pictures of Michael and Morgan playing Star Wars. His niece, Chloe, revived the fallen heroes with kisses:

 I had some lighting issues, but this storytime picture is really sweet. I should figure out my camera...or just buy a new one with more buttons. 

In Michael's words, "Ellie, you are so cute, and so disgusting." Check out that drool!

 

I'm so excited to go back for Thanksgiving, and this time my family is coming too. My parents and sister are driving up to Oregon and Michael's sister and brother-in-law are hosting everyone for Thanksgiving. Can't wait to have so many people that I love all together! I'm just going to walk around hugging people.

I told a few people that my family and Michael's family are eating together for Thanksgiving. The universal response was, "That's so weird. Are you nervous about it?" I'm not nervous, I'm excited! Our families are so awesome, that it's not "weird." Plus, I think my dad and Chloe are really going to get along.  

Rethinking Leia

In a moment of spontaneity, with the encouragement of my fellow classmates, in the bliss of summer I chose to submit a picture of myself dressed as Princess Leia as my graduate student bio.  Check it out.

Funny? Perhaps. Lighthearted? Definitely.

But a few moments ago I did a google search for "Ibram Lassaw" (because I was going to blog about my project) and discovered myself. In a Princess Leia costume. On page 5 of the image results.

Try googling University of Oregon sculpture. Here I am. Page 6.

Sarah Taylor sculpture. Sarah Taylor art history. Sarah Taylor art. Sarah Taylor thesis. Sarah Taylor graduate. Thaaaat's me.

Well, I'm googl-able. And perhaps more noticeable than other art historians (since I'm not wearing a black turtleneck and a scarf). Do people on Ph.D. committees google their prospective candidates? If so, I better be prepared to answer the question, "What led to your decision to submit an unprofessional, informal, cheeky photo? Do you sniff glue, or something." They are going to ask me that for sure. I know! I'll just say I'm interested in the philosophy of performance art on digital platforms. Or, deny everything.

Hmmmm. Maybe I will change my name when I get married.

I suppose I should have submitted one of these:

 

Long Distance

It's terrible. Michael and I are coming up on three weeks without seeing each other and might have to go five. I blame my students, my thesis, his students, his thesis and the government. Alright, not so much the government.

Isn't it about time that we lived in the same place? Our anniversary is this month: four years. Four years! And that whole time we've never lived in the same city. I did have one semester off between my undergrad and graduate school, but I was staying with my parents. I love my parents, but it always feels transitional when I'm staying there--a temporary stay where I don't unpack my winter clothes. We've gotten to see each other a lot. I think we've both been pretty good about making an effort to see one another. When we were just from Salt Lake to Logan, we saw each other almost every weekend. And even now, we do our best to make it every three weeks or so.

But all that "seeing each other" requires planning, forethought, early completion of homework and hours of driving. Especially now--it's a seven or eight hour drive. And you can't speed in Oregon. And I don't have cruise control. It just never feels like enough time. I've left Spokane at 4:30 AM multiple times to get home for class on Monday, because I wasn't willing to leave on Sunday afternoon and miss eating dinner with Michael.

We usually plan fun things to do. We go out to eat and justify dessert, take long walks (I'm always happy that I can walk around after dark when Michael's here) and attend whatever festival or market that's going on around town. But, I'm sick of planning. I don't want to make lists of all the things I'd have to do to be able to see Michael this weekend--in fact making the list just makes me depressed and unable to accomplish anything. And then, of course, I feel like I'm wasting time when I could be getting ahead so that I can visit Michael. Which makes me depressed...

Sometimes I feel like we're on the home stretch, I'm almost one third of the way through this school year. Come June, this separate zipcode thing will end. But I hate that attitude, the "I'm be happy when..." I actually think the worst part is not being able to share when I'm happy. Somehow, it's much easier to be in the same mood when you're together. I like my program and the people here and walking around this green, green place. I have some really good days, but that enthusiasm just doesn't quite come through on the phone. Sometimes our conversations run like book reports, because it's so hard to convey emotions (especially when you talk with your hands, eh Michael?). "And then I read an article, and then I went to the library, and then I made dinner..." or "And then I tried to write something, and then Moose did this, and then Moose did that, and then I tried to write something..."

I don't usually get this "schmoozy" on my blog. I'm better at the hilarious commentary on pop culture and fashion advice, like my usual posts. This writing did make me feel a little better though. I'll just try to not become like the people featured here (this is a blog about bloggers who apologize for not blogging and then explain why; it's amazing). I also have a rule against blogs without pictures. So, here's a picture of Michael and I on our 3rd(?) date. For some reason we thought it would be hilarious to get really dressed up and have my mom take a picture. Somebody should tell mushroom head and doofus elf that their relationship is going to be really, very good! and they're never going to see one another.

A Portriat Speaks 1,000 Words

 The professor that I'm working for is letting his GTFs go crazy this week and talk about our specialties. This could be a big mistake on his part, because I'm going to look at the Presidential Portraits from the last few terms of office. We're talking about Realism vs. Naturalism. For the record, I think these are all Realism, but I find the comparison pretty entertaining. Clinton's is also about twice as big as any of the other portraits and is right across from George Bush Sr's formally-staged portrait. It makes me wonder what President Obama's will be like. Spray paint?

Images from National Portrait Gallery.

Our San Francisco Treat

Last weekend Michael and I met my parents in San Francisco to visit the Harpers. Everything went really well, except for the trip to the airport. Michael's brother-in-law volunteered to drive us to the airport (at 5am, mind you) and while we were busy looking at Portland in the dark (which is very pretty), we missed the airport exit. After circling around a few times, we almost missed it again when Seth decided to go for it! Only to discover a that there was in fact a median between us and the exit. 

Dang. 

The "Incident Response" vehicle saved us since the jack didn't work, but it wasn't quite fast enough. Michael and I ended up being too late to check-in to our flight (even though we were through security and in line at Starbucks before our flight actually left) and the car ended up with some new rims. Sorry about that, Seth and Jen. We actually considered running down a shoddy hill and climbing a chain-link fence to get to the Orbiz next to the freeway. "Can we call a cab and ask them to pick us up on a freeway on ramp?" Oh, dear. Moral: print our your boarding passes before you get to the airport so you can make a run for it, and leave early enough to accommodate popped tires and broken jacks.

At least they didn't charge us and put us on the next flight a few hours later. The rest of the trip was great--even when Michael and I borrowed my cousin's car and drove around the city. Its time like that when I really miss the Utah grid system.

The Harpers whisked us straight to a winery--always a good idea after a stressful morning--and we sat outside in the eighty degree weather. Michael was supposed to be arguing about punctuation in a meeting and I was supposed to be giving a midterm, so we were in rather good moods. Unfortunately, Michael and I did not have a picture where we both look good at the same time on our whole trip. This picture is a Michael fail. 

 

We made it to Muir woods right before it closed. Yes, it is strange that woods can "close." This tree was about 2000 years  old. Whaaa?

Sarah fail. 

 

On the way to Alcatraz.

Lovely, isn't it? I can't imagine how cold it must have been at night. The prisoners would sleep on their elbows and knees to save body heat. Gah.

 The Harpers came to Alcatraz with us! Dick had never been. I guess it takes a tourist to show you the city.

 Ok, this one is actually pretty good. Although, I'm not sure when I got pregnant.

We met my Uncle Dean and his family at the SFMoMA and all relaxed at the sculpture garden. Everyone tried to convince Michael that the San Fran weather was always eighty degrees and clear. 

 The next day Michael and I walked along Chrisy Field and saw all the dogs--there are more dogs that children in the city. I think this shot could probably be on a brochure somewhere.

 Extreme Sarah Fail. I told you there weren't any good couple pictures. Maybe I could photoshop in a new head. I like my new bangs, but there supposed to be sweep-to-the-side bangs, not in-my-eyes-promoting-a-grimace bangs.

San Francisco was lovely. My only regret was that we had to go home. Thanks family for hosting, transporting us to the airport and saving us from grad school for a couple of days!

A musical mystery

Don't you think Ben Folds is secretly a Dr. Seuss character?
 

 

PS- this is my favorite Ben Folds song right now, if you care to listen.

It's Amanda's BIRTHDAY!! Woooo!

 This was Amanda's birthday a few years ago. It would be nice if we all lived in the same place. Maybe we could have a Skype party.

There are lots of ways to commemorate Amanda's birth. I could simply mention all the things that remind me of her (hippos, onion goggles, pig tails, stretchy sweater jackets, Oscar Wilde paperbacks, fresh flowers from Lee's, black necklaces, Batman, pretty hands, looong sentences, class notes with random words that have been traced over multiple times, big paintings, slip-on sneakers, midnight poetry, and pajama pants that are too short), or talk about how much I miss her, but I'd rather just say thanks.

Thank you Amanda. You're my secret weapon against the world, because I talk to you in my head all the time. You always give me great advice, by the way. I think one of the best things about you is that even though you're pretty responsible and all that, you never lost your imagination. So when I talk about something that could happen someday, like getting married or reading more Russian novels you get all excited. You're all filled with genuine happiness at the thought of me reading. a. book. That's crazy...and wonderful. You're my favorite person to plan and dream with and I love telling you good news, because I think it really makes you happy. Well, I'm touched by your caring about my life--it means a lot. I honestly think you would be embarrassed if you knew how much I talk about my "best friend who's in this super cool toxicology program in NY" (usually to strangers).

Anyway, I'm really happy that you were born and that we ended up living across the hall from each other. I can't wait to see you, I hope I'll get to this Christmas, eh? We'll have to walk through a cemetery, for old time's sake. I'm so proud that you like me. Love you.

 PS-I have a million pictures of you (in most of them we both look ridiculous). I picked a few.

 

 

 

Bed-shmed

I thought I would share this video from a few weeks ago. Michael and I were just eating chocolate chip pancakes in the shape of Starwars figures (as usual), when we discovered something...

I know he's a little hard to see, but his little face is so cute in the last frame.

Jump! Jump! (Part 2)

Second case study: Beach trip with Mandy

Michael is horrible at taking pictures with my camera. He's actually shockingly bad. When Mandy and I were on the Oregon coast last year, waiting for the rest of the group to finish exploring, we decided to have the perfect jumping picture. But, we asked Michael to take it and this is what we got. 

 PS- look at Mandy cheating, trying to get some height on me by using the curb...

Every time, Michael? Really?

This is the best one. Pitiful.

I tried to show him how it worked, so Michael replaced me. And then, out of nowhere, Michael did some sort of aerobic drill team move.

 

Michael tried again after my lesson, assuring us that he'd get it if he just had one more chance. This is what we got:

Look familiar?

We began to look for a different tactic--jumping off a picnic table. Genius! 

Yeah, that totally worked.

And thus concludes my jumping picture series. I hope all of you fail too.

Jump! Jump! (Part 1)

I watched Mrs. Doubtfire last night (I know, I'm radical person) and was inspired by the party scene where they listen to the '90s classic "Jump Around"--you know, while the goat eats the cake. Anyway, I remembered a blog plan that I had about six months ago, when my friend Mandy and I tried to take a jumping picture.

I hate jumping pictures, they're so cliche and totally trendy, you might say.
Well, go away because this is my blog. Also, you probably can't jump. I'll now offer you a comprehensive guide to jumping pictures.

The best part of the jumping picture is when you miss it. Face it: that slightly squated pre-jump position is not flattering, the hair-in-the-air landing shot isn't anyone's best look. More on that later...

My sister and I have completely mastered the self-timer jumping shot. Although, she sometimes looks like a baked potato. Rusty's good at it too.

PO-ta-to! Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew.

I got good at jumping in France a few years ago, see my header thing for a good example. I offer you a few case studies. Here are Derek and I, killin' it:

And now... Jackson, staring at the ground like a raging doofus:

And now... Jackson, completely blocking Derek and I.

Because this is turning into an unnaturally long post (I guess I have a lot to say about jumping pictures), I'm going to end it here and offer you a new case study next time. Here's a preview: